This is an old story I finished a couple of years back and shopped around to various literary agents but never managed to gain much interest in it. However, the other day, I happened upon it, sat down and read a bit of it and found that I kind of still liked it. It might do with a bit of cleaning up and some stronger wording, which I might get around to in the future; however, it was still something I quite liked. I still remember much of the old magic that touched me while I was writing it and while I’m working on some other new stories now, I thought I’d turn this old story into a serial fiction on my blog for the time being. I aim to add a new chapter each week so keep checking back if you read this and find you like it!
I’ve hovered between a few different names for this story and at this point I’m just calling it A Reason for Being. It’s somewhat of a cross between urban fantasy and paranormal romance and tells the story from two points of view: a somewhat restless, highly energetic, lonely girl named Meredith caught in a troubled romance with a magician, and an old friend of hers, Iris, who has secrets of her own to hide. Meredith is the main protagonist of the story and her story is told in third person with Iris occasionally popping up in the first person. But enough of this. I won’t give away much more, but let you read on…
A Reason for Being
Meredith was having a bad day even before she sensed the magic behind her.
She had been working on repairs at Ivan’s Café, which was one of half a dozen minuscule shops and restaurants on Shoestring Lane hard hit by yesterday’s summer storm. The storm had appeared literally out of the blue, splintering rooftops and ripping up signs and trees. There were those who thought it must be an ill wind conjured by a magician, but InterPara and the magi scholars at Berninski University were quick to discredit any such ideas. The insurance companies breathed a sigh of relief at this. Magical disaster policies were notoriously messy beasts, with a high risk for catastrophically huge payouts. As Bern Waldorf of Waldorf Mutual Insurance once declared, “Give me a nice, simple natural disaster any day.”
Ordinarily, Meredith would have been in her element on a day like this. The weather was clear and bright after the storm, the sun shining down strong as she moved like a miniature whirlwind herself, clearing debris, re-potting plants and re-sculpting the brick wall which lined the courtyard out the back of Ivan’s Café. It was hard, dirt-in-nails manual labour, the kind of work Meredith liked best because she could pour her relentless energy into the doing of it. The café staff, most of whom she had known since high school, came out often for a cigarette and a chat while a mix of blues and reggae played on the radio out back.
By afternoon, however, the music had given way to a talk station out of deference to the old Russian regulars who sat in their personal corner of the courtyard, drinking strong black tea and chain-smoking cigarettes while playing chess.
And that was when it all began. READ MORE