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Chatterbox: Blab About Books
My new book!
...
Chapter One
As a baby, Ashlie could make a rose bloom in seconds. Her rose garden was much admired, and some even took the trip into the deep forest to see them. Her tomatoes were the jewel of the market, causing much envy from other sellers. But most of all, her magic was above all even as a child, and many wondered about her. Who was this girl's mother? She had never been seen, and when asked, Ashlie would only say that she was dead, but in the graveyard, she had no grave. And no respectable woman would have no grave.
As Ashlie grew, rumors about her grew, too. Was she too powerful a witch for the small town of Loskwin? But most rumors were kept from her ears, and crowds sometimes fell silent when she passed by. And if she noticed, she didn't mention it.
~~~
Ashlie tied her brown, wavy hair back, ready for a day in the marketplace. The sun shone down at the old cottage in patches, sometimes blocked by the lush greenery overhead. She climbed onto her horse, Shatty, who was lugging a cartful of tomatoes and potatoes.
Shatty, though young, was fast and strong. Ashlie had just got her last year from the Wanderers, but the two had already formed a strong bond. As she rode out of the forest and into the marketplace, she couldn't help noticing the looks people kept giving her, and the whispers, but she was used to them.
She slid down from Shatty and into her stall, setting up the tomatoes and potatoes, waiting for the customers who were sure to come for them. The first one was an old lady, the second a young boy, the third a mother and her two children, and they kept coming and coming, like Ashlie knew they would.
"Your tomatoes are mighty big," The town miller bellowed at her, "You sure you didn't mix yer magic in there?"
Ashlie shook her head surely, but inside she wasn't so sure. It was true that her tomatoes were bigger than most, but did that mean she had magic mixed in there? Hopefully not, "No, sir, of course not! You want to buy some?"
"No, I don't buy food poisoned by witchcraft," He spun around and sauntered off, leaving Ashlie staring. Magic was one thing. Witchcraft another.
"I'm dreadfully sorry about that, dear," Ashlie looked up, and saw an old woman with a cane standing near her, "It's just that his young son, Jimmy Miller, just caught a new kind of disease, and he's blaming it on magic. You see, he never got magic, and he's still bitter because of it."
Ashlie nodded, "Thanks. Do you want some tomatoes or potatoes?"
"No, dearie."
"What's your name? I don't believe I've seen you around."
"I'm Kathrine Weaver, the new weaver here," She smiled and hobbled away. And Ashlie couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something strange about her. She just didn't know what.
~~~
So do you like it? Should I continue? And try to guess me! And can you give my suggestions about a title for this book?
submitted by Try to guess!, The place where you write
(September 5, 2016 - 6:57 pm)
(September 5, 2016 - 6:57 pm)
cool! Are you
Rosebud
Annabeth C
Coconut the dog
CNN reporter
Alexandra
(September 6, 2016 - 12:06 pm)
TOP! And yes, I'm one of the people Daisy guessed, but try to guess which one!
Oh, and my CAPTCHA says caiy. Caitlyn? CAPTCHA, do you know a girl called Caitlyn? Ooh, that's a pretty name! I might put it in my book!
(September 6, 2016 - 2:45 pm)
ok, sorry for so many guesses! I bet... It's not coco... Or Annabeth... Or cnn. How abou Alexandra?
(September 6, 2016 - 6:10 pm)
Wow! This is really good! And I agree with Daisy: You are Alexandra, aren't you? I can't think of a good title for the book, though ... it's not my strong point.
(September 7, 2016 - 8:02 am)
Yep, I'm Alexandra! How did you guess? And here's the next part!
She thought about it for a bit, then shrugged and kept selling until sunset, when she hitched up Shatty and rode back home, still thinking about the weaver. What was it about her?
She reached her hand over to a branch, still bare in the early spring, and watched leaves grow on it beneath her fingers, smiling. She always had a tingling sensation whenever she did that. A pleasant one that she liked.
She wished that others saw her magic as pleasant too, instead of dangerous and witchy. She patted Shatty’s neck. At least she didn’t think Ashlie was a witch, with magic beyond her years, and Ashlie was glad for that. ~~~
The next day, when Ashlie went to the market, there seemed to be more whispers. More glances her way. But Ashlie didn’t really know why until Kathrine Weaver came again for some tomatoes.
“Hello, Ashlie,” She looked grave.
“Hello, Ma’am,” She smiled at her, worried about her grave face, “What’s wrong?”
“Kathrine. Call me Kathrine.”
“What’s wrong?” Ashlie prompted again.
Kathrine sighed, “Remember young Jimmy Miller?
“Y-yes. Is something wrong?” Ashlie said hesitantly, with a feeling that there was. Something wrong.
Kathrine nodded, “Yes, Ashlie. Something is wrong. His sickness, it is spreading. To other people. The butcher’s wife, Becky, she’s fallen ill. And one of the farmers. Thomas Green.”
