June short story contest-Zombie me!

As part of the lead-up to the October launch of Evasion, book 2 of The Never Chronicles, I will be hosting a writing contest each month.  


Contest category:  Fiction
Type:  Short Story
Deadline:   June 30, 2014
Entry fee: $0.00 (FREE!)

Word count Maximum: 500

Prizes:
​First place: Two signed copies of Exiled and a digital copy of Tristis Manor 
Second place: One signed copy of Exiled and a digital copy of Tristis Manor
Third place: a digital copy of Tristis Manor

Prompt: Write a story that centers around a zombie, zombies or the zombie apocalypse.  That's it. Seriously.
​
​PLEASE read the contest rules HERE I STRONGLY RECOMMEND reading the scoring rubric (found in the contest rules). It will tell you exactly how each submission will be scored.

~In the book world, word of mouth is king~

Scare me, I dare you! writing contest second honorable mention submission

Congratulations to our second honorable mention submission author Nicole Cushman

her story begins now...

Mumbling

“It’s getting cold.” I heard Emily mutter as we walked through the crackling leaves beneath our feet. “Well maybe you should’ve brought a coat like mom told you to.” I said with a smart aleck tone. She looked up at me and rolled her eyes. With a smirk on my face I looked down at my feel noticing all of the different colored leaves on the cold ground. We slowly approached the front porch of a big dark green house. To the right of the front door there was a skeleton sitting on a bench with pumpkins at his feet. I looked up at the door and before I could even attempt to ring the doorbell the door knob turned and out pooped a zombie mask. “Hey James.” It was my best friend Beef. At least, that’s what we called him. I’ve known Beef from the first day of third grade. He was intimidating at first, but he’s really just a big, sweet teddy bear. “Trick or Treat!” yelled Emily. “You don’t really think that there is any candy left in my house do you?” laughed Beef. “C’mon dude! It’s already getting dark out! Let’s get going, Mumbling Cabin isn’t going to be around forever!”

            “Beef what are you talking about?” I asked extremely confused.

            “Well I just thought we would do something a bit more… interesting tonight.” Beef replied with a smile.

            It was dark, and surprisingly colder. “Come on Beef. Where are we going? I’m freezing.” I asked looking up into the tall, bare trees that surrounded us. “Well maybe you should’ve brought your coat like mom told you to.” Emily mocked as she giggled. “So what is this Mumbling Cabin anyways?” Beef looked down at Emily in her ridiculous fairy costume. “I researched haunted stories that happened in New Jersey. There is this story about a family who lived in a little cabin in the forest, a young couple with two daughters. They say one Halloween night, like the one tonight,” Beef mentioned as he stared down at Emily “The youngest daughter sat up in her bed and started rocking back and forth while she mumbled words that no one could quite make out. One night, the older sister snuck into her room to check on her because she was worried; and the next morning the older sister --- Gone. One by one, family members vanished. Legend has it that the little sister still roams the cabin just waiting…”

            “Waiting for what?” Emily asked with alarm.

            “WAITING TO POSSESS LITTLE GIRLS LIKE YOU!” Beef yelled as he threw his hands in the air. Emily punched him. “Stop it!” she said with a frown. I shook my head and laughed. I was impressed, but felt bad because Emily was horrified.

            The cabin was tiny. I tried to imagine living in it with a whole family, but was too creeped out from the dark, broken down cabin and the horrid smell of rotten meat to even imagine the thought. As we walked up to the cabin I looked down at Emily. I could tell she was scared. “I’m staying out here, James.” She demanded. “Baby” I heard Beef say under his breath. I followed him, looking at my sister until the door creaked closed behind me.

            I pinched my nose shut because of the stench as I looked around. “See there is nothing here. Can we go?” I said talking with my plugged nose. Beef ignored me and walked into the next small room. I followed behind him and ran into him because of a sudden stop. His jaw dropped. “Oh. My. Gosh.” I looked over his shoulder and saw a human figure in a rocking chair that creaked with every movement. It faced towards the corner so I couldn’t see it clearly. I noticed long grey hair. It was an old woman. Beef turned around and ran out the door before I could say a word. Forgetting my fears, I tried quieting my breath as I approached the woman. Opening my mouth I pushed out a sentence and placed my hand on her shoulder. “Are y...you okay…” she looked up at me with cold, black eyes and screeched. I stumbled to the ground and watched as the room went dark. Minutes, maybe hours later my eyes opened, but instead of the old woman I saw Emily rocking in the chair, mumbling.

