Ali's Next Top Author! --You need to be creative for round five!-- {{UPDATE: There's been an extension, you guys now have until May 5th}} This round, you will all be.. (;

[KatieKinz8]

I'll have my entry in around Wednesday or so!

[dogfins]

I have an idea!!! Now if I can just figure out how to write it all down to make sense....

[beaglelover10]

Thank you so so much for the ten!! That made me feel really great. Okay, here's my cliff-hanger:

Spoiler: show

Jesse, Madie and I had been best friends since pre-school. Mrs. Mills, Madie's mother, Mrs. Blanchard, Jesse's mother, and my mother had all been teachers back then. It was I who gave Madison the nickname "Madie", though Jesse claims he came up with it.

We did everything together-up until last year. Jesse's father died in a motorcycle accident out in the woods, leaving him and his little brother Samuel with only one parent. I felt so bad for them- Madie and I did everything we could.

The Mills baked the Blanchards casseroles every night for weeks on end, and I tutored Samuel-who had dropped his grades after his father's death.

But that was a year ago; The Mills were doing fine, as were we, and the Blanchards were back on their feet. It was great seeing a smile on Jesse, Samuel, and Madie's faces. After all, it had been rough on all of us.

It was summer and Mrs. Mills decided to take us all camping. At first, Jesse, Samuel, and Mrs. Blanchard were a little nervous about it, since it was in the same woods that Mr. Blanchard had died in, but they had moved on well enough to handle it.

A month later, we were out in the woods-Samuel, Jesse, Madie, and I. While our moms and Madie's and my dads set up the tents and all, we decided to stake out the territory.

The woods were called the Enchanted Forest for one reason and one reason only. They formed a kind of "Bermuda Triangle" because if you got lost you could wander around in circles for who knows how long. But, we knew our way around well enough to know what we were doing.

In the middle of the Enchanted Forest, there was a huge pit-no one knows how it got there. And if you've made it that far, you're golden. If you get to the Pit and walk straight one way, you'll reach town sometime. We had camped by the Pit so it was easy to find it.

Samuel-the Little Ball of Energy-had been running up ahead of us then running back a minute later. Suddenly, he came back, his face ashen and his eyes wide. "Jesse!" he cried, as if Madie and I weren't even there.

Jesse gave his lopsided smile and said, "Sorry Madie, sorry Emma. See you in a sec?"

We nodded and he darted off after his brother. Then we heard Jesse scream.

"What's going on?" Madie called, but there was no answer.

All I could think is that we should have gone with them. But there was no going back now. Bitterly reprimanding myself, I ran the rest of the way to the pit. Madie was right on my heels.

Jesse and Samuel were both fine, but there was a horrified look on both of their faces that gave me pause.

Then I looked into the pit.

There, beside an ancient and wind-torn makeshift tent was Mr. Mills' destroyed motorcycle. Mr. Mills would never have done that to his bike-and there was no mistaking it was his.

Jesse and Samuel turned to stare at Madie and I. "That's my dad's bike..." Samuel said, clearly stunned.

The bike was mangled. Twisted like you would a roll of clay, and the handlebars were gone all together. What on earth could have done that?

Even from far up above the Pit, you could see that whoever or whatever had inhabited the Pit had been there recently.

"Let's go back." I said quietly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Madie nod. We turned and Jesse clutched my shoulder. "Not that way!" A long shadow had appeared on the foot-path. We could all barely see a man walking the path, but he was still a long way off. We didn't know what to do. Stay there and let who knows what happen to us? Go into the Pit to hide? What if the man owned the tent? Or go into the Enchanted Forest another way and risk never coming out?

"I'm glad you're all here." The man said. Freezing, we saw he was right behind us. How had he gotten there so fast? It was almost inhuman. "Samuel, Jesse, Madison and Emma." Jesse's eyes popped, Samuel turned, if possible, even whiter, and Madie choked out, "How....How do you know who we are?"

