A Brothers Call

Trisscar

New member
This a book that I just started writing, and I wanted to see what ya'll thought. I haven't done that much with it yet, but here is the little that I have done:

Chapter One
"Sapphia, help!" Sapphia tossed in her bed, trying desperately to rid her mind of the dream that still haunted her after seven years. She knew what would come next, for it had played over in her mind a million times. Her brothers call would be drowned out by the laugh of the soldiers, taunting her, almost daring her to try. Then, when she wished the dream would stop, she would run.
Run past the fields of corn on her right, past the burning house on her left. She would run away from her crying brother, and she would try to run away from the pleas that reached her ears. Timothy was nine, almost a man, and her only seven, what could she do against the three rough soldiers? That was the excuse that rang in her ears as she ran. But her now fourteen, that excuse seemed small in comparison too her mothers deep wrinkles, her papa's frown. Even her younger sister, who had been only four at the time, seemed to grow quiet when Sapphia was around.
Sapphia’s eyes flickered open, and she tried to shut out the memory, but as always when she dreamed this dream, the guilt throbbed in her stomach. knowing she would not get back to sleep, and that the sun would be rising in the hour, she slid out of bed and pulled off her flannel nightgown and slipped on a work frock. Padding softly out side into the fading darkness, her legs took her to the barn, where the horses where just waking up. Leaning over the stall door of her favorite mare, Shiloh, she sighed.
Where is Timothy now? she wondered. Of course, she would never say that out loud, for her papa thought that he was surely dead. Mother had always stayed optimistic, but Sapphia thought that even she had given up hope on the inside. Anna, her sister didn't ever talk about him, and Sapphia was sure she thought him for dead too.
"Don't worry Saph, I’ll come back!" that was the last thing she had heard him say, and she knew timothy, he would keep his word.
She went into Shiloh's stall, and brushed her. After bridling her, she hopped on. No need to get a saddle for such a short ride, she thought. She walked down the path into the woods. As they neared the edge of the woods, Shiloh shook her head in frustration, she wanted to run. So Sapphia let her have her head and canter up the hill to a stop on top. This was Sapphias favorite place on the farm. It was the highest part of the farm, and you could see for miles. If Timothy was coming home, Sapphia would surely see him from here. She loved to spend her free time up here, reading a book her grandmother had given her, or doing her studies here. When she was younger, her and Timothy would come up and timothy would teach her how to swim, or they would fish. (Timothy baiting the hooks of course, Sapphia hated slimy things). How she longed for those days. The ring of the breakfast bell informed Sapphia that she had stayed out longer then she had intended to.
When Sapphia turned to head back to the farm, Shiloh snorted in surprise that they were going back already. But Sapphias stomach growled and she realized how hungry she really was. She turned and looked at the rode one more time, sighed, and then headed back to the farm. "Mornin Phia" her papa greeted her from the barn. "your out early"
"I needed to clear my head."
"hmm, a little early to clear your head, isn't it?"
"The horses were up hours ago. I’m sure they have already cleared there heads twice over" Sapphia said as she brushed Shiloh down. Papa laughed, and ruffled her hair, just as when she was younger.
"You get on over to the house, I’ll put Shiloh up for ya".
"Thanks, Papa!" she called over her shoulder as she ran for the house.
Her dream from last night forgotten for the moment, she went inside, and ate her breakfast rather hurriedly.
"what’s the rush?" Her mother asked.
"Mails in." came the reply through a bite of eggs. Anna rolled her eyes.
Every Friday, the mail came. and every Friday, Sapphia went to the general store to see if there was anything from Timothy. Mother had used to accompany her. But as the days went on, Sapphia was left to go by herself.
"Morning, Phia, what can I get for you today?" Mr. Weal’s said as she entered the store.
"Mama wants a pound of brown sugar."
"Anything else?" Mr. Weal’s waited for the question that came every Friday.
"Anything?"
"Sorry Phia, but no news so far."
"oh, ok."
"But check next week, I'm sure he'll send something." He said, But Sappphia could tell that he didn't really mean it.
She paid and wordlessly then walked out of the store. She walked toward the school yard. “They're right. They're all right. Timothy’s not coming back. Those soldiers were to big, he would never have escaped. He probably died in the war. Those soldiers will have put him on the front lines, Like the cowards they are”.
She hurried as the school bell rang, and she was forced to pay her attention to her studies.*


Feel free to leave criticism, I don't mind...=)
~Christine
 
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To cover the small things first, you do need to review spelling and grammar here. For instance, "her and Timothy would come up" needs to be "SHE and Timothy would come up." Don't feel bad, mistakes like this are made by persons much older than you--including those who write training manuals for the Armed Forces. :rolleyes:

Moving to the actual content: you did a vivid job of scene-setting, feeding in more expository information a bit at a time. For instance, the references to a general store and to mail service let us know that this story was not happening in some ancient or medieval setting. And perhaps most important, you have given yourself an opportunity to dramatize one of the greatest of human dilemmas: distinguishing between true and false guilt.

