Mommy Writes: FaeTAL Part 5

I’m working on re-writing a bit of the story…trying to add more detail and make it draw the reader in more…any thoughts or tips or tricks on the best way to do this? 

What do you like to see in a book?

Here is a quick sneak peak into the first page of FaeTAL 🙂

Chapter 1


Ugh! Another day at the carnival…will it never end? I wish I could leave, I’ve made so many attempts I have lost count, but every time I try I end up back where I started and in a lot of pain. The lashing I took last night will take days to heal, however, the carnival will go on and so I must work. As another part of my punishment, I have to work the dart booth today. This is by far the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. Women “workers” are hooked up to a board and, instead of a professional trying to throw darts and hit the circles placed scandalously close to body parts, carnival goers can pay five bucks to get so called “lessons” from a professional. Needless to say, most people have horrible aim and rarely reach their goal. If I’m lucky, my time in the booth will be filled with carnival goers that can’t even get the dart close to the set up where I am being held. Sadly, my luck doesn’t usually work out that way. Generally, I end up with hours upon hours of drunken idiots with great arms and horrid aim throwing darts at me as if I am covered in balloons that they mean to pop. Did I mention that  I HATE THIS BOOTH?!? Why did I try to run away again…when will I learn that this is my fate and I will never be free?

As I am being unhooked from the multitude of harnesses holding me to the table and wall at the end of my third hour of duty at the dart booth, I notice a guy staring at the booth. Please, please don’t come over! I need a break…I need to clean up and take some pain meds at least!! Much to my relief and amazement, he nodded and stayed where he was, as if the guy could hear what I was screaming in my head. I can feel his gaze on me as I retreat to the back side of the booth to clean up. When I look over my shoulder I see that he has followed me.

“You shouldn’t be back here, this is for workers only,” I whisper, hoping that no one has seen him and knowing that my luck probably won’t hold out for long.

“They will get over it. You looked as if you needed some help,” he raises his eyebrow as he runs his eyes from scrap to bruise to gash. Somehow that one eyebrow manages to make me feel as if I am back in elementary school and got caught doing something I knew that I shouldn’t. Who knew one look could be so matter-of-fact, so condescending, and yet so understanding.

“Why on earth would you say that,” I mutter like a fool, as if I don’t already know his answer.

“Well, clearly, you are bleeding from several places and, for a reason I have yet to determine, you are limping quite badly. Will you allow me to assist you,” as he reaches a hand towards me as if to help steady me.

“I…I can’t. Thanks though.”

I see Fred, my captor and the owner of the carnival, looming around the corner of the booth. Oh shit, this is not going to end well if he finds me back here with this guy!

“Please, you have to leave NOW!”, I whisper, slightly panic stricken.

He looks a little concerned and confused but nods and walks quickly away.


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