A Snippet of My Novel

I love writing. I've enjoyed writing this blog for the last few years. I especially enjoyed the weird Chronicles of Sizzle thing I was doing for a while. It was my first real solid attempt at anything larger than a short story. And I don't know about you, but I had a lot of fun discovering where that story was going! And, now recently, my strange and unexpected visit with Moe, one of the local squirrels, might blossom into something larger. I currently have no idea where that is going. But it may end up being a save-the-world situation again. Who knows? I can be pretty heroic when I'm making shit up!

There's a reason why my post frequency has dropped off lately, though. I'm spending most of my writing time, which is limited, writing my novel. I've been at it for a little over a year now, and I'm getting close to the end of that story. Then, of course I'll need to go back and rewrite it a couple more times. But the first draft is nearly complete. I have to admit, much like with Sizzle, Prime, SHE, and that other voice in my head, I barely knew where my characters were going to go next. I actually do have a rough idea of where my novel is going, I always have. But I tend to tramp through the woods and scale rivers rather than taking the easy road. Which, while it's unpredictable, it's also far more interesting. That's where all the hijinks happen. The shenanigans start once you leave the beaten path.

Anyway... I didn't come here to talk about my methods. I came to share with you a snippet of the novel, which I'm currently calling Banished Gods. The scene I want to share with you features one of my two main characters, Flikk. She's a Smidgeon, my version of a Hobbit. She's a feisty little gal, and I love her. And I think you will too. This is a scene pulled from very early in the book, where we are still getting to know Flikk. It's one of my favorite scenes. I hope you enjoy getting to know Flikk as much as I did!

Note: the image of the woman sitting at a campfire is an attempt at using AI to portray Flikk. I'm not entirely happy with the image, but I'm still new to using AI.

*Scene from Banished Gods, Chapter Two: A Trip Into Town

...As she walked away from Rowena's shop, she marveled at her good fortune. Despite being fresh out of coin (the last of her pennies were exchanged for the medicine), she had aquired all that she had come for. She had everything she needed. Mission accomplished! She could start heading back home immediately.

On her way back through town, however, an opportunity seemed to present itself in the form of a purse hanging at the side of a snobbish, wealthy woman who kicked at a dirty street urchin as he begged for a coin. She knew it wasn't exactly legal (well, alright, very illegal), but when she saw a potential opportunity, she couldn't help but tip the scales of imbalance back in the direction of the less fortunate.

There were so many people out here that had next to nothing, and she knew women like this woman. Turning her nose up at people as she walked by. Buying fancy new dresses that she'll wear once at some extravagant party, then throw it away. All the while passing by folk who are in town selling their last goat to squeeze through another terrible harvest, and who are likely going to starve before the next one. She even wore a black veil that draped down from a ridiculous black hat with crow's feathers. Too good to even show her face in public. Or kicking beggar children who live in the streets because their parents were thrown in a cell for not being able to repay their debts to corrupt money lenders. Yes, she knew women like these. And she knew they had coin to spare.

Filching the purse was easy enough. The woman seemed to spend an inordinate time kicking or shoving folks who were not dressed in finery, whether they were beggars or not. Flikk simply cut the purse strings during one such altercation and the woman never even noticed.

Flikk moved off to the side away from the moving crowd of townsfolk to see how much imbalance was righted this day. As she opened the purse, she was blasted by a scream. Emanating from within the bag!

"Thief! Thief! Somebody help! Constable!" The lady was pointing at Flikk and frantically searching for the authorities. "She stole my purse!"

Flikk made a run for it. Weaving deftly through the busy street, she put some distance between herself and the protesting woman. The bag was still screaming. She closed the bag shut, hoping to stifle the stupid magical theft alarm, but it wouldn't close. People in the street were giving her room, alarmed by the high pitched shrieking. This made it even more difficult to blend in.

"You there! Stop!" A constable was pointing at her. She decided to get rid of the bag. It was attracting far too much attention. She wasn't exactly going to blend into a crowd with that thing! She saw an open trash barrel sitting against a market stall, so she made for it and threw it in. Or, at least that's what she wanted to happen. Unfortunately, the bag had other ideas. It clung to her hand. The remains of the cut strap had wound itself tight around her hand, and she couldn't dislodge it.

