Little bit of Housekeeping before I share today's post. -Thank you to everyone that participated in my Thanksgiving Giveaway! There were over 120 entries and Miss Madison Howe won the big prize! -My Holiday Giveaway goes live on Thursday, December 5th. It will get it's own post with all the details then! Until now all you need to know is TWO signed books and additional swag. Alright! Now that we have that out of the way. Today's challenge post is a HUGE step out of my comfort zone, but I hope you will all enjoy it. I'm going to share the first chapter of Venerate which in a nutshell is Enshrine, from Jonty's point of view. Now let me explain, this is unpublished and pretty rough. If I ever submit this (That's a WHOLE post in itself), it may be tweaked and changed, but I thought it would be fun to share it especially after my multiverse post I did a week or so ago. I'm also hoping it might kick me in the butt to write this and all my Rosementh stories I've still got cooking. I also feel like I should say spoiler alert if you haven't read Enshrine yet, but on the other hand, this may cause you to want to go out and read the original book. ($4.99 for the Kindle version, just saying...Panera Bread costs more. Hell it costs more than my paperback version too! LOL) Who knows...maybe if people like this we could make it a monthly series or something. Without further ado... Jonty Ingraham scowled at his reflection. No matter how hard he played with his hair, it didn’t look good enough. Normally he let his raven colored locks do whatever they wanted, his bangs often got in his eyes, but today that just wouldn’t do. Today was important. For his little village of Community, the spring day was celebratory. It was the Equinox festival, an ancient tradition where Jonty’s people thanked the higher power and the land for letting them survive the cold, harsh winter. Jonty’s village acknowledged the passing of seasons, births, marriages, pretty much any moment deemed important with style. There was good food, great ale, music, and dancing. The equinox festival was reason enough for him to be dressed in one of his best shirts and slacks, but today was so much more than that. He had to look his best, because the celebration was just part of the reason why he was fighting with his hair this morning. Jonty pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket and read the same words he’d gazed at for five years. Today more than ever, his heart raced at what they would mean. “Oh, is that why you came home?” His father’s drol tone caused Jonty to look up from what he was reading. “Is today the day you finally make things official?” His father was watching him from the hallway, already wearing his pompous high elder robes over his finest clothing. The ceremonial robes were really only meant for conducting business inside the village meeting house, but Charles Ingraham wore them like a second skin. Jonty heaved a sigh as refolded the parchment and put back in its hiding place. His father knew full well why he was home. He liked to do things like this, pick at Jonty and get under his skin, but Jonty was too excited and hopeful to let his father bring him down. “Today is finally the day Sage Wolfe will know she has been matched with me.” “Do try to not make a fool of yourself.” His father warned. “You already seem to enjoy disappointing and embarrassing me more than I deserve.” Jonty stared at his father for a long moment, deciding if he wanted to argue with him. Choosing to end the battle with his hair and ignore his father at the same time, he slid past the high elder and made his way out the door into his yard and into the woods beyond. “Someday I want someone to tell me that I’m adopted.” He grumbled as he kicked a loose stone. Unfortunately the person who would have confirmed that for Jonty hadn’t been around since he was nine years old. At face value, Charles Ingraham seemed like the perfect man to be in charge of a council of elders. He was heavily involved in Community and constantly looked for the approval of his people. But behind closed doors Jonty’s father was selfish and arrogant. Coming from a long line of elders, he would do whatever he could to get the same power and glory. He married Jonty’s mother, the daughter of the village mason, and treated her like a fragile porcelain doll. She was painted and dressed beautifully, but no one could touch her, she spent her days on a shelf for everyone to look at. Elder Ingraham was too busy keeping up appearances and furthering his career to know he was not making Jonty’s mother Merriam happy. He barely touched her himself, only when it was convenient to continue his family name. Once Jonty was born, he had two people to show off and continue to improve his image. It seemed that for as long as Jonty could remember, his father had been disappointed in him. For starters, Jonty was a male version of his mother. Or at least what he remembered of her. She had olive skin and brown black hair. Jonty imagined that if he ever let his hair grow out that it would be curly like Merriam’s had been. Jonty got his height from his father’s genes, but that was where the similarities ended. Elder Ingraham had grey eyes, lighter skin and wiry hair that had been grey since Jonty’s mother had walked away from them both. Jonty had been a typical boy, the kind that loved to play in the dirt and run until he was exhausted. Elder Ingraham seemed to have forgotten that he was once a child himself, and wanted his son to be seemingly perfect. He wanted Jonty clean, and learning to read and write when most of the other children in the village were chasing each other and kicking balls in