First Chapter Contest

Even though my chapter has been written and mostly polished for a while now, this contest consumed my brain yesterday. Making last minute changes, trying to get the document into Word and formatted correctly, going to my parents' house to succeed at getting it into Word and formatted correctly, and then making sure I titled and wrote the email properly - it was crazy. And all the while I was trying to get laundry done to wash the smoke smell out of our clothes from going to the mountains, and I had to take Alyssa to the doctor for a check up. I didn't think I would push the 7:00 deadline so close. That last hour was a little stressful, to say the least, and it felt so good to get the confirmation email. I'm done. It's turned in, and hopefully I didn't make any silly mistakes that will get me disqualified. I don't expect to win, but I know that getting feedback from the judges will be so beneficial, and it just feels so good to put my words out there and dive deeper into the writing community.

So here it is, The Sunstone Slipper, Chapter One:

The wall is crumbling here. Bits of stone and dust litter the ground around my feet, and I'm still more than a few paces away.

I hesitate.

I haven't touched the wall since Papa died. Not even once. Will feeling the rough stone under my hands make his absence more true?

My feet move of their own accord.

I forgot to wear my patent overshoes to cover my silk slippers, and I can already hear Mother's scolding in my head. You've ruined them, Charlotte. They're absolutely ruined. We don't have the resources to buy new slippers now that your father is gone. Why can't you be more responsible? Why can't you be more like a real lady? Why can't you be more like Laisey?

I can promise my mother a hundred times that I will try harder, but it is never enough to satisfy her expectations. I will never be like my sister, and truly, I am glad of it.

Papa was glad of it, too.

Papa loved doing mathematical equations with me and sorting through puzzles together. Papa loved bringing me to the wall with him, and he let me play around the construction even when I was little. He taught me about the stones and their properties, and he told me that they were learning even more about the stones and would soon find a way to properly bring magic back to our kingdom.

Papa loved me for who I am, not who he wanted me to be.

I am here now, standing face to face with the damaged wall. The sun is climbing from behind the mountains, and it's hard to make out the difference between the sunstones and the moonstones with the glare in my eyes. I can't feel warmth or see light radiating from any of them. I suppose this proves that the wall is technically intact and still working, even though it's in the sad process of being slowly torn apart by goblins.

I take a slow, deep breath, close my eyes tightly, and feel my way to the top of the wall. My movements send stones tumbling then cracking against the rubble on the ground. Any moment I might fall crashing to the earth with them, but I don't stop.

I crawl to where the wall is more intact and wide enough that I can lie atop it without fear of falling. My heart is beating fast, and I have to close my eyes and pull air in deep to catch my breath.

"You do realize, madame, that climbing the wall could earn you at least two days in the stocks?"

I don't even bother to sit up.

"If I'm breaking any law,” I say, “you'll just have to run me through, because I'm not coming down."

I open my eyes and look over at Kade standing beside the wall. He is tall enough that the top of his head is just below me.

"Rough day?" he asks.

I grunt.

"We should just begin each morning listing all the ways that I'm the most disappointing daughter in all of Lunain. Then I could just…I don't know…stop existing, I suppose. I'm certainly not doing it correctly now."

"I'm sorry, Char."

"And truly, what does it even matter if I'm not fit to marry a duke or an earl or somebody? Why can't she simply wait and see...?"

"Your mother again?"

I nod.

"Well, you could always marry me. Certainly she wouldn't be able to complain about that."

Even though he is joking, that would definitely be my mother's wish come true, but she would most likely be so surprised at Kade's choice that she might die from the shock. It would be a wonderful thing to be engaged already, if only to stay home from all those balls Mother and Laisey are so fond of.

"She always finds something to complain about," I say.

Kade reaches to wipe the tears from my face, smearing dusty mud across my cheek.

"I'm coming up," he says, then gets a grip on the top stones.

"Don't knock it over!"

He continues to hoist himself up, scrambling a little bit to get a footing.

"Don't worry," he says, pulling his belly to the top. "The wall is stable here."

He is swinging a leg up when a voice calls out from the distance.

"You! Children! Get away from there!" It is a wall guard, and he is running toward us.

Kade snickers at the use of the word children. He is already taller than most men. Without fully reaching the top, he hops back down again and reaches his arms to help me jump. I land softly, thanks to his help. He gives me a quick hug before letting go, and for a small moment, all is right with the world.

"No need to worry," he tells the guard, walking away from me. "We're surveying the damage in certain areas of the wall...for my father."

It takes a small moment for the guard to recognize Kade, then he is on the ground, kneeling.

"A thousand apologies, Prince Kaderic. Didn't realize who you were. Thought you might be two children playing. I was concerned for your safety."

"Thank you. Of course," Kade says, motioning for the guard to stand. "No harm done, and as you can see, we are just fine. And," he turns to me, "Lady Charlotte is in a desperate hurry to get home."

He chuckles at my confused expression.

"Your mother is looking for you," he says. "They're expected to arrive any minute."

I glare at him for giving this news, but still, I start walking toward the palace. I find that he's turned and heading the opposite direction.

