Saturday, December 1, 2012

a tidbit, as I contemplate all i wrote this month....

i will share a portion of this historical novel, set in the mid 1800s. pardon any rough edges it has. typos. and the like.  i hit 30k by midnight..  really wish i could've done the 50k, like last year. but... i'm lucky to have done all that i did, there's the accomplishment. i DO thank the Lord for all that He helped me write. and for my family for allowing me the time. ;) 

  One of the traders raised a greeting. Man Who Doesn't Listen's father had come up beside Two Fists and spoke a hello in return. Marion, finding the men now distracted, took her leave. Her steps were light, her feet almost healed, and she marveled at how her body had taken to life among the Indians. Still, she was not sure she would want to stay forever. Her tentative look back at the braves and traders let her see a fierce argument. She was sure it was about her, for Two Fists had pointed her way.
      “Why, Lord, why?” She groaned, and wished herself to disappear. Nonetheless, she set herself along her way. As her destination came closer, and she passed other lodgings, she saw a man standing in front of the tepee, weaving back and forth.
      “Of course he is outside,” Marion muttered. Man Who Doesn't Listen gave her somewhat of a grin, but it looked like a smile of a lunatic, to her.
      He teetered, and she caught an arm.
      “You are not supposed to be up,” she stated firmly, already trying to guide him back to the warmth and comfort of the tepee.
     “No,” he said. He put his hand up. “Good out here.”
      She sniffed, and decided he better sit down, before there were any more bloody messes to take care of. She brought the stool over to him, which was more of a stump, and said, “Sit.”
     He grinned that mad smile again, and conceded.
     His mother came around from the other side of the tepee, where more of his family lived in nearby lodgings. Her eyes lit up when she saw her son. She babbled to him, and Marion only caught a few words.
      “” His mother looked curiously at him, and then at Marion. Marion focused her eyes quickly down. She did not want to seem as if she were eavesdropping. She set herself in grinding the corn on her lap, ignoring the mother and son for a few moments.
      “Wihopa,” said Man Who Doesn't Listen.
      Marion refused to look up. The sense that they had discussed her and perhaps a marriage to him was unsettling. She could not talk- her heart was in her throat.
       “Wihopa,” he said again, stronger. She still didn't look.
      His mother laid a hand on her shoulder in her kind way. She uttered a few words and left. Marion finally turned her gaze upwards. Man Who Doesn't Listen was staring at her, eyes concerned.
      “We must...” he began.
      “Marry.” Marion whispered. Her hopes crashed.


Laura Frantz said...

Beautiful, Amy! Such life and spirit here! Love your names for your characters and the way they move and speak. OH MY! I'm thankful your family allowed you the time, too. Praying you keep going as this is so worthwhile. Enjoy every beautiful word...

Sweet Peripety said...

OH! Your comments encourage me (and though I am embarrassed as my writing is rough, I truly feel blessed you stopped by, Laura!)...thank you for saying hi, and praying. I love how not only are we friends, we are Sisters in Christ!!!!!