Chapter 1: Family Ties

by Sillia

Published November 17, 2016

E - Everyone

In The Magic Heist

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Wide silver eyes burned through the darkness. Her hand was clutched around a deck of cards, the thin paper cutting through the calluses on her palm. She ignored the blood as it ran down her wrist, warm and sticky like a string of honey. A thick black curly twisted down her face, brushing the tip of her nose and begging her to sneeze. Her heart pounded harder against her chest, ironing out a rhythm that beat against her skull. Stay silent. She cried inwardly. Making a noise now could get her killed. The firelight danced in the deep pools of her eyes, illuminating the scene that stretched out before her. The hulking figure that was her father stood with his back to her, the thin glint of a blade glimmering in his hand. His shoulders were broad, coated with thick white scars and oily sweat. His head was shaved, needle prints of black poking out the top. In front of him stood two men, each decorated in layers of dust that dimmed their shining silver armor.

"She's no...one of them." She could hear him roar, raising his hand-in-half blade over his shoulder.

"We-have-evidence!" The man's voice wheezed with effort as he dodged the blow.

"False evidence!" He swung again like a child.

The second man approached wearily, his warm green eyes fixated on the desperate scene that played before him.

"Heath....stop this madness." He said cautiously. "We knew this was a possibility when she was born. We...we can-can't just let her grow stronger. Don't you understand that?" His voice was soothing but laced with daggers of command.

"She ain't..I swear she ain't.." Heath slurred over his words like a drunk man trying to walk a straight line. "She's my little girl...please...you can't take her away from me..." His swings lost their ferocity with each new swipe, a new desperation creeping into his voice and forcing him to his knees. "Alder...please." He turned his pitiful eyes on the man.

Alder's gaze hardened with resolve. "Where is she." His voice left no room for sympathy.

Heath turned, slowly glancing in her direction. His misshapen brown eyes screamed for forgiveness; they stabbed her heart tiny daggers of shock and hurt. She stood still, frozen in that single moment. In those seconds, she memorized his face. The laugh lines that crinkled at the edges of his lips and the wrinkles that ran across his forehead, telling stories of worry that she would never hear. He had a black tattoo on his right shoulder, the shape of a blue jay flying across his leathery skin. She stepped back, looking at the silver chain that glinted around his neck like a leash that commanded him to betray her. You're my father! She screamed inside. You were supposed to protect me! But the blacksmith had given her up. As easily as he'd given up her mother. Her blood turned to ice as the men began to advance towards her, slight weariness sparking in their eyes. They had not halted in taking on a full-grown man, but a slender-shaped girl with the mark of the devil? No one would underestimate her power.

"Jay, I'm sorry!" His voice cracked as it split the pretentious air.

Jay was the first to move. She spun on her heels, her steel-toed boots striking against the cobble. For a moment she stuttered over her feet, the tip of her shoe catching against a slightly lifted stone. She threw out her hand to stable herself against a dark oak wall, terror slipping through her heart as firm hand slammed down on her shoulder, rocking her against the world. In a moment, she'd pulled her blade free, bringing it down on the flesh that grasped her. A surprised scream split the night as she tore free, ignoring the splatter of blood that sprayed her face. She ran faster, ignoring the dim flickering of candlelight that began to shimmer through half-open windows. Darkness enveloped her once more as she pushed herself past the last house, bursting into the night. People screamed at her to stop, her trade-mark midnight-blue cape identifying her soul. They knew her here; but then again who wouldn't? Jay, the blacksmith's daughter. The one who's voice was like that of a meadowlark. Some believed that she would steal your blood in the dead of night for potions. Others just wanted to listen to her play her harp. Men came, offering her father money for her body, but he turned them away - always complete with a new set of scars. Jet-black hair that tumbled smoothly down her back; she was desirable in even this desperate state. Panic flared in her chest as her legs began to scream their protest, begging her to stop. She stumbled again, her knee skimming the ground. A wince shook her as a sharp pain rocketed through her leg. Her lungs burned with pain, the fire tracing its way around her heart and exploding out of her throat in a burst of oxygen.