-end-

view the contest parameters HERE

Scare me, I dare you! writing contest first honorable mention submission

Congratulations to the writer of our first honorable mention submission, Anna McCall!

Her story begins now...

The Replacement

            Annabel reached up with lifeless, pale fingers as her glassy, once-beautiful eyes stared into mine. Struggling with all my might, my six-year-old strength wasn’t enough to lift my older sister, my Queen Bel, from her prison of water.

            I love you, Sir John, she mouthed. Her hand went limp and the sweet blue eyes drifted closed.

            “ANNABEL!”

            I sat straight up in bed, sweating and choking, with tears streaming down my face. It had been nine years since Annabel’s death, but the nightmares were just as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

            That was the darkest time of my life. Annabel had been my world. I called her Queen Bel, and she called me Sir John. After my queen was taken from me, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Every day I walked to the creek where she had drowned, sitting on the rock that had been her throne and wishing she was still with me.

            But, about one week after her passing, someone unexpected decided to join me.

            “Hello,” piped a sweet voice behind me.

            I turned, startled. “Oh, hello. I’m John.”

            The big brown eyes looked me over. “Wow, John, you’re little. Maybe I should call you Little John.” The eyes twinkled mischievously now. “And you may call me Maid Marian.” The fairylike effigy dipped into a princess curtsy.

            “Where are you from? I haven’t met you before.”

            “You needed me, Little John, and so I came.”

            From then on, I spent every day with Marian – until school started. I tried to get out to the woods by my home every afternoon to meet her, but my mother thought I spent too much time out there and kept me in. Still, I saw my Maid Marian from the window every day, watching and waiting from behind the trees until Saturday, when we could spend the day as we wished. She reminded me so much of Annabel, and I clung to her tightly to keep my head above the sea of darkness that threatened to swallow me after my sister’s death.

            Now I was fifteen, and Marian had somewhat faded into the background as high school became friends, sports, and homework. Though I never forgot her and what she meant to me, she had fallen to the wayside like so many other childhood things.

            Until she returned.

            It began to happen at a point when my nightmares grew more recurrent. I saw Marian more and more frequently, watching and waiting from her place in the trees. At first I thought I was sleep deprived; that my mind was reliving memories and connecting with my nightmares. Of course, Marian would also be fifteen by now, and it was silly to think this little delusion was really her. One evening at dinner, though, my mother brought up something that gave me chills:

            “I just learned that there was a little girl – oh, about six – who lived around here several years ago. She died in the same spot that we lost our Annabel. Isn’t that a strange coincidence?”

            Behind her, out the window, a mocking smile spread slowly over Marian’s pretty face.

            After that, she was everywhere: I brushed my teeth, and she was standing in the mirror; went to get a snack, and she was sitting daintily on the counter; went to get dressed, and she was hiding in the shirts. And every time, she would say the same thing: “I miss you, Little John. Don’t you want to play?”

            Every time I would leave as quickly as I could, saying, “No, Marian, I don’t want to play.” Eventually I lost my nerve and shouted at her.

            “MARIAN, I DO NOT NEED YOU ANYMORE.”

            She paused for a moment, then smiled. “That’s fine, John.”

            I didn’t see her after that. Weeks passed without any unnatural occurrence, and I had stopped jumping at every flicker of a light switch. One day I came home from school and was looking for my mother. Thinking she was in her room, I climbed the stairs and pushed open the door.

            “Mom?”

            She wasn’t there. Sighing, I decided to check the backyard, where she might be doing yard work or reading on the porch. As I turned to leave, I glanced into the bathroom and uttered a strangled cry.

            There was the bloated body of my mother, floating lifelessly in the bathtub.

            Behind me rose a sickly sweet voice:

            “You need me, Little John. Won’t you come and play?”

-end-

view the contest parameters HERE 

Scare me, I dare you! third place entry

Congratulations to the author of our third place entry, Rebekah Laybourn!

her story begins now...

Everyone says it’s my fault the children died. But if they’d been there, they would know that I never had the chance to save those kids.