"Simple," the man said. "I've been watching you. All of you."

Sorry it's so long, but I had fun doing it. Enjoy! And thanks again!!

[Craftyreader]

Originally Posted by aquahusky14

Can I use an entry from another contest? I had a great story in another contest that ended in a cliff hanger.

Sure, you can. (:
As long as it fits WI rules, it's fine with me. Thank you for asking though!

Originally Posted by labradorian

I was wondering that as well. (Of course, I'd make revisions to the original, but as a safety measure I'd like to know if it's allowed)

By they way, thank you for the generous score once again! Not sure if I deserved it, but who am I to say anything anyways? You'd think I'd be smarter than telling the host I didn't deserve a high score

Yes, you can. [:

Well, fine, I can lower your score if you want.. xD Just kidding. But really, yes, you did & I promise I judge 100% fairly with my scores. If you get a 10, you, in my opinion, deserve it.

Originally Posted by WackyZingoz211

I was wondering the same question

Yes. It's fine with me.

Originally Posted by KatieKinz8

I'll have my entry in around Wednesday or so!

Awesome!

Originally Posted by dogfins

I have an idea!!! Now if I can just figure out how to write it all down to make sense....

Ahaha, that's something tricky to do sometimes.

Originally Posted by beaglelover10

Thank you so so much for the ten!! That made me feel really great. Okay, here's my cliff-hanger:

Spoiler: show

Jesse, Madie and I had been best friends since pre-school. Mrs. Mills, Madie's mother, Mrs. Blanchard, Jesse's mother, and my mother had all been teachers back then. It was I who gave Madison the nickname "Madie", though Jesse claims he came up with it.

We did everything together-up until last year. Jesse's father died in a motorcycle accident out in the woods, leaving him and his little brother Samuel with only one parent. I felt so bad for them- Madie and I did everything we could.

The Mills baked the Blanchards casseroles every night for weeks on end, and I tutored Samuel-who had dropped his grades after his father's death.

But that was a year ago; The Mills were doing fine, as were we, and the Blanchards were back on their feet. It was great seeing a smile on Jesse, Samuel, and Madie's faces. After all, it had been rough on all of us.

It was summer and Mrs. Mills decided to take us all camping. At first, Jesse, Samuel, and Mrs. Blanchard were a little nervous about it, since it was in the same woods that Mr. Blanchard had died in, but they had moved on well enough to handle it.

A month later, we were out in the woods-Samuel, Jesse, Madie, and I. While our moms and Madie's and my dads set up the tents and all, we decided to stake out the territory.

The woods were called the Enchanted Forest for one reason and one reason only. They formed a kind of "Bermuda Triangle" because if you got lost you could wander around in circles for who knows how long. But, we knew our way around well enough to know what we were doing.

In the middle of the Enchanted Forest, there was a huge pit-no one knows how it got there. And if you've made it that far, you're golden. If you get to the Pit and walk straight one way, you'll reach town sometime. We had camped by the Pit so it was easy to find it.

Samuel-the Little Ball of Energy-had been running up ahead of us then running back a minute later. Suddenly, he came back, his face ashen and his eyes wide. "Jesse!" he cried, as if Madie and I weren't even there.

Jesse gave his lopsided smile and said, "Sorry Madie, sorry Emma. See you in a sec?"

We nodded and he darted off after his brother. Then we heard Jesse scream.

"What's going on?" Madie called, but there was no answer.

All I could think is that we should have gone with them. But there was no going back now. Bitterly reprimanding myself, I ran the rest of the way to the pit. Madie was right on my heels.

Jesse and Samuel were both fine, but there was a horrified look on both of their faces that gave me pause.

Then I looked into the pit.

There, beside an ancient and wind-torn makeshift tent was Mr. Mills' destroyed motorcycle. Mr. Mills would never have done that to his bike-and there was no mistaking it was his.

