Category Archives: Literature

Literature

“The Sacrifice”: Part fifteen

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I’m really excited about sharing this part–for reasons that I think you’ll figure out soon.

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Part Fifteenth: The Story

“Excuse me, sir, are you going to stop here?”

“Yes, lad, thank you.” Sir Richard swung himself out of the saddle and handed Jael’s reins to the stable-boy. “What about my dog?” he added, noticing Cyrus hesitating between his master and the horse he had followed all day.

“You can take him in with you, if you want.” The boy shrugged despondently. “They don’t mind.”

Sir Richard whistled to Cyrus and walked inside, wondering why everyone here was so downcast.

~*~

“A sixteen-year-old girl came into the inn’s small kitchen carrying a basket of eggs. She set it down on the round table in the middle of the room, and brushed wisps of curly, chestnut hair that had escaped her bun out of her face.

“Alicia!” the cook called from the other side of the large kitchen. “Go see if the stranger-knight wants his dinner yet.”

Continue reading “The Sacrifice”: Part fifteen →

Literature

“The Sacrifice”: Part fourteen

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Just F.Y.I., I calculated wrong at first, and I think we’ll actually finish The Sacrifice by late May.  Sorry about that!

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Part Fourteenth: Breakfast

Penelope closed her eyes again and rolled over. What was the worth of getting up? Her throat burned with thirst. The floor of the enclosure was scattered with rotting leaves, but they were not enough to mask the hard stone of her chamber. Her every muscle ached. She had spent so much time preparing to die, the idea of living had never even occurred to her. Really, if she had known, she would have brought water—or a pillow. Or a hairbrush, she thought ruefully, opening her eyes and brushing loose, gold strands from them.

Continue reading “The Sacrifice”: Part fourteen →

Faith, Literature

Who is a God like You?

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Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his inheritance?  You do not stay angry forever, but delight to show mercy.  You will again have compassion on us; you will tread out sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea.  You will be true to Jacob, and show mercy to Abraham, as you pledged on oath to our fathers in days long ago.

-Micah 7:18-20

Literature

“The Sacrifice”: Part thirteen

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Part Thirteenth: Something Wrong

Sir Richard shaded his eyes from the setting sun. They were almost to the city. They would reach it before nightfall if they kept going.

“Come on, Jael, we’re almost there,” he said, running his fingers through his horse’s ivory mane. “I know you’re tired, but we shall have a real bed and a real stable tonight if we get there. Good girl!” he encouraged as the dappled gray mare moved to a faster gate. His German Shepherd, Cyrus, started running to keep up with the trotting horse. He knew both animals were tired from the long trek through the mountains, but they understood what it meant to stay in a city.

Continue reading “The Sacrifice”: Part thirteen →

Literature

“The Sacrifice”: Part twelve

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Part twelve!  I have a feeling you guys are going to freak out about this one. . .

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Part Twelfth: Alone

Penelope stumbled onward, up the slope before her. Tripping on tree-roots and fallen logs, and large rocks, slipping on small ones. Branches and thorns tore at her clothes and skin, pine-needles slid beneath her feet—she scrambled blindly forward, her vision blurred by tears. She finally reached the end of the hills, with the mountains, rocky and frightening yet majestic, rising above her; and got her first glimpse of the dragon’s lair:

Continue reading “The Sacrifice”: Part twelve →

Life, Literature

“The Sacrifice”: Part eleven

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Happy April, y’all!  Can I say it’s officially Spring now?

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I love Spring!

Anyway, The Sacrifice:

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Part Eleventh: Hard

The familiar ride ended at the hills, somehow seeming longer and yet shorter than before to the Princess. Brother and sister dismounted at the edge of the very first of the tree-clad slopes. Neither thought to keep hold of their horses’ reins, but Captain and Snowflake stood still and watched them, as if aware that this moment was a solemn one for their masters. Both humans stood and looked at the ground, unwilling to break the silence.

“I have to go,” said Penelope at last.

“I know,” said Henry. Slowly he reached out and hugged her. “This is harder than dying in dragon-fire,” he said softly, as she pulled away from him.

“I am sure it is,” she answered, gently. “But we have to, Henry.”

“I know,” he said again. “But it’s so hard.”

“Of course it’s hard. And your part is harder.” She wasn’t quite sure this was true, but she said it anyway. “But you have to stay. I—I’m dying for these people. They shall need a King. Help them. . . when I’m gone?”

“Sure, Penny,” he answered, halfheartedly. “Anything you like.”