            I tightly folded my arms as I strolled down the street. The air lightly nibbled at my skin. It was October and the steel-gray Nebraska sky threatened a thunderstorm. I was in an old neighborhood near the University of Nebraska. The neighborhood was dreary but beautiful and full of Victorian mansions. I was babysitting for a fabulously wealthy young couple. They had two children: Max, who was three years old, and Lily, who was five. Their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Donahue, were attending a raunchy musical at the Lied, and they had offered to pay me 200 dollars to watch their kids. I had gladly accepted, even though I didn’t know the family well.

            I reached the house and I marveled at its beauty. It was freshly coated in creamy white paint, the porch swing slowly rocked back and forth, and the light from inside glowed through the dark storm windows. The lawn was slowly browning, dotted with cherubic garden gnomes, and full of violets and petunias which were beginning to die.

 I was warmly welcomed into their home with hugs that made me feel as if I had known the family forever. The parents gave me simple instructions for the care of the children: Make dinner, play a few games, and put the kids to bed at nine o’clock before retiring to library to labor over my school assignments. If I needed anything, I could reach the Mr. and Mrs. Donahue on their cell phone.

The children were sweet, adorable, respectful and easy to care for. Max and Lily were quiet and well behaved, providing a quiet, relaxing break from the rowdy children who lived across the street from me. When I asked what they wanted for dinner, they requested macaroni and cheese. I was relieved that they had asked for something so simple and easy. After dinner, I blew bubbles with them and played Candy Land. I helped the children brush their teeth before putting them to bed at nine o’clock. Then I went to the downstairs library.

First, I read the newspaper, hoping to find an interesting story that I could use for my Current Events presentation in American History. The front page told the story of a serial killer who invaded homes while dressed in costume.

It wasn’t until then that I noticed a life-size clown statue in the corner. It was the creepiest thing I had ever seen. His smile was so wide that it seemed as though his cheekbones could tear through his skin at any moment. His eyes were beady and seemed to peer into my soul. I wondered why Mr. and Mrs. Donahue would keep something so disturbing in their library. I shook my head and begun working on my Algebra 2 homework.

As I studied, I kept getting distracted by the creepy clown statue. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching me. I thought that perhaps I should check on the kids, but I decided against it. In all of the horror movies I had watched during the previous weekend, the babysitter always died when she went to check on the kids. I knew that Mr. and Mrs. Donahue would be home in less than two hours. I had nothing to worry about.

I felt terrified all the same. What if he was the serial killer who I’d read about? I decided that I was being stupid. I had obviously watched too many horror movies. I was in one of the safest neighborhoods in the city of Lincoln, Nebraska. I had nothing to fear.

Still, I was incredibly distracted. I had a lot of work to do and I couldn’t focus with the clown in the corner. I finally decided to call Mr. Donahue.

“Do you mind if I study somewhere else? The clown statue is really bothering me.”

He said to wait just a minute, and he promised to call me back. I wondered what his problem was. Why did he need to discuss it with his wife?

He called me two minutes later. I could detect intense worry in his voice.

“Get out of the house now, and take the kids with you. We don’t own a clown statue.”

Horrified, I looked up to see the clown. He was standing over me, holding a knife that was covered in something scarlet.

view the contest parameters HERE 

Scare me, I dare you! second place entry.

Congratulations to our runner-up, Gage Hanson!





His story begins now...

My Sister 

In my mind I can still clearly remember that day. The day that I stood a few yards away and watched helplessly as my sister slipped off of a rock she had been playing on and into the water. We had gone to the park near the river to escape the fight my parents were raging on that particular day. My eyes wandered from watching my sister and turned just in time for a brief moment of eye contact with her beautiful and sparkling blue eyes before she fell. I was there when they pulled her body out of the river. Her wrinkled skin, the cuts and bruises from smashing into the bottom of the lake, her hair matted and intertwined with weeds, and finally the sight of her empty eye sockets. Her eyes which had been ripped out by the current.

I had tried, and partially succeeded, in forcing the images of that day out of my mind but the sound of her body being pulled out of the river hooked itself into my memory and was as clear now as it was a year ago when I first heard it. The dripping of the river water and the splash of her soaking body hitting the ground when they dropped her were burned into my mind. My parents had moved on from this incident but I couldn’t get over it. I felt that it was my fault my sister was dead. I hadn’t been watching her carefully enough. I blamed myself and vowed to never let myself forget it, lest I make the same mistake again in the care of someone else.