Jesse and Samuel turned to stare at Madie and I. "That's my dad's bike..." Samuel said, clearly stunned.

The bike was mangled. Twisted like you would a roll of clay, and the handlebars were gone all together. What on earth could have done that?

Even from far up above the Pit, you could see that whoever or whatever had inhabited the Pit had been there recently.

"Let's go back." I said quietly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Madie nod. We turned and Jesse clutched my shoulder. "Not that way!" A long shadow had appeared on the foot-path. We could all barely see a man walking the path, but he was still a long way off. We didn't know what to do. Stay there and let who knows what happen to us? Go into the Pit to hide? What if the man owned the tent? Or go into the Enchanted Forest another way and risk never coming out?

"I'm glad you're all here." The man said. Freezing, we saw he was right behind us. How had he gotten there so fast? It was almost inhuman. "Samuel, Jesse, Madison and Emma." Jesse's eyes popped, Samuel turned, if possible, even whiter, and Madie choked out, "How....How do you know who we are?"

"Simple," the man said. "I've been watching you. All of you."

Sorry it's so long, but I had fun doing it. Enjoy! And thanks again!!

I meant to just skim over it, but I couldn't.. it was too good!!!

I love it, and like any good cliff-hanger, it makes me want to read more.. please, couldn't you publish it or something?? o.e I have a feeling it's like the ghost of Jesse's dad.. or himself, maybe he survived? Or.. oh my gosh, I want to read more!

[24724]

Originally Posted by beaglelover10

Thank you so so much for the ten!! That made me feel really great. Okay, here's my cliff-hanger:

Spoiler: show

Jesse, Madie and I had been best friends since pre-school. Mrs. Mills, Madie's mother, Mrs. Blanchard, Jesse's mother, and my mother had all been teachers back then. It was I who gave Madison the nickname "Madie", though Jesse claims he came up with it.

We did everything together-up until last year. Jesse's father died in a motorcycle accident out in the woods, leaving him and his little brother Samuel with only one parent. I felt so bad for them- Madie and I did everything we could.

The Mills baked the Blanchards casseroles every night for weeks on end, and I tutored Samuel-who had dropped his grades after his father's death.

But that was a year ago; The Mills were doing fine, as were we, and the Blanchards were back on their feet. It was great seeing a smile on Jesse, Samuel, and Madie's faces. After all, it had been rough on all of us.

It was summer and Mrs. Mills decided to take us all camping. At first, Jesse, Samuel, and Mrs. Blanchard were a little nervous about it, since it was in the same woods that Mr. Blanchard had died in, but they had moved on well enough to handle it.

A month later, we were out in the woods-Samuel, Jesse, Madie, and I. While our moms and Madie's and my dads set up the tents and all, we decided to stake out the territory.

The woods were called the Enchanted Forest for one reason and one reason only. They formed a kind of "Bermuda Triangle" because if you got lost you could wander around in circles for who knows how long. But, we knew our way around well enough to know what we were doing.

In the middle of the Enchanted Forest, there was a huge pit-no one knows how it got there. And if you've made it that far, you're golden. If you get to the Pit and walk straight one way, you'll reach town sometime. We had camped by the Pit so it was easy to find it.

Samuel-the Little Ball of Energy-had been running up ahead of us then running back a minute later. Suddenly, he came back, his face ashen and his eyes wide. "Jesse!" he cried, as if Madie and I weren't even there.

Jesse gave his lopsided smile and said, "Sorry Madie, sorry Emma. See you in a sec?"

We nodded and he darted off after his brother. Then we heard Jesse scream.

"What's going on?" Madie called, but there was no answer.

All I could think is that we should have gone with them. But there was no going back now. Bitterly reprimanding myself, I ran the rest of the way to the pit. Madie was right on my heels.

Jesse and Samuel were both fine, but there was a horrified look on both of their faces that gave me pause.

Then I looked into the pit.

