ObsidianPyro | National Novel Writing Month

About the author

ObsidianPyro

Novel: (Untitled for now)
Genre: Fantasy

11,581 words so far

About ObsidianPyro

Location: Colorado Springs(summer); Benedictine College, Atchison, Kansas(the rest of the time)

Home Region:
USA :: Colorado :: Colorado Springs

Age:19

Website: http://obsidianpyro.deviantart.com

Favorite novels: O_O Don't ask me to choose!!

Favorite writers: Neil Gaiman; Patrick Rothfuss; Dean Koontz; Anne McCaffrey; George R. R. Martin; Mark Twain; Edgar Allan Poe; Terry Prachett; Douglas Adams; Naomi Novik; Gail Carson Levine, Eoin Colfer; Tamora Pierce; Amelia Atwater-Rhodes; Shakespeare; Dante, and so much more...

Favorite music: Depends on what kind of novel I'm writing, which part in the story I'm at, and what my mood is in the moment.

Non-noveling interests: Reading & writing(duh), any kind of art, outdoor activities, acting, martial arts, archery, scary movies, thrill rides, haunted houses, photography, manga, music, horseback riding, videogames, role-plays, surfing the web.

Joined: Oktober 3, 2007

This Year: Official Participant

NaNoWriMo History:
'07 '08

NaNoWriMo posts: 30

NaNoWriMo buddies: 13

Brief Author Bio:

Third year running and still haven't won yet; still don't have the time; still doing it anyway. XD

Synopsis: (Untitled for now)

A haunted mountain ruled by a hideous beast in an enchanted castle; a dead librarian and a cowardly merchant; a beautiful girl who wants to be ugly; a village of children and gypsies up in arms; a mute servant boy with an attitude problem; moody witches and vengeful curses and vain princes and plenty of other delightful fairytale nonsense. A twisted take on Beauty and the Beast (based from the the original Villeneuve version).

Excerpt: (Untitled for now)

When the girls had wandered until their feet started to hurt, they made their way toward the thatched wooden hut where Shona lived with her great-aunt (her father’s side), who went by Madam Magdali. The last time Shona had seen her real parents was before she could remember them. They weren’t dead, or at least she didn’t think so; they were just gone. While this fact would have upset Linda, Shona merely shrugged it off. The gypsies seemed to see it as a perfectly common circumstance. Besides, Shona was happy living with Magdali. They took care of each other, and Linda had to admit, the woman was one of the most interesting elders she had ever known.

Magdali was also much, much older than any village elder Linda had ever known. Her exact age was a mystery, but her flesh was thin and pale, her back stooped. Her hair, though it brushed the ground in long braids, was fine and grey, and wrinkles upon wrinkles transformed her face into something shriveled and mask-like. However, the bony old woman was surprisingly strong, and her watery black eyes glittered with a wicked cleverness that made many of the younger townsfolk believe she was a witch. Linda wasn’t certain they were wrong.

They entered the hut through a curtain of colorful wooden beads in the place of a door. The image depicted in the beads was different every time Linda came to visit; this time it showed a flock of butterflies turning into flowers. The inside of the hut was shady because it was not yet dark outside, so there were no lamps lit. However, there was still just enough illumination to see the two beds in which the inhabitants slept, crowded all around with shelves of books and trinkets and charms. A boxy wooden table sat in the small cooking corner, where Madam Magdali was stirring something with her back to the girls.

“Sit down, little beggars, it’s almost finished,” the woman croaked before Shona could greet her. The beads had already announced the girls’ presence, but Magdali had her own ways of knowing that they’d be coming, as well as how hungry they’d be when they arrived. Madam made her living as a fortune-teller. There were Seeing cards strewn carelessly around the hut and bags of speaking-bones strung up in the rafters. She even had a crystal ball, which at the moment was covered on its small round table outside the hut. The old woman always seemed to know things which she shouldn’t.

“Good afternoon, Magdali,” Shona said cheerfully as she sat. She never called the woman “aunt.”

“Hello, Madam,” greeted Linda. No matter how familiar she had gotten with the old seer, she could never truly feel very comfortable or casual in her presence, as Shona did. There was just too much of a strangeness about her.

Magdali turned from the stove with a pot of some strong-scented broth that made Linda’s mouth water.