Feet tumbled over upturned stones as she left the well-worn dust path that was marking her way. She could hear the pounding of hooves as they slammed into the ground behind her and pushed herself farther, tears of agony streaming down her face in waves. Plunging into the depths of the trees, she threw herself into the forest, knowing full well that even the most skilled navigator had trouble forcing his way through. A small sob jumped into her throat as she stumbled over a raised root, her ankle twisting painfully as she tumbled to the ground. Mud splashed her chest as she pushed herself up, crinkling her cards against her small body. Neighs of protests hit her ears as the creatures balked on the edges of the forest. No creature would venture into woods of this caliber this time of the night. None except her that is. Adrenaline slid through her body, feeding her muscles like some sick drug. Jay's feet pounded through piles of mood, sopping up her black pants and splashing cruelly against the soft white of her blouse. Anger radiated through her as she pushed her way through the dark forest. He had given her up. Had thrown her away like she was nothing! And after all that she'd done for him! She began to slow as the sounds of pursuit dimmed to a dull roar. After a few more moments, she stopped, taking a first look at her surroundings.

Dark pine trees towered above her head, stretching their bony limbs towards the stars, imploring them to come down and play. A fluid wave of exhaustion took over her as the pounding of her blood slowed. She forced herself to keep walking, ragged breaths escaping her mouth in pale white puffs that encased her flushed cheeks. Pushing aside rag tag bramble bushes, she edged deeper into the trees, relying on the fickle starlight that shuttered down through the black-painted leaves to guide her. Noises rustled in the darkness, each new step or howl causing her to turn with fear. Her hand remained clutched on her thin blade, the intricately woven handle rubbing her skin red and raw. She fumbled for a moment, shoving her cards between the waistband of her pants and the skin of her stomach. Hiding them with her shirt, she kept walking, her shoes growing black as the mud began to dry. Her pale white skin was encased in thick layers of grit and blood, a steady ache growing in her ankle as she continued to walk. A few more steps, and her legs gave out. Shock blew through her as she tried to force herself back to her feet, only to find that they would not go any farther. A dull pain settled into her bones as she sat on the ground, leaves and snagged branches tangling into her hair.

She drew her legs to her chest and huddled against the trunk of a free, her silvery eyes glaring up at the stars. She'd been left alone before; as a child her father would go to the river to fish or to retrieve some wild berry or another. But this was different. This time he would not be coming back; with his wild toothed-grin and a smash of fruit in his fists. There would be no going back to her cozy room behind the shop, where mountains of books were danced on the edge of her bed and her shining glory of clothes shoved in a pile on the dusty stone floor. She shoved her head between her legs and allowed the first tear to flow from her eyes.

For the first time; she was alone.

Comments & reviews · 2
User avatar
Dulcet
Review
Dulcet wrote a review Review · Nov 27, 2016

Hey there, I'm just going to jump straight into the review, if you don't mind! This one's a bit quick because there really isn't much to say - I really like this piece, and it's a pretty good first chapter.

First things first, paragraph size. Big paragraphs make a work look unpolished, and are also hard for readers to slog through. The first review's got this covered though, so I'm not going to beat a dead horse. :)

I want to point out the first paragraph, particularly these four lines:

Her hand was clutched around a deck of cards, the thin paper cutting through the calluses on her palm. She ignored the blood as it ran down her wrist, warm and sticky like a string of honey. A thick black curly twisted down her face, brushing the tip of her nose and begging her to sneeze. Her heart pounded harder against her chest, ironing out a rhythm that beat against her skull.


I point these out because they all follow the same sentence structure: description comma more description. The way you describe things is quite beautiful - and I especially like the sentence describing Jay's hair - but using the same sentence structure a few times in a row makes it dull to read. I'd say it reads a bit like a list, and lists aren't particularly exciting. :D There's just not much of a flow for the reader to follow, y'know? So just mix it up a bit and you're good to go.

Also want to point out this:

His shoulders were broad, coated with thick white scars and oily sweat. His head was shaved, needle prints of black poking out the top.


Even though it's two sentences, this also reads like a list because of the similar sentence structures, and the use of pronouns as the first word. If you could just reword it so that it isn't as repetitive, it'd be great. Something like this:

His shoulders were broad, coated with thick white scars and oily sweat. Needle prints of black poked out the top of his shaved head.

... Something like that, I think? Wouldn't be as repetitive.

Next:

His voice cracked as it split the pretentious air.


Probably just me, but I don't quite get what "pretentious air" means here.

There would be no going back to her cozy room behind the shop, where mountains of books were danced on the edge of her bed...


I love the idea of this line, except I don't get what "were danced on the edge" means here, either. Dancing means moving rhythmically, and books are normally stationary objects, so I don't really get it.

Aside from those two descriptions, your imagery is pretty amazing. Just be careful that they aren't too hard to get for people like me. :P

Grammar/spelling was alright except for a few obvious typos, so a good proof-read might be in order. I have to point out the last line's use of a semi-colon though:

For the first time; she was alone.