Ashlie stared at her, “Oh.”
“And, dear, people always find someone to blame in these circumstances, and right now? It’s you. But I know that you are not causing this. You have my trust.”
Ashlie nodded, troubled, “Thank you.”
Kathrine smiled, kindly changing the subject, “I’ll have eight tomatoes, please.”
Ashlie nodded, “Eight tomatoes for you, Ma’am.” But her mind was far away from tomatoes. She was thinking about the mysterious sickness. And how she hoped it wouldn’t spread into the forest.
(September 7, 2016 - 2:58 pm)
And here's the next part!
Chapter Two
“Ashlie, don’t go to the market today.”
Ashlie turned around and looked at her father, confused, “But, Papa, Shatty’s all ready and people are bound to be expecting me! Why shouldn’t I go?”
Her father looked up at her, a frown creasing his forehead, “Ashlie, ever since little Jimmy Miller got sick, many others have gotten sick with the sickness. It’s spreading, and I want to protect you.”
“But… Papa! If they’re sick with the sickness, I need to help!”
“No, Ashlie. It’s too dangerous out there in the town. The sickness is spreading fast.”
Ashlie nodded, “Okay… Papa, I’ll stay home. Today.” She walked outside and began to tend to her garden, looking at the direction of the town worriedly. Was everyone okay? The carpenter and his two twin children, Katie and Jackson, were her constant customers, and she knew them well. And Kathrine Weaver was a nice woman. She didn’t want either of them to get sick… or die, as people said little Jimmy Miller would.
She looked over to her rosebush, wondering. How could she do such magic? And who was her mother? Did she know magic?
Ashlie sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and went over to the rosebush. She put her finger to a closed rosebud, and watched it unfurl and turn into a big, fresh rose right before her eyes. It was true. No child of thirteen could ever do such things.
“Ashlie!” Ashlie turned around to see her father looking at her and and finger, perched on the rose.
Ashlie walked over to him, “Yes?”
He took a deep breath, “Ashlie, the sickness. People think it’s you who’s causing it. People are blaming you. When I went to the town yesterday… I saw their faces. But I wanted to tell you that it’s not your fault. The sickness is not coming from you. You are my daughter, but also your mother’s daughter. Your mother was a kind woman… but also the parent you inherited your magic from. And it is impossible to use that magic to cause harm. Your magic can only be used to grow and heal. Your mother healed with her magic. You are using it to grow. And Ashlie, you are not a witch. Not a good one, nor a bad one. You are something else entirely.”
Ashlie hung on to every word he said with bated breath, “Papa… Is it true? Was Mama… did she know magic?”
Her father nodded, “Yes, Ashlie, she did… I’ve said too much, Ashlie.” And he walked away.
Ashlie stood there, rooted to the spot, trying to process all that she had heard. Her mother… magical.
She turned around and bolted into the forest, running wherever her legs would take her. She ran into a rosebush, and curled up beside it, wondering, thinking, and dreaming. Her mother was magical, she had inherited her magic from her! Ashlie knew she had to have inherited it from somebody, but she had never even imagined… her mother.
Ashlie looked up and saw the sun shining through a drizzle of rain. Strange, she hadn’t even noticed it beginning to rain! But a beautiful rainbow was beginning to form, and Ashlie stood up, looking at it.
She walked home slowly, letting drops of rain drip onto her fingers.
She slipped through the front door, “Papa?”
“Ashlie,” Her father was sitting in his chair.
“Papa… what was Mama like?”
Her father’s face fell, and he looked down, stroking his beard, “You look just like your mother, Ashlie. Did I ever tell you that?”
“No. You rarely mentioned her.”
“She had wavy brown hair, like yours, but skin that blended in with tree bark, though it was a few shades lighter. Her eyes were brown, too, with specks of green and gold… your eyes are a mix between mine and hers. Green, like mine, specks of gold, like hers,” He stopped here, taking a deep breath.
Ashlie nodded, “And…”
“She was small and agile, thin and fast. Faster than you, even… and that’s her. Your mother. She was a wonderful woman.” He sighed.
“But… how did she die?”
“Ashlie, that is for later. When you grow up, I will tell you the rest.”
“Okay,” Ashlie’s mind was whirling around, and she was satisfied with the information she had now. Later, perhaps, her curiosity would make her go asking her father for more information, but not now.
Ashlie wandered up the stairs to her bed, staring into the mirror at her own face. Her father had said that she looked like her mother. Did she?
She took a strand of her hair and looked at it. Brown like tree bark. Brown like her mother’s hair. Brown like Shatty’s mane.
“I like brown,” She said to no one in particular.
And no one in particular answered her.
Yay! Rilla said her first word! Bike! You want to go on a bike ride, Rilla? I might let you as a reward for saying a word!!!
(September 8, 2016 - 4:18 pm)
This is awesome, Alexandra! Good job! I'm really enjoying this. :)
(September 9, 2016 - 10:17 pm)
This is amazing! You should definitely keep going!
