Sunday, January 23

Zoe and Toby's Adventure

"When I want to read a good book, I write one." Benjamin Disreali

I agree with Disreali and wholeheartedly and admit it's one of the reasons I write. I love exploring new worlds and finding out what happens to the characters that inhabit them.

For your enjoyment, I offer the opening of an epic novel I have been working on for years. It takes place on a world called Talon using multiple POV's from different characters. I have maybe half of the book finished and it truly is epic in length. I really like this section which introduces our main heroes. I would appreciate honest feedback whether you'd like to read more. Happy reading.

Zoe and Toby’s Adventure

Adventure, we were ready for it. So when Toby and I emerged from a cave to find ourselves somewhere other than the hills of Monterey California, we didn’t turn back. We knew we were somewhere else we just couldn’t figure where that somewhere else was.

“Something tells me we’re not in Kansas anymore Toto.” Toby said in astonishment and we burst out laughing.I fished out a bottle of water from my backpack as Toby set down his pack to drink from the canteen at his waist.

“Want to turn back?” I challenged, after all I was the one who wanted to go on a day hike and explore the cave. He shook his head as we sat down to rest and get our bearings

“No way Zoe, I gotta to see where this ends up.”

It appeared to be early spring even though it was mid fall when we left the house this morning. Judging by the sun it was early afternoon but it was morning when we entered the cave. The sky was clear and warm instead of cold coastal fog. The air smelled fresh and clean and the ground was damp from a recent rain. I stashed my sweatshirt and water back in the bag and Toby used the tail of his open flannel shirt to wipe sweat from his widening brow. His red brown hair was receding more than he cared to think about. At least he was still in good shape despite the slight paunch.

We set off down the hill mindful of loose rock and scrub brush. The land flattened out quickly and we passed through a light forest of birchs which opened to a grassy meadow where boulders the size of large pumpkins were laid out in a deliberate arrangement.

The stones were deeply etched with geometric patterns and what looked like runes. One had concentric circle that coiled on itself like a whirlpool. Another had small bumps all over it in a slightly lighter color. Toby pointed out one that looked like sea coral; a mass of squiggly lines. We explored them, touching the rough surfaces, fascinated by the designs as we wandered to the other end of the meadow to a trail head.

After a two mile hike down a small trail, it opened up and we spotted a town - a small village really- off in the distance on the other side of a shallow river. White stucco houses with tile roofs like I’ve seen in Italy, dotted the hilly terrain. The picture of bucolic charm. A fortress of heavy stone sat on a hill overlooking the village with red and yellow triangular flags snapping in the light wind.

“This definately is not Kansas.” he said more seriously as we surveyed the distant village from a hilltop.

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