"Wait! Aren't you coming with me?"

Kade turns toward me and gives a deep, dramatic bow. Then he looks up, still bent halfway over, with a hand in the air.

"Absolutely not," he says with a smile. "You can meet your new step-father and step-sister all on your own."

* * *

I stare at the girl as her carriage rattles up the drive. She is not beautiful as Mother told me she would be; she is radiant. Her golden hair catches the light from the afternoon sun, shining with a brilliance that cannot be outdone by even the finest wig thatcher in the kingdom. The look of excitement on her face as she catches the first view of her new home spreads joy to the whole assembly. It makes my already knotted stomach twist and tighten.

I never asked for another sister. One is plenty enough for me.

I take a small step back, and the shadow from the looming palace covers my face. I'm tempted to keep stepping backward until I can disappear into the foliage.

The carriage pulls in front of us, sending up clouds of dust behind it.

He steps out first and, of course, Mother glides up to meet him. Her new husband. My father’s replacement. They kiss each other’s cheeks and I look away for a moment to blink the wet from my eyes. Mother will scold me for making mud on my cheeks after having scrubbed them clean just a few moments ago. If only that dust would settle, I might be able to cry in peace. And here I thought I was done with crying.

My step father is short and trim. I suppose he could be considered handsome if you were forty years old and trying to maintain your position in society. He is smiling at my mother, and he takes her hand as they move away from the carriage.

Next is the girl. Brielle. They tell me she is only a few months older and that we will be great friends. I don’t think I can be friends with someone who lowers herself to the ground so gingerly after such a short carriage ride. You would think she had walked the entire way herself the way she reaches down to rub her feet before slipping them into the patents a servant has set down for her. The servant laces the ribbons over her shoes to hold them in.

My mother moves forward again. She kisses the girl on the forehead.

“Welcome, Brielle,” she says. “I’m so glad that you can finally meet your new sisters, and they are so excited to meet you.”

Oh yes, we are so excited. I force myself to smile.

Brielle had attended the wedding while Laisey and I knew nothing about it until after it had happened. Mother had gone to the country a grieving widow and returned a bride. Then we had to wait almost a whole month for Helfer and Brielle to move to the palace, even though Mother has gone back and forth from our home to theirs multiple times.

“Come Laisey, Charlotte. Now our family is complete.”

Complete again. We were doing just fine until Papa died.

She motions for us to step forward and I fight the urge to run in the opposite direction. Running away wouldn’t erase reality. I have to meet my stepsister, eventually. I might as well get it over with.

Taking a deep breath, I move toward my mother and give a curtsy in Brielle’s direction. She is taller than me in her patents. I notice that Laisey is wearing hers as well. Maybe I am the one in the wrong; I just never think to put them on before leaving the palace.

She is even prettier up close. Truly, I hadn’t thought it possible. Laisey is eyeing her suspiciously, for she is even more beautiful than Laisey could ever hope to be. I look at the two of them, with their golden hair and long, thick lashes. With hair the same color as the mud streaked across my cheeks, I will never be able to compete. I guess that makes me the goblin of the bunch - the ugliest stepsister of them all.

I shouldn’t care.

I don’t care.

I wouldn’t care if only Mother didn’t put so much emphasis on it. Being beautiful is only good for being something nice for other people to look at, but Mother says that she who is the most beautiful can marry whomever she pleases. She can rise in her social standing. She can be provided for and want for nothing for all her life. I don’t know what Mother is so worried about, though. My father’s position, and I suppose now my stepfather’s position, puts us second only to the royal family. We cannot rise any further in society unless one of us marries Kade. It may very well happen if Laisey gets her way, but even though I try, I just cannot imagine the two of them married. I think they would drive each other mad.

I am about to curtsy again and make my retreat when Mother orders Laisey and me to show Brielle to her rooms. I want to say, "No. Absolutely not," like Kade said to me, but I've been taught better than that, and I am not a prince who can do as he pleases.

"Kade has promised to take me to the milliners this afternoon." Laisey is all sweetness and smiles. "I do beg your pardon, Sister, but I really must begin my preparations.”

Is she apologizing to me? Or Brielle?

I see that Mother is nodding her head, so I take a chance.

"Oh, the milliners? I would love to go to the milliners. Please, Mother, may I accompany Laisey and Kade instead?"

I smile.

Mother shakes her head and starts snapping her fingers at servants, pointing to luggage and crates and baskets.

"Really, Charlotte, we must get Brielle settled comfortably." I know. Someone's got to do it; might as well be me.

"Yes. Of course. What was I thinking?"

I take Brielle's arm and turn toward the door. There is a flurry of activity between the carriage and our private door to the palace. We maneuver our way through the chaos and follow a few servants who are carrying Brielle's things to her room, stopping at the doorway to unlace Brielle's patents. I help her, because all the servants are already busy.

The shoes I uncover after undoing the laces are made from the softest kid leather I have ever felt. They are adorned with perfectly painted flowers that seem to be freshly picked from the field and pressed to the slippers. I don’t believe even the queen has slippers so fine.

