The
Scribbler is most fortunate to have another guest from “across the water”. Her website describes her writing as Fantasy with Heart. Intrigued by
history, her novella series is set in medieval times. We are most fortunate to
have her participate in a 4Q Interview and an excerpt from her novel – The Bound
Michelle Connor lives on the North East coast of England in a town called Grimsby. She has been with her husband for twenty-two years. They have three children together, their youngest is almost eighteen. She is the princess of the family and has two older brothers.
As well as writing, Michelle loves to paint, draw, and take lots of photographs. She has a great intrigue for history and spends many a summers day hunting for castles and ruins to visit. This passion comes through in her first novella series as it is set in the medieval era.
4Q: When I
visited your website, I noticed the heading right away. Fantasy with Heart.
Tell us about that.
MC: All my books no matter what they are
about on the surface, at their base they're about the heart. Whether the
emotions are love, fear, friendship. Above my readers enjoying the characters’
adventures, I want them to feel their emotions right with them.
4Q: I was
impressed with your Nine World Protection Agency series. Very imaginative.
Please tell us more.
MC: The idea for this series came when I couldn’t sleep one night. I wrote a short piece from the POV of Odin. He was in a mental asylum with no clue of who he was. (I haven’t used it yet, as I’m holding it back for a later book in the series.) The next day, I sat down with my laptop and the character of Rifinn came to me. I knew she was Odin’s granddaughter and sat it a club but that was all. I’m a Pantser and do not plot. By the end of the first chapter, I knew she worked for the Nine World Protection Agency, had a berserker work-partner called Augustus who could turn into a bear, and she was hunting someone who had kidnapped wolf-skin children. From there, the idea took wings and Where Ravens Soar was born.
4Q: Please
share a childhood memory or anecdote.
MC: Wow! This one is hard. I was a
tomboy as a child. Most of my memories are of me climbing trees, getting nails
stuck in my feet and driving my mother to madness. For example: We were going
to a party, so my mother dressed me in a frilly frock, white socks and black
painted shoes. I hated it, but it had rained the night before. So, while my
mother was getting herself ready, I decided to sit in a puddle. As you can
imagine, my mother wasn’t happy, but I got to wear something less girly.
4Q: Many
creative people have their favorite spot to either write, or paint, etc. What’s
your like? Any particular writing habits?
MC: I need mood music. I make a new
playlist for each book I write.
4Q: Anything
else you’d like to add?
MC: Just a thank you for having me.
Excerpt
from The Bound – Hers to Save, Part One.
A YA,
fantasy book written in British English.
(Copyright
is held by the author. Used with permission)
CHAPTER THREE
AVELINE
The wind whistled
outside, rattling loose shingles on the roof. Aveline lay awake on her small,
straw pallet, listening to the obscure sounds of bleating sheep. The heated
stones at her feet had long since lost their warmth, and her old, scratchy
blanket did little to hold away the bitter cold filling the house.
Air laced with the stench
of mead, and Aveline's own quiet desperation filled her nostrils. Her father
sat slouched in his armchair. The warm, flickering glare from a tallow candle
reflected off a silver flagon each time he lifted it to his lips. Aveline pretended
to sleep. She covered her mouth and held in the urge to cough. Even though she
was on the other side of the room from the dying fire, the thick, noxious smoke
made her throat hoarse. After a while, her father staggered to his feet and
stumbled over to his bed, and she breathed out a small sigh of relief.
She observed a family of
mice scurrying across the floor as she counted to a hundred in her mind. Her
father's loud snores drifted from across the room. Now was her chance to
escape. Drawing back the blanket, Aveline crawled from her bed. She slipped her
hand under the straw mattress and found the silver penny she had hidden there.
She’d been tempted to spend it on food a hundred times, but something always
held her back.
Aveline grabbed a hessian
sack from the floor, gathering up what little clothes she could. She snuck
toward the dining table, wrapping up a few small portions of leftover cheese
and salted venison in a piece of cloth. Placing the bag near the front door,
she tiptoed to a wooden chest lying in the room’s corner and raised the lid. As
she picked up her mother's boots, her heart thumped in her chest.
Aveline slinked towards
the door, and spotted the little rabbit Ethan had carved lying discarded on the
floor. She snatched the wooden animal and placed it in her pocket.
Though her brother
treated her with scorn, she detested the prospect of leaving him behind.
Aveline had raised Ethan since their mother died from childbirth, and she
didn’t begrudge him their father's love, although she received none herself.
When she was younger, she always thought she must have done something wrong to
anger her father, but as she grew older, she realised he must have hated her
because she looked so much like her mother.
