Saturday, June 6, 2015

Sneak Peek at my next release: Favola (Fairytale) #RB4U #MFRWauthor

This is a rewrite into almost an entirely new story since it first appeared a few years ago. This version is a lot more fun, and I love taking an old fairytale and giving it a new twist. This one should be out within the next month, so I thought I'd share a sneak peek with everyone.

(A re-telling of the Italian fairytale Bella Venezia)

The night air was crisp and cool, breaths freezing to cloudy puffs as they walked toward the familiar tavern. They did this twice a week, it had become a ritual for them. The woman hated their outings, but the old man who hobbled at her side loved every moment.  She pulled open the heavy oak door of the old building and held it with exaggerated courtesy, making a mockery of the gesture. He chuckled softly and crossed the threshold.

Within moments he was accosted by the patrons of the pub, several of the lovely young women chattering excitedly, begging for stories from him. The first times they had visited the pub, they’d been ignored. When he began telling stories, mostly out of boredom, he’d quickly become a favorite patron. He enjoyed the pleasant chatter of the younger crowd, and their genuine interest in his tales was flattering. His companion was seldom charmed or charming, a thing that stole all joy from even the strongest of hearts.

Once he was settled in at a table near the massive stone fireplace that warmed the room, ale arrived, several steins with a frothy head on each brew. He sipped at one, eyes closed, relishing the pungent, earthy flavor of the chilled beverage.

Voices pleaded with him again, and the ancient storyteller smiled. He’d been told his smile was kindly, and the irony often made him laugh inwardly. He knew what they saw, he was met with the aged face he wore each time he faced a mirror. Deep wrinkles etched into his face, crinkling the corners of eyes that remained bright and sharp despite the years. He was stooped now, fingers gnarled and claw-like. His clothes were simple, his needs equally so. He was, for the most part, if not happy, then certainly content.

Another plea pulled him from his wandering thoughts. He looked at each anxious and eager face, listened to their hushed entreaties while they asked him to tell one of his bawdy and entertaining tales. The hum of expectancy and interest was both amusing and flattering. Young men and women, bored with each other, loathe to return home to chores and parents who, of course, did not understand them. They waited for him to speak, bribing him with ale and devotion, many of them he had known as small children.

He nodded, and sifted through his vast memories. His companion, now at the back of the crowd caught his eye, and stared boldly back at him. She was a beauty, but there was always an air of disdain in her manner and presence, a chill that snaked out to caress his spine. His companion stood eye to eye with him now, where he had once stood a full head taller, her voluptuous curves never lost their allure. She could be clever, her wit acerbic and quick. There was much about her a man could love. And just as much to make him run in the opposite direction. She amused him, sometimes she scared him, but she was most often a mystery to him, even after many years of companionship. She hated as passionately as she loved, and when her attention was focused on him, he knew she remained dangerous despite the passage of time. He knew then the story to be told this night.

He sipped his ale, cleared his throat, and began to speak... voice low and flowing, with a sing-song cadence that captivated the attention of all who heard...

“La Locanda di Pericoli Nascosti, The Inn of Hidden Dangers, was a place known to anyone who visited the town of Favola. Strangers often found the name of the tavern a mystery, especially once they cast eyes on the beautiful woman who ran the place. She was aptly named Bella Venezia, and it had long been her custom to reward those who appreciated her warm welcomes and flirtatious charm. What she would never allow was another woman to outshine her beauty... no matter who that woman might be.

“Favola was a peaceful village, set deep in the Northern Mountains of Italy, a place timeless and mystical. The countryside was steeped in legend and myth. Tales told in whispers to children spoke of Favola, and the mysterious band of thieves and outlaws who hid in the heavy forests that surrounded the town. Some of the stories were filled with happy endings, and others not…”


Tina Donahue said...

Wonderful excerpt, Denyse. What style you have. :)

Denysé Bridger said...

Aw, thank you, Tina!! This was such a fun little story, I hope readers enjoy it. I like fairytales, there is something endlessly magical about them. :)

jean hart stewart said...

Intriguing excerpt, and an interesting side to your writing. Love sneak peeks!!!!

Denysé Bridger said...

Thank you, Jean - this is going to be a year of change on so many levels.... Hugs, D