1. Nostalgia

It was one of the nights, Brooke couldn't escape the haunting question. Why did she leave? Why did Mom leave without even a goodbye. All that's left is is frozen smile in a frame and her old diary.

CLING! Brooke’s combat boots skidded against the icy ground as she stepped back. She inhaled and the frosty air cooled the blood running wild in her veins. She popped her knuckles, loosening her grip on the sword’s hilt, and rolled her shoulders so that they stayed flexibly round. She reminded herself to relax as tension began to weigh her down. She did not want to lose again. She wanted to show the man who’d taken time from his solitude, which he held precious, that it had not gone to waste.

Snow fell on the granite battlefield and the flakes vanished against raw, wet breezes that whipped past Brooke’s cheekbones, set high upon her face. She pointed her long blade in the direction of her opponent’s, silent, yet contemplative eyes, who she called her master. She flicked her dark, wispy bangs aside to glance at her master’s stance, searching for ways to counter him before they would meet by swords again.

She groaned to see his blade jabbed in the ground. He was leaning against the pommel of his sword as if leisurely leaning against a bar table. He tapped his foot and arched his thick brows. His eyes displayed a stern impatience that aggravated Brooke. She sprung at him and raised her sword to break the arrogant stance, but he blocked her. Brooke didn’t even see him lift the sword from the ground. She didn’t see a muscle move. A bull can’t charge at a crane, Brooke mused, and she had to relax. No matter how bulky her master was, he was always fluid with his movements.

Master yawned and pushed her back. This did not keep her down. She never stayed down for long, and she faced her Master, returning to basic stance. Her resilience kept her warm and standing tall like the string of a strong bow.

The two swords sung a reverberating tune as they continuously clashed together, singing the collision of impregnable energies. Her deflections had improved, she noticed. Usually, she had trouble keeping up with her master, leaving the field with multiple wounds. Now she deflected every one of his strikes.

 Master raised his sword. Brooke sank into her rooted leg, twisted her waist to the right, and she stopped him by her blade ridge. She smirked as her blade ducked below her master’s, and she used the back of the sword, sliding it against the back of her master’s sword, to fling it across the field. She sliced the sleeve of his cloak, teasing him, drawing on the shock of the comeback. He stepped back this time, and tripped on his own big feet. She pointed her sword to the tip of his bulbous nose and a victorious grin carved its way between her burning cheeks. “Looks like I have won,” said Brooke as she panted.

A mischievous grin engraved into his rigid, brown beard. He swiped his legs below hers and tripped her. He used the small opportunity to scuttle to his sword, grab it, and stretch back to Brooke, already pointing it towards her nose. 

Brooke’s elbows scraped against the ground as she sat up and scowled. His husky voice towered over her, “Looks can be deceiving.”

Brooke pursed her lips as he offered a hand. Brooke laid her small fingers into his huge palm. She stood and swatted away snow and rock dust off her tights. She knitted her light brows together, propped her hands on her hips, and gave him a dramatic look of betrayal. “Rogue!” she yelled, “You cheated!” The words caught in her coarse throat. Just when she thought she had him this time…How was she supposed to enter the academy, after nine years, still unable to beat her master? How was she supposed to fight to protect anyone if she had so much trouble protecting herself?

Rogue ignored her and walked over to the empty tree stump by his cottage house. He grabbed his beer and chugged it down.

Brooke shivered and hugged herself, finally realizing how cold it was to be wearing a half-sleeved top. She regretted letting Lucy borrow her longer sleeved shirt. It probably had her perfume all over it. Brooke sneezed.

Her master removed his cloak from his large shoulders and wrapped it around her arms. “Catching a cold isn’t a teen thing is it?” he joked.

Brooke rolled her eyes. “FYI, this is the only thing I’ve got to wear that doesn’t have some kind of perfume I don’t like on it,” she ranted. “My dad won’t buy me any new clothes. We’ve got to save money, says Mary. Not what she says when she buys these million dollar clothes, shoes, and plastic surgery.”

“What about her children?” Brooke stared at the darkened sky and the snow topped mountains reaching towards it.

“If Mary doesn't treat me like crap, then they take her place.” Brooke shook her head and glared at Rogue. “What was the tripping thing all about?” she griped.

