The Only Backstory You’ll Ever Need

Happy New Year, my fellow writers and readers! I am so glad that 2012 is upon us….that sounded ominous.

This year, one of three things will happen: lots of solar flares, the end of the world or—nothing! That’s right! Nothing! Hah!

Anyway, in preparation for 2012, and what I foresee as the year my book gets published–(It’s a resolution, and don’t worry, I’m realistic about these things. Could be 2015 by the time it finally gets somewhere but fingers crossed!!) —-I have written a song, and I’m working on recording the music. Once I’ve sent it in to be copywritten, you can bet your best boots I’ll put it here for all of you!

I’m not a poet, really, just a songwriter so… There will be harp, and bodhran, and maybe a fiddle if I can help it. A whistle if I multitrack. (Port Murray, wanna help me on this one??)

This is the only backstory you will ever need for my series. This is the tale of how the Fae first came from the Northwilde into the Valley…and what happened when they did………

~*~

{And now fer a little song ye might’ve heard…the tale of Angelus the Cold!}

{Intro}

Hush now, children, hark and hear! Lend me thine willing ear
As the twilight disappears
That you might hear the tale unfold.

While your mother’s stew is stewing Yonder there is trouble brewing
While your dog its bone is chewing Learn ye truth from times of old.

(Instrumental)
Twelve hundred fifty was the year
The first of them that did appear
Began a kingdom wrought in fear Did Angelus the Cold.

Angelus the Cold,
Oh Angelus the Cold
Made King and Queen cry out in fear Did Angelus the Cold.

His followers on the four winds flew And carved a path of blood anew
The Sidhe were born ‘neath eyes of blue
Robed in black and crimson bold.

No magic could assuage their hate
And Men resigned unto their fate
Did purge their hopes and kings of late For Angelus the Cold

Angelus the Cold
Cruel Angelus the Cold
They purged ideals made antiquate
For Angelus the Cold.
{Instrumental}

But Legend tells of one to come
A child born, a fated one
To save Mankind afore we’re done Buying those of us already sold

So quiet child, and dream on this
If we believe in future bliss
Accept your mother’s nighttime kiss
In dreaming dreams your futures mold.

In dreams your futures mold
Oh in dreams your futures mold!
Dream of Legends toppling iron fists Mayhap, in dreams, your futures mold.

{Song told by the Master Bard Sean Molloy, in the years following the Battle of Thorn Hill, based on oral history passed down through the centuries from the rest of the Valley….}

~*~
This excerpt is based off of characters and stories from my original YA fantasy series, “Ebony”, which is in submission to agents right now.

This was a self-based challenge. Really, I thought the first stanza or two in the shower and decided I’d better commit it to paper. I then realized I’d picked a bit of a tricky rhyming scheme and decided it was a good challenge for me!

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