the streets. Jonty was to to be high elder like him someday, it was in his family’s blood. He could remember his mother telling his father that Jonty was too young to worry about such things, but his father would laugh at her cruelly. He remembered a warm summer day when he might have been no more than four, a day that all the warriors in Community had come home from a campaign. They walked home proudly, their swords on their hips. The village was jubilant over their safe return. Jonty admired the risks they took, the skills that they had to learn to stay alive and defend the empire of Rosementh. Being a warrior; wielding a sword, and defending his home seemed so attractive to him. Far more interesting than what his father did everyday at the meeting house. Jonty vowed that he would grow up and he would become a commander in King Leonard’s army. He had his mother make him a toy sword and he would spend from sun up to sun down pretending that he was a decorated war hero, like a man who lived in village center named Ezekiel Wolfe. The man had travelled all over the empire, he was strong and sinewy, but still was an average person that many admired. Jonty wanted to be just like that. Elder Ingraham was disgusted that his young son wanted to be something as uncivilized as a fighter for King Leonard’s army. He scolded and lectured his son everyday, planning on brainwashing him to fulfil his family duty. Jonty’s father yelled at him so much that it caused the boy to despise his father, and it made him hate his given name. Jonty’s full name was Jonathan Charles Ingraham, but his father was the only person who actually called him that. Jonty made it perfectly clear that he hated what his father hurled from his lips multiple times a day. Luckily, his mother’s pet name for him was something his father never called him. If it weren’t for his mother, Jonty probably would have become the quiet, brainwashed person his father had desired. She had fought valiantly for him to be a normal child. Well, she had for a while, Jonty supposed the burden of being a perfect wife and mother got to be too much. She left him behind in the middle of the night when he was nine years old. The perfect facade that Elder Ingraham had desperately tried to build came crumbling down. Though he was young, he still heard what the village was saying about his mother. Merriam Ingraham had run away from Community with another man. Though Jonty’s heart hurt, he couldn’t completely blame her or hate her. Jonty wished often that he had been adopted, that anyone else could possibly be his father. He wished that his mother had just taken him with her instead of leaving him behind. After his mother left, Jonty took the full brunt of his father’s intensity. He blamed Jonty for his mother’s betrayal, telling him that it was his fault for being a disobedient child that they fought and she felt solace with someone else. He commanded that Jonty work to become an elder to bring some sort of honor back to their family name. Jonty’s fists shook in a quiet fury as remembered the way his father made him feel, how at twenty-three years old, he still felt like he wasn’t good enough, that he would never be good enough. Jonty had always wanted to be a warrior, but he gave that dream up. It was out of necessity. He had become so angry, so resentful of his father that he couldn’t stand being around him any longer than he had to. You became an adult at eighteen in Community, but Jonty was so disgusted by his father that the minute he was sixteen and finished his exams in school, he sought out the leader of the trade caravan to see if he would take him on. It wasn’t a warrior’s life. But it was close. He got to use a sword and a short bow to defend the goods that they delivered over Rosementh, and he got to be on the road for two weeks a month. Enough time for his father to only be slightly intolerable when he was home. Life on the road was convenient for him. He was glad that he had made the choice. Jonty walked further into the woods and found himself smirking in spite of himself. Nothing turned out like he had thought it would, but it was really okay. He wasn’t a warrior, but in the seven years he’d been with the caravan he’d gone from complete newcomer to being in charge of the western line. He was proud of who he’d become, despite who is father was and where his mother had gone, he felt strong, he felt skilled and knowledgeable, and as he had thought previously, today was going to be important, today was his day. It was ironic actually, if it wasn’t for his father’s awful attitude, he never would have joined the trade caravan. If he hadn’t taken that job, he never would have met Declan. Declan was a charismatic swordsman who had become Jonty’s friend quickly after he joined up. He lived in the village center and was several years older than him, so on a fateful day when Jonty was eighteen, Declan had a home of his own, a wife and two daughters. If it wasn’t for being friends with Declan, he would have never noticed Sage Wolfe, and his life would have never changed. Jonty remembered the day like it had happened recently. Of coming home from a trade run and wanting to go anywhere but home. Declan had invited him home for a drink. Jonty had sat on his porch as Declan’s daughters played at their feet and his wife called to them saying that dinner would be ready shortly. The village center was so congested that Declan’s porch faced the back of a bakery. The business and upstairs apartment belonged to none other than Ezekiel Wolfe, his gifted wife Tehila, and their five daughters. Jonty couldn’t remember how old they were or what they looked like, just that