A couple of you people said I ought to post more of my Nano story, so here is part of the first chapter. The book is not complete yet, but perhaps posting it here will inspire me to finish it. :P
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A yellow tomcat padded softly over the rooftops of the village. The setting was his idea of a perfect night for prowling and spying. A half moon hung over the castle on the horizon, giving just enough light for him to see by but not be seen himself. Few palace guards were on duty patrolling the streets, which pleased the cat. On nights such as these, the fewer humans out and about, the better he liked it. But the smug smile on his feline face disappeared quite suddenly when alarm bells rang startlingly out, all over the town. Lights were appearing everywhere and pesky humans were pouring into the streets. Irritated, the yellow tom was about to turn and run to one of his nearest daytime hiding places, but a cry from a guard stopped him.
“The king is dead, the king is dead!” This gave the cat pause. He had often spied upon the king and queen in their castle and been chased from their kitchen more than once. Such delightful smells of fish and other delicacies that came from that place.... With a flick of his tail, the tom brought his attention back to the present. More people were in the streets and the same cry was being raised by commoners and guards alike. Ah well, the castle was only a short distance away. He would go and see what all the fuss was about.
Fifteen minutes later, the big tomcat was inside the castle, having entered from one of the numerous small entrances he knew of. He trotted swiftly down the corridors, navigating his way to get a good vantage point of the throne room. Once into the main part of the castle, the cat was forced to avoid servants in every corridor. Many of them were blubbering most obnoxiously, their white aprons flapping as they ran in every direction. Once, a man wearing all black nearly stepped on him. The cat meowed loudly to express his displeasure.
“Sorry there, kitty cat.” The man said softly, then hurried away down the hallway. He was burdened by several bags and boxes. He didn't strike the cat as a servant, but he soon forgot about him. Arriving at the the throne room, the tomcat knew he had come to the right place to see the action. The young queen was in a regular tizzy, crying hysterically and rushing this way and that. A group of servants were huddled in one corner and nobles and knights filled the rest of the room. The cat sat beneath a table and listened.
“My queen Eloise, will you please calm yourself?” A fat little woman wearing servant's garb spoke, whom the cat knew to be the queen's childhood nanny.
“NO, Marsha, I won't! If was your husband who had just died, would you calm down?!” So apparently the king was indeed dead, as the criers had declared. The cat flicked an ear in interest. The queen ceased her frantic pacing and threw herself down upon a cushioned couch and continued crying there. Marsha turned to another servant.
“Ooo, this is dreadful.” The other servant nodded quite solemnly. A younger servant, a woman, pushed her way through the crowd to Marsha.
“But what exactly happened?” She asked eagerly. Marsha gave her a stern look, then sighed.
“Oh, alright. Listen up, you lot and I'll tell it exactly how it happened, so you know the truth and don't go spreading lies and falsehoods all over the kingdom.” Everyone in the group of servants grew quite quiet and in the group of nobles as well.
“As you all know, it was a hobby of our good king's to dabble in the idea of flying machines. Well, what most of you don't know is that it was more than just a hobby. He believed that he could really build and fly some kind of machine. The king hired many renowned inventors from all over the country and some of them foreign ones too. He paid them ridiculously high sums of money to try out his designs for all manner of flying contraptions. Some with wings that flapped like a birds, some with wings that could not flap at all, which doesn't make any sense to me, how's it supposed to fly without bird wings....” Marsha looked out over her audience and gave a cough.
“Right, er, well. To make a rather long story short, one inventor succeeded in making one of the machines work. The king was overjoyed and insisted he be the first man up in the air. But the contraption failed when it was way up in the air. Those who saw it said there was a flash of green light and then the balloon fell.”
“Balloon?” A voice rang out.
“Oh, right. The design that very nearly worked looked like a large, brown bubble. Called it a balloon, they did. Where was I.... There was a green flash and then the balloon fell. The king died in the fall and that's all there is to say.” Silence held for a moment, then everyone in the great hall began talking at once. Some were saying that the king was a fool and everyone else was arguing with these people. Nobody really noticed as Queen Eloise rose to her feet, no longer crying, though the tears remained on her cheeks and her eyes were puffy and red. She stood silently looking out over the throng of nobles and servants, interacting freely in the excitement. She stood there, like a statue. Grief was written all over her beautiful face and her hands trembled. Marsha turned and saw her there, and hurried to her side. Rather than saying anything, Marsha steered the queen towards her chambers.
The yellow tomcat beneath the table yawned. It had been an interesting evening and now he was prepared to go find something to eat.
“MERRICK!!!” Merrick Humphrey winced at the sound of his name. The fat, red-faced cook was stomping towards him, her frilly little servant's hat menacingly askew on her head of stringy hair.
