Chapter 1 - A Stale Wind

Cela, the main character, and Sam, her pony and closest companion, are introduced, and Cela discovers a doorway to another world on a remote mountaintop.

Cela Thomas peered into the mirror, tilting her head side to side, watching the bland bathroom light shine off her newly almost-black hair. She plucked the hair dye box from the counter and compared herself to the model on the front before tossing the box aside. She twisted a lock around her finger playfully, then discarded that and piled the entirety of her hair on top of her head, before letting it fall and huffing in discouragement at the face in the mirror. Shockingly different from her previously plain blonde color, Cela was still Cela, no matter what color the hair.

She heard a car squeak to a halt outside the house and dashed across the hall and into her room to peek out the blinds. Guests meant Mom would be pulling out the finery, no matter who it was arriving in the very average-looking sedan, and they also meant that Cela should most likely disappear before Mom discovered this newest unexpected change.

She carefully decended the rear steps and once free of the back door, she quickly walked across the back yard to the small barn nestled heavily in the trees at the edge of the pasture. Two sets of ears pricked and curious eyes greeted her as she entered the peaceful little refuge, and her mother's tall and handsome black horse, Bo, reached from his stall to bump her shoulder with his soft nose, begging for perhaps an early dinner? She smirked at him and ran a hand absentmindedly over his face as she strode briskly to the tack room. She gathered a rubber curry and a brush, and quickly grabbed only a simple bridle; to ensure her getaway, she needed to be out of the barn and into the woods as quickly as possible.

Sam expected a treat when she entered his stall, blocking her with his nose as he sniffed her out, only to quickly lose interest when he discovered that she had nothing edible. The short, spotted gelding went back to nibbling at the last vestiges of his hay as Cela quickly worked the worst of the dried mud out of his coat, and then grudgingly lifted his head to accept the bridle. Moments later she was leaping aboard him bareback and then they were off, disappearing down one of Cela's favorite trails. Just before they were out of sight of the house, however, Cela heard the screen door sling open and her mother call out to her, her demanding tone suggesting fire and brimstone for when she returned.

Cela crouched low over Sam's neck, a handful of mane gripped tightly for security against the unexpected. Sam chose his speed, stretching his legs long after a day spent boxed in his stall, greenery flying past the edges of Cela's vision. He cantered easily down the trails, now and then reaching out to speed across the ground more quickly, enjoying everything around him. Eventually, however, he slowed to a trot, and then to a walk, and Cela took stock of where they were.

Well away from the house or any nearby roads, the trail would become rougher from here on, winding through the uneven terrain. The slopes were thick with large old trees and moss-coated logs, spring growth vibrantly green against the decay on the forest floor. The sun filtered faintly through the dense canopy, casting a soft glow that made the woods seem surreal. As she passed the marshy edges of the nearby river, Cela laid back and rested her head on Sam's rump, sighing in quiet awe at the huge and solemn old cypress trees with their ancient, tired limbs tending rather dangerous-looking gardens of knees reaching up from the murky water.

The trails twisted and turned over and around hills, now and then splitting and merging with other paths, meandering absentmindedly where they would. Suddenly an enormously steep slope opened up ahead of them, causing not just Sam to balk at the daunting climb, but Cela as well; with no saddle to keep her firmly in place, she risked sliding backwards off the horse and tumbling to the bottom of the incline, or at least until a tree decided to catch her. Any number of injuries could occur from either option.

Cela, faced with either attempting to push on or turn back and have to return home earlier than necessary, anxiously sized up all potential options. She avoided looking up at the dizzying height, Sam adding his own opinion to the situation by nervously attempting to retreat back down the hill. She reined him around, and spotted a likely easier spot just to the north; she would circumvent the miniature mountain and pick up the trail on the other side.

The two carefully picked their way back and forth across this gentler slope, winding between trees and sometimes slipping a little in the loamy footing. As there was no pre-existing path, they were forced to twist carefully over and around downed trees and logs, periodically left with no option but to fall back and pick a different way. Cela carefully watched the terrain and just when she was beginning to consider giving up and turning back, the hilltop came into view.

