Here is part II of Marabella - Discovering Magics.
Having eaten, Marabella pleaded. “Please let me feed the scraps to Sam and
Fetch.”
“Henry, see to her would you. I’ve got to put Natan down. He’s fallen
asleep already.” The baby’s bright red curls fell across his pale face as
his head bobbed with sleep. Nan lifted his chubby frame and wiped his
face and hands as he struggled, half asleep.
“Marabella is perfectly able to handle the dogs, Nan. I don’t see why…”
The butcher’s wife cut him off with a look. “I’m not worried about the
dogs. She handles them better than you, I know. But I also know
that girlcomma and she’ll be down the street before you can find your
head. Now go!” She hefted the toddler to her shoulder and headed
for the bedroom. *a most
excellent paragraph*
The little girl had already disappeared out the door. When Henry stepped
outcomma he saw
her *I feel like the POV changed here. We were in
Marabella’s head. Now we have Henry’s perspective* standing on the top rung of the front fence as steadily as he
stood on the stoop. The dogs were lapping hungrily at the remains of the
stew. Henry smiled. “I know that you won’t fall or anything but if
Ma sees you on that fence, she’ll chew my ear off the rest of the night.”
Marabella giggled like a little girl should and jumped lightly to the ground.
She looked up at the big man suddenly serious.
“Did you know my father? Did he really die or is Momma just protecting
me?”
Henry was taken aback at the sudden maturity in the little girl’s face. *now that we’ve changed to Henry’s POV, it is important to stay
there* Her eyes burned into
his and he could not but tell
the truth. *suggestion: “...he could do nothing but tell the truth.” “I know how people talk but your mother really cared for your
father. He was killed same time as my brother and my boy on the ferry.”
“But some say you can’t know who…” she spoke up. *cut this attribution. It isn’t needed and slows the dramatic
moment. Also, regarding the use of ellipses: Use ... to imply hesitation or the
voice dropping off. Use an em dash — for interruption. It sounds like Henry
interrupted her*
“Never you mind what some say” he assured her. There’s no mistakin’ YOUR*better to italicize than to capitalize* father. You have those same green eyes. You look like your
mother but I’ve only seen those eyes once before.”
“You knew my father.” The child moved closer to Henry and held him with
her gaze. “Tell me about him.”*into
action now. I can forgive the earlier descriptions if this continues*
“I really think this is something Mara should tell you first.” Henry
began. But he was no match for Marabella’s stare.*try showing this not telling her effect on him. Example: But her
emerald eyes tore through his resolve like a cat hitting a cobweb. *Begin a new
paragraph here*“I can tell you this.*I would add an attribute. Example: “I can tell you this,” he began
slowly, “your father was
Geremiah. He was a woodsman and a damn fine hunter. He was my
friend and the best supplier of wild game I ever had. He hunted the
mountains, this valley, the next, and far beyond. That is, until he met
Mara. Then he seemed to stay closer around these parts.” Henry
suddenly struggled for words. “You should ask your Momma to tell you this
story. This just ain’t my story to tell.” The dogs bristled and
growled as some revelers ran past, breaking the spell.
“They‘re just boys passing by” Marabella soothed the beasts.
Henry wiped his face with a ham-like hand. “Well, let’s be off to bed
with you now.” He
saw his chance to distract her from her seriousness. *note: some might see this as ‘telling vs showing’ but here it is
needed and desirable. Good job. I would cut the last three words though* “You’ll be wanting to get an early start at the festivities
tomorrow and there’s lots to do. How's about I read you a story, maybe
something from The Traveler’s Tales?”
“Oh yes,” Marabella clapped her hands and smiled brightly, a child once more.
“The one about the Moonfire Ring! I like that one.” Henry agreed and
ushered the child inside.
In the square, the raucous throngs crowded around the brightly painted
wagons. Revelers danced by torchlight to the lively music. Among
them moved Mara, her hair billowing down her back in dark ripples that shown in
the light. Despite the cruelty the years had wrought upon her, Mara still
caught the attention of men. She moved gracefully in and out of the
crowd. The curve of her cheek and the line of her neck were still true
and beautiful. Mara smiled brightly, her full lips rouged and perfectly
formed. Only a keen observer would notice that her smile never reached
her eyes. Most of her patrons thought it was her way of being coy,
averting her eyes from them, glancing shyly through her dark lashes. But
in truth, she preferred not to look into a man’s eyes. This was her way
of maintaining the facade her profession required. Many eyes looked
admiringly at Mara this evening. Festival filled the village with so many
new faces. *I’d start a new
paragraph here*Mara tightened the red
sash (the sign of her profession) around her tiny waist. She
positioned herself in the eye line of the well-dressed men loitering around the
outdoor tables of the drinking house. She kept her eyes on the musicians
and the makeshift stage set up in front of the wagon caravan but she could feel
the eyes*you are using the word
‘eye’ too much* upon her as she swayed
and twirled to the music. Mara was a good dancer, graceful and light on
her feet. She knew it would not be long before one of the men approached
her. She let the music wash over her and engaged
her internal detachment. *ah, no.
Find a different way to say this. It’s like missing a step in the dark. The
words are modern vernacular and very out of place* *Begin a new paragraph
here*“You dance well.” Mara’s first customer
had a deep voice. His name was Pavitch. His rough hands were those
of a workingman but his fine clothes said money. *a good way to say this and leave the rest of the scene up to the
reader’s imagination. Good job*
The sun was barely up when Marabella popped her head out the bedroom
door. She regretted leaving the big soft bed but she was anxious to begin
the day and get to Festival. She closed the door quietly so as not to
wake her sleeping baby brother and crept toward the kitchen. A fresh fire
was already crackling in the great-room hearth. A sure sign Henry is
up she thought. Easing
her way into the kitchen, she stood silently watching Ma Nan *I’d use less ‘ing’ words.
