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Roseala
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TITLE (EDIT)
Roseala
DESCRIPTION
This is the first page and a half of a novel about a girl named Roseala. She is escaping her evil uncle and his wife with her sheltand pony, Herold.
[1,135 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Fantasy
AUTHOR
Mare L H
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
-
[January 2007]
Roseala
Mare L H

Soft, white fabric flowed behind Roseala.
 She wrapped her skirts tighter around her legs
and pulled her violet cape around her shoulders. She was
sitting atop her gray sheltand pony, Herold. She
turned around, and with one last look at the old
Victorian house and the cobblestone road leading
to it, she nudged Herold into a canter, hoping
never to see the home behind her again. It was
the dead of night, but the bright moon provided
enough light for them to see by. They cantered
for almost an hour, away from the few homes and
shops that surrounded the one she had left, until
 they reached the edge of the dense forest.
After sliding off of Herold’s back, Roseala
grabbed her brown leather bag, worn from use,
and riffled through it, double checking to make
sure they had everything they might need. Once
satisfied, she placed her tiny foot in the
stirrup and started to swing her leg over
Herold’s back when something caught her eye.
On her pearl white slipper there was a small
black spot. Puzzled, she slid back onto the
dirt ground and examined the dot more carefully.
No, this was no ordinary smudge. It was a small,
 black dove. Her brown curls covered her deep
blue eyes as she pondered this small jewel.
 She did not have time to worry about it now
though, for Bramon and Heapor surely had noticed
that she was missing and were probably only a
few blocks behind her by now. No, there was no
time for this, she told herself, she needed to
form a plan. For a girl of only five years,
Roseala was incredibly bright, and she knew that
she could overcome this obstacle with the right
planning. She gracefully pulled herself onto
Herold’s back, with the small jewel still
attached to her slipper, and dug her heels into
his side. He leapt into a gallop and they rode
for about ten minutes. In that time, they were
able to reach the fork in the road, where they
had three options. Roseala knew that Bramon and
Heapor would expect her to go on the one straight
 ahead, for the port was in that direction, and
if she could get on a boat, she could find her
father. She gently slid off of Herold’s back
and walked about thirty feet down that path,
where she undid the silver pin that held her
cape in place, let the velvet fabric slide off
of her shoulders, and pocketed the silver dove
shaped pin. With luck, Bramon and Heapor would
think that her cape had fallen off when she was
running and they would persue that trail.
She knew that Bramon and Heapor were approaching
quickly, and she had to leave. With one last
look at her beautiful cape, she turned and walked
 back to Herold. She swung her leg over his back
and was preparing to nudge him forward, when she
heard something that sent a chill up her spine.
It was the rasping breath of her uncle, Bramon.
She slowly turned around and saw him sitting atop
 his black stallion, Midnight, who was pawing at
the ground, not ten feet behind her. Bramon was a
very large man, with hard muscles and a tough
jaw. His wirey black hair fell across his cold,
 gray eyes. Standing next to him was his wife,
Heapor. She was a tall woman with pastey white
skin and greasy blonde hair. Her icey blue eyes
 were clouded over as she stared into the
distance. She was holding the reins of her own
bay horse, Naila. She turned to Bramon and said
in a snake-like hiss, “Well, where isss she?”
“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have to look far,”
Bramon snarled as he turned to stare straight into
 Roseala’s deep blue eyes. Too shocked and frightened
 to do anything, Roseala sat perfectly still,
still clutching Herold’s reins. As Bramon
approached, Roseala came to her senses and kicked
 the little pony with all of her might. He spun
around and fled as fast as his tiny legs would
carry him down the first path. They ran at full
throttle speed for nearly three hours, taking
as many strange turns and twists in the path as
possible, hoping to confuse Braman and Heapor.
Finally, Roseala was convinced that they had
lost them. She pulled Herold back down into a
steady trot.
“It’s okay,” she reassured her distressed pony. They came to a halt and she slid off of his back. She ran her tiny fingers through his mane and comforted him while they rested. Roseala knew that they did not have much time. She pulled out a large jug of water from the saddlebag and poured some into her hand for Herold. She knew it would not be enough for them both for long, but with luck they could find the Liona River. As Roseala screwed the top back onto the jug, she glanced down and was surprised to see a tiny white jewel. She picked it up and upon further examination she realized that it had the same tiny dove that she had seen on her slipper engraved on it. “How very strange,” she murmured to herself, and allowed Herald the sniff the egg. Not seeing a nest or any birds around, she wrapped the jewel in a soft rag she had and placed it in her pocket. Then, she slid back into the saddle and Herold took off again, this time at a comfortable trot. With luck, they would reach the port before sunrise, and could hopefully find a sailor that knew of her father.
pony. They came to a halt and she slid
off of his back. She ran her tiny fingers through
 his mane and comforted him while they rested.
Roseala knew that they did not have much time.
She pulled out a large jug of water from the
saddlebag and poured some into her hand for
Herold. She knew it would not be enough for them
both for long, but with luck they could find the
Liona River. As Roseala screwed the top back onto
 the jug, she glanced down and was surprised to
see a tiny white jewel. She picked it up and upon
 further examination she realized that it had
the same tiny dove that she had seen on her
slipper engraved on it. “How very strange,”
she murmured to herself, and allowed Herald
the sniff the jewel. Then, she wrapped the jewel in a soft
rag she had and placed it in her pocket. Then,
she slid back into the saddle and Herold took
off again, this time at a comfortable trot. With
luck, they would reach the port before sunrise,
and could hopefully find a sailor that knew of
her father.

 

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2007 Mare L H
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
January 2007
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1148
 

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