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The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyways.

Message from Writer

Salutations! The name's Joh (the h is silent). Anyways, I'm your classic female nerd, so yeah, there's that coffee addiction, social interaction struggle, and, of course, my undying love for historical romances (shoutout to Victoria and Albert). I can't guarantee my writing is amazing, but my mom thinks it is...yeah, maybe I'll just let you decide.

Excerpt from Chapter One of A Month of Midnights

November 22, 2018


    The sunshine couldn’t melt the mist that morning. The white blanket descended in the early hours and clung to the grass blades. As people rose to perform their daily chores, the mist lapped at their ankles and nipped at their toes. It was an odd but expected rarity. Strange things always happened on the Day of the Choosing. Rumor had it that on the last Day of the Choosing, flowers with green petals and purple stems grew, and the sheep ate in perfect geometrical formations.
    It wasn’t the mist that kept me in my bed after I had woken up. I was staring at the wicker ceiling of my home, my poor, run down home that resembled a hut more than a house. Everyone in my village lived like this. Our blankets were thin and cold, and our bed frames squeaked with the slightest movement. Food was limited and often tasteless. Life in Chorio, in any village, was far from luxurious. If I do get chosen for a role, I thought, I’ll send my money and supplies back to Chorio. Istoria shouldn’t get all the glory.
    “You’re thinking again,” my mother said, leaning against the doorway. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips. I sat up slowly, scratching my head and rubbing my eyes, pretending to still be tired. I knew she didn’t like that I thought so deeply about things. I quickly realized from when I was a little girl that the best place to think away from my mother was in bed. With my eyes closed, everyone safely assumed I was lost in a dream when really, I lost somewhere completely different.
    “Blyss, I know when you’re thinking. You always have the same look on your face, even when you’re pretending to sleep,” my mother said. I frowned and looked away. I could see the mist outside my window. It concealed the ground like a blanket of floating snow. My mother came to my bedside and ran her fingers through my long, brown hair. They occasionally got caught on snarls, and she hurriedly untangled them. I had to be flawless today.
    “Honey, I know it’s hard. You’re just like your father was, always pondering existence and how to do good. But look what happened to him. You have to understand that the best way to do good is to go to Istoria. You’ll make our family and our village proud,” she said, hoping to finally convince me.
    “But think about it, Mother! All the important people in Istoria grew up in Chorio, but why don’t they do anything? Why don’t they help us?” I complained turning back to her. My mother looked down at the bed.
    “I don’t have an answer for that, but I can tell you this. The Storyteller won’t-”
    “-give me any role if I think badly of Istoria,” I finished. I had heard this many times before. My mother dropped her hands and walked back to the door.
      “The Storyteller also won’t give any roles to a brat,” she said angrily. She disappeared around the corner in a huff. I slammed my head back down on the pillow. The frame ached and growled before completely collapsing. I rolled onto the floor and groaned. What a great way to start the day, I thought as I pushed myself up and brushed off my nightgown. I trudged out of my room only to be greeted by my eager little brother.
    “It’s Choosing Day, it’s Choosing Day!” Leo shrieked as he wrapped his arms around my legs. He shined his adorable seven-year-old grin at me. I rubbed his messy hair, but, despite my best efforts, he would not let go. Mother came in and helped me pull little Leo away. She put her hand on my shoulder and looked me straight in the eyes.
    “Go into my room,” she said. “There’s something for you on my bed.” I followed her orders and briskly walked into her room. It was mostly bare after many years of having to sell belongings for food. A bright glimmer of light blinded my eyes for a moment. I walked closer to it and saw laying on my mother’s bed was an elegant gown the color of pink roses and spring tulips. Lace and sparkling thread weaved around the hem and up the sleeves. I held up the dress to my body and realized it was a perfect size.
    “Whoa!” Leo cried running into the room. Mother chased in after him.
    “Do you like it?” she asked with a smile. I nodded quickly.
    “It’s absolutely magnificent!” I exclaimed. “But, but where did you get it?”
    “I’ve been saving up since the day you were born. I knew it the minute I saw you that you would be my little Sleeping Beauty. I just figured you should dress like her too!” Mother said with pride. I looked at the dress in awe. It reminded me of how much I still wanted to be chosen. I wanted to be Sleeping Beauty. Everyone in the village told me I would be. Many Sleeping Beauty characters had come from our village in the past. My grandmother had been a Sleeping Beauty, and my great  aunt was the current Flora the Faery. I had been convinced since I was a little girl that I was to be Sleeping Beauty; I was the obvious choice. Though I had those nagging thoughts about life past just living in Istoria, I still had the desire like everyone else to see the magic beyond the border.

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  • November 22, 2018 - 8:07pm (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • Kahasai

    This sounds like a fascinating story. I love your title (intriguing!) and your descriptions, especially in the beginning.


    10 months ago