Urchin's Chance: Contest Entry

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Every year for the past three years, My Faith Radio has held a writing contest, open to anyone.  This year, writers were asked to write a story either non-fiction or fiction, exploring the concept of Grace.  The story was to be at least 700 words, but no more than 1000.  

This is the first year I entered the contest, with a short fictional story called Urchin's Chance.  Unfortunately, though I submitted it on time and according to the rules, it somehow did not make it to the voting page.  I'm really not sure what happened, but whatever the case, my story is not up for readers to vote on.  

Oh well!  I thought since it didn't make the contest, I might as well post it here. And, since this is no longer bound by the contest rules, I'm giving you the long version- just over 1000 words. Tell me what you think- did it have a chance at winning?  Let me know in the comments below.  Enjoy!

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URCHIN'S CHANCE

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A bitter wind bites my cheeks and sends a shudder through my chest. I feel the cold deep within my bones. My nose starts to run, but my skin is so chapped that the rough wool of my gloves will only hurt more.

Jerome stares out at the people passing by, snowflakes landing lightly on his black hair. He doesn't seem cold. But he's a year or two older than me, and he's been on the streets since he was ten, so he's used to it by now.

Without glancing my way, he nods slightly. “Do you see that, Tim?”

I look, trying to quell my shivers. Across the street, I can see a street vendor setting up his stand. Even from here I can smell the scent of roasted corn. My mouth waters.

“We'll have to be careful- I can see Bruiser on the corner.”

I see him too. Bruiser is a bobby- but he's got a savage streak. I've seen him beat a boy almost a year younger than me for pick-pocketing. He's less interested in upholding the law than he is in showing off his power.

“Let's go,” says Jerome. Without a word, I follow.

We weave through the crowds. People aren't paying much attention to us. We keep our heads up, but our eyes down. If you don't make eye contact, people don't remember you.

I'm nearing the vendor now. The smell lights me up, makes me warm inside. I'm so close- in just a few minutes, my stomach won't be growling any more.

I meet Jerome's eyes, and he nods. I move toward the stand, bumping into a man in front of me. He stumbles forward, upsetting the stacks of corn and knocking several cobs onto the cobblestones. In the blink of an eye, I gather them up and shove them down my coat. I toss two more to Jerome before propelling myself to a run.

It's a moment or two before anybody realizes we've stolen food. I hear someone yell, but it's too late- we're well on our way. No one will pursue us for something as little as corn cobs.

Breathlessly, I lean up against a wall and share a smile with Jerome. He chuckles.

“Can we eat now?” I ask.

“Go ahead, enjoy your spoils,” he says with a smile. “It won't be your last- that's not the only gold we've nicked today.”

I look at him quizzically. From his pocket, Jerome pulls a shining chain. It's a watch, glistening in the white winter glow. My eyes widen.

“I got it off a gentleman back there, in the confusion.”

“Wow, Jer'...” I gape at it. He smiles proudly.

“I think it's safe to say we won't be hungry for a long time.”

I open my mouth to congratulate him, but at that moment, a shout makes me start. I turn, scrambling to my feet. Men are running towards us, and Bruiser is a the front.

I hardly have time to think. I try to follow Jerome as he runs, but he's going too fast. I trip over an empty crate and crash to the ground. Corn cobs roll around me, soiled in the filthy snow. The watch is lying in front of me.

“Oi, stop, you nasty little thief!” a rough hand seizes of my shoulder and I cry out. A moment later, I feel Bruiser's bobby stick come crashing down on my skull, making me dizzy with pain. I am thrown to the ground. My breath leaves me, and I throw my arms up to cover my face from his next blow.

It never comes. I gasp for breath, trying to fill my lungs with much needed air. My head spins, and my vision is blurry. I dimly see the shape of a man struggling with Bruiser. I don't care... my eyelids droop, and my head falls back on the pavement. I know no more.