“That's it, you are FIRED!” She yelled directly into his face, spittle spewing all over him. Merrick didn't think it was very fair to fire someone just because they dropped a bag of potatoes into a cauldron of breakfast porridge. Buuut, he supposed that he could understand it after the pig incident, the bread-with-peppers incident, breaking the thirteen dishes..... Yeah, he could understand it. The cook's face was still merely inches from Merrick's own and he was not enjoying the perfect view of her moles and yellow teeth.
“Alright alright, I'm gone!” He said, and ducked away, leaving the bustling palace kitchen behind. That would be the fifth job he'd lost in so many months. Actually, he'd kept that one longer than any of the others. Two weeks was a record, so he was feeling pretty proud of himself. However, he knew his mother would not be pleased. Despite the fact that he was only 15, almost 16, Merrick knew his mother had been trying and trying to get him a steady job within the castle. She'd worked there all her life and hoped for the same for him. But Merrick just didn't like working in the castle. Everyone was always busy, and when they weren't working their tails off, they were gossiping or at the village bar. Besides, Merrick couldn't seem to control his limbs and always did something stupid. Like the porridge that morning. He made his way through the winding passageways and stairways, and then was out on the streets. He took a moment to enjoy the chaos of the town. Street vendors tried to out-compete each other in the volume they proclaimed their wares. Animals were pulling carts every direction and dogs barked as they were chased from the meat vendors' stands. Merrick smiled and then plunged into the masses. He wove in and out of people and only knocked two people over as he made his way towards home. Merrick knew his mother would be home, as this was Sunday and that was her day off. He knocked on the door of their small house and his mother, Helen, opened it. Helen was not a particularly beautiful woman with sandy-brown hair and blue-gray eyes, but she had an air that reminded you of a princess. Merrick supposed that was from waiting on royals all her life. Or perhaps she had been born with it, who knew.
“Merrick! Why are you home so soon?” Merrick didn't answer right away and realization dawned on his mother's face.
“Oh, my boy. Not again.” Merrick shrugged off the hand she placed on his arm and pushed past her into the house.
“Yeah, again. Cook fired me right on the spot. You don't even want to know what I did.” His mother sighed.
“I just can't get my stupid limbs under control!” Merrick exclaimed. He sat down on his cot with a thud and held up one of his long arms and dangled it limply.
“If it's not my arms, it's my feet. I can't do anything without tripping or smacking into something I oughtn't.” His mother sat beside him.
“Don't worry, Merrick. You'll grow out of it soon enough.” They sat in silence for a minute and then his mother rose to her feet. Merrick ran his hand through black, wavy hair. His bright blue eyes were startling in a face of olive skin.
“The poor queen.” She said. Merrick looked up.
“Huh? Why?” He asked. His mother looked at him in surprise.
“What, you didn't hear? The king has died in an accident involving a flying machine he had made by an inventor.” Merrick's jaw dropped.
“The king died? But... But... But he was so nice to everyone.” His mother smiled shrewdly.
“Nice people die too. ” She pointed out, as a look of sadness flashed over her face. “But how in the world did you not hear about his death last night? Practically the entire village was awake and when you weren't in your bed, I assumed you had gone out with everyone else.” Merrick colored slightly.
“Wellll.....” The truth was he had snuck out after his mother had fallen asleep and had been a couple of miles outside of town, catching crickets in a farmer's field. He had wanted to bring them home in a tiny cage he made and have them sing in his house. While he enjoyed the loud, chaotic bustle of the town, he really loved the quiet and the animal life of the countryside. So he had wanted to bring a piece of it home. Besides, crickets were cool.
“I was, uh... Out.” His mother raised an eyebrow, so he hurried on. “But the king, you said he died in an accident with a flying machine! Is that even possible?”
“Apparently it is. Well, sort of. The machine failed. People are saying it wasn't a normal, mechanical failure however. They're saying there was a flash of bright light before the thing fell.” Helen looked at her son with a smile.
“But that's probably just gossip.” Merrick got to his feet and stood over his comparatively short mother. He was nearly six foot, but not quite, which was a constant source of irritation for him. So many of the other village boys were lots taller than six foot, but he was stuck at stinking five feet, eleven inches.
“Merrick, there's still the matter of a job for you in the palace....” Helen said. Merrick's shoulders slumped a little.
“Alright.... Where should I try this time?” He asked without much enthusiasm. His mother smiled at him.
“Well... Why don't you just go ask around? I don't really know of anywhere else they're likely to need a boy your age.” Merrick did his best to smile and then ducked out the door and back into the busy street.