Correct me if I'm wrong, but semi-colons should be used to join two complete sentences together. "For the first time" isn't a complete sentence, so a comma should be used here instead.

Also in your description, there's:

Magic is real; and it's not all pixies and fairy dust.


Conjunctions like "and" or "but" shouldn't be used with semi-colons. A comma would also be appropriate here.

... And that's all I have to say. I think I'm in love with your imagery and descriptions to be honest. :D It's just the smaller things that hinder readers from enjoying the piece fully.

Good luck, and thanks for the great read!

User avatar
Casanova
Review
Casanova wrote a review Review · Nov 21, 2016

Heya, Sillia! Casanova here with a review! Let's get to it.

The first thing I'd like to mention is that this, besides the very little dialogue, is just a big block of text. It's daunting to read, and your paragraphs could be nulled down a bit, if you know what I mean. You break paragraphs with dialogue, when there's a different thought, or when there's a different idea. You break the last one, the different idea one. I would suggest reading over what you've written and looking for spots where it could be separated from the rest of the paragraph. Here's an example of this-

Dark pine trees towered above her head, stretching their bony limbs towards the stars, imploring them to come down and play. A fluid wave of exhaustion took over her as the pounding of her blood slowed. She forced herself to keep walking, ragged breaths escaping her mouth in pale white puffs that encased her flushed cheeks. Pushing aside rag tag bramble bushes, she edged deeper into the trees, relying on the fickle starlight that shuttered down through the black-painted leaves to guide her. Noises rustled in the darkness, each new step or howl causing her to turn with fear. Her hand remained clutched on her thin blade, the intricately woven handle rubbing her skin red and raw. She fumbled for a moment, shoving her cards between the waistband of her pants and the skin of her stomach. Hiding them with her shirt, she kept walking, her shoes growing black as the mud began to dry. Her pale white skin was encased in thick layers of grit and blood, a steady ache growing in her ankle as she continued to walk. A few more steps, and her legs gave out. Shock blew through her as she tried to force herself back to her feet, only to find that they would not go any farther. A dull pain settled into her bones as she sat on the ground, leaves and snagged branches tangling into her hair.


Alright, let's see here. You see the line,"Her hand remained clutched on her thin blade...?" You could break the paragraph there, making it something like this-

"Dark pine trees towered above her head, stretching their bony limbs towards the stars, imploring them to come down and play. A fluid wave of exhaustion took over her as the pounding of her blood slowed. She forced herself to keep walking, ragged breaths escaping her mouth in pale white puffs that encased her flushed cheeks. Pushing aside rag tag bramble bushes, she edged deeper into the trees, relying on the fickle starlight that shuttered down through the black-painted leaves to guide her. Noises rustled in the darkness, each new step or howl causing her to turn with fear.
Her hand remained clutched on her thin blade, the intricately woven handle rubbing her skin red and raw. She fumbled for a moment, shoving her cards between the waistband of her pants and the skin of her stomach. Hiding them with her shirt, she kept walking, her shoes growing black as the mud began to dry. Her pale white skin was encased in thick layers of grit and blood, a steady ache growing in her ankle as she continued to walk. A few more steps, and her legs gave out.
Shock blew through her as she tried to force herself back to her feet, only to find that they would not go any farther. A dull pain settled into her bones as she sat on the ground, leaves and snagged branches tangling into her hair."

I think you could cut the paragraph in those two spots, and it makes it neater and not as daunting to read. You have a same idea within each, and it continues smoothly.
The next thing I'd like to mention is dialogue within a paragraph. You break the paragraph for the dialogue, ya know? I said it before, and here's a paragraph where you could break it-

"She ain't..I swear she ain't.." Heath slurred over his words like a drunk man trying to walk a straight line. "She's my little girl...please...you can't take her away from me..." His swings lost their ferocity with each new swipe, a new desperation creeping into his voice and forcing him to his knees. "Alder...please." He turned his pitiful eyes on the man.


Do you see where you could break the paragraph? I"ll let you decide how.
Anyway, that's all I have to say about this one.

Keep on doing what you're doing, and keep on keeping on.

Sincerely, Matthew Casanova Aaron.

Sillia replied · Nov 22, 2016

Thank you for the review :)



When I use caps I do not want you to read it like a little screech, I want you to read it like a 5,000 year old ogre with the strength of 10,000 men.
— avianwings47