She doesn't thank me for helping. She simply steps quickly out of the patents, hiding her beautiful shoes under her skirts, and starts walking slowly through the corridor. Her eyes are wide, and she stops to peer out the windows or to examine the tapestries covering the walls. At this rate, Laisey will be back from the milliners and helped to bed before Brielle even sees her new bedroom.

"Have you never been in a palace before?" I ask. "Are you all right?"

She turns from the tapestry, dropping the corner of it.

"Yes, just fine, thank you."

All right. Let's keep walking, then. I move forward.

"But what about the goblins?" she asks. "Might they jump out and catch me?"

I stop. She can't be serious.

"You're afraid of goblins," I say.

She blushes, and I congratulate myself.

"No, of course not. I've just…with the wall losing its power and everything…can't the goblins get into the city a lot easier?"

What does she mean, the wall is losing its power? The wall has been protecting us for as long as I can remember. My father helped build the wall. It's as strong as it ever was - at least most of it is.

"The wall doesn't protect us from goblins," I say. "It can only keep magic out of the city. Goblins aren't any more magical than you or I."

They have been known to get in the palace, though. After all, they have tunnels underneath the whole city, probably under the whole kingdom. It wouldn't be nice to scare her, but I have to tell the truth.

"I've only seen a few, and I've lived in the palace most my life. They only come out at night, mostly to tear out the stones in the wall. We have guards all along the wall, though, and sometimes they're able to catch the ugly monsters. They hardly ever come to the palace, and when they do they actually bother the royal family more than anyone else. I think they're angry with the king."

Her eyes are wide.

"It's harmless pranks,” I continue. “Your room isn't anywhere near the royal wing of the palace. I don't think there are any secret tunnels in it. Nothing to be concerned about. Really. I've only seen a couple." I put a hand in the crook of her elbow and pat her shoulder with the other, pushing us farther down the hallway. She is trembling. Maybe I've said too much?

"Let me teach you something my father told me," I say. "Truly, why haven't you learned this before? Goblins hate rhyming and verse. I don't know why. I'll teach you a song Papa taught to me. That way, if you ever see a goblin in the palace, if any of them try to bother you, you can sing, and it won't even come near you."

We reach her room and I start to sing:

Ring! Dod! Bang!

Go the hammers' clang!

Hit and turn and bore!

Whizz and puff and roar!

Thus we rive the rocks,

Force the goblin locks.

See the shining ore!

Brielle sits on the bed and covers her ears.

"Oh, that's a horrible song. I can believe you were taught to sing by your father, for you do it just like a man. Please, don’t sing anymore!"

She is laughing at me, and I feel my cheeks burn. There are more verses, but there is no way I will share them now. I think of my father. He used to take me to the mines before he died. I never went inside them; he said they were too dangerous, but I would help him inspect the moonstone pulled from the caves. When it began to get dark, we would sing silly songs to keep the goblins from bothering us. Even as I grew older, Papa would hold my hand and I would pretend to be scared of the silly goblin shadows following us home. We would sing louder and louder through the verses so that by the time we reached our family's wing of the palace, we were laughing and yelling at the top of our lungs and Mother would scold us for disturbing such a peaceful spring evening.

"Yes. Of course,” I say. “Never again."

There are two girls unpacking a trunk of dresses and a woman inspecting the curtains that frame the window.

"Well, this is it," I say. "I'm just a few doors down, and Laisey is across the corridor. Some nights we dine with the king and queen and Kade - I mean, Prince Kaderic, but I believe Mother has ordered supper for only our family tonight - our new family, with you and your father, of course."

Brielle is moving about the room, most likely looking for goblin holes. I wish I had been allowed to go to the milliners with Laisey and Kade. I have to get out. I give a short smile and a curtsy, then turn to leave.

"Charlotte," Brielle says before I can reach the door. "Thank you for your help! Even though you're a dreadful singer, I'm sure you helped keep the goblins away!"

                                                                                                                                                                                                

Happy Birthday, Charles Perrault!

The story of Cinderella has apparently been around for a long, long, very long time. The kids and I even read a version that originated in ancient Egypt in our History course a couple years ago, and it's actually one of my favorites. The story has been told many times in many different settings, but the one I chose to base Charlotte's story on was the version written by Charles Perrault in the late 1600's.

When I was reading his telling of Cinderella, I was still in the beginning stages of developing my story, and when I came across Charlotte - the only step-sister to be named - I knew that she needed to be my main character. I have since fallen in love with Charlotte and her spunky but slightly snotty personality, and I'm having so much fun writing my own version of Cinderella.

So in honor of Mr. Perrault's 388th birthday, here is the story of Cinderella, written in his words.