There, beside an ancient and wind-torn makeshift tent was Mr. Mills' destroyed motorcycle. Mr. Mills would never have done that to his bike-and there was no mistaking it was his.

Jesse and Samuel turned to stare at Madie and I. "That's my dad's bike..." Samuel said, clearly stunned.

The bike was mangled. Twisted like you would a roll of clay, and the handlebars were gone all together. What on earth could have done that?

Even from far up above the Pit, you could see that whoever or whatever had inhabited the Pit had been there recently.

"Let's go back." I said quietly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Madie nod. We turned and Jesse clutched my shoulder. "Not that way!" A long shadow had appeared on the foot-path. We could all barely see a man walking the path, but he was still a long way off. We didn't know what to do. Stay there and let who knows what happen to us? Go into the Pit to hide? What if the man owned the tent? Or go into the Enchanted Forest another way and risk never coming out?

"I'm glad you're all here." The man said. Freezing, we saw he was right behind us. How had he gotten there so fast? It was almost inhuman. "Samuel, Jesse, Madison and Emma." Jesse's eyes popped, Samuel turned, if possible, even whiter, and Madie choked out, "How....How do you know who we are?"

"Simple," the man said. "I've been watching you. All of you."

Sorry it's so long, but I had fun doing it. Enjoy! And thanks again!!

Dude! What the heck?!? You can't end there!!!!!!!!!! I NEED to know who that guy is!

[beaglelover10]

Originally Posted by Craftyreader

I love it, and like any good cliff-hanger, it makes me want to read more.. please, couldn't you publish it or something?? o.e I have a feeling it's like the ghost of Jesse's dad.. or himself, maybe he survived? Or.. oh my gosh, I want to read more!

Originally Posted by 24724

Dude! What the heck?!? You can't end there!!!!!!!!!! I NEED to know who that guy is!

Glad you both liked it!! Maybe I should elongate it and make it into a real WI story.

[KatieKinz8]

The funny thing about my critique is, actually I had already made up that riddle as a joke. It was originally a joke and I used it as a riddle the last round...sorry for not actually picking a riddle OK I'll do better this round!

[labradorian]

So, I'm sorry this entry is so short, but the words came to me a while back and I had no idea how to continue it. I have made some revisions and have not posted it in any other competition, however, if for some reason you think it doesn't meet the requirements or is too short, I can easily write something else.

Spoiler: show

What the Taxi Dragged In

Why did he come? They asked. Their voices, mere whispers, echoing around Pinewood Falls. The answer, however, was a mystery. Some believed it was just because his aunt had called for his company after her husband’s death one balmy April morning. Some, believed that it was fate. But fate or not, he came.



The air was still. Expectant. As it is before a storm, but the sky was a glorious blue and only cereus clouds drifted occasionally in front of the sun. A young lady, possibly in her early thirties, waited outside her doorstep. Glancing frequently down the newly paved road for her nephew, who was to come in a few minutes time. At the sight of a yellow taxi bumbling carelessly towards her, she rose from beneath the shade of her porch and waved. Her black skirt billowing behind her like a flag, signaling the taxi to stop. Which it did, with a grinding halt, a few feet from her doorstep.



A young boy exited and she enveloped him in a hug. Completely oblivious to the changes the boy would bring to the small town. Oblivious to the influence he would soon have on not only her life, but others as well. She was completely and wonderfully oblivious, but not for long.

[Craftyreader]

Originally Posted by 24724

Dude! What the heck?!? You can't end there!!!!!!!!!! I NEED to know who that guy is!

Exactly what I was thinking.

Originally Posted by beaglelover10

Glad you both liked it!! Maybe I should elongate it and make it into a real WI story.

YES. YOU COULD DO THAT. YES!

Originally Posted by KatieKinz8

The funny thing about my critique is, actually I had already made up that riddle as a joke. It was originally a joke and I used it as a riddle the last round...sorry for not actually picking a riddle OK I'll do better this round!