Rogue shrugged. “We’re sparring, were we not?” He paused, thinking, and said, “The sword is not my only weapon in combat, remember that, but you put up a tough fight and have come a long way; I’m very proud of you and I think you’ll do fine at the academy.” Brooke took in the encouraging words and nodded. “Next time, we’ll focus on your martial arts, okay?” 

She smirked. “Next time, I’ll kick your butt; just you wait!”

Rogue laughed as he ruffled Brooke’s hair as if she were a bouncy puppy. “Can’t wait to see that, my growing pupil.” He finished the last of his beer, crushed the can, and tossed it away. He belched, and Brooke laughed as the crass sound echoed into the mountains and disturbed the ravens. Rogue tugged the end of his beard. “When are you entering the academy anyways?”

Brooke mashed her lips together and looked away shyly. “I don’t know.”

“Can’t hesitate forever, Brooke.”

“I know,” she muttered. She didn’t mean to hesitate, but becoming a guardian for the royal family was an intimidating job. What if she didn’t have the right skills? No, she must not doubt her abilities, she reminded herself, but still…

“You’re almost twenty years old now, you can’t stay under your father’s roof forever, and-”

“I sent in the form already, Rogue!” she exclaimed. 

Rogue cocked his head to the side and smiled. “Oh really?”

“I’m waiting for the confirmation for my audition.”

“Well, only thing left to do is hope you get it.”

Brooke returned his smile. She removed the cloak, gave it to Rogue, and tucked her sword in its sheath hooked to her belt. “I have to go; thanks for the session.”

She hurried out of the rocky path from Rogue’s cottage and followed the whispers of the Lavender Stream through the small forest into the kingdom walls. Snow and time fought against her. Dad’s house rested in the Far East on the rural side of the kingdom. Brooke thought about catching a bus, but she didn’t have any money on her. Besides, Brooke enjoyed running. She passed townhouse neighborhoods, the gas station, the diner, the movie theater, and other buildings that slowly trundled into hills and plains.

The moon shined golden and bright on the slanted shingles of Dad’s house. Brooke hoped he wouldn’t scold her about her broken curfew. He was always concerned about her when it came to her guardianship training, and she managed to break the curfew three nights in a row lately. She was sure Dad had something to say- him or Mary.

She walked over the little, cement bridge and stopped in front of the mailbox. She opened it and flipped through teen magazines, bills, and…her confirmation letter! She had to have the audition and do well to get into the academy.

Brooke knocked on the door, hating every reason Mary came up with not to give her a key. Fannie answered the door, smiling fading and shoulders slumping at the sight of Brooke. “Aw man, I thought it was someone I wanted to see.” Brooke pushed past her, ignoring the insult. No one was in the living room.

“I assume Lucy and Mary are getting their face lifts?”

Fannie folded her arms. “Ha ha, they’re in the dining room; Mom and your dad want to see you.”

She went down the hall to the dining room. The house smelled like burnt baked chicken. Mary had probably cooked. Dad, Lucy, and Mary sat in the wooden chairs around the long, square table. Mary and Dad turned away from each other. Mary’s big nose crinkled looking like a cartoon-illustrated witch. “Oh Brooklyn, please, aren’t you hungry?”

Brooke saw the full plate next to Lucy. A dark, lump of meat she was sure was the chicken, a glop of grey mashed potatoes, and slimy green peas made Brooke lose her appetite. “No thanks, I’m not ready to die yet,” she replied.

Mary narrowed her eyes at Brooke. Dad sighed. “Can you at least be difficult sitting down, Brooklyn?” Brooke sat beside Lucy, but she wasn’t going to touch the plate.

Dad never said Brooke’s whole name unless something was important. She hoped it was news that Mary and him would be breaking up and she and her daughters would have to move far, far away.

“So, how’s that old perv in the mountains? Rock was his name?” asked Lucy, waking Brooke out of her blissful thoughts. Brooke frowned at the air headed blonde.

“His name is Rogue, and he’s not old and perverted like your boyfriends. He’s my friend and one of the best adults I see all day.” Lucy crossed her arms and stuck her tongue at her.

“Please don't, we can only guess where that's been.”

“Enough!” commanded Mary, her voice light and firm. Her eyes softened and she turned to Dad, smiling as if she’d found a new gold watch she loved collecting. “Oh dear, tell her for me I’m so excited!” exclaimed Mary as she rubbed her nose against Dad’s nose.