I sit in a cold cell. My head pounds, and my hands feel shaky. The rough wooden cot puts slivers through my breeches, but I'm not thinking about it. I'm thinking about what's going to happen to me, now that I'm behind bars.

I don't know what they do to thieves when they're caught. Maybe they'll beat me and put me back on the streets. Maybe I'll be sent to a workhouse, or to an orphanage. Whatever it is, I dread it.

Hearing footsteps as they approach, I look up. I gulp as I see the warden with his keys jangling. A gentleman stands behind him. There is blood running down the gentleman's forehead from a fresh gash, but he pays it no mind.

The warden unlocks the door and scowls at me. He jerks his head, motioning me to come forward.

“Come here, boy,” he growls.

Trembling, I stand and approach. At a sign from the warden, I walk through the cell door. I look up at him, confused.

“Excuse me....” I say, my voice quavering, “but, aren't I-”

“Shut your trap, young 'un. This gentleman here's just paid a pretty sum to get you out. You're his concern now.”

The warden gives me a withering look and turns his shoulder. Snorting, he trudges down the dark hallway, leaving me with the gentleman.

Swallowing, I turn to look up at him. He sees the question in my eyes and gives me a kind smile.

“Yes, it's true,” he says. “I've paid your fine.”

I stare at him, my mouth open. I try to think of something to say, and my eyes focus on the gash on his forehead.

“You're bleeding,” I say dumbly.

“Yes. It was a blow meant for you, in fact.”

My eyes widen as I realize who he is. He was the man who was struggling between Bruiser and I. He stopped the blow before it came.

The gentleman puts a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, son- you're free to go now, but if you keep stealing, it's going to catch up with you. You won't evade the law forever. So you have two choices: you can either go back to your life and continue as you have been, or you can follow me and never have to fear again.”

I balk, not sure if I understand.

“So which is it?” the gentleman asks.

“I- I just- I don't know,” I fumble.

“Will you come with me, or won't you?”

The gentleman holds out his hand and gives me an encouraging smile.

I consider my life on the streets. He's right- I won't evade the law forever. Eventually, my wrongs will catch up with me. “I- I'll come with you,” I manage to say.

The gentleman smiles. “Good.” He beckons as he turns to leave.

“Pardon me for asking sir, but why are you doing this?” I ask, hurrying after him.

He turns and looks at me, right in the eyes. “Grace.”

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-Emmarayn Redding

Upcoming Books: The Madman of Elkriahl

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THE LIGHT OF THE MOON shines eerily through the mist, sending its silver beams down to reflect off of the rocky spires of the wasteland of Elkriahl. The seagulls cry as they circle overhead, riding the endless current of wind as they dance through the sky. Far below, a terrible, haunting moan echoes up from beneath the fog. Hidden deeply somewhere in those labyrinthine passages, a wraith-like figure wanders endlessly through the night, shrieking and cackling like a restless ghost... 

Gretta is a simple peasant girl, having never seen the world beyond her small village.  But when the prince goes missing and his uncle is crowned king, her world changes forever.  For months, her village has been haunted by a dangerous madman- but after a startling revelation, Gretta ignores the warnings of her family and neighbors and sets out with him on a quest that could change the fate of the entire nation.  But how can one girl and one lunatic face the many dangers that stand in their way?

Enter a world of magic, deception, and trickery in this exciting new tale from Emmarayn Redding.  You won't want to put it down!

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While this book is sill in it's editing stage, I thought I might share some concept art with you.  While I enjoyed doing this piece, we eventually decided to go with a different style of artwork.  Still, I am very fond of it.  Let me know what you think!

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-Emmarayn Redding

My Artwork

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It's been a while since I did an art post, and I figured now was as good a time as any to share some of my artwork with you.  :D

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This is a dragon drawn during church many years ago.  It was one of the first dragons I drew that actually turned out looking nice.  I can't remember exactly what inspired this, but it was done in about an hour and a half.

