Here’s the First Except of My New Novel, ANNABELLE

It’s three weeks, yes, three weeks until I release my new YA-fantasy short novel, ANNABELLE. To mark this occasion, I figured it’s time to start sharing some excerpts. This first excerpt features one of the main characters of the story, a renowned chronicler named Frederick Poull. His goal is to learn about Annabelle Vicstoria’s life through the accounts of those whose lives she impacted. So, with no further delay, here’s the excerpt.

Thunder could be heard in the distance as a light drizzle began to fall. He dismounted his horse, patting Daisy’s chest reassuringly as a stableman approached to take his horse to shelter. He walked forward and knocked on the door. To his great relief, it promptly opened. He hurried inside to avoid being caught in the impending storm. 

    There a tall blond-haired middle-aged man with a sharp, angular face in the classic white robes of a servant greeted him.

    “Welcome to the Arnum House. Wait here,” he spoke in a distinguished Haywardian accent. “My master will be with you shortly.”

    Frederick nodded as the man walked away. This gave him time to appreciate the building’s foyer. It definitely possessed character with its medieval accents; there were arched ceilings and beautiful paintings depicting ancient battles. The dimming light from outside streamed through the stained glass windows, casting everything in an eerily beautiful glow.

    As he stared at the striking paintings on the walls he heard footsteps and when he turned he saw a tall woman with red hair, pale green eyes, and a strikingly pallid complexion approaching. She was dressed in a sweeping black dress that enveloped the very space where she walked while her matching black heels echoed across the polished stone floor. She was the mayor’s wife, Turnley Arnum.

    “Frederick Poull, what a pleasure to meet you. I hear you have come to chronicle the life of Annabelle Vicstoria.”

    “This was where she was laid to rest. It’s only fitting for me to learn about her here, is it not?” he replied.

    She grinned. “Of course. Please…follow me.”

    He followed her through the house which was nothing short of stunning. The vaulted ceilings provided a light, airy feeling to the interior, and each room they passed was decorated with more tall stained-glass windows. A question suddenly came to his mind, one that he had to voice. 

    “Why was Ms. Vicstoria buried here instead of in Nottinglot Square where she mostly resided?”

    Ms. Arnum looked at him with a tight smile. “She often used to come here to get away from the ruckus of city life. She never failed to mention how much she loved our little town and its quaint, authentic beauty. We were…given the honor of resting her body here as a commemoration to her memory.”

    He was eventually brought before a single door at the end of a hall. It was here that Ms. Arnum turned to him.

    “I will bring my first guest to you. Until then, make yourself comfortable.”

    “Thank you,” he said, dipping his head, before entering the room.

    A single light hung from the low ceiling, dimly illuminating the small space. A table rested in the center of the room with two empty chairs sitting across from one another. He sat in the chair facing the door.

    He pulled his thick journal with its frayed edges from his bag and placed it on the table, opening it up to a blank page. He looked to his right, immediately noticing the quill and inkwell. To his left was a small glass of water. He nodded to himself before sitting back and clasping his hands, waiting for the first person who would walk through that door. 

    It seemed like an eternity later before the door opened and a man walked in. He was tall and well-dressed. His black hair was slicked back and he had a pencil-thin mustache. His narrow eyes were shifty.

    Frederick Poull gestured at the chair across from him. “If you please.”

    The man sniffed before sitting.

    Poull grabbed the quill, dangling it above the blank page before looking at the man.

    “First, could I have your name please?” Frederick asked.

    The man sat back in his chair, seemingly bored with the formalities of this meeting. “Histor Daggerton,” he said.

    Poull stopped mid-scratch of his quill, finding the man’s name slightly amusing, before continuing to write.

    “Tell me, how did you first meet Annabelle Vicstoria?”

    Daggerton sighed as he looked upward. “Ah, it was like meeting an angel,” he spoke with a lilting accent. “I’ll never forget the first time I met her.”

And so, there’s the first excerpt of my novel, ANNABELLE. I’ll be sharing more tidbits as we near my book’s exciting release in three weeks such as:

  1. Two more excerpts.
  2. The portraits of the eight characters who will be sharing their accounts of Annabelle Vicstoria.
  3. And, of course, my cover.

Until then, I thank you for your support, I thank you for reading, and I hope you have a tremendous day.

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