Guilt in Red (Draft) Chapter One

So this was my novel for NaNoWriMo 2010. I am slowly making my way through the editing process. There is so much filler and things that need to be changed. This is the first edit of the first chapter. The novel was split into three POVs with Maya being the main protagonist. I seem to have changed her character from the rough draft to the first draft and I am quite happy with the results. Please feel free to read!

And does anyone know how to change the formatting for stories? I cannot seem to figure this out and I do not like how it is set up right now.

Guilt in Red (First Draft)

By Keren Luecke

Chapter One- Maya

The sunset shined in a combination of bright pinks and oranges and reds, outlining the talls trees of the forest in brilliant colors. Although the sun was setting, there was still enough heat to stick my drak brown hair to the back fo my neck with sweat. I contemplated taking off the red cloak that I wore upon my shoulders, but I did not want to. Wrapping my grandmother's red cloak around my shoulders was as much of a comfort as actually having her arms around me.

I treaded through the sleepy flowers and made my way across the fields to my grandmother's small cottage. The cottage sat by itself in the middle of a field that seemed to stretch for half a mile on all sides. On the outside of the field, a forest surrounded the flower-filled field. Remnants of a farm still cluttered areas of clearing. A small blue barnhouse sat on the eastern half of the field, covered in green vines and surrounded by weeds of all kinds. A brown fence marked where the field ended and the forest began. On the side of the cottage, there was a chicken coop and a place for the cows and sheep to sleep. I ran my hand over the soft of the baby cow's back and looked across the clearing. I do not even remember a time when this place was what it was supposed to be.

With my hand skimming the log walls of the cottage, I picked my way through the weeds and bramble to the front of the house.

On the dirt path that wound through the forest to the local town, a black stagecoach came into view. The horse pulling the stagecoach along its path was a creamy white with a tan mane. With each trot, it kicked up a cloud of dust. I backed away and hid behind the house, hoping that I was not already seen.

It was not often that my grandmother and I got visitors being as far out in the country as we were. Most of the time it ended up being trouble. I tried very hard to remember what my grandmother had always told me to do when someone came to our doorstep, but it just would not come to mind. My thoughts kept telling me to stay and watch what happens. It kept telling me that something incrdible might happen, that this may be my way out into the world to explore it to my heart's content.

But my mind was telling me to flee, to run and hide and not to look back. My eyes were telling me to stay. I backed away into the shadows that the setting sun was casting onto our house and watched, ignoring the screaming demands that my mind was emitting. I would just take a peak and then make my escape.

The stagecoach stopped in front of the door and the horse snorted. The driver opened the door and bowed to the tall, lanky man as he made his way out of the stagecoach and onto the brown dirt ground. The tall man sneered at out meager setting and it made my heart drop. I kept my breath slow and steady so that he would not hear.

"It was not what I had expected of the nobility." The tall man turned and looked in my direction. I kept my face hidden, but was able to catch a glimpse of his face. A scar ran along the right side of his face, a deformed line that ran from temple to chin. The scar just barely missed the man's eye. I felt as though I could stare at the scar for ages and not be able to figure out what caused it or what this man had gone through.

His thin, pale hands knocked on our front door. There would be no answer though for my grandmother was not home. I feet began to inch out the shadows, wanting to go speak to the man. "Is there anybody home?" I man began to knock more urgently, a persistent tapping on the hard oak wood. "I have something of importance to speak of with you."

Importance? What could my grandmother possibly have to do with nobility? We barely had any money to speak of. Maybe he was a tax collector... But our taxes were not due till the end of the month and I am most certaint that my grandmother had payed every month.

I must have made a sound, for footsteps began to make there way towards me. The steady thumping of feet became to close and I shut my eyes tightly. I cold hand clasped around my wrist and dragged my into what little light was left in the air. When I opened my eyes, I was staring up directly into the man's. His cold sent a shiver through my body, one that I had only felt in the late winter months while playing outside in the snow covered fields.

"Do you live here, little girl?" The man's breath was rank, smelling oddly of rotten pork and oranges. I tilted my head away and looked to the driver, who stood and watched obediently.

"Yes." I was just barely able to make words, being pulled so close to this man. My grandmother would never approve of me being this close to someone. I tried to pull my self out of his grip but his hand clamped tighter. His sharp nails dug into my skin and I knew that it would leave bruises. "What do you want from us?"

Hearing my answer, the man let me go and I back away. I rubbed the marks on my wrist and felt the sting of tears in my eyes. If he had squeezed any harder, I am sure that he could have broken my wrist.

"I am sorry about my behavior." He bowed lowly to me, as though I were more noble than he. "I am in search of the owner of this cottage. At your age, I most certain that you are not he? May I speak to your elder?" The man's skin was pale and milky in the late summer night. He was as pale as a ghost and as thin as a reed.

"She is not here at the moment. She is on a business venture in the far north. She has left me in charge of anything that is to happen here. May I ask whatever it is that you need." I pulled the cloak closer to my skin, suddenly feeling a rush of cold wash over me. The man's eyes stared into mine and made my heart turn icy and hard. There was nothing that I could do to warm it.

"I need you to come with me." The man took my hand and unwillingly pushed me into the stagecoach. He got in beside me and closed the door. I began to protest but I remembered the harsh touch of his hand on my wrist and knew that it was no use. I was trapped.