A year ago to the day these events took place and tonight I sat in my basement, home alone, thinking to myself how I could have changed the outcome. My parents had left on a date, they recovered better than I did, and wouldn’t be back for a few more hours. They hadn’t cared much about us kids before my sister had died and after a brief period of grief carried on with life and cared even less about me, the new only child. For the past few hours I had worn myself out with worrying, stressing and speculation on why it had happened, how I could have stopped it, and how it was all my fault. The only time I had escaped my grief was when I slept, so I decided to go to bed. On the way to my bedroom, I turned into my bathroom to brush my teeth. As I pulled my toothpaste out of the drawer, I heard a faint sound. It was such a small and weak sound that it was difficult to distinguish it from the other sounds I constantly heard while home alone. The sound of creaking floorboards, a breeze rushing through the window, the crickets outside and the sound of occasional water droplets.

“That’s it,” I said to myself. It had been the sound of water dripping. I pulled back the shower curtain to turn off the faucet, but found it off. I shrugged and finished brushing. As I rinsed my brush and turned the water off, I heard a similar sound to one I had heard before except this one was longer and louder. It sounded like someone had wiped a puddle off a table and it had fallen to the floor. I poked my head out of the bathroom and looked around for the source of the sound. It stopped as suddenly as it started, and I couldn’t locate its origin. I decided it must be raining outside and went to my bedroom. I shut my window so no rain would weasel its way into my room, and turned off my light plunging the room into darkness. As darkness encompassed me, I heard a splash of water. This sound was unmistakably coming from the corner of my room. My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and I made my way towards my closet. The sound grew louder and more frequent. When I was a few inches from my closet door, it sounded like a rain cloud formed in my closet. I reached forward, pulled it open and watched a wet soggy mass flop onto the ground. Followed by two small, round objects. I slowly and unwillingly looked down. My gaze was met by two sparkling blue eyes. 

view the contest parameters HERE 

Scare me, I dare you! Winning entry.

Congratulations to our winner, Sharay Bridges.

The winning entry begins now... 

I walked into the hallway to see his room 246, Dr.Castreo. He greeted me at the door with a welcoming smile. “Are you my four o’clock?” I shook his hand.

“Yes, that’s me. I’m Jennie.”

“Nice to meet you, I am Dr.Castreo, come on in.”

 I scampered into his office like a scared little kid; my head was towards the floor. He put his arm on my shoulder as he told me to lie down on a small suede bed by a wave of his hand. I sat down and tried to calm myself, but I could swear my heart was racing a mile a minute.

“What has brought you to me today?” He questioned.
“My mother,” I sighed. “I have vivid nightmares almost every night. I don’t get rested and my grades are suffering horribly. I’m terrified to go to bed because of the darkness that hides within me.”

He showed no emotion, but crossed one leg over another as he replied “Would you like to tell me some more about these dreams?” I couldn’t look him in the eyes for the fact I thought he might think I’m crazy, finally I nodded. No. He leaned forward to look me face to face. “Jennie look at me.” He demanded. I glanced up at him till our eyes met, a river flew from my eyes and I wept. “You are safe here and you can talk to me,” he spoke open-heartily.

My hands began to tremble, and I lost my breath as I began to speak. “I—I dream of this girl, she comes to me every night. She kills the people I love and then she just smiles—that awful smile. She sits in the corner of the rooms. Any room. Everywhere I go she’s always there. It’s like I can’t escape her.”

Still looking me dead in the eyes he spoke “And this girl, what does she look like?”

“Dark stringy hair, deep brown eyes, and a mouth that smells worse than a rotting corpse, teeth are missing and she always smiles.”

 He leaned in even closer than he was before and examined me. “Go on with your dreams, tell me exactly what she does.”

“Well, she doesn’t like me talking about her, every time I do she crawls down the wall or a step. She gets closer to me, and if I walk up to her she just stares at me with, with that vicious smile.”

“Does she speak?” He asked.

“She whispers a song every time she kills someone, then it’s like a maze my head gets all jumbled up and I have to try and find who died, and while I’m searching she just sings. There goes one, there goes two, how many more before I get you?”

He tilted his head to the left and looked at me for a moment before he asked me. “Does she have a name?” then he chuckled a devious chuckle. I put my head to the floor as my heart started pounding.

