Once Upon A time

Once Upon A Time. How many old fashioned childrens' stories began with those words? Even as I typed them my breathing slowed and I had that lovely feeling that something wonderful was about to happen.

A story begins. But this one of mine didn't quite. I had a setting for a story and a place to start but I didn't have a plot or a cast of characters. I didn't have a story to tell from start to finish. Taking a leap into the future I began to write. Here are the first few paragraphs. Felicity is the name of the female lead.

"Felicity admired the handsome black wrought iron gate and rubbed her fingertips over the name, Tycara, and wondered what it meant. The beautiful garden beyond the gate was out of place on the rugged Cornwall coast where far down to her right white-washed cottages in the old smuggling town glowed in the late afternoon sun.

The garden seemed magical. Exotic plants and shrubs blossomed in organized beds. Directly ahead of her at the rear of the garden a stone wall covered in Virgina creeper rose to the top of the cliff side. Flagstone steps hugged the edge of the wall and wound upwards until they disappeared under a small stand of trees. Tempted to take a few shots of the garden Felicity slipped her camera from its case.

"Hello."

Caught red-handed snapping pictures Felicity almost dropped her camera. Two young girls identically dressed in long white dresses, white stockings and white shoes with gold buckles, danced down the flagstone steps and ran towards her. Silvery bands on their blonde curls twinkled in the sunlight. White gauzy material floated from their shoulders.

"Have you come to take tea with us?" The smaller girl asked.

"Jane, we should introduce ourselves before speaking with a stranger." She curtsied prettily. "I am Elizabeth."

"I am Jane," said the other. "We are sisters. I am seven and Elizabeth is eight."

Felicity smiled at them "My name is Felicity and I haven't been invited for tea." From the corner of her eye she noticed a stocky muscular man approaching from a greenhouse at the far end of the garden. He had a long handled spade slung over his shoulder. Time to leave, she thought. He looked mean as a sidewinder."

I will leave you there as I brainstorm where this story is going. I've written 14,000 words and decided I should have a plot. Already it has a Kafka like feel to it.

Anita
www.anitabirt.com
My book, A Very Difficult Man, Cerridwen Press is available now.
Isabelle's Diary, Cerridwen Press, will be available September 6.