The Devil, Jesus rebuke him, loves to do BOTH of two opposite things--or more accurately, two complementary things. He loves to cause us to justify ourselves dishonestly when we actually ARE at fault for something, so that we harden our own hearts by our stubborn refusal to confess. And he loves to cause us to feel guilty over something that ISN'T our fault, so that we feel bad to no constructive purpose, and we are made weaker and less effective. Obviously, Sapphia in your story is NOT at all to blame for the kidnapping of her brother; there was nothing she could do to prevent it. So with her, you have the false-guilt base covered. Hopefully, then, to complete the picture, you will also have a major character in the story who IS genuinely guilty of some intentional wrongdoing. Sapphia then will have a journey to reach liberation, while the other character has a journey to reach repentance and redemption.
 
Thanks Copperfox! I will work on the grammar and spelling, thats something I always tend to forget to check...:D I will try to have the next chapter up either tonight or tomorrow.
 
One more chapter for today....I will try to get more tomorrow.
Chapter Two
Aiden walked along the winding path, hoping that a town would be around the bend. He had been traveling for three days, and had run out off food this morning. As he reached a turn in the road, he sighed in disappointment, for ahead lay not a town, but more woods, even thicker and darker then before.
"You will reach a town in two sunrises, pass through one wooded plain, and cross two streams", the farmer had told him. He knew now, on reaching the second forest, that he was for sure lost.
He reached down for his canteen and unscrewed the lid and peered inside.
I'd better wait, no telling when the next creek reaches this path.
Ahead spruce and oak trees crowded in on both sides, making the path so narrow that two horses couldn't walk side by side. He tried to think back. The last forest he had entered was two nights ago, and in that time, there wasn't any other way to go, with out a hatchet or ax to cut the way. Before that he had walked an open plain, on the only path, the same path the farmer had pointed for him to walk on.
As he walked on, he strained his ears to hear something, anything. With the growing dusk, the forest had grown unnaturally quiet, as if some strange presence was there.
Aiden sighed, his mind burdened with the events of the past few days.
I'm so stupid!” He thought. “If I had only listened to Momma, then none of this would have happened”. "I'm so stupid!" He repeated out loud.
He looked up quickly, startled at the sound of his own voice amidst the quite of the forest. In the distance, the call of a wolf sounded, a lonely sound, as if to say
"Your not the only one on your own".
He craned his neck, as a faint trickling sounded from about ten yards off the path. He peered through the undergrowth, and sighed, he would just have to push through, as there wasn't the slightest path. How he longed for a sword or hatchet, like Clay. Then he could cut through easily.
He glanced down at the small knife he held, It would have to do. He stepped off the path, and started hacking through the thick vegetation, wishing that the knife was sharper. As he hacked farther into the forest, the trickling grew louder, until it was a constant flow. He broke out into a clearing, with a small stream flowing through it. He knelt down and dipped his hand into the stream, letting the cold water run over the cuts and bruises that come from traveling for three days.
He lifted his hands to his mouth, and was about to take a sip when he remembered Clays warning.
"Never drink out of a creek without first purifying the water, no matter how clear and clean it looks." He cleared a small area of leaves and rock, and using the flint and steel he had brought with him, soon had a small fire going. He filled his canteen up to the brim, and held it over the fire, hoping it would boil well enough without a pot.
After what seemed like ages, he started to see small bubbles popping in the water. He hoped it would do. Clay had shown him how to survive in the wild, but he didn't have all the supplies that they had used.
Clay was sixteen, and after having been in the army for five years, he had learned how to fight and survive in the wild. When he had moved to the small town of Marrevel, where Aiden had lived all his life, he had taught all the younger boys his tricks.
Aiden gazed at his reflection in the water. He hardly recognized himself as the boy who, until three days ago, had never left his fathers house. His brownish hair was matted, his normally fair complexion was tan and sun burnt. The only thing that made him recognize himself were his eyes. His mother had said they seemed to shine as bright and blue as the sky. They looked like his father, younger without the wisdom behind them, but still the same. That was the only thing that was alike between the two. His father was tall, strong, and stern. Aiden was more like his mother, fair, quite, and soft. Until he had met Clay, he had stayed inside, reading books, and filling his head with the stuff his father called useless.
In the time he had sat there, the sky had grown pitch black, the fire being the only light. He decided it would be useless to try to find his way back to the path tonight, so he spread out under the little patch of sky that he could see through the trees.
He looked at the countless constellations, and found the ones Clay had shown him. He wished that Clay was out here with him now, to help now that there wasn't a house to run back to if he got hungry and tired. He wished he could follow the path back home, to run into his moms outstretched arms. If only he could face his father again. He pictured his father, the last time they had talked. They were arguing again about what he would do for a living.
"Your fourteen, you should be learning a trade." His father had insisted.
"I do have a trade, I want to be a professor"
"Being a professor won't get you anywhere in life though. If you want to make a decent living, you need a respectable trade, like a blacksmith, or a farmer. You need something that will work up a sweat, that will help support a family."
Aiden wished he could take back the words that had spewed out of his mouth, that he could go back. But he had told his father that he wouldn't be stuck in a hole, to live the life his father wanted him to do. He had grabbed a sack of food, his few precious items, and a canteen of water. And he had chosen a path leading south, a path that took him farther and farther from the life he knew.
But it was Fathers fault, wasn't it?
Shouldn't I have the choice. If he wants to see me again, the he should apologize, shouldn't he?
Then another image entered his head. He saw his mother, with tears streaking down her cheeks, begging him to come home. Begging him to try again with his father. He closed his eyes, trying to get the image out. He drifted off to sleep with those thoughts still ringing through his head.*