the whole family was known more for their dancing than just the delicious food their mother made. Their father was a legend in more ways than one and he danced as passionately as he fought in battle. His daughters were equally as talented and they danced at all the village functions. But on this particular day, no one was dancing and Jonty still found himself in awe. Sage Wolfe had come out to the back to hang laundry out to dry. Her father was in her wake and the two laughed and chatted as she balanced delicately on her toes as she hung up dresses of all sizes on the line. Jonty had been talking to Declan about a wedding that the whole village would be attending in a few days time, but had stopped cold as he took in the girl’s pretty face. “Got a problem?” He remembered Declan’s voice breaking him from his revery. Jonty shook his head, still watching the girl with ivory skin and cinnamon brown hair “Who is that?” Declan followed his friend’s gaze. “Oh, that’s the oldest Wolfe girl. You know that one that’s always dancing with Ezekiel. Sage, I think.” Jonty studied the girl, recalling a much younger child that used to dance at weddings and other events with her father and younger sisters. She was always a joy to watch. But now, he found his stomach flipping as he took in her defined cheekbones and the way she smiled as her father said something that Jonty couldn’t make out. “It must have been a while since I last saw her.” He replied, trying to hide his interest. “I thought the Wolfe children were still young.” “Nah, she’s thirteen now.” Declan answered. “Time flies when you aren’t often home. I’m sure you’ll see her and her sisters at the wedding. They’re always dancing. It’s in their blood.” Jonty almost felt bad for being so attracted to a girl so much younger than him, but he couldn’t stop watching her, she almost seemed to glow. He didn’t doubt that it was because she had both her parents that doted on her and her sisters. Her happiness almost made him jealous. “Speaking of weddings,” Declan’s voice entered Jonty’s mind and brought him back to his senses. “You’re a man now, when are you going to settle down and find yourself a wife?” Jonty watched Sage finish pinning up her final piece of laundry as he answered. “I don’t know.” He shrugged as he watched the girl pick up her basket and head inside. “I guess when I find a girl worth settling down for.” Declan smirked devilishly. “Well then you need to stop wasting your time staring at THIRTEEN YEAR OLD GIRLS!” He said the last part of his statement so loudly that it echoed from the porch, over to the Wolfe’s yard where Ezekiel, the father of the aforementioned thirteen year old girl was still standing. Jonty turned crimson as he dropped his eyes to the floor, deciding whether he wanted to punch Declan in the face or make a break for home. “To think I call you my friend.” Jonty grumbled embarrassed. “Come on lad,” Declan tried to reason. “It’s all in good fun. You couldn’t wait two years to enlist in the army. How are you going to wait five years for that girl to grow up?” “I couldn’t wait two years to enlist in the army because my father is an asshole.” He tried to think of a reason to play off in his interest in the girl but couldn’t think of a suitable excuse. In fact, he risked looking in the direction of her home one more time, just in case she had reappeared. Instead he met the eyes of her father and his heart raced with nervousness. The man studied Jonty; not in anger or annoyance, but with the sort of interest that made Jonty exhilarated and scared at the same time. It was as though he had heard far more than Declan’s outburst. That day had certainly been the beginning of a change in him, and Jonty’s pulse quickened as he thought of how long he had waited for Sage Wolfe to be old enough to to officially be his match. He’d hardly slept as he thought of walking up to her and finally telling her that he’d thought she was beautiful for years. No, he was certain that nothing could ruin this day. Jonty searched along the forest floor until he found exactly what he was looking for. Purple blooms grew among the trees and she chuckled as he took out his knife and cut sprig after sprig until he had enough to make a bouquet of sage for the pretty girl that made his face flush even now. He hoped that she would find the irony in the gesture, giving her a bundle of her namesake. She was the only girl named Sage in the village after all. He found a long piece of a grass and used it to keep the flowers together before he put his knife back in it’s holster, happy with his work. “I’m not a warrior and I’m not an elder, but I’m a good man. I promise.” He said aloud. Then he wondered what he would finally say to her when he finally got his chance. It didn’t matter, he would figure it out. Jonty did know that he wanted to get down to the festivities before his father had the opportunity to make him feel inferior again, so he clutched onto the flowers with one hand and placed his other hand on his chest so that he could feel the parchment of the marriage contract underneath his shirt. He took a deep breath and began to walk out of the woods, towards the center of Community. Today was important. Today was the first day of the rest of Jonty Ingraham’s life. Please leave a comment, I would love to hear what you think. :)
Enshrine is available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Enshrine-Kay-Bennson/dp/1625265859/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=Kay+Bennson&qid=1575320160&sr=8-2 or click on the cover on the home page to be redirected. Yours in Writing, Kay Bennson
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