He silently stood up walked over and grabbed something off of this desk, and said “Jennie the girl you’re describing sounds a lot like… You.” As he held a mirror up to my face I scream in horror at her reflection. For once when I was awake, I saw the demon that lived within my nightmares

 “HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU SHOW ME HER! YOU’RE WORKING WITH HER AREN’T YOU! AREN’T YOU!” I screamed. I was trembling with chills all down my body as I curled up in a ball and began to weep. He just looked startled by my reaction. “Jennie, I’m trying to help. You need it. Your mother, father, and little sister are dead. Dead because of you! Now look at your reflection. There is no monster in your dreams you are hiding in a false reality.”

Then I looked him in the eyes and began to sing “There goes one, there goes two, how many more before I get you?”

-end-

view the contest parameters HERE

October Contest Results....Finally!

After a long anticipated wait, the results are in!

From our largest field to date (nearly sixty entries)

...the top three are:

First place: Sharay Bridges
Second place: Gage Hansen
Third Place: Rebekah Laybourn

Also, there are two honorable mentions

Anna McCall
Nicole Cushman


Congratulations to everyone who participated and keep writing!


All five stories will be posted on this blog over the next several days.

~In the book world, word of mouth is king~

Coming soon....

the second book from The Never Chronicles

Available now from J.R. Wagner...

A tale of perseverance, strength and redemption.

www.TheNeverChronicles.com

In bookstores

October Writing Contest update

Image credit: The Washington Post

Hey everyone.

I wanted to give a quick update regarding the October writing contest.

I have received 56 entries to this contest...the largest number of entries for any of my writing contests.  Because of the high volume of entries, it may take me a bit longer to go through the selection process.  Please be patient.  The winners will be contacted as soon as possible.

I am truly honored to see so many people interested in the contest and am psyched that so many of you are writing and putting it out there.  I know how scary that can be.

Thank you for your patience and keep writing!!

J. R. Wagner

...that author guy

~In the book world, word of mouth is king~

October writing contest announcement! Scare me, I dare you!

a writing contest brought to you by J.R. Wagner


Scare me, I dare you!

                             
 
Details:
 

Contest category: Short Story
Type: Horror
Deadline: October 10, 2013
Entry fee: $0.00 (FREE!)

Word count Maximum: 750

Prizes:
First place: Two signed copies of Exiled and a digital copy of Tristis Manor  
Second place: One signed copy of Exiled  
Third place: Swag (bookmarks, bracelets, etc.)
 
Prompt: Write something scary. That's it. Seriously. Something to keep in mind; I don't scare easily -especially when it comes to writing mostly due to the pacing of the story (*cough* pay attention to pacing). Work on the slow build or, if you're really good, hit me in the face and keep my attention for the duration.


PLEASE read the contest rules Below.

I STRONGLY RECOMMEND reading the scoring rubric (found in the contest rules). It will tell you exactly how each submission will be scored. There will be a bonus of up to ten points based on how scary it is (not in rubric)

Contest rules: 

• Entries must be emailed to contest@theneverchronicles.com
• All entries must be submitted by midnight on the deadline date
• Entries must be pasted into the body of an email. NO ATTACHMENTS
• 12pt font double spaced -normal font (Garmond (preferred), courier new, arial, default email font)
• No submission limit
• Early submissions appreciated
• Previous winners are excluded from being considered for prizes
  
• 750 word Maximum word count
• Spelling and grammar taken into consideration
• PG13 stories only please
• No previously published works (unless self-published)
• By submitting an entry, you are giving permission for your story to be posted on this website, the J. R. Wagner author blog and the J. R. Wagner author facebook page. If and when they appear in the aforementioned locations, the author(you) will be credited and have the opportunity to provide links to the author's (your) external sites. (websites, blogs, facebook pages etc.)
• All works are the sole property of the authors.  Reproduction of any kind, without the permission of the author as well as proper citation is strictly prohibited.
• Scoring rubric can be found HERE each category is worth ten points.
  

~In the book world, word of mouth is king~

Coming soon....

the second book from The Never Chronicles

Available now from J.R. Wagner...

A tale of perseverance, strength and redemption.

www.TheNeverChronicles.com

In bookstores

 

October Writing Contest details

It's that time again!

 Get out your pens and get writing!  Great prizes await (and it is free to enter!)

October 2012 short story contest
Contest:                   Short Story
Type:  Fan Fiction Short Story (Chapter .5)
Deadline:   October 10 
Entry fee: $0.00 (FREE!)