“Anything except forget me?” she teased sadly.

“Right.” Something that might almost pass for a smile flickered across Henry’s face as he brushed windswept strands that had escaped her braids out from between their faces.

Penelope closed her eyes as his hands played across her face. It had always been her and Henry. Did she have to do this? Would anyone blame her if she didn’t? Probably not, but that wasn’t the point.

She shook the thought of turning back out of her mind as she shook her brother’s hands off her face. She gently placed her hands on his shoulders and craned her neck to kiss his cheek before she turned her back and marched up, into the the foothills. She could hear Snowflake whinnying for her like crazy, but she never turned around. She had said goody-bye to her brother as best she could, she would not ruin it by looking back again now.

Life, Literature

“The Sacrifice”: Part ten

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The weather was beautiful yesterday!  I joined Mom and the littles at the park that afternoon, and it was all kinds of fun!  You don’t get too old for playgrounds, if you’re creative: I climbed around on top of monkey bars and walked on the fence rails.  I felt like Dorothy. 🙂  (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go watch The Wizard of Oz again.)

Moving on, here’s Part Ten of The Sacrifice!  I had good intentions of posting Part Ten before today, but it didn’t happen.  Weird how I get busier when I’m on Spring break. . .  Anyway, Part Ten:

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Part Tenth: Never Forget

Penelope came downstairs to breakfast several minutes later and managed to choke down a small amount of food before going back to her room to find boots and a cloak. She had decided to go out to the dragon, instead of letting it come for her, and had convinced her family to let her. It felt like her choice then, not his, and that made it easier.

The Shepherds had told them where the dragon’s lair was—and assured her it would be impossible to miss. It would take her hours to hike up to it, not to mention the ride across the Valley. Henry had insisted on riding with her to the foothills, but she found herself now at the inevitable farewell with her parents. However she managed it, she struggled through without crying, and Eleanor somehow kept her tears at bay as well. Before they left, the Queen placed a thin, silver circlet on her daughter’s head. “Never forget that you are a princess, Penelope,” she told her. “No matter what happens.”

They stepped out of the Castle and saw that the whole City had turned out to see them go. At the door to the Royal Stables, less than twenty feet away, stood Henry. He was holding Captain’s reins in one hand, and Snowflake’s in the other—both horses saddled. Penelope thought she had never seen her brother look so grave.

Reluctantly letting her hand slip out of her mother’s, the Princess walked from between her parents; fully aware that every person in the City was watching her, and trying hard to be graceful. Henry helped her onto her horse and then mounted himself. She judged from his nod that she was supposed to go first. Stiffly, numbly (and rather clumsily) she urged Snowflake to a walk. Henry came several paces behind her.

People had lined the streets all the way to the Gate, waiting for them to go by. Like a wave spreading out before her, the townsfolk knelt down in front of Penelope’s horse—bowing to their Princess. Penelope blinked back her tears, and looked ahead at the empty road before her.

The Gate was opened wordlessly before them, and as they rode out into the fresh, green Valley Henry urged Captain forward beside Snowflake. Penelope turned towards him, and sorrowful blue eyes stared into sorrowful blue eyes for a moment before they both turned away. She looked out across the fields, and gasped in surprise: the grass was cloaked in scarlet, purple, and yellow; dotted with daisies like white stars.

The flowers were in bloom.

Literature

Mount Doom

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I know, I should be posting The Sacrifice right now, but today is a big day in Middle Earth, and I need to post about it! Don’t worry, I’ll post Part 10 tomorrow.

“Isildur took it, as should not have been. It should have been cast then into Orodruin’s fire nigh at hand where it was made. . . Fruitless did I call the victory of the Last Alliance? Not wholly so, yet it did not achieve its end. Sauron was diminished, but not destroyed. His Ring was lost but not unmade. The Dark Tower was broken, but its foundations were not removed; for they were made with the power of the Ring, and while it remains they will enure.” -Elrond, The Lord of the Rings – The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien, page 273)

On March 25th the Ring was at last destroyed, and not by Isildur or any great hero, but by a group of unlikely hobbits.

“It was the strangest event in the whole history of the Ring so far: Bilbo’s arrival just at that time, and putting his on it, blindly, in the dark.” -Gandalf, The Lord of the Rings – The Fellowship of the Ring, page 61)

Strange indeed, but was it stranger than the events at Mount Doom? In the end, it was Sméagol—seeking only to regain ‘his precious’—that brought about the Ring’s final ending.