He signaled Brooke to come and she approached him. “Brooklyn, I want you to look at me, okay?” She obeyed under the firmness in his voice. “How would you feel about me remarrying?”

The word sent a shattering ring through her ears. She asked with the little hope she had, knowing there was only one person he planned to remarry. “To who?”

Mary revealed a diamond ring wrapped around her finger. Her bony, ugly, marriage finger. “Who do you think?” Mary kissed Dad and Brooke stood there frozen, not sure how to react. No matter how she tried to rearrange the picture, it was all the same. Dad loved Mary as an abandoned dog loved his savior. Mary fed Dad with love, for his money. Even so, it seemed he wagged his tail at her happiness. And no matter how Brooke rearranged the situation, this wasn’t right! Mary- her mother and her horrible daughters an official part of her family?

Brooke scowled and replied, “I don’t like it.” Her honest words chilled the room. Mary pretended to cry and wailed about how unwelcome she felt. Brooke rolled her eyes and walked away. Dad called her name, but she refused to listen.

She went to her room and slammed the door behind her. She fell on the bed, set the envelope on the end table, and faced the framed picture of how her real family used to be. She gave it a nostalgic smile. Her mother’s blue eyes smiled back at her. Then, the unanswered question began to bother Brooke again. Why did she leave? Brooke remembered that one night, snuggled close to her mother, and then gone when she woke up. She had searched the house and her father never responded to the question. Well, he did, with tears of his own, but that didn’t help.

Brooke opened her closet to hang up her clothes and stash her sword. All her sparring gear lay in a jumble on the closet floor. Things she used when she was younger and first picked up the sword, first decided to train for the academy to become a guardian and protect the royal family. She decided this to have a goal, something to work for, and something to make her come to peace with her mother’s absence.

As Brooke searched for a gown to put on after her shower, she spotted a cardboard box in the corner. Brooke noticed this box before, but didn’t mess with it. Probably had useless junk, or worse, things Mom left behind. A book sticking out caught her eye. Cursive writing stretched across the tattered cover spelling, Diary of Rain Sevede. That was her mother's name. Her eyes tightened as she grasped the book. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages, withered with age.

A knock at the door startled her. She set the book down as gently as she would set a glass vase down and opened the door. Dad leaned in the arch. “Hey, Brooke, look, I know Mary and the girls can be a handful sometimes and-” Dad peered over Brooke’s head and she turned to see what caught his attention. “What’s that?”

“I didn’t know we kept Mom’s diary.” His eyes widened and he rushed over to the book. He picked it up and stared at the cover. Brooke was afraid he’d sulk after seeing the thing. That’s what he usually did when he found Mom’s possessions.

“Uh well, I’d been searching for this-”

“I found it in the closet,” answered Brooke before he asked. 

Brooke had expected to read the diary; maybe it would have the reason why she left. Mom had always been an interesting figure, a mysterious figure too. Dad started leaving with the book. “I want to read some of it!” she exclaimed.

Dad shook his head. “No, Brooklyn.” There her full name was again. The diary was indeed of great importance. It was an item the person missing in their lives wrote in, perhaps inputting answers that both Brooke and Dad had wondered when Mom dwelled within her mysteries.

Brooke crossed her arms and studied her father’s blank expression, something she hadn’t seen since her mom left. “Maybe she….”

His light brows furrowed against his creasing forehead and he yelled with a mix of anger and sadness, “She’s gone, Brooklyn!”

Brooke stepped back and observed her dad’s mood change. Brooke expected the reaction, but not like this. The man loved and hated his wife. He loved her because she made him happy and hated her because she left without a simple goodbye. Brooke lowered her head and Dad’s face loosened. He pulled Brooke into a hug and said, “She’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I know,” said Brooke, the only thing she could say. She hadn’t taken Mom’s disappearance so harsh until Mary came along. She released all her outbursts on the battlefield with Rogue. “I know what you mean, Dad.”

Brooke ushered her dad out. He left with the book. She decided to drop it. Brooke swiped up her letter and ripped it open. One good thing…her audition was in five days.