The Little Glass Slipper

Once there was a gentleman who married, for his second wife, the proudest and most haughty woman that was ever seen. She had, by a former husband, two daughters of her own, who were, indeed, exactly like her in all things. He had likewise, by another wife, a young daughter, but of unparalleled goodness and sweetness of temper, which she took from her mother, who was the best creature in the world.
No sooner were the ceremonies of the wedding over but the stepmother began to show herself in her true colors. She could not bear the good qualities of this pretty girl, and the less because they made her own daughters appear the more odious. She employed her in the meanest work of the house. She scoured the dishes, tables, etc., and cleaned madam's chamber, and those of misses, her daughters. She slept in a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed, while her sisters slept in fine rooms, with floors all inlaid, on beds of the very newest fashion, and where they had looking glasses so large that they could see themselves at their full length from head to foot.
The poor girl bore it all patiently, and dared not tell her father, who would have scolded her; for his wife governed him entirely. When she had done her work, she used to go to the chimney corner, and sit down there in the cinders and ashes, which caused her to be called Cinderwench. Only the younger sister, who was not so rude and uncivil as the older one, called her Cinderella. However, Cinderella, notwithstanding her coarse apparel, was a hundred times more beautiful than her sisters, although they were always dressed very richly.
It happened that the king's son gave a ball, and invited all persons of fashion to it. Our young misses were also invited, for they cut a very grand figure among those of quality. They were mightily delighted at this invitation, and wonderfully busy in selecting the gowns, petticoats, and hair dressing that would best become them. This was a new difficulty for Cinderella; for it was she who ironed her sister's linen and pleated their ruffles. They talked all day long of nothing but how they should be dressed.
"For my part," said the eldest, "I will wear my red velvet suit with French trimming."
"And I," said the youngest, "shall have my usual petticoat; but then, to make amends for that, I will put on my gold-flowered cloak, and my diamond stomacher, which is far from being the most ordinary one in the world."
They sent for the best hairdresser they could get to make up their headpieces and adjust their hairdos, and they had their red brushes and patches from Mademoiselle de la Poche.
They also consulted Cinderella in all these matters, for she had excellent ideas, and her advice was always good. Indeed, she even offered her services to fix their hair, which they very willingly accepted. As she was doing this, they said to her, "Cinderella, would you not like to go to the ball?"
"Alas!" said she, "you only jeer me; it is not for such as I am to go to such a place."
"You are quite right," they replied. "It would make the people laugh to see a Cinderwench at a ball."
Anyone but Cinderella would have fixed their hair awry, but she was very good, and dressed them perfectly well. They were so excited that they hadn't eaten a thing for almost two days. Then they broke more than a dozen laces trying to have themselves laced up tightly enough to give them a fine slender shape. They were continually in front of their looking glass. At last the happy day came. They went to court, and Cinderella followed them with her eyes as long as she could. When she lost sight of them, she started to cry.
Her godmother, who saw her all in tears, asked her what was the matter.
"I wish I could. I wish I could." She was not able to speak the rest, being interrupted by her tears and sobbing.
This godmother of hers, who was a fairy, said to her, "You wish that you could go to the ball; is it not so?"
"Yes," cried Cinderella, with a great sigh.
"Well," said her godmother, "be but a good girl, and I will contrive that you shall go." Then she took her into her chamber, and said to her, "Run into the garden, and bring me a pumpkin."
Cinderella went immediately to gather the finest she could get, and brought it to her godmother, not being able to imagine how this pumpkin could help her go to the ball. Her godmother scooped out all the inside of it, leaving nothing but the rind. Having done this, she struck the pumpkin with her wand, and it was instantly turned into a fine coach, gilded all over with gold.
She then went to look into her mousetrap, where she found six mice, all alive, and ordered Cinderella to lift up a little the trapdoor. She gave each mouse, as it went out, a little tap with her wand, and the mouse was that moment turned into a fine horse, which altogether made a very fine set of six horses of a beautiful mouse colored dapple gray.
Being at a loss for a coachman, Cinderella said, "I will go and see if there is not a rat in the rat trap that we can turn into a coachman."
"You are right," replied her godmother, "Go and look."
Cinderella brought the trap to her, and in it there were three huge rats. The fairy chose the one which had the largest beard, touched him with her wand, and turned him into a fat, jolly coachman, who had the smartest whiskers that eyes ever beheld.
After that, she said to her, "Go again into the garden, and you will find six lizards behind the watering pot. Bring them to me."
She had no sooner done so but her godmother turned them into six footmen, who skipped up immediately behind the coach, with their liveries all bedaubed with gold and silver, and clung as close behind each other as if they had done nothing else their whole lives. The fairy then said to Cinderella, "Well, you see here an equipage fit to go to the ball with; are you not pleased with it?"
"Oh, yes," she cried; "but must I go in these nasty rags?"