“Yes,” said Frodo. “But do you remember Gandalf’s words: Even Gollum may have something yet to do? But for him, Sam, I could not have destroyed the Ring. The Quest would have been in vain, even at the bitter end. So let us forgive him!” -The Lord of the Rings – The Return of the King, page 926)

Today, Sauron was defeated, the Ring unmade, and the Dark Tower completely destroyed, at last; by a poor greedy creature and two little hobbits. One of my favorite things about Middle Earth is the incredibly real battle between good and evil, and the way unlikely heroes can always do great things if they never give up!

Click here to read my friend’s great post about Middle Earth!

Family, Life, Literature

“The Sacrifice”: Part nine

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I went into the bathroom to shower last night, and found. . .

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. . . a few things in my way.  Just a few. 🙂

I thought it warranted a picture!

On a more serious note, here’s Part 9 of The Sacrifice.

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Part Ninth: Your Choice

The seventh day since the confrontation with the dragon dawned. Penelope’s first waking thought was how bright the sun was. The second was the wretched realization that she was probably going to die that day. She lay for a long while thinking. Then she got up and began getting dressed. She tried not to think about Abadalyx, but everything in the room brought dragons to mind and tears threatened every thirty seconds.

She put on a plain, white dress that reached to her ankles with a leather belt that had pictures of lilies pressed into it and pulled her hair into two braids.  She glanced across at her vanity mirror and her eyes lingered there; filling with tears as looked back at her pale, simply dressed reflection. Its expression was so despairing.

Stop it! She commanded herself, resolutely turning her back on the mirror, determined not to cry. This was YOUR choice, after all!

Infuriated by the tear that forced its rebellious way down her cheek, she smacked herself on the forehead—hard enough to make herself reel. She sat down on her bed and laid her head on her hands. Being a heroine was so much harder than she had ever imagined.

Someone tapped softly on her door. “Come in,” she called, hurriedly wiping her eyes. Henry opened the door and slipped in, looking as despondent as she felt. “Morning, Penny,” he said dejectedly.

“Good morning, Henry.”

There was a moment’s silence before he began again. “I don’t want to rush you, but are you coming down soon? Mother ordered your favorite for breakfast!” he added proudly, perking up ever so slightly.

Penelope winced inwardly, but could not bring herself to tell her brother that she felt anxious and sick, and not like eating anything—much less rich, iced pastries she now regretted having said she liked. “I’ll. . . I’ll be right there.”

“Alright,” he answered, and went out.

Penelope collapsed onto her knees as the door closed behind him, folded her arms on her bed, hid her face in them, and prayed—more for strength not to cry in front of her family than for anything else. The thought of being saved slivered into her thoughts and refused to be forgotten, but she did not dare to voice it, even in prayer.

Literature

“The Sacrifice”: Part eight

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Enjoy Part Eight!  And happy St. Patrick’s Day, a bit late!  How many of you wore green?  I recently went back to re-read some of my older stories, and I found this that I posted last St. Patrick’s Day.  Apparently, I didn’t wear green last year.  I’d totally forgotten.  I wore green yesterday.  I even happen to really like green; why shouldn’t I? 🙂

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Part Eighth: Getting Over It

In the following six days the family spent as much time together as they could. The Throne Room was vacant as long as it could be left so. On the fourth day Penelope and Henry went out riding together while their parents finally saw to a few pressing matters of state. They rode far out into the Eastern side of the Valley—away from where the Shepherds had seen the dragon’s lair. They rode for hours before they finally dismounted at the foot of the wooded hills. They lay side by side in the grass and stared at the sky.

Neither of them had said a word since they left the royal stables except to command their horses to go and to stop. Now the Princess broke the silence:

“Henry, when I go will you. . . look after Snowflake? Silly of me, I know, she’s only a horse, and the whole City’s at stake—but I can’t help worrying.”

“Of course, Penny, anything you like,” Henry answered submissively—and despondently.

“Find a nice girl to ride her so she won’t miss me so much?”

The Prince sat bolt upright. “No. Absolutely not. I’ll skin that creature alive if she ever carries any other girl after you. . . go.”

“Then,” said Penelope, sitting up straight in her turn. “I shall have to ask father to find some nice girl in a faraway land to look after her, and beg him to have you locked up ’til she is safely out of the Valley. She must learn to get over this—and so must you!”

Henry turned away from her, but groped for her hand and squeezed it. She rubbed her eyes and turned away also, but neither released the other’s hand.