Details:

Word count Maximum: 1000
Prompt: Write your version of what happened BEFORE the first chapter of Exiled.  I want to see your version if there were a chapter BEFORE chapter one. If you don't have a copy of Exiled, chapter one is available for free below. You can also listen to the audio version of chapter one HERE.

You can purchase a hard copy of Exiled HERE
You can purchase the eBook for your Kindle HERE

PLEASE read the contest rules HERE.

I STRONGLY RECOMMEND reading the scoring rubric (found in the contest rules). It will tell you exactly how each submission will be scored.

Prizes:

First place: $25 Amazon gift card, One signed copy of Exiled, $30 to spend at The Never Chronicles store

Second place : $20 Amazon gift card, One signed copy of Exiled, one signed Exiled poster

Most potential award: One signed copy of Exiled

Contest rules:

• Entries must be emailed to josh@theneverchronicles.com
• All entries must be submitted by midnight on the deadline date
• Entries must be pasted into the body of an email. NO ATTACHMENTS
• 12pt font double spaced -normal font (courier new, arial, default email font)
• No submission limit
• Early submissions appreciated
• Your short story MUST be based upon the events you believe preceded chapter one of Exiled.  No other topic will be considered.
  
• 1000 word Maximum word count
• Spelling and grammar taken into consideration
• PG13 stories only please
• No previously published works (unless self-published)
• By submitting an entry, you are giving permission for your story to be posted on this website, the J. R. Wagner author blog and the J. R. Wagner author facebook page. If and when they appear in the aforementioned locations, the author(you) will be credited and have the opportunity to provide links to the author's (your) external sites. (websites, blogs, facebook pages etc.)
• All works are the sole property of the authors.  Reproduction of any kind, without the permission of the author as well as proper citation is strictly prohibited.
• Scoring rubric can be found HERE each category is worth ten points.
  

July Short Story Results

Every quarter I host a short-story contest to encourage writing and creativity.  Every quarter I am blessed with some truly amazing stories. This quarter was no different.  I've posted the rankings as well as the winning short story below.  To see the contest rules, which dictate your overall score. CLICK HERE

 

 Top Seven entries

Winner: Treachery Lies in Wait by Janae Keri

Prize: Exiled prize pack -signed copy of the book, signed poster, $30 winner's choice at The Never Chronicles store, $25 Amazon gift card
Runner up:  The Talisman of Power by David Green
Prize: Exiled prize pack -signed copy of the book, signed poster, $20 winner's choice at The Never Chronicles store
3rd place: Emily V (awarded Most Potential)
Most potential Prize:  Signed copy of Exiled
4th place    DARK BEGINNING by: Samuel López

5th place The Tracks by: Janelle Benny

6th place Melena by: Nina Fröström

7th place Schizo by: Nina Fröström

Treachery Lies in Wait
By Janae Keri



September 21, 1646

The servants have their own stories to tell. I listen to their tales as I work, doing odds and ends. I admit I feel pretty useless. I’m a klutz with the arm I have.

I was chopping firewood one-handed today. I need to strengthen my arm in case of an attack. I stole back my sword; it is hidden under my bed, along with this journal. I practice swinging it in my room at night. The sword is weighty; I previously wielded it with two hands. Since I don’t have two hands anymore, I will have to do it with one. It will take time.



September 25, 1646

The pieces of my old life are hidden under my bed. I remember the luxuries of my old life—the food, the clothing, the feather bed. Now I serve those that were my friends. I make their food, brew their ale, and heat their rooms. These luxuries are not to be mine.

Selene sits at her food, among the rest of my family. I feel no pain for what has happened to me, or at least that’s what I tell myself. I know, somewhere deep down it still hurts, but life goes on.



September 28, 1646

My arm is getting stronger; now I feel that I could defend myself, if need be. Today one of the other servants, William, discovered my practices. He offered to help.

The good side of being a servant is that you can hear everything that is going on about the palace. I heard that my beloved horse, Zephyr, was sold to a faraway king. Selene is to be married off this summer. I know I won’t be invited to the wedding. The people are worried about the King’s age and how inadequate my younger brother is. I should have been King instead of him. I knew that people had always liked me better, but now they thought me dead or captive. I don’t know what my father told the Englishmen. I know that I will never be King. I will serve Rathbourne, the King, at my father’s death.



October 12, 1646

Today at dinner, something interesting happened.

