Snippets from Camp
Update for July 2024
“Hello!” The author rushed from her office and into the half-furnished space at the end of the hall, brushing leaves, bits of paper, and what might have been penguin feathers from her hair. “I’m sorry I’m so late and rushed—I’ve been incredibly busy at camp, and still dealing with some worsening health issues. I thought of having Emmalie give you an update, since her story is the one I’m currently immersed in, but she’s…rather busy at the moment, and I’m afraid she might let out some rather important spoilers if I brought her out here now.”
She winced a little as she glanced back toward the old-fashioned door, then turned back to the screen with an apologetic smile.
“So instead of that, I thought I would offer you some snippets of what I’ve been working on at camp—portions that will hopefully whet your appetite, but not spoil things too badly. Here’s the first one, freshly written this month, but already a couple of chapters old, from Emmalie’s upcoming novel, A Hope and a Future…”
My brother sat in the corner of the sofa, reclining against as many cushions as the space could hold, and the sight somehow brought a smile to my face even as a pang shot through my heart. His eyes were closed and his face pale, but he was out of bed and mostly upright, and I couldn’t help drawing closer, even though all my rational instincts warned to keep distance between us. Not that I had any fear of him harming me, even had he been at full strength, but it was nearly impossible to resist the force of his nature at any time, let alone when he was near enough to end any discussion by simply sweeping me into his arms.
I had almost reached his side when his eyes blinked open, and I paused my movement, barely breathing as I waited his reaction. He offered a weak smile and let his heavy lashes fall again, but after a moment more, the hint of a frown creased his forehead, and I swallowed hard but didn’t retreat from my place as his attention once more focused and sharpened on me.
“Emma.” His tone hadn’t yet hardened to granite, but suspicion oozed from its edges. “What’s happened to your chair?”
“It’s a new chair, Niki. Nothing’s touched the one you gave me.” It was only half an answer, and none but the most impractical whisper of hope in my heart dared believe he would be content with it. The deepening scowl on Niklaus’s face sent that errant fancy skittering back into the shadows, and I grasped for words to supply what he truly wanted to know before his worst imaginings could take root. “Loegan made it. To help me—and Jaelyn—and everyone.”
“Help you what?” Barely a trace of softness remained in the brittle words, and I sent up a wordless cry from my aching heart and bent my head to hide the fresh tears that would only prove my weakness. Gripping the handles tightly, I rolled myself a few rotations back, then returned to my previous place.
When I dared to look up again, Niklaus was staring, eyes wide and jaw slack, and I couldn’t tell if his expression was more akin to shock, bewilderment, horror, or perhaps some combination of the three. I lowered my eyes as my heart once again tore in two at the conflicting claims of the brother whose care had sustained me through all the years I’d lain idle and useless and the man whose love had restored the freedom I had never thought to regain.
“My poor baby…” The author sighed a little, then straightened. “But she’s coming into her own, I promise! And hopefully the end of the story will be worth the heartache it takes to get there. Now for something completely different, because when can I go off to camp with a certain project in mind and not gain at least one new story idea? Here’s the prologue to another story that I’m not actively writing at the moment but hope to go back to after I finish with Emmalie’s. It’s—” She glanced at her notes and shook her head helplessly. “It’s a Goldilocks and the Three Bears retelling, set in a fictional quasi-Croatian setting in approximately the Baroque era, with themes of beauty, disability, and finding true purpose. Because my story ideas are nuts that way. But I really like the way the prologue came together, and I’d love to hear what you think…”
Once upon a time is the way all the best stories begin, I believe. By these, I mean not the tales of the great masters that are bound in fine, tooled leather to grace a nobleman’s shelf. That there are good stories counted among them, I doubt not, but it is not of these that I speak.
I speak of the tales told to children of high station and low—silly things they are sometimes—the stories and the children both, I suppose. Perhaps that is why they fit so well. And yet, in the soul of each, there is a purpose—a meaning to be grasped and treasured and woven into the very fabric of one’s soul. An example—perhaps a warning, or perhaps a dream—but always a picture of the things which are beautiful and good and the things which are not.
I shall soon have bitten through the end of this pen in my struggle to explain these feelings of my heart in ink on a page. Adrijan would craft the words better, but he says he has penned my tale in “The Plundered Angel,” and should I wish more of my history to be known, it is mine alone to tell. Marinka begs me to leave for our children the story in truth, and I too fear that if the tale is left to legend and song, it may pass into uselessness for those it should comfort most.
So then, here is my story, rough and imperfect as it may be, told to the honor of my King and the praise of my God, and for the blessing of my children, the people of Dalmithia, and perhaps even a few in the regions beyond. It is the story of a boy, then known as Gabrijel, but now most often called by his rightful name of Teo, who entered a mysterious house in a wood and there discovered a purpose that he thought had been lost to him forever.
And it begins, once upon a time…
“And…I think that’s all for now, since I should get back to rescuing Emmalie and Loegan from the pickle they’re currently in. But here’s a question for you—what’s one question you’d want to ask one or more of my characters if you could? It can be a specific character or just any character, but I’d love to have some ideas in my back pocket for possible interviews in the future.” She grinned mischievously at the screen, then glanced toward her office and pulled the remote from her pocket. “I really should head back to camp—there are odd things happening with penguins at the moment. Hope you enjoyed the snippets, and I’ll see you next month—or someone will!”