Her godmother then touched her with her wand, and, at the same instant, her clothes turned into cloth of gold and silver, all beset with jewels. This done, she gave her a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest in the whole world. Being thus decked out, she got up into her coach; but her godmother, above all things, commanded her not to stay past midnight, telling her, at the same time, that if she stayed one moment longer, the coach would be a pumpkin again, her horses mice, her coachman a rat, her footmen lizards, and that her clothes would become just as they were before.
She promised her godmother to leave the ball before midnight; and then drove away, scarcely able to contain herself for joy. The king's son, who was told that a great princess, whom nobody knew, had arrived, ran out to receive her. He gave her his hand as she alighted from the coach, and led her into the hall, among all the company. There was immediately a profound silence. Everyone stopped dancing, and the violins ceased to play, so entranced was everyone with the singular beauties of the unknown newcomer.
Nothing was then heard but a confused noise of, "How beautiful she is! How beautiful she is!"
The king himself, old as he was, could not help watching her, and telling the queen softly that it was a long time since he had seen so beautiful and lovely a creature.
All the ladies were busied in considering her clothes and headdress, hoping to have some made next day after the same pattern, provided they could find such fine materials and as able hands to make them.
The king's son led her to the most honorable seat, and afterwards took her out to dance with him. She danced so very gracefully that they all more and more admired her. A fine meal was served up, but the young prince ate not a morsel, so intently was he busied in gazing on her.
She went and sat down by her sisters, showing them a thousand civilities, giving them part of the oranges and citrons which the prince had presented her with, which very much surprised them, for they did not know her. While Cinderella was thus amusing her sisters, she heard the clock strike eleven and three-quarters, whereupon she immediately made a courtesy to the company and hurried away as fast as she could.
Arriving home, she ran to seek out her godmother, and, after having thanked her, she said she could not but heartily wish she might go to the ball the next day as well, because the king's son had invited her.
As she was eagerly telling her godmother everything that had happened at the ball, her two sisters knocked at the door, which Cinderella ran and opened.
"You stayed such a long time!" she cried, gaping, rubbing her eyes and stretching herself as if she had been sleeping; she had not, however, had any manner of inclination to sleep while they were away from home.
"If you had been at the ball," said one of her sisters, "you would not have been tired with it. The finest princess was there, the most beautiful that mortal eyes have ever seen. She showed us a thousand civilities, and gave us oranges and citrons."
Cinderella seemed very indifferent in the matter. Indeed, she asked them the name of that princess; but they told her they did not know it, and that the king's son was very uneasy on her account and would give all the world to know who she was. At this Cinderella, smiling, replied, "She must, then, be very beautiful indeed; how happy you have been! Could not I see her? Ah, dear Charlotte, do lend me your yellow dress which you wear every day."
"Yes, to be sure!" cried Charlotte; "lend my clothes to such a dirty Cinderwench as you are! I should be such a fool."
Cinderella, indeed, well expected such an answer, and was very glad of the refusal; for she would have been sadly put to it, if her sister had lent her what she asked for jestingly.
The next day the two sisters were at the ball, and so was Cinderella, but dressed even more magnificently than before. The king's son was always by her, and never ceased his compliments and kind speeches to her. All this was so far from being tiresome to her, and, indeed, she quite forgot what her godmother had told her. She thought that it was no later than eleven when she counted the clock striking twelve. She jumped up and fled, as nimble as a deer. The prince followed, but could not overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers, which the prince picked up most carefully. She reached home, but quite out of breath, and in her nasty old clothes, having nothing left of all her finery but one of the little slippers, the mate to the one that she had dropped.
The guards at the palace gate were asked if they had not seen a princess go out. They replied that they had seen nobody leave but a young girl, very shabbily dressed, and who had more the air of a poor country wench than a gentlewoman.
When the two sisters returned from the ball Cinderella asked them if they had been well entertained, and if the fine lady had been there.
They told her, yes, but that she hurried away immediately when it struck twelve, and with so much haste that she dropped one of her little glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which the king's son had picked up; that he had done nothing but look at her all the time at the ball, and that most certainly he was very much in love with the beautiful person who owned the glass slipper.
What they said was very true; for a few days later, the king's son had it proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, that he would marry her whose foot this slipper would just fit. They began to try it on the princesses, then the duchesses and all the court, but in vain; it was brought to the two sisters, who did all they possibly could to force their foot into the slipper, but they did not succeed.
Cinderella, who saw all this, and knew that it was her slipper, said to them, laughing, "Let me see if it will not fit me."
Her sisters burst out laughing, and began to banter with her. The gentleman who was sent to try the slipper looked earnestly at Cinderella, and, finding her very handsome, said that it was only just that she should try as well, and that he had orders to let everyone try.
He had Cinderella sit down, and, putting the slipper to her foot, he found that it went on very easily, fitting her as if it had been made of wax. Her two sisters were greatly astonished, but then even more so, when Cinderella pulled out of her pocket the other slipper, and put it on her other foot. Then in came her godmother and touched her wand to Cinderella's clothes, making them richer and more magnificent than any of those she had worn before.
And now her two sisters found her to be that fine, beautiful lady whom they had seen at the ball. They threw themselves at her feet to beg pardon for all the ill treatment they had made her undergo. Cinderella took them up, and, as she embraced them, said that she forgave them with all her heart, and wanted them always to love her.
She was taken to the young prince, dressed as she was. He thought she was more charming than before, and, a few days after, married her. Cinderella, who was no less good than beautiful, gave her two sisters lodgings in the palace, and that very same day matched them with two great lords of the court.