 This drawing has an interesting story.  I was volunteering at Vacation Bible School at our church.  I wound up in the art section, helping small children cut out shapes and glue stuff together.  :)  One day, my group of kids had their project pretty well handled, so I got bored and started doodling on a paper towel.  A half-hour later, I finished this drawing of Legolas, looking sassy.  

 This is concept art for an animated musical that I will never write.  It was meant to be the story of Hades and Persephone, re-written to be a romantic story.  Instead of Hades abducting Persephone and forcing her to be his wife, they would be star-crossed lovers running away to escape the tyrannical hand of Demeter.  Hades and Zeus's relationship would be roughly similar to Thor and Loki's relationship, except that Hades would be a lot nicer than Loki.

This is Persephone during her first solo, and also during the scene where Hades first lays eyes on her.

 This is a poorly done self-portrait.  I can never get myself quite right.

 This is a fanfiction character I was developing for Slug Terra, a kid' TV show.  (Yes, I'm an adult and I still watch children's shows.  It's fun.)  I never did develop her fully, but this picture turned out pretty cool. :)

Fan art for Harry Potter (which I intend to review soon).   I figure this drawing would be during his fifth or sixth year.  I'm not sure which yet. 

This is a fanfiction character for the Harry Potter series.  Erida Locksley was a Ravenclaw a few years older than Harry, (around Fred and George's age) though she came to Hogwarts late.  She was born with the rare abilities of a Perceptor- that is, Wizards with the ability to absorb memories of other humans through eye-contact, and discern the nature of objects through touch.  Her adventures rarely corresponded with Harry's.  She mostly worked on her own as an agent of Dumbledore.  Most of her younger years were spent trying to keep her abilities a secret from the rest of the school for fear they would shun her.  

I've never actually written down any of her stories, and I'm not sure if I ever will.  Perhaps someday if I'm bored.  :)

Thor and Loki as teenagers, playing chess as Frigga looks on.  It was only after I finished this that I realized I'd drawn the chess board with one too many rows, so the board is uncommonly long.   I guess it must be some form of Asgardian Chess. *shrug*

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Hope you enjoyed it!  Let me know which one is your favorite.  :D

-Emmarayn Redding

Flash Fiction: Ready

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Hey, readers!  This is a science fiction short story I've written for a Flash Fiction challenge hosted by Rachelle O'Neil.  In her flash fiction events, each participant gives a prompt to one other participant and receives a prompt from yet anther participant.  I was given the following prompt by Leanne.

Reality is a prison.  

This prompt was to be used anywhere in the story, as long as it was there.  The story was to be kept anywhere between 500 and 1000 words.  My original draft was 1,223 words long, but after some trimming, I managed to get it down to a precise 1000.  

Thanks to Leanne for the awesome prompt!  And thank you to Rachelle for hosting this fun event.

If any of you readers are interested in taking part in this event, check out Rachelle's blog in the link above!  It's open to anyone who wants.  :D

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Dust sweeps across the street in the dry wind, making my eyes sting. I lower my head and keep going, never breaking my stride. All around me, silent people go about their own business. I'm invisible to them. Not literally- they can see me as well as they can see themselves- but they turn a blind eye to me. No one wants to draw any attention to themselves by taking interest in someone else.  

That's the way things are. After the war, people sank deep into themselves, trying to escape this desolate ruin that has become our home. If you keep your head low, you can stay out of trouble. If you keep to yourself, there's no need to fear the wrath of A.R.G.E.N.T.

Living within their own minds gives them a sense of comfort. Reality is a prison, and by telling themselves that everything's okay, they feel free to live their own private lives and escape the ugliness of the world.

Despicable, yet it affords me a measure of safety; If no one's looking at me, then no one will to try and stop me.

I reach my destination. Casting a quick glance from side to side, I duck into a dark doorway and disappear into the building. It's cold inside, and the musty smell makes my nose itch. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my handkerchief and cover my mouth and nose, taking comfort in its protection.