They crested the summit, and Cela was stunned to find the land nearly level out into a mountaintop grove. Widely spaced trees allowed beams of sunlight through to warm the ground and coax soft green grasses into a calf-deep carpet, while large, deeply colored bushes hugged their trunks, blooming fragrant, delicate white blossoms. Sam sighed in relief and rather pointedly buried his face into the nearest patch of grass, loudly ripping up mouthfuls of the tender spring scenery. Cela slipped off his back, wincing at first the impact of her stiffened joints as she landed and then at the less-than-wonderful sensation of horse sweat-soaked jeans. Cela slipped his bridle off and gave him a fond pat on his spotted haunches, at which he grumpily swatted her with his tail and moved a few feet away to have his meal undisturbed. She snickered at the old crab and hung the bridle over a nearby, lowhanging branch before making her way through the grove to try to find a view of the surrounding area.

She finally caught a glimpse of sky to the western side of the mountaintop and eagerly walked in that direction, when her foot snagged hard in the grass and she very nearly fell on her face. Recovering, she toed the grass apart to expose a large, reddish stone. A few yards away, her feet encountered another large rock. After the third, Cela carefully stood her ground and attempted to locate any further obstacles that might be blocking her path. To her left, lurking behind a large clump of white-frosted bushes, a mound of the stone rose a few feet out of the grass. Cela stared for a moment, finally realizing that such stones, nearly small boulders, were certainly not native to the loamy earth in this area. Intrigued, she picked her way to the mound.

Rounding the bushes, Cela stopped in her tracks. Sprawled on the ground in front of her lay the ruins of a building, red stones scattered across the floor space and lying in heaps of rubble from long-tumbled walls. The only part of the building still standing was a doorway, amazingly with door still intact and closed in the frame, facing towards the breathtaking view; a piece of stubborn, ancient history determined to watch the world move on even as it was forgotten. Cela approached the door from its interior side and laid a hand lightly on its surface, its gritty frame decidedly still firm in its foundation. She wriggled the rusted latching mechanism free and the door slowly swung outward, gritting over the remains of the foundation before snagging on a tuft of grass. Cela stood in the doorway, surprised that the hinges still worked, let alone allowed the solid door to hang without falling. A breeze drew her eye back to the stunning vista laid out in front of her; she stepped through the threshold and went to stand near the edge of the summit. Ragged hills spread across the land below, with the river cutting its broad path into the distance. Spring growth formed an intense emerald carpet over the land, laid out beneath a soft blue sky. Cela basked in the first direct sunlight she had been able to enjoy since entering the forest hours ago.

An unseasonably chill breeze suddenly caught her from behind, billowing her loose hair around her face, whipping it into her eyes and mouth. Cela fought to gather the wild mess, and turned her face into the wind. Cursing her annoyance and squinting against the gale, her fingers buried into her whipping locks, she wrestled her hair into a rough ponytail. As her fingers twisted the last loop of the elastic around the newly-tangled mass, her eyes caught and locked on to the doorway of the house.

Where before there had been an empty entryway, a door from nowhere leading to a nowhere with overgrown piles of rubble inside, the door now framed a vast, empty land stretching rust-colored and bleak, until it disappeared into a distant murky haze under a dull grey sky.

 

Author's Note

This is based off a ... i guess you'd call it daydream that i've had in my head for i don't know how long; i just remember losing myself in it in order to at least mentally get myself out of church services that i didn't want to be in, and kill time during the many long hours i spent stuck in my bedroom at my parents' house with nothing to do. yes, it starts pretty weak, to the point of absolutely sucking at the beginning, but hey, i had to warm up and work on building imagery. yes, i'm aware there's no dialog, whether or not you noticed - that's on purpose, both because building conversations annoys me and because I want Cela to be mysterious and closed-off at the beginning, her personality showing through her actions only. Only later will she become more and more open, much like becoming familiar with a person and learning to read their actions. Or something like that. There's a plan, anyhow.