 

Author's Note

Dear Reader,

I apologize about the length of this chapter. However, there are some important details here. I purposely made Rogue out to be that epic style mentor. There's really no twist with him, though. He just trains Brooke and is a very dear friend. That is all. I like that he is a technophobe. He is kind of like a symbol of epic fantasy for me. I wanted you to know most of all Brooke's ambition and why it is her ambition.

However, please critique and review if there is anything I missed. I purposely chose that picture to represent the chapter because Brooke's mother's disappearance is a mystery. Darkness symbolizes blindness and ignorance.

Thank you for reading! :)

Sincerely JazzSoulKeke,

God bless

Reviews

[Kyle J. Lawson]

Dialogue is an art in its self. Keep playing around with it and find your own voice(literally). I too am not the greatest at it, but you definitely want a character to have his/her own personality and style. When a character switches between two different voices or styles it's hard to tell who they really are. I had alot of trouble with this when I first started writing and still do. But if you keep at it you'll find your groove.

The story is interesting and works well with the characters. I personally like to build my characters around the world. I don't think there's a right or wrong way. Plot is pretty good, you seem to have that down. And there aren't any grammatical errors(which don't really matter when I review something).

Good job and don't stop writing.

[Kianna]

Yeah, I see what you mean. Gotta do more research on dialogue because I guess I forgot how to make voice distinct without just messing up the grammar rules. Do you have any tips on how to make dialogue distinctive?

[Kyle J. Lawson]

Let your characters come to you. Don't force any personality on them. That's the only tip I have. :)

[Writer #00]

Before I praise you, just a grammatical tip for revision:
That was Brooke's mother name-->That was Brooke's mother's name--or (to avoid double apostrophes)--That was HER mother's name. : )

Wonderful opening chapter. I remember someone telling me that a good first chapter will serve as a foundation for the rest of the book; introducing important characters, relationships, events, and plot-points. I found all of these in this first chapter (including a beautiful title that, to me, seemed to capture both Brooke and her father's nostalgia for a past life and the more rural, epic fantasy bits this urbanepic world (made up word) has nestled in it (i.e. rogue)).

Brooke is a charming and captivating character to whom I quickly warmed up. Her personality (persistent, determined, witty) is distinct and an easy beakon to becoming acquainted with her as a reader, so good job (I always admire good characters because characterization is one of my weak points).

Both the sub-plot and overall plot-setter seemed to have been established (great job) and I sense they might overlap at some point. The family Brooke lives with was perfectly established and is a great symbol for the urbanepic world you've created: the whole step mother and evil step sister business falls under the fairytale/high fantasy-ish while the complexity of Brooke's mother's leaving/vanishment embodies the various aspects and reasons for a modern remarriage...or something like that : ) Well done!

[Kianna]

Thanks so much! You really captured things I wanted the reader to capture and then some more :) I really appreciate it.

[Writer #00]

No problem, and if I captured what you wanted me to, then that just means you're a good writer. read moreNo problem, and if I captured what you wanted me to, then that just means you're a good writer.
As for further reviews: Seeing as you have forty plus chapters in your book, I thought it might be efficient to review every five (I do want to read all of your novel, but reviewing it might take longer if I go chapter by chapter). : )

[Christoph Poe]

Before I get to the nit-picky complaints, I just wanted to add that I really enjoyed this! I'm unsure of the time frame, and really unsure if you actually decide to issue one, but I feel like its based in the future somewhere. Brooke is a realistic teenager. She's wise in some areas, but maybe a bit immature in others. (I say 'immature' due to the lack of a better term. Don't take it literally.) Her relationship with her father is loose, yet strong at the same time. I love it how he's still attached to her mother even after all these years. Of course Brooke is still attached to her mother, which is a bit cliche, but it works and is realistic.

On to something more contructive: your dialogue is a bit off. Personally, I grew to like the way they talked, and that's what made it feel 'unmodern' (--is that even a word???) However, I think you can still use their over-zealous way of talking, but you need to make sure we understand it. There were some things the sisters said that threw me off, and I couldn't make sense of. I'm not too sure how you could fix this unless you just rephrase some of it for clarity.

Is like a little more direct description. It's okay to use a sentence of pure description every once in a while. You actually have the opposite problem I see everyone else having, but it will be easier for you fix it than it will them. Set you a guideline for a paragraph, only as an exercise:

First sentence: description of scene (if you're going to use 'to-be' verb, use it here.)