Jay mocks me for my weakness in that respect. But he's wrong. My physical weaknesses have made my mind stronger, which is why I've been chosen for this mission.

I descend a long, winding set of stairs until I am far beneath the city streets. When I reach the sewers, I stop and speak into the darkness.

“Stand down. It's Caravel.”

There is a shifting sound as the guns that were locked on me are lowered. Micah steps out and lifts his mask.

“Lilah,” he says, relieved, “You made it alright.”

I smile briefly. He never calls me by my code name unless we are with our superiors, or with Jay. I don't call him by his either; Viper sounds too mean.

“I'm fine,” I say. “Is everything ready?”

He nods. “This way.”

I follow him down the passage way, our boots sloshing through the filthy water. The other guards nod their respect as we pass. I lower my eyes. I know why they nod, but I'm not used the recognition.

Commander Falcon is waiting for us, and so is Jay- or Dead Eyes, as I should call him.

“Glad to see you safe, Caravel,” said Falcon. “We worried when we heard about the Truen incident.”

Dead-Eyes looks away and shifts uncomfortably. I'm not sure why, but I have no time to think about it.

“I had a close call, but I'm alright now,” I reply.

“You're sure you're not hurt?”

“Yes. I'll still be able to complete the mission,” I assure him.

Falcon nods, and beckons me over to a reclining chair. I sit down calmly and wait as the attendants attach all wires and tubes necessary to keep tabs on my health as I enter the Dream World.

Micah doesn't like this. For some reason it's easier for him to watch me risk my life in real combat than it is for me to go into the psycho-technic plane where this battle will be fought. Maybe it's because in combat I'd die quickly, but in the Dream World, it's my mind that will be destroyed.

I'm almost ready. I can see my physical and mental readings on the screens. Falcon, Micah, and Jay come to stand in front of me. I wish they'd sit down too.

“Remember, once you go under, there will be no coming back until the mission is complete,” says Falcon. “Remember the codes- your life and the fate of the mission will depend on it. Once you're able to hack A.R.G.E.N.T's midway firewalls, Dead Eyes will be able to come in after you, but until then you'll be on your own. Above all, you must reach the center of their defenses, and both of you will have to reach it together. The kill-code won't work unless each part is entered in sequence.”

I nod. “Yes, sir.” We've gone over this already, of course. With our psychs linked to the micro-technology, Jay and I will be able to infiltrate A.R.G.E.N.T's cyber network, where we will attempt to lower their firewalls, allowing us to shut down the shield generators from the inside. Once that's done, A.R.G.E.N.T will be defenseless, and our real-life troops will be able to take their city and free us from their control.

I look up at Jay, who's staring at me with his peculiar, pale eyes. In this light, they really do look dead. But now something stirs in them, and I don't know what it is.

Falcon smiles reassuringly and goes to oversee the attendants as they prepare to send me under. Micah watches, grimacing.

Jay hesitates, then leans down. He swallows. “Be careful in there,” he says, his tone flat, as always.

“You can count on me,” I say quietly.

“I know.” He straightens and becomes Dead Eyes once more. I swallow and take a deep breath, trying to still my nerves. This plan could save us all, or prove to be my undoing. Maybe both. Either way, I'm ready to face it. Maybe those people up there are right, and Reality is a prison- and by entering the Dream World, I can free us all.

“You ready?” Asks Falcon.

“Ready.”

A light flashes, filling my vision. There's a wild, tingling sensation running down my spine, through my limbs, and my mind. I arch my back and gasp. I feel my mind drifting away, and the world melts away before my eyes. My breath slows, and my body relaxes. I know that I've entered the Dream World

If Reality's a prison, then I've escaped.

For now.

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(DISCLAIMER:  I do not own the pictures used in this post.  All credit goes to their rightful owners.)