(September 10, 2016 - 9:10 am)
Gimme a 'G'!
G!
Gimme a 'O'!
O!
Go Alex! Keep on writing!
(September 10, 2016 - 10:55 am)
Chapter Three-
A week passed, then two, and the sickness didn’t go away, it only spread. Ashlie grew more and more worried. She’d stayed in the forest since the day she’d learned about her mother, and she was worried about the town and it’s inhabitants. She’d received some information from her father, who sometimes went to town, and she sometimes crept to the edge of the forest to watch the town struggle.
Once, the miller had seen her and crossed his fingers at her, the traditional sign to ward off witches. She had fled, but returned later to watch. She was helpless, watching people fall one by one, miserably watching, but she could do nothing. After all, she could only make things grow, not heal!
And it was on one such day that she saw the first trial. ~~~
Ashlie was standing behind a tree at the edge of the forest, watching people gather in the square, a feeling of dread filling her stomach. It was a trial, she knew it. The people dressed all in purple, the color of an air trial. A death one. There were four types, water, fire, air, and earth. Only Earth wasn’t a death trial. Water, you were drowned. Fire, you were burned. Air, you were dropped from high above. And Earth, you were cast out, to the wilderness to try to survive.
Who was it going to be? Ashlie closed her eyes and cries came drifting up from the square, but she’d heard enough to know who it was. Mabel Baker, the baker’s daughter, no older than Ashlie herself. Thirteen and small for that. She was screaming and kicking, and Ashlie felt a wave of sympathy for her, “Mabel...” She muttered under her breath.
She watched as someone climbed up the tree with her slung across his back, the tallest tree, scaring crows away, cawing loudly. When he reached the highest branch he could get to, the unslung Mabel, who had gone silent awaiting her fate, off of his back and… Ashlie just couldn’t watch anymore. She pressed her hands to her eyes, but she could still hear her high-pitched scream drifting her way… and then… nothing.
Ashlie took her hands from her eyes hesitantly, and wished she hadn’t. Mabel’s body was scrawled across the ground, her neck, left arm, and both legs twisted at unnatural angles. There wasn’t much blood, but she was apparently dead. The was a moment of silence, then a cry came from the crowd, and a man was pushing through it, “Mabel! My Mabel! What have you done to her?!”
He kneeled down next to her, a woman and little boy following, the baker’s wife and son, Eleanor and Timothy, “Sissy?” Timothy cried out, “Wake up, Sissy!”
Ashlie felt tears rise up to her eyes and she turned, fleeing into the forest toward her home, rushing in the front door and into her room, where she flung herself onto her bed, hollow.
“Ashlie, what happened? In town?”
“A trial,” Ashlie whispered, shaking.
Her father swallowed, “Who?”
“It… was…” Ashlie stopped, afraid to say it, as if that would make it true, “M-Mabel. Mabel Baker.”
“Oh,” Her father said softly, “The Bakers were always a kind family.” And he exited the room.
~~~
That was not the only trial, nor the only Ashlie saw. There was Eloise Miller, Kate Butcher, Irena Cole, and Juliana Smith. And last, the add salt to the wound, Kathrine Weaver. The day she was burned, Ashlie cried her heart out under her rosebush, watering it with her tears. She hadn’t really gotten to know her that well, and now she was regretting it.
And I still need ideas for the title!
(September 10, 2016 - 12:32 pm)
Witch blood? I know I'm awful at this. Blood witch....
Anyway this writing is AWSOME, keep it up!!!!!
(September 10, 2016 - 8:59 pm)
Wait, why was there a trial? Why did Mabel die?
(September 10, 2016 - 11:14 pm)
Because...*looks back at writing to make sure I didn't forget to mention it* I mentioned it, but I guess I didn't make it clear enough. It was because of the sickness thing, and people kill people because of it, kind of like witch burning in the medieval times.
Here, add this sentence to the fourth paragraph in the second chapter:
There were always trials when sicknesses came. It was as if they were connected. Sicknesses and trials. Trials and sicknesses.
And my CAPTCHA, Rilla, says eavf. As in, eavesdropping? What? Who's eavesdropping on me?
(September 12, 2016 - 3:25 pm)
Oh my geesh! This is amazing!
I have horrible title ideas, so maybe:
1. Ashlie and the ___
Insert something where ___ which is a main part of the book. From what I've seen so far:
-the Sickness
-the Roses
2. Ashlee the Not-Witch
3. Ashlee ____
Insert whatever her last name is.
My favorite ones are Ashlee and the Roses and Ashlie (last name). Reporter out!
(September 14, 2016 - 4:03 pm)
Thanks! I'll think about those titles. I might not confirm the title until the end. That's what I usually do.
And my CAPTCHA Rilla says pkmg. PokemonGo? I don't play that, so I know nothign about it.
(September 15, 2016 - 7:50 pm)