That's okay. It's fine. I guess in a way, it actually is a riddle.. maybe? xD

I'm excited to read your entry! (:

Originally Posted by labradorian

So, I'm sorry this entry is so short, but the words came to me a while back and I had no idea how to continue it. I have made some revisions and have not posted it in any other competition, however, if for some reason you think it doesn't meet the requirements or is too short, I can easily write something else.

Spoiler: show

What the Taxi Dragged In

Why did he come? They asked. Their voices, mere whispers, echoing around Pinewood Falls. The answer, however, was a mystery. Some believed it was just because his aunt had called for his company after her husband’s death one balmy April morning. Some, believed that it was fate. But fate or not, he came.



The air was still. Expectant. As it is before a storm, but the sky was a glorious blue and only cereus clouds drifted occasionally in front of the sun. A young lady, possibly in her early thirties, waited outside her doorstep. Glancing frequently down the newly paved road for her nephew, who was to come in a few minutes time. At the sight of a yellow taxi bumbling carelessly towards her, she rose from beneath the shade of her porch and waved. Her black skirt billowing behind her like a flag, signaling the taxi to stop. Which it did, with a grinding halt, a few feet from her doorstep.



A young boy exited and she enveloped him in a hug. Completely oblivious to the changes the boy would bring to the small town. Oblivious to the influence he would soon have on not only her life, but others as well. She was completely and wonderfully oblivious, but not for long.

No, it's very good, I like it.
It's a cliff-hanger, at least in my opinion. Thank you for getting that in. (:

[SheWhoWrites]

I apologize that this entry is rather lengthy . . . I had meant to stop writing several places, as the said cliffhanger would have been accomplished, but I just couldn't! I felt like if I did stop, and then add to it later on, the piece would have lost its bravado. xD lol

Spoiler: show

There stood the two relatives, shaking in the cold of obscurity, sea air seeping into their nostrils. A glowing lantern, apart from their bickering, was the only indication of inhabitation near the wharf.

“Come now, Leeman, you must be tired. Forget all this nonsense, and warm yourself with a cup of tea.”

“Uncle, please!” The lad scoffed distastefully and looked away.

Shaking his wrinkled head, the man left his nephew to his own foolish thoughts. His lashes bat out the dust of the cobblestone streets as he hobbled on his cane into the shadows. Leeman reconfigured the steps of his devious plot. Bending down, he removed a crumpled piece of parchment from the sole of his boot.

“Wait, Leeman!” An echo drafted through the dock planks.

Leeman smiled, “Old man, go rest your aching bones and leave me be.”

“Listen to me, Leeman!” The voiced seemed to grow in volume.

“Will you never stop?” The boy stayed positioned on the dock, gazing out onto the sea.

“Woe onto those who follow the paths of evil!”

Leeman pursed his lips, trying to devise just the right tactic. Instead, he clenched his gold pocket watch and begun to nervously polish it.

“Ignoring fate shall only bring more upon you.” Still the thing pried, as sprinkling bits of sand upon a flame slowly destroys it.

“My Uncle seems to share the same views as yourself, why don’t you pay him a visit, if you’re not who I think you are.”
It was then that the sound did not answer.

Leeman’s fingers stroked the shimmering watch, now laundered. It read 12:43 a.m.Tapping his foot impatiently against the wooden dock beams, the boy waited. Before long, he began to pace back and forth along the berth. In a matter of minutes, if action wasn’t taken, the moment would pass. The assignment would unbutton.

“Leeman! Oh Leeman! Be that you?” A porter scrambled to where he stood.

“Do you have the list?”. . . Came his gruff reply.

“Oh, of course. Excuse me.” He handed Leeman an encasement that hung at his side. Discreetly unrolling the sheet, Leeman scanned the paper. The legibility of the writing had diminished, water painting the canvas, spouting ink across the page.

“Did you bathe with it Chan?”

“No! Why-” The porter’s shoulders drooped.