Slipping out into the
night, Aveline squatted on the ground and pulled her mother’s boots onto her
feet. A sad smile graced her face as she knotted the laces. Standing, she
paused one last time to glance back at her old run-down home, with its tatty,
red door. She had an ache deep in the pit of her stomach as she turned away. How
does one leave behind a part of themselves and not feel hollow inside? And
that was what Ethan was to her. She'd not found the courage required to run
away before because of him. She recalled a time when he followed her around
whilst she struggled to get on with her duties. His small, chubby hands would
hold onto her skirts and refuse to let them go. He would chuckle often and
offer sweet smiles, and it was only this last summer he pulled back from her.
Though he'd never answered her other prayers, she made the sign of the cross
over her heart, and silently beseeched God to keep her brother safe until she
could come back for him.
Aveline stole her way
along their garden-path and crept past the other villagers’ dimly lit homes,
feeling a deep sense of finality. She knew the people sleeping inside the
buildings noticed what went on in her homestead. Many times, the bruises she
received were in plain sight and couldn’t be missed by those with eyes.
A sliver of moonlight
pierced the blanket of darkness produced by the dense foliage. Aveline always
assumed she knew the forest surrounding her village, but it was a different
place at night. Even the sounds weren't the same—gone were the voices of the
birds and other creatures she heard in the daylight. Instead, the trees swayed
and creaked, owls hooted, and bats flew about, the noise of them flapping their
wings as they swooped marking their passage.
She tiptoed around a
large shrub, whose dark branches seemed like gnarled fingers reaching out at
her, snagging her clothes. She bumped into something large and fell, banging
her skull with a thump on the ground.
“Ouch.” Her head stung
and the surrounding thicket seemed to shift to the side. The sound of the
animals faded away as if the whole woodland held its breath. She sat up, and
reached behind her head, touching a painful lump under her hair. Aveline
peered through her fringe. The moonlight reflected off something enormous and
silver. She clambered to her feet and took precarious steps backwards, blinking
her eyes. Nope, still there.
She couldn't believe what
she was looking at standing in front of her. Four times her height and covered
with silver scales stood a dragon. Bat-like wings tucked tight to its sides and
enormous claws sunk into the soft forest floor. They could tear the meat from
bones.
Aveline scrambled away
from the creature. She must have bumped her head harder than she thought. No
one had spotted a dragon in fifty years, they were all thought to have fallen
in the Last Great Battle. Sometimes she believed they were a fable that the
folk around her village made up.
Maybe her mind summoned
up the creature to help her cope with the terror of being on her own in the
dark. She recalled seeing the brightly coloured sketches of dragons in the
books her mother would read to her as an infant.
“Do not be scared, I will
not hurt you,” a deep-toned voice said in her mind.
She sucked in a sharp
breath and looked up into a pair of olive and gold eyes. An overwhelming wave
of calm and safety blanketed her in its warmth and her panic evaporated. She
hadn't felt this way since her mother last cradled her in loving arms. It was a
wonderful feeling, almost like a forgotten dream. Running forward, she wrapped her
arms around a scaled leg as thick as a tree trunk. He seemed real, but he
couldn’t be. Could he?
“Can you not see in the
dark? I heard you stumble, and scare away all the tasty animals,” said the
dragon.
“Sorry,” Aveline replied
as she let go of the dragon’s leg and took several steps back. She rummaged in
her sack, pulled out a piece of salted venison, and held a palm towards the
dragon. “You can share my food.”
“Thank you.” His
rough tongue scooped up the meat from her hand. “Where are you going?”
“Far away from here,” she
murmured.
“I will come with you.
Keep you safe. You look too scrawny to be a meal, but I don’t think it mattered
to the pack of wolves following you before I frightened them away.”
Aveline’s eyes widened.
* * *
Photo by Michael Samuelson Photography. |
It was just after dawn when
they made it to the edge of the forest. Aveline halted and took in the
never-ending green fields.
"Aeolius is what my
mother named me before she vanished," he communicated
telepathically.
"So, you’re
motherless as well. What happened to yours?"
“I do not know. I
remember her telling me to not be afraid, and then she was gone. I have not
seen her since.”
Aveline leaned her head
against the creature’s scaly side. “We have each other now.”
Picking
a direction, they set off. The sun travelled across the cloud-filled sky as
they trudged over a carpet of grass and thick undergrowth, stopping at an
occasional leafy bower to rest. There were no roads, buildings, or signs of
humanity. But with each stride farther away from her father, she was moving
closer towards carving her own destiny.
Thank you so
much Michelle for being our guest this week.
For you
readers, thank you for visiting. I hope you'll leave a comment below.
****For those of you that would like to know more about Michelle and her writing, please
follow these links;
Twitter: https://twitter.com/fallenangel1979
The Deceived: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0711QD4VF/
Where Ravens Soar: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07HP9QCQB/
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