Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (73 page)

BOOK: Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods)
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For a moment, all of the pirates seemed unable to move. Oddly enough, it was the fattest of the pirates that acted first. He was a man with hands much too small for his own body and a large black beard which dangled over a coat covered in stains. Button roared in approval loudly enough to make the hairs on my neck stand up. The rest of the fleet glared at him but it wasn’t long until another man began to cheer as well, followed by another until all of the Storm Striders were, clapping, wolf-whistling and cheering for their captain. The world finally felt right.

 

My ring finger hand suddenly grew bitter cold as Preston tried to contact me. I quietly excused myself from the festivities and walked until I could hear his words sink into my head.

 

“Jacob are you alright?” he asked urgently.

 

Slightly confused, I answered honestly. “Just fine, why?”

 

Preston gasped a huge sigh of relief, which echoed through my head in an odd sort of way. “So it hasn’t gotten outside yet,” Preston clarified, slowing down his breathing.

 

“Preston, is everything alright in there? Are you alright?” I asked, practically gnawing off the cold fingalink ring on my finger.

 

“I’m fine Jacob, believe me. But something serious is going down in the camp.”  My pulse quickened.

 

“How serious?” I whispered.

 

“Something that the Grimlars have never seen the likes of before.”

 

 

 

 

 

              ***

 

Here ends the first book.

Finished July 31 2014

 

 

Please stay tuned for

Part II in the Year of Churning Bloods

“Several Stone Hearths”

Due 2015

 

 

 

             
To the reader
:

 

              Thank you for picking up the first installment of the Year of Churning Bloods. Whether or not you know me personally, allow me to reveal the man (boy) behind the curtain and talk about the ongoing stress I’ve gone through to get this book into your hands.

 

              This book started out as a school project. At the time, being an arrogant thirteen year old, I thought I could make a piece of writing fir for any publishing house. About halfway through through the original manuscript I came to a shocking conclusion: I’m a terrible writer. What had started out as a selfish dream to become a wealthy and famous author had been completely dashed. I got mediocre results and in a fit of distress, I threw the book under my bed and hoped to never see it again.

 

              One day I found it, all ten thousand or so words just mysteriously lying on my desk. Maybe it was fate. Maybe mum put it there, or maybe the book grew legs and tried to make a break for it. (Personally, I hope it was the latter)

 

I picked it up, re-read it and found myself crying. Amazingly, I realized I wasn’t crying for my sake anymore. I was crying for my characters, who I’d used as tools to glorify myself like human make-up brushes. Although some people would reason that these characters aren’t real, I would strongly disagree. Every character in my story is taken from a memory of a person. By abandoning these characters, I’d be doing the same to them.

 

              So I sat down at the computer with new purpose and drive. I changed the story so that it was less about me and more about them and wouldn’t you know it? Four years later and the first part of their story is finished. Where it will take them, even I’m not too sure. The story now belongs to the characters I’ve grown to love, as well as you the reader.

 

              Thank you and never stop smiling.

             

 

 

 

 

Personal acknowledgements:

 

 

This story goes mostly out to Mr Jonn Nicholson, who in his ultimate wisdom (and insanity) put a pen in my hand and told me to write a book. He is the true Professor Wenchenberg. Thanks go to my mother Heather, my father Mark, my brother Austin and my extended family for their love.

 

Tremendous thanks to Sue Bingham, for inviting me into her home and spending countless hours with me as we sliced up useless words and tightened up plot points. She’s a wonderful woman and a fantastic editor who’ll no doubt find work with an author far more rich and qualified than me. Many thanks to Lucie Winborne, for her sharp comments and warm support.

 

Other people I’d like to acknowledge for their feedback is my grandmother Barbra Liek as well as my schoolfriends Adam Sangster and Tom Bingham.

 

Lastly thanks to Charlie Westphal for making the cover art and being perhaps the greatest friend I could ever ask for.

 

 

 

About the author:

 

Hudson Leone is seventeen years old. He was born in Indiana, but currently lives in Wellington New Zealand and attends Scots College. His favourite food is goldfish crackers and his drink of choice is grape juice.
              He thinks writing is a cool hobby and would like to encourage more young people to try it out.

 

             

Table of Contents

 

Prologue

 

Chapter one: The King's Exams

 

Chapter two: Shaking Hands with a Tree

 

Chapter three: The Gift of Gold

 

Chapter four: The Pig and the Prat

 

Chapter five: Escape

 

Chapter six: Demotion

 

Chapter seven: Unexpected Gifts

 

Chapter eight: Dragons and Heroes

 

Chapter nine: The Legion of the Montrose

 

Chapter ten: The Pit of Fire

 

Chapter eleven: The Professor's Plan

 

Chapter twelve: That Startling Chapter with the Inter-dimensional Rooms

 

Chapter thirteen: Visitors touching the books

 

Chapter fourteen: Cherry trails

 

Chapter fifteen: A Tale of Two Brothers

 

Chapter sixteen: Aftermath

 

Chapter seventeen: Creature of Dreams

 

Chapter eighteen: Long Worms and Scary Visions

 

Chapter nineteen: Invisible

 

Chapter twenty: Red
Faced

 

Chapter twenty-one: Totara

 

Chapter twenty-two: Confession of the Innocent

 

Chapter twenty-three: Professor Pocket's Miracle Powder

 

Chapter twenty-four: Lost Button

 

Chapter twenty-five: Time Never Wasted

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