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Old 02-01-2019, 03:41 PM
Chevalier Chevalier is offline
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Join Date: Dec 2015
Location: Raleigh, NC
Posts: 149
Working on my First Novel

I'm working on my first horror novel. I haven't picked a name for it, but I'm about twenty pages in. i probably wouldn't have gotten that far without the support of my girlfriend. Anyway, it's a classic haunted house story that takes place in 1935. The main narrator is unreliable from the beginning of Chapter 1, and sometimes you don't know if you actually believe him. I just kind of wanted to post a paragraph and see what people thought, if that was okay.

"In autumn, the manor of Oak Gove was the backdrop of a landscape. It was more of a Victorian castle than a house with large bay windows and two round towers on either end. The apple trees that surrounded it were painted in bright tones of orange and gold. Both brightly colored song birds and ravens alike made their homes in those trees, and chased each other merrily.

Tucked far away from civilization, Oak Gove is located right smack dab in the middle of a place the locals call “out yonder”. The directions to which were given to me with the point of a finger and communicated with a twangy vowel shift that was barely distinguishable as English. If I had not been bred in Carolina, the old lady’s accent would have flown over my head like the sparrows that inhabited the grounds, and left me wondering if I had plummeted off the edge of the world.

I was there for a friend, and I could not help but think of our moments together as my Model A eased around the dirt curves of a single lane trail. Those moments, years ago, before the dementia had taken over his mind, and left the nurses to handle the unraveling of a genius researcher, were some of the best of my life. They were spent with one of my few, true friends.

No, to call him a genius would have discredited his intellect. Over the span of his life, he had published numerous religious studies on topics so obscure that only a scattered few understood their significates. His other works, though they lacked the same ambitious fanaticism in detail, were more profitable monetarily. It was not as if he needed to amass wealth however, for that had already been done for him generations ago. That’s how he was blessed to fund his research, unlike me. It didn’t change the fact that he was always a little touched in the head. It also did not change the fact that he was dead.

Lawrence Montgomery was my mentor and friend. Though fifty years older than I, we preferred each other’s company over that of extroverts, as socialization was not his strong suit, and I am as awkward as they come. This led to us spending numerous hours all over the world, researching in archives of ancient lore. In his advanced aged, he could no longer climb through ancient catacombs and caverns, thus I volunteered in his stead and shared credit, though only in passing, on his last published studies."

Last edited by Chevalier; 02-01-2019 at 03:45 PM.
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