I was serving ale to my father’s men, and I overheard a plot to kill my father. I personally did not know the men. I came back a bit later to replenish their supply, and I heard the time and place of a future meeting. The two were going to meet in the church to plan the death of their King. They decided to meet at midnight tomorrow.

That night, I took my findings to Rathbourne. I felt that this was a justifiable reason to break my secrecy. I told him everything I heard, including the meeting time and place. He told me that there was no threat to the King. He dismissed me in seconds, and threatened to tell Father about my presence. Contempt was barely masked on his face. I left, feeling absolutely crushed. My brother hated me.

I decided that something had to be done about the traitors.



October 13, 1646

I am ready; dressed in shadows and sword strapped to my side. I plan to spy on the two men, listening from the shadows of the church. Maybe Rathbourne will believe me then.



October 14, 1646

Last night, I stood in the shadows of the church, listening to the meeting. They prayed for wisdom and discussed their methods. They decided on silencing him with his favorite pillow and slitting his throat, after he went to bed. I knew that I couldn’t let this be done to my father.



October 15, 1646

I again approached Rathbourne. I told him the plot, all that I knew. He dismissed the thought of danger to the King once again. “Fine, if you don’t believe me, wait until you find him dead in his bed!” I said, stalking out. He yelled after me, more threats. I don’t understand how he can reject me that quickly. I’m still his brother!

I’m so alone.



October 16, 1646

The approaching conflict will be dangerous. No doubt about that. I feel, however, that I am prepared. I beat William today in practice, something I haven’t managed before. God be with me as I go to protect my King.



October 18, 1646

Tonight I go to face these traitors! It is my duty to protect the King. I lie on my bed worrying about the coming hours. I plan to hide in a shadowy corner within the servants’ quarters. They knew that this would be the easiest way into the palace. I will ambush them there.



October 20, 1646

I am glad to be alive. I faced the traitors in my black cloak and my sword. I waited in the shadows of a doorway, watching for movement.

The assassins stole away, silent like the shadow I wanted to be. They walked past my doorway, not pausing. I let out a breath and readied myself, drawing my sword, just a shadow. The traitors turned, hearing something. I was hard to miss, standing in the middle of the hallway.

They drew swords; lunging in unison. I dodged, hefting my blade. A few random thoughts run through my head: ‘Two armed men against one? That’s fair!’ Then I was battling them single-handedly.

I couldn’t strike, too many were the blows of my attackers. My arm tired quickly, blocking each stroke. Soon, my guard would slip; the end was near. I took an all-or-nothing shot, aiming for one man’s legs. I was hoping the other would see his accomplice fall and pause to help him. Nothing ever works out the way you think. Even as I swept my blade for one man’s feet, I saw the other’s sword singing toward mine. I feel the sharp burn as the blade cuts deep and I hope mine did the same. The pain comes over me in a wave as I topple backwards. I lay in a heap, staring up at my to-be killer. My sword is gone from my hand; his sword is resting over my frantically beating heart. I have no hope.

A new shadow emerges as I lose consciousness. It attacks my attacker; he crumples down…

I wake up the next morning in Selene’s rooms; my wounds are bound. She seems to have learned much of medicinal skills since she accidently shot me. I ask her what happened. She said she took a frying pan to the heads of my attackers. She called a servant to help carry me upstairs.

Selene told the servant to tie the two men to the doors of the Great Hall. The King would be the first to see them.

I slept.



October 23, 1646

Today I was called to my father’s courts, for the first time in two months. Several men carried me; my wounds still unhealed. I sat on a bench in front of my father. He was very blunt.

“Son, what you did a few nights ago appalled us. You put your sister’s life in danger and you murdered two men. Explain yourself!”

I replied, explaining how I had overheard the plot to kill the King. I told him how I warned my brother; how he had dismissed it.

Rathbourne denied it coldly.

“Son, you kill my men and claim it was in defense of me?! You are a murderer of innocent men!” To his servants, he explained the charges. I knew. Death.

I am writing this in the final moments of my life. Hopefully, Selene will convince people of my innocence with this journal. Thank you, sister, for everything.



October 31, 1646

Somehow, I am still alive. I am forever in debt to Selene. She rescued me from my cell, right before my execution. She fled with me to the forest; she showed me a cave where I could live. She promised to check up on me once in a while. She’d keep my ink flowing and my sword by my side.

I can’t see how my relationship will ever get better with Father. I’m a hermit in the forest, all alone. Now I truly have been banished from my home.


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