Second sentence: show action of main character (don't use to-be verbs)

Third sentence: a climactic thought from main character (don't use to-be verbs)

Fourth sentence: someone says something?

Fifth sentence: show some more action combined with the description of the scene.

This is only a suggestion though. You can come up with some other guidelines. It should eliminate any over-the-top flowery descriptions.

I have a personal complaint with the story. (I said 'personal' so again, don't take me seriously here. It's only an opinion.) I feel like the diary is a bit jarring. I think Brooke unmistakably coming across it is too coincidental for the story. I think it would be best if Brooke has kept it hidden from her father, and was too scarred to read it. Then with the climax of her acceptance into the academy as well as her father's new engagement, she attempts to read it. Then her father takes it from her? Or whatever. That's just me. There might be something else hidden for later in the story where things need to happen that way.

Besides that, I highly enjoyed it! I write and review a lot myself so I don't have the time I need to read the entire novel. However, one day I may come back. :)

Or I may even find it on the shelf at Barnes and Nobles. Which reminds me:

Everything else I can think of would be up to an editor to filter out. Unless you're going to edit it yourself?

Okay, enough rambling. I enjoyed it, honestly. :)

Take care!
--Christoph Poe

97/100

[Kianna]

Wow, I need to take a note on reviewing from you haha lol. Man, you have a keen eye because you saw through everything I was trying to pull. I can be flowery in my writing style, which can come across as trying too hard to be detailed. Also, I switched tenses so that I wouldn't use "to be" verbs. I suppose I will have to revise those.

As for the diary, to be honest, there's little significance to it. The diary gets destroyed in a clash between the family. I found the whole "oh I found a diary to my mother's past" was cliche so I was trying all I could to make it as un-cliche as possible because if she opens it, then the later writing becomes cliche. I didn't want to make diary entries haha.

Thanks for your helpful review.

[Christoph Poe]

Before I get to the nit-picky complaints, I just wanted to add that I really enjoyed this! I'm unsure of the time frame, and really unsure if you actually decide to issue one, but I feel like its based in the future somewhere. Brooke is a realistic teenager. She's wise in some areas, but maybe a bit immature in others. (I say 'immature' due to the lack of a better term. Don't take it literally.) Her relationship with her father is loose, yet strong at the same time. I love it how he's still attached to her mother even after all these years. Of course Brooke is still attached to her mother, which is a bit cliche, but it works and is realistic.

On to something more contructive: your dialogue is a bit off. Personally, I grew to like the way they talked, and that's what made it feel 'unmodern' (

[Arutha]

So first off, bravo on the level of detail. It's one of the things fantasy writers seem to struggle with the most - getting to a point where they're actually incorporating the subtleties of the story at a level that is granular enough to really get the reader into what is going on. I absolutely love Brooke's wit and the simplicity of Rogue's outlook on life. You've got a good gang of characters going here, right out of the gate.

I was also really impressed with the banter between Brooke and Lucy, it's very clever and makes for quite an amusing read.

I did want to point out that it's spelled "nostalgia," as opposed to "nostolgia," just FYI. ;-D Also, I felt like, if anything, the chapter was a bit short for a novel (though I wouldn't add anything, I think what you have is great... I'm just talking more in terms of what's typical). In my understanding, fantasy chapters tend to get closer to the 5,000-word range. This was about half that, and it was ANYTHING but a painful read!

"Tensing up will only slow her down; she had to relax" - Make sure to keep your tense consistent. Maybe, "Tensing up [would] only slow her down..." Other places where you've done the same: "to counter him before they meet by swords again."

I also feel like the dialogue is a bit disparate within a single character's voice, from one phrase to the next. It's like their voices change; sometimes Rogue sounds like a pirate, other times he sounds like a gentleman (I'm actually terrible at dialogue, but if you want to see some impressive stuff, check out Lubaina's story from the Fantasy Foretold group). *Caveat: I actually wrote this paragraph before I was even halfway through, and having finished I can safely say that your dialogue felt a lot smoother the further in I read.

I look forward to getting into some more of this as time permits. Once I finish the chapter I'm working on I'll try and come back (remind me ;-P).

[Kianna]

I spelled the title wrong? How embarrassing lmbo Thanks for pointing that out. I will fix that pronto! :) and will take a look at the suggested read.