Moral: Beauty in a woman is a rare treasure that will always be admired. Graciousness, however, is priceless and of even greater value. This is what Cinderella's godmother gave to her when she taught her to behave like a queen. Young women, in the winning of a heart, graciousness is more important than a beautiful hairdo. It is a true gift of the fairies. Without it nothing is possible; with it, one can do anything.

Another moral: Without doubt it is a great advantage to have intelligence, courage, good breeding, and common sense. These, and similar talents come only from heaven, and it is good to have them. However, even these may fail to bring you success, without the blessing of a godfather or a godmother.

Staircase Parallel

In The Princess and the Goblin Princess Irene gets lost in the castle and follows a winding staircase to meet her great-great grandmother. This is Charlotte's (rough draft) version:

I step closer to them.

"Prince Kade has hundreds of these inventions. I help test them all time."

Kade shrugs.

"Half of them are just junk, though."

"Oh, I'm sure they're amazing," she says, leaning toward Kade to get a closer look at the workings of the spider. A thick golden curl of hair touches his arm, and he jumps.

"You've gotten wet!"

"Just a splash from when you fell in the water. I'm afraid I was too close to the river at the time." She looks up with sweet, innocent eyes.

Kade finally climbs out of the river while patting the pockets that run along the front of his belt.

"I have just the thing," he says and pulls on one the pocket flaps. "This is something I made just a while ago. I haven't been able to get much use out of it yet."

I've only seen this invention once, when Kade put the finishing touches on it a few weeks ago. It is a brush that collapses in on itself to be stored easily in his pocketed leather belt, along with a few of his other inventions. Kade pushes the bristles open, and Brielle gasps in surprise. Next, he unfolds his cube and attaches it to the end of the brush handle. Without any command given, the brush immediately starts to blow warm air from its bristles. Brielle laughs as Kade combs through the wet curl on her shoulder.

I watch, dripping, and in just a few short moments Kade declares that she is all dry and asks if she wants to see the rest of his inventions. She claps her hands enthusiastically.

Laisey steps beside me and says, "What a wonderful idea! Might we all go?"

Kade is flustered for a moment, as if he has forgotten that we are all here. Mother and Helfer decline and turn to walk back to the castle. Helfer must need to leave soon. The wall certainly won't build itself. Laisey moves to stand beside Kade, talking about how fascinating his inventions are. Truly, she's never cared much about them before.

I don't know where to go or what to do. I am soaked to the bone with river water. I can still feel it rolling down my face from the top of my head. The dark clouds overhead are threatening to pour rain on us all, and all I can do is stand with my arms folded around my middle, shivering.

The three of them start to walk away, but Kade turns to look at me.

"Are you coming, Charlotte?"

I shake my head, not saying anything for a moment, then let out a small, "No."

"I should go change into dry clothes," I say a little louder and point in the direction of my family's wing of the castle. "I'll meet you three later."

I watch them leave without me. Kade is gesturing wildly with his arms, most likely telling them about all the wonders that await to be seen in his workplace. I feel empty and hungry. I debate with myself whether or not to change first or get food first and decide to stop by the kitchens to order a late breakfast on the way to my rooms. That way it should be ready and waiting for me once I've managed to take a hot bath.

My feet are soggy in my boots and I am quite aware of the trail of water I am leaving through the corridor. I don't bother to wipe up after myself or try to keep the drips under control. The first drops of rain fell as I stepped into the castle. Pretty soon it should be wet all around and I won't be the only person tracking in muddy footprints.

I make my way through the servants hallway, hoping it will get me to the kitchen quicker. I don't go this way very often; I am unfamiliar with the various turns and choices. I have to stretch my mind at each junction, trying to remember the way. It is colder in this part of the castle with no tapestries covering the stone walls. There is only the occasional moonstone built in to give light. One would think someone would have lined the walls with some sunstone as well, which would give heat. Then again, most traveling this way aren't soaking wet from taking a tumble in the river. Perhaps I wouldn't be so cold if I was dry?

The hall is slightly darker here, and I truly have no idea where I am. I keep walking, getting colder with each step. I've never been afraid of goblins before, but here in the dark, all alone, I pray that none decide to make an appearance. I take a couple of turns, and soon there is nowhere for me to go, but through a tall wooden door. I pull on the latch and it opens easily, revealing a dark circular staircase. I have never been to this part of this castle. I don't know where the stairs might lead, but I can guess that if I turn around, I will only get more lost and confused. I can't remember which way I have gone, so it will be hard to retrace my steps. The only solution I can see is to keep going forward.

I shiver as I move up the staircase. If only I had a small sunstone to hold in my hands. The thought seems like heaven itself. It is dark, but I suppose my eyes have adjusted, because I have no trouble seeing all aroudn me. There is really nothing to see, though. Just steps and steps turning upwards.

At last I turn around the bend in the wall and see that it opens to a large balcony. No more steps. My legs feel like ice, and I wiggle my frozen toes to bring life back them. My arms are wrapped around my body as tight as they can, but still I am cold. I need to find my way to my room so I can change out of this blasted wet dress. Wet dress, not blasted. Just wet.