“It’s nice to see you again, little book-girl,” said the woman gruffly. She set the pot down and turned to rummage in a cupboard for some bowls. “How’s that father of yours? Still perfectly healthy?”

“Yes, of course,” answered Linda, by now used to such a silly question.

“That’s good. Very good…”

Recently, Magdali always asked after Nikolai’s health. At first it was worrisome, because she acted as if she was expecting him to fall ill, but after almost a year of hearing this question Linda decided it was just Magdali’s strained effort at being polite. Madam Magdali usually didn’t bother herself with undue amounts of courtesy. She didn’t see the point. She was never genuinely rude without reason, but she was always very blunt about the truth.

Magdali was now pouring the steaming soup into two wooden bowls.

“Have you Seen anything interesting today, Magdali?” inquired Shona as she took her portion of broth. Linda blew cautiously on a spoonful of the stuff; it still seemed extremely hot.

“That’s none of your business, girlie, and you know it,” Magdali answered shortly. “All readings are confidential.”

Shona rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean the personal ones.”

Magdali shook her head as she shuffled around the table. “If I have, I am still not going to tell you. The future is not for all to know. Even I can see very little of it, and it’s not my job to share it with the likes of you.”

Shona pretended to pout. “But…you would tell me if you Saw anything about my friends or myself, wouldn’t you?”

“What a nosey little girl-child you are,” Magdali declared irritably. She turned to rummage through a cupboard, pointedly putting her back to her great grand-niece.

Linda sipped her broth in silence, watching the two of them banter. Shona had always been fascinated by Madam’s Gift and had even attempted to make predictions herself a couple of times, although it appeared that she had less psychic ability than a tree stump. However, that never stopped her from questioning the old Seer whenever she got the chance.

Linda had never asked Magdali for a reading to tell her future. She did not want to know what lay in store for her before it happened. In her opinion, something like that would take all the surprise and suspense out of life.

Linda let her eyes drift about the hut as she finished her soup. It was slightly messier than the last time she had come by, but somehow less cluttered. There were fascinating trinkets and knick-knacks stowed on every spare inch of shelf, so there was always something new to look at. Her eyes fell on a book stuffed under a few dusty fox pelts.

Linda blinked. All of Magdali’s books had before now been stowed meticulously away; her cooking books in the cupboard, her other books in a trunk under her bed. Her books were the one thing Magdali never left laying haphazardly about like everything else. They were far too valuable.

“Madam, what book is that?” Linda inquired, pointing hesitantly.

The crone peered across the room for a moment before she saw it. “Oh. That.” She waved her hand as if getting rid of a bad smell. “Unwanted compensation. An old friend failed to pay me with anything valuable, so he expected that ragged bedtime story to settle his debt.” She snorted in disdain.

“Bedtime story?” Shona stood to get a better look. After a moment, Linda followed.

Shona pulled the book out from under the furs and dusted it off with her sash. Linda’s eyebrows raised; the thing was ancient. Its cover might have been a brilliant blue when it was first bound, but now the dye had faded so much from the worn leather that it appeared to be a dirty, musty grey. It was stained by dark brownish splotches along one corner of the spine, and was torn along the back edge. The edges of its pages were so yellow they would be better described as orangey-brown, and so frayed they looked as if they would flutter into pieces at any moment. Being around rare and antique books all her life, Linda had an eye for the age of such a thing, and she would have estimated that this particular piece might even be older than Magdali herself.

“Don’t bother with it,” Magdali advised them as they brought it back to the table.

Shona ignored her. “There’s no title,” she observed with surprise. She flipped open the cover only to realize that the letters inside were none that she recognized. “What’s it about, Magdali?”

The old woman sighed and sat down, resigned. “Old, old stories about the Mountain Fairy.” she answered wearily. “Folk tales worn out before my grandmother was born.”

“Mountain Fairy?” Linda repeated. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Magdali shook her head. “You wouldn’t. Stories like that are not passed among the Boundmen because some might consider it treasonous.”

“I don’t know of it either,” added Shona.

“That’s because you don’t need to. It’s not something any sensible person would tell to rash young wenches like you two. You might end up wanting to do something foolish.”

Linda blinked. “Like what?”

Magdali merely smiled.

Shona eyed her aunt uncertainly. “But…you’re going to tell us…aren’t you?”

Magdali fixed her beady black gaze on the inquisitive girls. “When have I ever described myself as a sensible person?”

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