"Fish dung!" she cursed. The bag continued to screech as she waved it around roughly. It continued to cling to her hand. She yelled at the purse to "shut up!". It ignored her and continued to howl. Flikk began to sweat. This was not going well. A strong hand gripped her around her other wrist. Flikk added a yelp to the bag's scream.

The constable said something to her, but she couldn't hear him over the cacophony. "What?" she shouted. He shouted something again, and again she couldn't hear him. "What? I can't hear you!"

He took the bag, which pulled her arm up with it. He shook it. "I tried that already!" He shook it harder. "Yup! Tried that too!" His forehead began to furrow, eyebrows lowering angrily. He was showing signs that he was not a patient man. He tried to untangle the strap from her arm.

"Maybe you should try something I haven't already tried!" He ignored her and worked at the strap.

By now, they had drawn a bit of an audience. The owner pushed through the crowd and approached the two of them. She said something as she held out her hand. Flikk and the constable both looked up at her. The screaming bag continued to scream. "What?" Flikk shouted, "I can't hear you over this idiot bag!"

The woman tried to take the bag back from the both of them. It continued to clutch Flikk's arm. She pulled hard. "Tried that!" She shook it. "Tried that too! Man, you guys aren't real creative, are you?" The three of them began struggling with the cursed purse, each at odds with the other two.

Suddenly, the bag let go of Flikk's arm. It appeared to wrap itself around the constable's arm now. Flikk took the opportunity to slip out from the huddle and began to scamper off, but another hand grabbed her by the shoulder. She turned, and a giant of a man looked down at her.

As a Smidgeon, Flikk barely stood three feet tall. This meant that even little old ladies towered over her. But this was no little old lady. This was a uniformed man who stood over seven feet in height; taller than the average human by a foot or two. His hand could easily encircle her torso.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was deep. Most voices come from somewhere in the throat. This one seemed to originate from somewhere deep down his gut. Which, to be fair, was still a bit higher than the top of Flikk's head.

"Well, you see, this bag attacked me. And it was a pretty tiresome ordeal. Don't worry, I don't hold it against that lady. But she really ought to feed that thing more often. I'm off to get a drink now. Like I said, it was a bit of an ordeal. I'm plum tuckered! I think I saw a good tavern over there I could get a moment's rest." He smiled. Broadly. Too Broadly. She didn't like the look of that smile.

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary. We've got a cell where you can get plenty of rest." He pulled a set of manacles out from somewhere behind his back.

"Hey, that was a neat trick! Where did you get those?" Flikk tried to wriggle out from under his iron grip on her shoulder.

"You like these? I think they'd look just great on your wrists! A beautiful pair of bracelets!" His voice was a deep rumble felt as well as heard.

"Ah, so kind of you! But I'm not really much for jewelry. I do graciously thank you for your generous offer though!" She wriggled some more, rather ineffectively.

"Oh, but I must insist!" He closed one loop around Flikk's tiny wrist, and she immediately pulled her arm out of it. "Sit still now. Don't make this any harder than it has to be." He clicked another loop around her other wrist. She popped right back out of it. He growled in frustration, a note nearly below her range of hearing. But she felt it in her bones.

He tried the cuffs again, but her arms were too slender. The shackles wouldn't close tightly enough to stay on. He gave another low growl.

"Listen, miss, I-"

"Flikk," she said, helpfully.

"What?"

"Flikk. That's my name. What's yours?"

"Uhhh... this isn't how this is supposed to go..."

"Well, I think that if you are determined to hold my hand, we might as well at least learn each other's names."

"Uhh..."

"Great! Nice to meet you, Uhh. Nice weather we are having. Do you like fish?"

"Uhh..."

"Right. We're already past that part; I'm Flikk, you're Uhh. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, and all that. Look, if it's all the same to you, I've got some things I've gotta do. It doesn't seem like you're much for conversation, so I think I'm going to just move along now. It was nice meeting you, Uhh. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime," she said as she tried to nonchalantly pull out of his grasp.

"Wait. What? No. You have to come with me, miss. Er, Miss Flikk. Beg your pardon."

"Oh. I mean... do I? Do I really have to? I could think of lots more pleasant ways to spend an afternoon. Like gutting fish. Or cleaning fish guts out of clothing. Or putting fish guts under someone's favorite sitting spot to watch their reaction when it squishes under their bum! Actually, that last one is almost better than anything else I can think of!"