My Digital Artwork Adventures

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So a couple of years ago, my dad got an ipad from his job as a teacher.  One of the programs he downloaded was called Paper, by 53, an art program that simulates very basic artistic tools such as pens, watercolor paints, and markers.  After a lot of practice, I finally managed to get a hang of the program, so I thought I'd share my work with you here!  

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Concept art for a novel of mine-

 A practice in the style of anime-

 Concept art for another character from yet another novel of mine-

This started out as a scribble, and then bit by bit became an actual drawing.  It wasn't meant to be anybody, but it ended up looking like a friend of mine.

 Fan art for the Kid Loki comics by Kieron Gillen.  This one depicts Loki and his best friend, Leah.  Their relationship was always a strange one, since he was openly smitten with her, and she was so stiff and unsocial that she barely knew what to do with him.

Another one of Kid Loki-

Fan art for Thranduil, King of Mirkwood-

The Joy of Christmas: A Christmas Short Story

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Merry Christmas, my dear readers!  I know it's a day late, but since yesterday I was so sick that I spent most of the day sleeping, I thought now was as good a time as ever to wish you happy holidays.  

A few years ago, I wrote this short story to post on a forum.  Now I thought I'd bring it out again to share it with you this Christmas.  Enjoy!

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The Joy of Christmas

A small fire flickered weakly, doing its best to spread its feeble warmth to the three poor soldiers who huddled near it. The sandbag walls did little to shelter them from the bitter cold snow-flurries that blasted over the hills.

Shivering, a soldier pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders and held his fingers closer to the flames. The holes in his worn, shabby mittens revealed pale, chapped fingertips, eager for a bit of warmth.

“Jimmy, mate, it's freezing! I don't know if I can stand it any longer.” He complained, his voice quivering.

Across the fire, Jimmy smirked. “You always did have a profound knack for stating the obvious, Sam.” He said sarcastically.

“Oh, come on, Jimmy, I'm just trying to make some conversation!” Sam protested.

“Well, save your breath, you'll need it to keep warm!” Jimmy replied.

“Alright, fellas, break it up. It wont' do us any good to argue. We're supposed to be on watch.” Said the third soldier.

“Good old Tru, always level-headed.” Jimmy sighed. “Are you really still thinking about duty? We're freezing our fingers off, and your mind is on duty?”

Tru shrugged. “I don't claim to be any less upset than you are, I just know it won't do for us to argue.”

The three fell silent for a time. After a while, Sam spoke up again. “I keep trying to think of something on the bright side... say, fellas, do you know what day it is?”

When the others failed to answer, Sam tried again. “I said, do you know what day it is? Tru, I know you've been keeping a calendar...”

“It's Christmas Eve.” Jimmy stated, staring into the fire. Sam looked down.

“Yeah.. and we're stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. I hate this war. I wish I'd never signed on! I'd give anything right now to be home with my family.” Sam laughed a little, shaking his head at the memories.

“Ma will be baking the apple pie- her own recipe! Pa will be bringing in some firewood, making sure the house is nice and toasty. And my little sisters, Jane and Anna, will be running around the Christmas tree, trying to guess what's in their presents.

Tim, good little lad, he'll be reading a book by the fireplace. And maybe Gramma and Grampa have arrived with Aunt Rudy and Uncle Jack. They always bring the best meat loaf. And cakes. And these special little cookies with frosting!”

Smiling, Sam looked up, wishing with all his heart he could somehow magically get back home; maybe in time for dinner. Dinner would be nice right about now.

“Well, what about you? What do your families do at Christmas?” Sam asked, trying to keep the conversation going. “If we can't celebrate with our families, we can at least tell each other about what it's like.”

“Alright, Sam.” Jimmy said, “If you really want to... I suppose I can humor you tonight.”

Jimmy scooted closer to the fire and began. “I don't usually celebrate Christmas with my family anymore... I guess you could say I'm a bit of a black sheep. But my sister, Jenny, still asks me every year. She and her husband, John, have four kids. Kyle, Jacob, Maria, and Katy.”

