Hope your day is going well.
I was looking through my memory stick tonight, and I found this, it is the start of a second book that I started about a year ago and never finished.
I have the idea for the full story in my head but was suffering from a severe bout of writers’ block at the time and only wrote two chapters and got stuck on the third, it really pissed me off, so I stopped writing it.
So, I found it again tonight and wanted to post it on here to see what you all think of it. I would love any feedback that you have on this, and please be brutally honest. It may help me get back to writing it again.
It is, I think anyway, a good story and it will have a sarcastic talking Griffin in it at some point so please let me know what you think of chapter one.
The rain thundered down over the funeral procession on the estate they make their way through the gravestones towards the mausoleum that stands on top of the hill overlooking the entire property.
Catriona Thornheart walked along weeping in the rain over the loss of her Grandfather, the only person in her family that ever showed her any form of love. Her mother and father have always been so cold to her and never cared about anything but the family business and using the power generated the family enterprises to control the local politicians.
Catriona holds her head up high they way her grandfather had always told her. She remembered the final words he said to her. “Always remember Trina, you are stronger than you think. No one can control your destiny. Make what you want out of life not what life wants from you.”
She still has no idea what he was talking about, but she was glad that she was with him when he passed away. No one should have to do that alone.
The priest starts the service “Friends and family, we are here today to say goodbye to Alexander Thornheart. He has been lost to us, and we now lay him to rest.”
The rest of what the priest says is lost to Trina as the pipper next to her starts to play as they entomb her grandfather.
After the service is over they make the way back to the mansion for the wake, Trina was dreading this part of the day all she wanted to do was go off and curl up in her grandfather’s large leather chair and pour through one of his old leather books and just remember him.
“Catriona!” shouts her mother, Amelia, from across the room. “Get over here now!” she lets out a sigh of resignation and walks over to her “Snap out of it,” she snarls “we have guests here, and you will comport yourself as a member of this family should.” Trina can feel herself welling up at this, but she stifles a sob. She just watched then bury her Grandfather, and now she’s expected to socialise with the local dignitaries who are only here in an attempt to curry favour with her horrible family.
“Yes mother, of course. What would you like me to do?” she asks, resigned to the fact that there is no winning with her mother.
“Go and see to our guests, anything they want you are to provide them Catriona do you understand me?”
“Yes, mother.” She walks off as starts taking drinks orders from the people in the room.
Her father, Quintus, beckons her over, taking a drink from her. “Catriona, you know Mayor Howards don’t you?”
She looks up at the man her father has introduced her to “We haven’t met, but it is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” She replies politely.”
He smiles back at her with a politician’s smile “Your Grandfather was a great man. He will be missed by the community. He always had such compassion.” The way he said that sent chills up Trina’s spine, it was as if it had physically pained him to say the word.
“Thank you for your kind words, sir. I will miss him a great deal.” She replies.“If you will excuse me, I need to get drinks to our guests.”
Her father looks at her with about as much emotion as a stone would be able to project. “Of course, Catriona, run along and see to your duties. The Mayor and I wish to discuss my father’s legacy and where we go from here.”
Trina nods to him and heads back to retrieve more drinks.
The rest of the afternoon passes incredibly slowly after dozens of polite conversations about how these people will miss her Grandfather and how much he meant to them. She was willing to bet all the money she had that none of these people even knew him.
Finally, she managed to sneak away after her mother left and made her way up to the study that her Grandfather called his sanctuary.
She walks around the room letting the smell of the leather bound books and the light smoke emanating from the glowing embers in the fireplace.
There is nowhere else in the house that Trina feels safe or at home. She takes one of the large leather tombs from the book shelve and curls up in the oversized leather chair and flips it open to her favourite story in the book. The one that her grandfather used to read to her all the time when she was younger. Now at the age of eighteen, she still finds comfort in the fantastical tales that he used to read to her at bed times.
The story she reads is about a great battle that takes place between the King of the Dragons and The King of the Griffins. It’s always been her favourite. The pictures of the Griffins and the Dragons captured her imagination, and she would often spend days imagining that she was riding on the back of the Griffin and charging into battle against the evil tyrannical dictatorship of the dragons.
Her Grandfather always encouraged her to use her imagination, telling her that it was her greatest gift and that, in her imagination, she can accomplish anything.
That’s why she loved her Grandfather so much he was the only one that took the time to encourage her passion for writing.
She sat there for hours just pouring over the book, running her hands over the engraved illustrations depicting the scenes of the battle between the Griffin and the Dragon.
Eventually, she fell asleep in the chair letting the book fall to the floor.