"Oh yes, I'm afraid you must come with me. We've got to cut your thumbs off," he said with no more importance than discussing the weather.

"Cut my... now hold on a minute! Why would you want to go and do that?! I'm rather fond of my thumbs, you know! They fit perfectly behind my suspenders." She tried to demonstrate, but he still had a hold on one of her hands.

"I'm afraid so, miss, er, Flikk. It's the law. If you're caught stealing, we have to take your thumbs." He said this all very matter of factly.

"But..." She couldn't think of anything else to say. His cheerful disposition was such a stark contrast to what he was saying to her that she had a hard time wrapping her head around the seriousness of the situation.

"Please come with me. Don't worry, it's not a far walk. We'll be there in no time. We can get our business over with and both be on our separate ways. Well, I'll go my separate way. You'll get some rest."

"But..."

He started walking, and she had no choice but to follow. His grip on her hand was not overly aggressive, just utterly inescapable. As she stumbled along behind him (his stride was far greater than anything she could hope to manage gracefully), she thought hard on how she would escape. Her captor did not seem maliciously evil in any way, but that didn't change the fact that he was taking her away to cut off her thumbs! If she got out of this somehow, she vowed to herself that she'd never steal a purse again. And when she did, she certainly wouldn't let herself get caught again. And the next time she did get busted, she was definitely going to have an escape plan ready!

"What's your real name, mister?"

He stopped mid-stride, turned around and peered down at her, squinting. "Clovis. Why do you want to know my name?"

"Because, Clovis, if we are to spend some time together, I think we should at least call each other by name."

He stood there, looking down at her, clearly puzzled. "Nobody ever asks me what my name is. You're a curious little thing, aren't you?"

"'Curious Little Thing' is my surname. And why shouldn't people ask your name? I would imagine you have a rather large impact in all of their lives! For example, you are about to steal 20% of my fingers from me. For the supposed act of stealing, I might add for irony's sake. That will have a significant impact on my day! Least you can do is get to know your prisoners a little bit. And give them a glimpse of your life, for that matter! I bet you're a rather interesting fellow!"

Clovis stood, staring at the curious little thing standing in front of him, holding his hand. He blinked. Looked down at their clasped hands. She was holding his hand. When did that happen? Looking back at her, looking in her eyes, there began to grow a seed of doubt. She smiled up at him, innocently. The seed sprouted into a bud. She tilted her head slightly, like a dog when it looks at you curiously. The bud began to flower. She shrugged, and swung his hand back and forth like a child might with a friend. Then, astonishingly, she began to skip in the direction he was taking her, pulling him along behind her. And, even more astonishingly, he followed.

"Where..."

"I want to show you something," she said as she guided him down the busy street.

She, skipping and cheerfully swinging his arm, and he, dumbly dragged along beside her, had no small share of bemused onlookers as they weaved their way through the crowd. They had gone a few hundred feet like this when he finally pulled her up short. She was nearly yanked off her feet by her own momentum with the sudden stop. He was an inexorable anchor when he wanted to be. And apparently, right now, he wanted to be.

"Where are you going? You need to-"

"Right here, actually," she gestured to a small, nondescript building with a line of tattered folk outside its door. The people waiting for the door to open seemed downtrodden, not just in their appearance, but also in their demeanor. These folk had once seen better days, perhaps, but those times were in the distant past.

"And what is right here, exactly?" He had to admit that he was curious, but was conflicted.

The door to the building opened up and a large, stern woman in her middle years stepped out. The first few people in line backed up reflexively, jostling those behind them, and causing a ripple that extended on down the line and around the corner. She wore an apron that may have been white at one time, but had seen far too many prepared meals to be called any one color now. She held a soup ladle in her hand, brandished like a weapon at the ready. And her eyes warned she was not afraid to use it as such. Severe eyes looked down the line, and those who fell under her scrutiny found themselves standing up straighter and attempting to tidy their hair and clothing.