Example:” She eased into the kitchen, stopped, and watched Ma Nan...”bustle about preparing puffy meat pies for baking. The delicious
smell of meat, onions, and peppers cooking made her mouth water. She could hear
Henry outside at the well. She watched Nan move about the kitchen, her long
light brown hair in a loose braid down her back. Nan’s chubby fingers
pressed out the dough then rolled it flat with the smooth round stone.
She trimmed the edges with a knife before spooning the meat mixture onto the
dough circle and folded it over pressing it closed all around. Then she
painted the pastry with a brush. Completely engrossed watching the process,
Marabella asked, “Why are you painting them?” *try beginning your sentences with something other than ‘she’. It
breaks the monotony. Yeah, I know, I used ‘she’ also, lol*
Ma Nan yelped with surprise. “I didn’t hear you get up. I’ve been so
blasted busy this morning. I swear I’m going to hang a bell around your
neck. You are the quietest child…sometimescomma” she added grinning. Nan's round face was pink from her
toil but her gray eyes danced with mirth when she looked at Marabella.
“Why are you painting them?” Marabella questioned again.
“Oh.” Nan smiled. *attribution
isn’t needed* “It ain’t paint, little
darlin’. It’s egg water. A little water, a little egg…it makes the edges stick
and makes ‘em golden and crisp when they’re done.”
“Ah.” Marabella nodded. Just then Henry came through the door with
two big buckets of water.
“Fill the pitcher and basin.” Nan ordered, turning back to her chore.
“And the rest goes on to warm, I know.” Henry interrupted glancing at Marabella
with a wink. “Ruth and Wesley just rounded the corner. They’ll be here
momentarily.” He added.
“They must rise in the middle of the night.” Nan fretted. “They
are always early.”
“But never late.” Henry smiled as he filled the pitcher. He picked up the
buckets and headed for the great-room.
“Don’t spill any of that.” Nan squawked.
“Yes, my lady” Henry bowed and sailed from the room.
Note: cut attributions whenever possible. It
increases the pace.
Nan’s cheeks flushed pink for a second and then she was back to business.
“Now you young miss”. She turned her attention back to Marabella. *why did I strikethrough this phrase? Because what other young miss
is there? Just Marabella* “Wash
your face over here and go get dressed.” Marabella obeyed, dipping her
hands into the basin. The shock of the cold water made her squirm.
She heard Wesley and his mother Ruth outside. Drying her face and hands
on a clean towel, Marabella turned to Ma Nan.
“Mind you visit the privy, then get dressed. And try to drag a brush through
that hair. I’ll be in to tend to Natan, first chance I get.” Nan kept
busy as she spoke. “Ruth and Wesley will be in here in a flash and I need to
make some room for us to work.” Ruth was the wife of Henry's brother
Anton. She was a nervous woman with a harsh voice. Belle *who is Belle? Marabella?* was
one of the few who knew how truly kind Ruth could be. *telling* She had often sent
milk and cheese to them with no expectation of payment and the message that she
just “had too much”. Marabella had heard Henry say that when Anton was
alive, she laughed and smiled often and loved to sing, that his death had made
her fearful and sad, and as everyone knew, overprotective of her son,
Wesley.
Marabella struggled to pull the brush through her dark tangle of curls.
Ma Nan and Ruth were in the kitchen preparing meat pies and bundles of herbs to
sell at Festival. Henry had volunteered to give Natan his bath.
Wesley, Henry’s nephew watched silently from the corner for a few minutes then
said, “Can I help?”
Marabella looked out from behind her veil of snarls. “Yes please.”
Wesley guided her to the footstool and sat behind her in Nan’s chair. He
began to gently brush her hair, separating the tangles with his fingers.
Wesley was eleven years old, five and a half years older than Marabella.
But he was small and thin so he seemed younger than his years. He rarely
spoke. In fact, some people of Helfin assumed he could not speak.
Many around the village also thought him an idiot due to his silence.
Marabella had heard gossips comment that the ferry accident had rattled his
brain. She knew his brain was just fine, as she’d seen him read many of the
books on Henry’s shelves. However, he did seem almost *either is or isn’t. Skip almost. It slows the narrative* unnaturally quiet. He and his mother eked out a living
growing herbs, raising goats, and selling soap, goat milk and cheese. His
mother Ruth was also an herbalist and tended the sick in much the same way as
Ma Nan.
Marabella could feel the tension flowing out from Wesley as he sat behind her.
“You’re good at this. Nan always pulls when she is in a fret like she was this
morning.” *new paragraph*She encouraged, wanting to fill the silence. Wesley relaxed
slightly.
“She gets in a hurry is all.” Wesley’s voice was barely above a whisper.
He continued brushing her hair in silence. Finally Marabella sighed and
blurted out, “Did you know my father, Geremiah? He was a hunter.”
Wesley stopped mid-stroke with the brush raised above her scalp. “Well,
yes I do remember him. He helped my father save my life when the
ferry broke free. That was just after my fifth birthday, before you were born.”
“So tell me about it.” Marabella was eager to hear anything she could
about her father, even the story of how he had perished.
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