I proposed this idea a month ago in this post
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It is time to get started so I shall fire the first salvo. This is about imagination and story telling.... not perfect grammar and proper tenses (quickly covering my butt there ... but also encouraging English second or third language contributors).
If you want to do a chapter, please read my first post as indicated above and then indicate your willingness to do a chapter in the comments below
She sat huddled up on the rocky outcrop arms wrapped around her drawn up legs, chin resting on her knees. Her face was sometimes pensive, at other times wistful but at all times beautiful as she gazed off into the far distance in deep thought.
The focus of her gaze as well as her thoughts was off in the distance; a usually bustling city but quiet at this early hour, surrounded by huge stone walls with guard towers at regular intervals. Huge wooden gates controlled the only entrance with guards in attendance, scrutinising people coming and going, pulling the odd person aside for questioning as to their business in the city. Asgoroth was at war and Asmoroth was the capital and host to the King and his royal family, thus always liable for attack and incursions by dissenters.
Ziona’s mind was in a turmoil, flipping between hope and fear and bursts of trepidation. After all, the journey she started so long ago was now almost at an end. Was it all in vain or would her arduous journey full of trials and tribulations prove to be justified?
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The village nestled in the valley, high cliffs to the north and mountain slopes rising both east and west. Only from the south could one easily approach and the access path was protected by village dwellers at all times, as well as the dog pack which roamed in the fields immediately outside the village.
As the first rays of light appeared in the east Zarrot stepped from his hut crouching under the burden of the village ‘cazan’; the vessel used to prepare the villagers food. Manhandling the pot into the centre of the village square the thought crossed his mind that he was getting old, ‘surely the pot was never this heavy’. Sometime soon he would have to appoint a successor, a decision which would need some serious thought as with the position came authority, as well as responsibility, both of which in the wrong hands could be abused and hence threaten the survival of his people.
Stacking the firewood in readiness Zarrot considered some of the possible candidates, regretting the fact that Ziona,being a woman, was not an option. Such intelligence and spirit of will tempered by humility and a wisdom way beyond her years made her a perfect choice for leader, especially as she was respected and loved by almost all the inhabitants of the valley.
To be continued ....
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