I am surprised to see a woman standing at the edge of the balcony. Her hair is long and straight and silver. It almost sparkles, despite the darkness. There must be a roof of some sort, because she is dry een though she is standing so close to the rain. She is surrounded by a flock of pigeons, and they coo and bob their heads all around the railing. She is turned away from me, and I am sorry to bother her, but she must know the way back to the main castle.

"Excuse me," I say, and I suddenly find myself amidst a flutter of wings and feathers.

"You've disturbed the poultry," the woman says when the noise has died down. There is not a single pigeon left on the balcony. I hope they find a new shelter from the rain quickly.

"I am sorry. Truly, I am, but I've lost my way." I am about to ask for directions when she turns to face me. Her silver hair is brushed back from her face. She looks old and cunning, but it confuses me, because her skin is soft and white. There are no wrinkles around her knowing eyes.

"Come to me, my dear," she says, and reaches out a delicate hand. I take a small step forward. My legs are stiff. "Do you know who I am?" she asks.

I shake my head. My mind feels cold now, too. Can minds feel cold? I do need to change to dry clothes. All the wet and cold is slowing me down.

"Please, can you tell me which way to go? I'm trying..." For a moment I can't remember what I'm trying to do. I'm shaking so hard that my teeth start to chatter. "I'm trying to go..."

It's so hard to stand. I let myself sink to the floor, curling into a ball. I close my eyes. Will that make my head warmer? Keep the warmth in my mind?

The old woman doesn't say another word. She is so quiet that I truly don't know if she is still beside me. I lay there, shivering, trying to keep whatever bit of warmth I still have left, and drift off into a fitful sleep.

*   *   *

The first realization I have about myself as my mind starts to wake is that I am no longer cold. I've stretched out on the stone floor, and my dress is now only slightly [damp]. I can't hear the rain any longer, but it can't have stopped too long ago, because the constant thumping of raindrops haunted my dreams. Someone is stroking my hair, which is mostly clinging to my forehead in damp, sticky curls.

I open my eyes to see the old woman sitting beside me. She is radiating a warmth that I wish I would have felt before I had fallen asleep. I touch her wrist, and she stops [petting] my head. I stare at her for a few moments, wondering in silence. She is the same woman I saw before, is she not? Her face is the same. Her kind, wise eyes show the same depth of knowledge as they had when I first saw them. But her hair is no longer silver. Instead of falling in straight silky threads, it cascades around her face in waves the color of sunshine. She looks ill almost, as if she is using all her strength just to sit beside me.

"Who are you?" I ask in a whisper. I don't want to disturb this silence I've woken to.

"I miss my daughter," she replies. She speaks so softly that I almost miss her next words. "I can't find her."

"Who is she? Maybe I can help."

The old lady merely shakes her head and purses her lips.

"You've lost your way. If you go back down the stairs, you will find yourself at home." How could that be? I wandered for so long before finding the stairway, and I hadn't even been close to my family's quarters. Perhaps this woman doesn't know her way around the castle, after all.

When she sees my doubt, she says, "You will find your way," and raises herself from the floor. I try to stand to follow her, but my muscles are still stiff from shivering and from sleeping on the hard stone. By the time I sit up and look for her, I see that she is gone. I press my hands to my temples and lean forward. What have I just witnessed? Who was that woman and what is she doing in the castle?

I manage to pull myself to my feet, and slowly I start to feel strength return to my shakey legs. Just go back down the stairs the way that I came? Surely it can't be so simple, but at least that's the way I have to start. The balcony is a dead end. There is nowhere left to go. Before heading back down the stairs, I make my way to the balcony. There are a few pigeons returned from when I scared them away. The rain has indeed stopped, and there is a little sunshine peeking from behind the clouds. I look out and below to the castle grounds. I see the mountain rising up just as it always does, but I don't recognize any part of it. This surprises me greatly, considering all the explornig Kade and I have done through the years. I am sure that we have climbed over every rock on that mountain.

I am beginning to get cold again. It's far past time to have left. I turn to walk down the stairs and find myself in front of the great wooden door at the bottom in just a matter of moments. Was all that time passing just my imagination? Or just my weariness from climbing? I push on the door and step through the opening.

Just as the woman told me, I find myself just outside the hallway that enters our rooms. Blah blah finish.

The Goblins

This is my copy of The Princess and the Goblin. I've read it multiple times now, and there's Post It notes through the whole thing. The ones coming out the sides are details I want to incorporate into the setting and characters, and the ones on the top are details I want in the plot.

In George MacDonald's The Princess and the Goblin he describes his goblins as being, "not ordinarily ugly, but either absolutely hideous or ludicrously grotesque both in face and form. There was no invention, they said, of the most lawless imaginations expressed by pen or pencil, that could surpass the extravagance of their appearance."

In MacDonald's world the goblins were once people, and it took generations of living underground to look as they do. In my world for this book, they became misshapen and ugly when they were banished to the Underground after losing the Shard War to the Spring Kingdom. The Autumn Queen turned into the Goblin Queen the moment she stepped into the tunnels, and all her people did as well. There are drafts of my worldbuilding with the Shard War and banishment happening generations before my book takes place, but as I started writing the rough draft, it needs to have happened closer in the past.