Reviews

[Anne Martin]

This has a lot to recommend in it. You have artfully set up a fantasy story and a strong characterization of both Cela and Sam.

I have a few rather picky comments for you - picky, only because your writing is much better than most of what is going on in this place. Firstly, you over-use adverbs and adjectives. It's not a barn; it's a small barn. Why? How big is a small barn? Actually, it isn't a barn. It's a stable. If you use the right noun the adjective becomes unnecessary. The same with adverbs. Some writers argue that you shouldn't use any unless they are absolutely necessary. A hill rose before them suddenly. Either it was there all the time and they came across it unexpectedly, or they watched it rise out of the ground. If the latter is the case, then you need to say more. Hills don't just spring out of the ground in front of you from nothing. Here you have used the wrong adverb, but perhaps you didn't need one at all. Instead, you should make clear that she was lost, and that the path led up a hill - a hill that she had never known existed, since all the land around her house/farm was flat - or something like that.

Another thing you should consider is a little more backstory at the beginning. It isn't entirely clear why she was rebelling against her mother. There is no history here other than guests arriving meant her mother fussed. Why is that important? Don't worry that it makes your chapter long; it could easily be longer. This isn't much more than 1000 words, and if you plan on writing 100,000 novel, you'll have 100 chapters. That's too many (unless you are James Patterson).

Here is how I would expand it:

First, I would add something about the history of the tension between Cela and her mother. Maybe that's an absent father. It's an important point of tension. I haven't read any other chapters, but it is probably something she should regret later when she can't find her way back to her world.

Second, I would probably describe the new fantasy world more. What makes it different from her old one? What is significant about the red stones other than she has never seen anything like them in her world. What makes the vista so beautiful?

Finally, I would give more of her thoughts. I know you want her to be an enigma, but paint her character in 3-D not, just a girl on the television.

I could see that expanding to about 3000 words, even after removing the unnecessary modifiers. It is still a good beginning to a story, and these are things that any good editor would flag up for you if you were having it published.

[LonelySoul]

I can't wait for the next chapter,please don't stop now...more input,need more input

[Emily]

Thanks to all of you. I'm taking all of it into consideration.

@Anne Martin, you make a good point. I actually hate using the word "suddenly" because I feel it is vastly overused, however, it's difficult to replace. However, a barn is just another word for stable, and I would argue about this, since that is what I've called the place where I've kept my horses for the past decade. At least here in the southern states, "stable" sounds presumptuous, and brings to mind large and grand, with air conditioning and brick floors and multi-million-dollar warmbloods ignoring you from their stalls. "Barn" brings to mind very simple, which is what this is. However, I'm with you in that I do need to re-describe the barn, because it does seem very under-described.
As far as backstory, read along into the other chapters. You get backstory in chapter 3, description of the new world in chapter 2.

Thanks to all again!

[Twilight]

Firstly, thanks for the thoughtful Author's Note, Emily. Also, I agree with the positive comments in Nodamselami's review. In addition, I like the way in which Cela is portrayed very much as an ordinary woman, without any unnecessary attempts to make her seem glamorous or special. Whilst reading it, I did feel that there is a slight dream-like quality to this opening chapter.

I did not even see the lack of dialogue as a problem, to be honest. Indeed, all writers go about their work in different ways. And of course, in the scenario described, there is plenty to say, without mere conversation being a necessity. Your descriptions of the natural environment, are all pretty good. A great start to your story, Emily!

[Nodamselami]

This is very good! The character pops out at you right from the start. I like the way she plays with her hair...without a word, we've seen something of who she is..

"begging for perhaps an early dinner?" --somehow this seems the wrong word order, "begging, perhaps, for an early dinner?" maybe.

The imagery is great, also. I especially like the bit about horse-sweat-soaked jeans; much better than just hopping off the horse with a smile.