“Come now Chauncey, we must find other means of reading this, this, thing!”

----------------------------------------

Soon the g.ay noises of a tavern drummed in the two’s ears. “Bayard seems to take to this forsaken place. Perhaps he be inside intoxicating his intellect with rum and cards?”, Chauncey reasoned.

“Aye. Tis him mingling with the lass yonder.”

True to his common carriage, Bayard leaned against the back door handle, about a six foot length span from them, dumbly winking. Heads held high in self respect, Leeman and Chauncey approached him, but with a fair amount of caution.

“’What should we say? That we can’t understand his letter?” Chauncey sheepishly caught Bayard’s glance.

The man had caught wind of their conversation. Glumly placing his finger-printed glass on a nearby table, he motioned for them to follow. Pressuring the door to withstand his weight, it swung open, allowing the dimmed alley to close its jaws upon them.

“What are you two doing here?”, he snapped impatiently.

Chan stammered profusely, allowing Leeman the chance to interrupt.“Here.” He thrust the weather-beaten scroll into his arms.

Bayard hummed his disapproval. “I hired you, Leeman, to do what I cannot. Now I see that you yourself are incapable of it as well.”

He clattered to the rear aperture, scraping rust off its hinges. “I’m fond of you, son. But mark my words. Success is beneficial. Failure is not.” Dropping a crumpled ball of stationary to the ground, the passage fastened to a close and Bayard was gone.

Chauncey timidly stooped down to examine the thing.“Some sort of message, a code perchance!”

Peering dubiously over his forearm, Leeman read aloud:

Two o’clock be the time, to avenge thy father’s passing
Take flight with winged feet, to the livery Main
Revenge so foul, full of hate . . . just down the lane

Chauncey looked at Leeman inquiringly. Flipping the thin sheet over, he scanned the page, hoping for any further directions, but to no avail.

Leeman put a hand underneath his chin. “Uncle told me my father died at sea . . .”

“What about your mothe-“ Chauncey began, alas Leeman cut the poor porter’s sentence short with a foul remark. Muttering something solemnly, Chan threw up his hands.

“I blame myself for this.”Leeman stood up, clearly aggravated.

“But think of the money, Lee, the money! I know what I shall do with my share.”

Staring at his friend, the young Leeman furrowed his brow. “Is it worth killing for?”

Despite his inward feelings of contempt, he took Chan by the arm, and began to walk in direction of the livery. “The war be bringing in wanderers. This town’s nervous as it is. The stable is on strict watch. No one is allowed to leave here, or come in without sound reason. This alleged murderer would have had to resist law.”

“Unless,“ Chan gulped resolutely, “he did have a sound reason.””

Leeman wordlessly turned in an easterly direction; obviously still making for the livery.

As they neared the wooden plank door to the livery, Leeman cautiously peered along the rim. His ears picked up a stray conversation between a stable boy and another deep voice, belonging to no one familiar.

“Renting any horses, lad?”

“No sir, after all, they be no use to any living soul here to Arching dale.”

“Tis no use? They be of good use to me, boy. What say you to a double price paid for that mare yonder?” He pointed a finger to a chestnut horse, busily wharfing down brittle feed.

“She be Sir Cabael’s filly. N-n-not to be ridden.”

“And why? Tis a shame to let her muscular legs grow weak due to an owner’s neglect.”

“I just be saying what I be told to, Sir.”

“Ah, that’s what I like, a boy who listens to his authority. A fair quality in a growing lad, tis. Where would I find dear, old Mister Cabael lad? Down toward the tavern? Ah, no. Too fine a man be Cabael to drink. The blacksmith? No, tis not open this time of night. Perhaps to the merchant’s? Do speak up boy! Where darest Cabael hide his worthless wretch?”

Gulping down his wit and sense, the other participant of this conversation replied, “Believe he said we could find him near Center Hall. Campaigning against tax on tea, it was.”