Here are the pictures I've gathered to give a feel for the goblins:

13 Rifle Goblin by raipai

Goblin by Jonhyrock

Goblin Piker by chrstphrwest

Goblin Shaman by JonasJensenArt

Goblin Sketches by UlaFish

Goblin Raider by Brian Wynia

Introducing Prince Kaderic III

Kade is the prince of my Cinderella story, and during all the time I spent brainstorming and worldbuilding and plotting, that's all he was - the prince. He was the stock, no personality good guy. When it was time to bring his character into the story, my daughter Alyssa gave me an answer to a completely different question that just skyrocketed his character into being so much cooler.

First off, his name. The story I'm writing is actually going to be a three book young adult series that is a mash-up of the stories, "Cinderella," "The Princess and the Goblin," by George MacDonald and "Snow Queen." I'm going off of Charles Perrault's Cinderella, written in the 1800's in France, so I'm setting it in make-believe 1700's France to give the story time for it to be a fairy tale in Perrault's time. So far all the characters have French names - Charlotte, Brielle, Laisey. For the prince, I wanted to use the names from those base stories, which were all very similar, but I didn't know which to use.

In "Cinderella," he is just The Prince. In "The Princess and the Goblin," his name is Curdie, and in "Snow Queen" it is either Kay or Kai, depending on which version you read.

I went with Kai first, just because it sounded cool when my friend Sachiko was reading "Snow Queen" aloud to me, but I really wanted to incorporate Curdie into it, so I changed it to Kade, and it felt very right.

But what kind of French-type king and queen name their son Kade? I realized that Kade has to be a nickname, and he needed a real name. I decided to go with Kaderic, and Erin confirmed that idea when she looked up French royalty and found a bunch of Frederics. I don't know if he's really going to be Prince Kaderic the third. I'm still trying to figure out how important his family story is to the history of my world and where they fit in the whole thing and just how many Kaderics that have already been in his family line. We'll see.

How Kade Became Kade, Instead of Just "Good Guy Prince":

Charlotte and Kade are best friends, and early in the book they go on a morning adventure together. I was trying to figure out what they were actually doing, so I asked Alyssa, and she said, "Make him an inventor and have them try out one of his inventions." Brilliant! From that moment on, everything about Kade fell into place. His motivations, his interactions with his family and Charlotte's family, and even his interactions with the people of his kingdom - it was all suddenly clear.

So Kade is an inventor. I looked it up, and they had clocks and clockwork gadgets and all sorts of inventions in the 1700's, so the believability is good. He is basically the 1700's version of "I've got an app for that."

Oh, you need your harp tuned? I've got a gadget for that.

You need a powered hair dryer? I've got a gadget for that.

He doesn't actually say, "I've got a gadget for that," though. Sorry. And he gets help from the story's source of magic to power his inventions.

Here's the picture that screamed to me, "This is Kade!" when I found it. I realize it has nothing to do with 18th century anything. It's just a steampunk guy. But it is kade.

I just looked it up, and the title of this picture actually is, "Steampunk Guy." By AdLovett

Remove the eye goggle, take away the gun (although he should totally make a gun at some point), stick him in a waistcoat covering his gadget belt, and you'll get 18th Century Steampunk Kade. Here's some clothing options to help:

Okay, For Starters

If you were nice enough to click on my Facebook post, you are probably wondering, "Why the heck is Carrie calling herself Jacqueline Lewis?!? What - she thinks herself a real author, deserving an awesome pen name?"

That's not it. I promise. I don't think I'm this super cool author. I realize that I've only written one rough draft of a book and I'm working on my second. I realize that it's going to take a ton of work and time to hopefully be published someday. I'm not trying to be cool.

I realized, though, while writing that first draft of mine that when you write you put so much of yourself into your characters and story, that the name you go by - the name you use to think of yourself as a writer - is so important. The times that I would dream about sending Maura's story to a publisher, I would wonder, "Am I sending this under the name Carrie Lewis or Carrie Jacks?" Even though most people wouldn't struggle with that question, I did.

I am a Lewis, and Lewises feel pretty darn cool about being Lewises.  If I didn't use the name Lewis, it would feel like a betrayal to my family and all that I ever was. But Carrie Jacks is who I am now. Carrie Jacks has been through so much in life that has made me the person I am today. There is an awful lot of Carrie Jacks that goes into my stories.

So one day my sister-in-law (also my very good friend) was over, and we were discussing a book we wanted to write together. Erin was trying to come up with a pseudonym for the two of us by combining our last names, and she said, "Jacqueline Lewis." I instantly latched on to that name and asked Erin if I could steal it.

Jacue for Jacks

line for Lynn, my middle name

and Lewis of course, for Lewis.

It felt so perfect, and it's pretty. I like pretty things.

I also have a couple ideas for some silly stories, like "Don't Believe Anything The Alligator Tells You," that I'd like to write under the name Jackie Lewis, because it's more fun. I like fun things, too.