Jimmy, in spite of himself, began smiling. “Katy's just little. She and Maria are really sweet.” He laughed. “You know, it's funny how they take to me. Whenever I come to visit, they just run right up to me and jump in my arms. Especially Katy. She calls me Unkoo Dimmy. She and Maria will sit on my lap for hours and tell me about all the games that they like to play.

Kyle and Jacob are a little older. And they're practically inseparable. Jacob follows Kyle everywhere. Every time I come, Kyle will come up to me and tell me that he's getting to be a man, and ask if he can see how tall he is compared to me.”

Sam smiled. “They sound like great kids. Do you give a lot of presents at your house? That was always my favorite part when I was little.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. But Jenny always scolds me a little for spoiling the children with too many presents. She doesn't really mean it, especially when I give her her own present- usually some kind of cooking spice. She loves those.”

Jimmy fell silent suddenly. Talking about Christmas was reminding him how much he really missed his family, even though he didn't like to admit it. He wondered if they missed him as much as he missed them.

“Well, what about you, Tru?” Jimmy asked irritably. “Sam and I have talked about our Christmases, it's your turn now!”

Tru breathed on his hands, which were covered only by tattered, fingerless gloves, and nodded his head. “Alright, be patient.” He sighed. “Oh... where to begin?”

Jimmy and Sam waited expectantly.

“Back home, my family likes to work. A lot. So every Christmas, the men- that's my father, my four uncles, my three cousins, and I, all go out into the forest to cut a tree. Meanwhile, my sisters and my mother stay home with my aunts and my Gramma to get supper ready.

We have lots of treats- everything from cookies to candy, cakes to pies, scones to muffins. My Aunt Bridget makes Bacon-Watercress rolls.” Tru closed his eyes. “Those are my favorite. Anyway, by the time they've set the table and laid the food out, the men and I have usually found a tree, and we're dragging it in.

After that, we all sit down and have our meal, and by the time we're done, every one of us is stuffed full. Then we set up the Christmas tree and let the children decorate it. There's a lot of noise because everyone wants to visit with everyone else at the same time.

After that, my grandfather reads the Christmas story from the Bible.  Then we sing songs for a while. My uncles all play the guitar, and the kids sing as loud as they can. My mother, aunts, and Gramma all sing in harmony together. I just try to carry the melody without having my voice break. They always play the songs too high.”

Smiling, Tru continued. “After that we open presents- and let me tell you, there's a lot of presents. The children go wild and start dancing around for joy at their new gifts. Someone always gives me a sweater. My uncle Tim gave me a jack knife last year, and I've still got it, tucked away in my boot.”

Sam grinned. “Sounds like a good Christmas to me!”

Jimmy spoke up. “Sam, I'm not going to lie, but I agree with you. I wish I was at home now. Even if the rest of my family doesn't really want me there, I'd give an arm and a leg just to see their faces again.”

The others nodded in agreement. “Well,” Sam said at last, “I don't know about you, but I don't want to spend this Christmas griping in the cold. Just because we're on our own out in the middle of nowhere doesn't mean we can't have a good Christmas. We've got each other, right?”

Tru and Jimmy didn't answer right away, but at last, Tru put his hand on Sam's shoulder. “You've got me.”

Smirking at himself, Jimmy had to agree. “Alright, fine. You've got me too. We're all together in this war, even if we don't have our families.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Sam asked. “It's Christmas Eve! This is a time to celebrate the Savior's birth!”

Lifting his voice, Sam began a song.

“Silent night...Holy night...”

Tru and Jimmy joined in, each picking out different parts- Jimmy on the tenor, and Tru on the base.

"All is calm, all is bright...

round yon virgin, mother and Child

Holy Infant, so tender and mild...

Sleep in Heavenly peace,

Sleep in Heavenly peace.”

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