The following is an excerpt from one of my many novels in progress during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).
This one is entitled, “Flarb Jobbleson and the Snargs of Pitcairn.” I’d describe it as “Harry Potter” meets “Lord of the Rings”- or “50 Shades of Grey” meets “As I Lay Dying.” So without any further ado, here’s an excerpt:
Flarb Jobbleson had come too far to turn back. Surely the Snargs of Pitcairn had not expected him to give chase through the enchanted hills of Arigothea and to wade through the waist high waters of the Margulean Channel to the edge of the Forest of Vicissitudes, but yet that’s where he stood. It seems they had underestimated his attachment to the Mildly Magical Lawn Gnome of Ganthar, but weren’t quite aware of it just yet.
He still lie a good day’s hike through the forest before he could even sniff the rancid stench of their foot odor. That’s one thing Flarb knew he could count on, for it had been well documented in the Great Writings of the Elders that the, until now mythical, Snargs of Pitcairn emitted a healthy stench from the implements on which they strode. A mildewy excretion was expelled from their pores with regularity whilst trampling through the woods, not unlike that of a skunk’s spray.
Flarb could tell he was getting closer by the feint odiferous emanation left in their wake. He could soon be reunited with the cherished curio stolen by this unseemly band of trolls. It still puzzled him what use they might have for a darling little ceramic gnome that was said to have the power to raise both the dead and the sexually ambivalent. Much time on his journey was spent pondering such questions, but there’d be no time to ponder such inquiries further, as Flarb’s progress towards the entrance to the Forest of Vicissitudes was halted not 14 yards from its entrance.
There stood a gangly oaf of a man. “My name is Korklavian,” he declared, “who be ye that dare enter the Forest of Vicissitudes?”
“I be Flarb Jobbleson, my good man. And these are my friends Tendrake and Skoliape,” Flarb stated with a measure of confidence.
“I warn thee,” shot back Korklavian, “though dost not want to enter if though dost not want to go all the way to the other side where other things are definitely happening.”
Flarb considered this warning for a moment. His mild pause was cause for Korklavian to feel as though he had effectively dissuaded the boy and his compatriots from entering. He began to recede into the forest, slowly backing into the nothingness, engulfed by the darkness.
“That sounds okay with us,” Flarb called out to the nearly disappeared guardian, “we’ll have a go at it.”
“I must warn you,” cautioned Korklavian, “no one who has ever entered has ever not returned.”
Flarb, Tendrake, and Skoliape exchanged glances as if to assess the risk. Each glance was accompanied by a reassuring nod.
“If the risk is ours to take, then we shall take that risk, good Korklavian…” announced Flarb, “we will take heed of your words of warning, but as long as you assure us that there’s no funny business on your part, then we deem the risk to be worth taking.”
“No funny business here,” Korklavian assured them. “It’s just my job to foreshadow any potential happenings that may occur in the aforementioned Forest of Vicissitudes, just as it was the job of my father and his father before him.”
“Well, you certainly do that job,” snickered Skoliape, always with a nose for putting in his 2 pence worth.
And just like that, Flarb Jobbleson and his friends were back on the hunt for their precious Mildly Magical Lawn Gnome of Ganthar. Korklavian waved rather happily as they bounded into the darkness, completely unaware of anything that might await them– as he had never actually been more than 40 whole yards into the forest. It was more or less his job to just skirt around the entrance and wait for anyone who dared trespass.
END OF EXCERPT