Again, comments welcome!
 
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I read your first post. The whole time I was thinking "Oh please, oh PLEASE break this down into paragraphs!" no offense but it's rather hard to read something like that when its not divided up into paragraphs. I also suggest putting the speaking lines of characters on different lines so that you know who is speaking and the words don't run together.

The plot is good and I'm curious I'll admit, but I'm too tired to read anymore of it tonight.;)
 
It looks good! I agree with Mozart: you should probably break it up into paragraphs; it would be easier to read. I really like your name choices, especially Sapphia and Aiden. I'm curious to find out what comes next!
 
Mozart covered the paragraph-breaks issue, so I'll say: this is a potentially fine story, so PLEASE don't spoil the reader's enjoyment by sloppy typing! I lost count of the misspellings in this installment. One time early on you wrote "plane" where you meant to say "plain." "Distants" should be "distance," "bruses" should be "bruises," "dicided" should be "decided," and one or more words need apostrophes.

Have you ever looked at the permanent Writing Club thread about "beta readers"? You could post a request there for someone to help you as you go along, catching and correcting errors BEFORE story installments are posted. I would offer to work with you myself, but right now I'm too far behind on too much real-world business.
 
Here is a little bit of chapter 3:

"What's the answer to that one?" Anna asked, pointing at a problem in her arithmetic book. Sapphia peered at the problem, before replying.
"Eighty-Seven." Sapphia sighed. It was her turn to help Anna with her homework, and she didn't want to be stuck inside any longer.
After what seemed forever, Anna finished the last problem, and Sapphia was free to go and do as she pleased.
She walked outside, and sucked in a deep breath as the cold are bit at her skin. She walked towards the barn, and noticed her father talking to another man, whom she had never seen before. They seemed to be discussing something important, and the other man did not seem dressed like the other people in her town. He wore a gray suit, and a necktie, which seemed out of place in a town that consisted of mostlyfarmers.
As she walked closer, she saw that her father looked worried, even scared. That made her frightened, for she had not seen her father
look this way since the soldiers had taken Timothy. She decided by the look on her fathers face that she had better not interrupt right now.
She shivered. It had grown dark outside, and she was not dressed appropriately for the cold. She walked back in side, and the chill immediately went away. Her father was now inside, and he was talking quietly to her mother in the living room. "Papa, who was that man?" she asked.
He looked at her. There was a sad look in his eyes.
"That was nobody dear, its nothing for you to worry about". He kissed her on the forehead.
"Now go ahead and go to bed, tell Anna to go to bed too."
"Ok" Sapphia said, although she was hesitant. She was pretty sure by her fathers worried look that this was definitely something to worry about.
She went into her bedroom, and pulled her soft nightgown over her head. She got into her bed, and slide her legs under the warm patchwork quilt. She looked out the window, but it had clouded over with frost.
"I wonder what Papa was so worried about. Nothings happening to us. Is it?"
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as always, Comments welcome!
 
Here is the rest of chapter 3:

Sapphia woke to the sound of her parents talking in the front room. She Crept out of bed, not wanting to wake up her sister, who was asleep in the next room over.As she walked into the kitchen, her parents stopped talking. Sapphia gulped. This was serious.
She grabbed a piece of toast, and listened up as she walked out of the room. Her parents resumed their conversation, and she sighed.
How I wish I knew what they are saying! She thought, longing to listen, but knowing that she shouldn't eavesdrop kept her from listening up.
She walked back to her room, and pulled on a sky blue dress, and smoothed it out over her legs. She glanced outside, the sun had begun to peak out over the tree tops. The sun's rays danced around the woods and meadows, and the air filled with birds, basking in the sunlight. Sapphia longed to join them, to spread her wings, and too glide through the air. She wished for the freedom, no cares or worries, just flying, letting the wind carry them high. Then the image of her fathers worried face entered her mind. No sense in daydreaming. Somethings wrong with Papa, and I can't fly away with the birds, I need to stay here and help. Mama says i'm good at fixing things, maybe I can fix this. With that thought in her mind, she walked confidentially back into the kitchen, where her parents were still talking with solemn faces. "Papa?" She asked.
"Yes dear, what is it?" He replied, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.
"Whats wrong? I mean, ever since that man was here last night, you have seemed really upset."
"Nothing, dear"
"Papa, I know thats not true, is there something I can do to help?"
"No, Phia, there is nothing, nothing at all". He seemed so helpless, that Sapphia felt her confidence fading away, and a scared feeling started taking its place.
"Oh, oh ok" she stammered, and backed out of the room. She glanced at the old grandfather clock in the living room, and realized that she would have to hurry, or she would be late for school. She tacked up quickly, and rode Shiloh into town, with thoughts of what could be wrong plaguing her mind.
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Sapphia sighed; her day had not gotten any better. During school, her thoughts had been elsewhere, and when Mrs. Alice had called on her, she had no idea what question she had been asked. She blurted out what she thought they were still talking about, history, but they had moved on to arithmetic. Now at last she was free, and was ready to go on a long ride to clear out her thoughts. She trotted into the yard and saw a man walking around. He wasn't at all like the one who had been here last night, this man was more rugged, and was clearly used to being out in the sun. He looked up as she rode up to him.
"Is this the Larkson farm?" He asked.
"Yes, I'm Sapphia Larkson."
"Is your father around?"
"I suppose he should be, I just got back from school. If you don't mind me asking, who are you?" The man smiled, and reached out his hand.
"David Mares, I'm here about buying the farm."
"What? You must be mistaken; papa would never sell this farm. It has been in our family for eight generations."
"Sapphia, who is this?" Sapphia turned around at the sound of her papa’s voice, and ran up to him.
"Papa, this is Mr. Mares, he says your selling the farm, but I know you would never sell it, it’s been in the family so long, you wouldn't let it go, would you?" Sapphia tried to catch her breath, and an uneasy felling settled into her stomach when her father didn't answer right away.
"Papa?"
"Sapphia, why don't you go inside and help your mom with dinner, while I talk to Mr. Mares."
"Now, Phia!" Her father's voice was gentle, but urgent, and Sapphia knew there was nothing she could do to stop him. She turned around, and hopped on Shiloh, and cantered out into the woods. Thoughts raced through her mind, as she headed on a faint path, winding through the woods. Papa can't sell the farm! He just can't! Why would he ever do such a thing? Where would we go? Then a horrible thought struck her. Timothy wouldn't ever be able to find us. She yanked on the reins as it sank in. Shiloh snorted in protest, and slowed down to a walk. No, we must stay for Timothy! I've waited this long for him, I can wait longer. I can convince him not to sell the farm! But there was an uneasy feeling that that wouldn't be the case.

Constructive criticism is welcome...
 
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Here is part of Chapter 4:
Aiden woke up with the forest. He lifted his head up, and then sank back
down, wishing that he could just pull a shade over the sun,
peering in through the trees. He struggled to stand, his muscles straining in protest. After traveling all day, and sleeping on the hard ground at night,
they were so tense he could barely move. He took a sip from his canteen, and sighed as his stomach grumbled. He looked around, but there
was nothing that looked halfway edible to be seen. He would just have to wait for breakfast.
He walked out of the forest, and once again found the path he had traveled the day before. Looking up, he judged it to be around eight o'clock by the suns position. He walked forward, wishing
fervently that he had a horse. Even a mule would do, but I can't stand walking much longer.
After walking for what seemed about an hour and forty-five minutes, the path broke out of the woods. Ahead he saw a meadow, and beyond that a line of trees. Hopefully once past that small grove, there will be a town, or at least a farm. I'm so hungry! Hope surged through him, and he quickened his pace. Upon
reaching the trees, he stopped in his tracks. In front of him, a rickety old fence ran right across the path. Looking both ways, he saw that it didn't stop within eyesight.
Even though run down, he could tell that it was still used. He hopped over the fence, hoping that whomever owned this land wouldn't mind him traveling through it.
Up ahead, he could see the woods thinning, and he hoped that a farmhouse would be in sight, once he got out.
He noticed that from here on, there weren't so many leaves on the path, and a lot of hoof prints were visible in the dirt. Someone came here often. Now that he was paying attention, he realized that for the past ten minutes, he hadn't heard as much as the skittering of small forest creatures. He strained his ears, but no sound reached him. Then he heard a rustling,
coming from the left of him, about twenty-five feet away. Then he heard a loud shot. He jumped to the side, and gasped as a bullet whizzed pass
his head, and embedded itself in a tree, right where he was standing the moment before.
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