“Many thanks, lad. I’ll be sure an’ consult ye in future time.”

The burly voice eagerly left, whistling a merry tune. Leeman consulted his watch, yet again. “It be 1: 34, Chan. Time’s running out.”

“Hadn’t we ought to follow that man?” The gangly accomplice pointed to the whistling being, now turning the bend.

Leeman returned Chauncey’s pitiful whimpers chuckles with a grunt. Leaping from behind the door, they portrayed the act of a sneaking tom cat, sleeking and darting through the night.

----------------------------------------

“Must we wait? I want all of this to be over and done with.” Chan whispered to his companion, both listening casually to Isaac Cabael’s speech.

“Hush, Chauncey. I want to listen.” He elbowed him gently.

Isaac spoke in a loud and booming voice, rebelling against tax on tea. “Ahh Taxes! Ha, Taxes! A man can’t let this happen! Paying extra for tea, the miserable kind! I say to ye, be there a man here ‘night who darest to disagree with this preposition? Aye, is there?”

Not a soul appeared to be brave enough to disagree with this rich delegate. Instead a loud cheer was thrust upon the ears of those in the room, and fists pumped up and down, waving through the air.

“I’ve had enough. Farwell and good luck to ye, Leeman.” Chauncey intended on retracing his steps back home to a warm, lavished, late night dinner, when Leeman’s cutting glance shook what lay beneath his skin.

“Do hurry then. I don’t know how long I can stomach this.” With the mannerisms of but a wee child, the porter sulked grudgingly, eyes fixed straight ahead, tapping his booted foot on the oak beams.

“Come one, come all and celebrate our great fortune in conquering this tax nonsense!” Raising afeeble and bony right arm, this leader raised his glass in triumph, portraying his hearty attitude.

“What do ye say to this?” The voice of the whistling one rang in their ears, joined with the smashing of glass against the wooden furniture.

“Surely Sir, I wish no violence to emerge!” Cabael puffed out his chest, revealing the fine craftsmanship of his tailor.

“ Humph!”

Now the once agreeable crowd seemed bewildered.

“Kind Sir, I don’t want to start another revolution in this hall. You may state to me your residing conflicts at another time, and might I say . . . place.” Cabael said in a retreating tone, obviously feeling embarrassed over the current turn of events.

“Don’t call me kind. You’ll find that I am not.” This giant of a man came back at our spoiled sir, arousing a commotion amongst the spectators.

Isaac cleared his throat, raising his wine glass in a nervous form of imitated calmness. “Shall we men, drink to our good fortune?”

“Ha! Good fortune. Pah! Good fortune.” Now the whistler simply mumbled to himself, hiding his fury for the moment. He seemed to have surrendered to Cabael’s misused power, seating himself, merely feet away from our Leeman and Chauncey.

“Talk to him Chan.” Leeman gave a little tap to his friend’s backside, urging him forward.

“By God’s grace I most strongly refuse.” He spat with a knowledgeable tongue. “You talk to him.”

Squinting, Lee casually walked toward this angry, giant of a man. He wasn’t quite sure as to how to attract his attention, not knowing whether a polite poke on the shoulder would be best, or if that would only succeed in his fate.

Deciding to take the gentleman’s approach, Lee ever so faintly tapped the man’s shoulder blade, wincing after he had done so. It whipped around to meet its challenger. The wood on wood sound the chair created with the floor echoed throughout the room. No one seemed to notice the two, even though

Leeman felt as if all eyes lay on them.

“You’re one of the scoundrels were spyin’ on me down t’ward the livery. Where hides your skittish mate?” The whistling oddity glared knowingly into
Leeman’s eyes, his own being of the deepest darkest black. No color gleamed within them, not a blue, green, brown, or a devil’s red. A cold, stony, black glared back at the boy, forcing him to stammer and add errs and ums into his normally clear speech.

So yes. Feel free to skim if you so desire.