"Listen up!" she had lungs like trumpets. The line stood even straighter. "You know the rules! You only get one turn, anyone who wants a meal has to come in person, and you must have clean hands and face! No pushing or shoving to get a better spot in line! If I see it, you're banned! I won't suffer bullies, and I won't suffer fools! We must retain civilized behavior in this uncivilized world! Otherwise, we're no better than beasts! Now, I know you're hungry, so I'll stop flapping my gums! Come and eat!" At this, she finally cracked a smile, and it changed her whole countenance. Now, rather than the stony taskmaster, she was the doting grandmother. The line started shuffling in the door, peacefully and orderly under her watchful gaze. Many gave their thanks and praises as they passed close by. She nodded sagely at each, with a few words of greeting for some she obviously knew. She caught sight of Flikk and smiled broadly.

"Oh, hello there, Flikk! Good to see you are well! It's been a fair while since you last stopped by ole Berta's kitchen! I tell you, your last donation fed these poor folk for six months straight! It blesses my heart to know there are kind souls such as yours to help me care for those who are down on their luck! And who's your friend? He's a mighty big fella! Come on in for a spell and have a bite to eat!" She herded them in through the door, ignoring Clovis's protests.

"Thanks to your generous donation a while back, I have been able to feed over a hunnerd people every day since. Sadly, no one else has made a donation such as yours in recent months. The money's all but dried up. I fear the only food getting into some of these bellies comes from my kitchen. Once the food is gone, well..."

The three of them looked out across the large room. Along one wall, a long serving table was set up where the hungry got their plates filled, and three long rows of tables filled the center of the room. Clovis peered at Flikk, then back again to the faces of the unfortunate.

Berta shouted at the serving table, "No, you turd-wallup! You can't serve soup with a fork!" Shaking her head, she gave Flikk a conspiratorial exasperated look. "He's a dutiful child, but no brains to speak of," she mumbled before she stomped over to crack a young serving boy on the top of his head with her ladle.

"The money you donated..."

"Came from those who could afford it," Flikk said with conviction.

Clovis rubbed at his face. And growled.

"You growl a lot."

He looked down at her again and sighed. "What you did was wrong. And... also, right. But the law says you cannot steal. There are consequences."

"And the part where I'm right?"

"This is a noble thing you did here." He waved at Berta and the bustle of people getting trays of food and sitting down to eat. Some of their clothing was little more than rags. "What you've both accomplished. It is noble and... right. But... you cannot steal."

"Ok, Clovis. So here's the question I put to you: if the penalty for stealing from one is to cut off thumbs, what is the reward for feeding hundreds who might otherwise starve to death?"

"There is no reward," he said, frowning.

"That woman back there with the screaming purse... do you have any idea how much it would cost to purchase an enchantment like that?"

"No..."

"About a thousand coin! I once looked into getting one of those enchantments to make a fish scream when Eldfather began to clean it for dinner." She smiled, thinking about the potential for this fun bit of mischief. "But they are wicked expensive. Folks like us could never afford something like that. She obviously can.

"Know how much I donated to Berta's kitchen? About five hundred coin. Half what it costs to get a screaming enchantment. And it fed over a hundred people for half a year!

"I know it's wrong to steal. But don't you think it's right to save lives? Maybe the two balance each other out?"

He stood there looking out across the room at all the hungry faces. "That is not my call to make," he muttered uncertainly.

"Not your call? But it is up to you to lop off my bits, though? That's your call to make? That's within your jurisdiction?"

"You broke the law," he explained, defensively.

"But you agree that what I've done here is right?"

"..."

"Know what I think? I think you have the right- no, the responsibility- to make judgements. That's your job! Well, Clovis. Judge me. Am I a terrible person?"

"Clearly you have done some good, but you have also broken the law."

"Fine! Two wrongs don't make a right. But a right can make another wrong right."

He looked at her. He stared at her. He frowned. He banged on the side of his head with the heel of his hand. He looked at her again.

"Ok, that wasn't well put... but you catch my current? You know what I am trying to say. If you take my thumbs, I can't help these people anymore."

"But you can't just-"

Berta shouted over from the serving table. "Hey, big guy!" He turned to look at her, then pointed at himself uncertainly. "Could you be a dear and help me with this heavy pot of soup?"

He turned back to Flikk... and she was gone. The door was swinging shut. He looked back at Berta, and she gestured for him by waving her ladle. In doing so, two people in line had to duck out of the way, and more than one got a little soup flung in their direction. He looked back at the closed door, let out a big sigh, then began heading toward Berta with hunched shoulders.