On the blog today is author Selah Janel. She is sharing her new release, Olde School, a twist on fairy tales
Blurb:
Olde School introduces you to Kingdom City, which has moved
into the modern era. Run by a lord mayor and city council (though still under
the influence of the High King of The Land), it proudly embraces a blend of
progress and tradition. Trolls, ogres, and other Folk walk the streets with
humans, but are more likely to be entrepreneurs than cause trouble. Princesses
still want to be rescued, but they now frequent online dating services to
encourage lords, royals, and politicians to win their favor. The old stories
are around, but everyone knows they’re just fodder for the next movie
franchise. Everyone knows there’s no such thing as magic. It's all old
superstition and harmless tradition.
Bookish, timid, and more likely to carry a laptop than a
weapon, Paddlelump Stonemonger is quickly coming to wish he'd never put a toll
bridge over Crescent Ravine. While his success has brought him lots of gold,
it's also brought him unwanted attention from the Lord Mayor. Adding to his
frustration, Padd’s oldest friends give him a hard time when his new maid seems
inept at best and conniving at worst. When a shepherd warns Paddlelump of
strange noises coming from Thadd Forest, he doesn't think much of it.
Unfortunately for him, the history of his land goes back further than anyone
can imagine. Before long he'll realize that he should have paid attention to
the old tales and carried a club.
Darkness threatens to overwhelm not only Paddlelump, but the
entire realm. With a little luck, a strange bird, a feisty waitress, and some sturdy
friends, maybe, just maybe, Padd will survive to eat another meal at Trip
Trap's diner. It's enough to make the troll want to crawl under his bridge, if
he can manage to keep it out of the clutches of greedy politicians.
Excerpt:
She doesn’t even stop to think up a good lie, Paddlelump mused, full-well knowing that not only was
Juniper Street was nowhere near the common market, it was also the
organization’s day off. "At any rate, I laid out a purse for you
yesterday, a purse that was gone from the table last night, though there were
no groceries in my cupboards—”
The
girl’s eyes darkened to a stormy grey and narrowed just slightly. Paddlelump's
eyes darted to her fingers that flicked with restrained movement, as if they
were doing their best to withhold from reaching up and giving her golden braid
a huffy flip. "But that's union rules,” she pleaded. “I can only work so
many hours in a day!"
The
pain near his tusks rose up his jaw in a full-fledged migraine. He hated to
crush her spirit, but she was wearing on his last nerve. The troll took a deep
breath, silently counting to five. I am
deep, still water. In his mind’s eye, he could almost see the pool come
into being as he attempted to get the girl to see reason. "But you came in
late,” he persisted. “I could easily get a copy of the rules from a friend of
mine just to see what proper procedure on that is. It seems to me that there's
a vast exaggeration on the use of the word 'work.' For a week now more than
half of the list has been left unfinished! How am I supposed to accomplish
anything when I'm picking up all of your slack, Nobody?” The calm pond water
his mind clung to rippled on the surface. Just
do it. Let her go. Better to find someone else than constantly be paying her
for work you’re doing, he realized. “I really don't know if this is working
out—"
The water of his mental image boiled and churned, and before he could count himself back to serenity the troll got a very clear image of a giant, tentacled sea monster slashing through the water, mouth snapping for any prey it could reach. His head throbbed and he fought the urge to rub his temples. It took Paddlelump a moment to find his voice; he had to shut his eyes to continue. "There are a lot of girls who'd love to have your job instead of making a living cleaning stables or working the telemarketing lines!" he snapped and shuffled blindly towards the door, his hand fumbling to grab his cloak from its hook. "You said you didn't mind hard work—damn!" he hissed as his nose squashed against the doorframe. He bit back his more colorful remarks and rubbed the sore area. Turning from the door, he was confronted with those blasted eyes again. They were like something out of a horror movie: large, devoid of humanity, and apt to follow a poor soul anywhere, ready to suck the life and will right out of a warm body.
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Her eyes were a vast, clear sea that
stable hands, checkout boys, and princes alike would probably pay good coin to
fall into, especially if it would lead to more enjoyable tumbles later on. All
that mattered to Paddlelump was how utterly devoid of intelligence the cerulean
pools were. It was ridiculous, especially given how professional and polished
her online profile had been! Nobody was not only clean, but truly beautiful.
Her golden hair was immaculately braided down her back, her skin was flawless
as fresh milk, and her simple peasant dress hinted that although she was
willowy, what lay hidden under the fabric was a rare treat, indeed. She only
came up to Paddlelump’s waist, and her delicate frame, her sharp and lovely face,
her vast eyes made him want to climb up a wall.
"Let
me get this straight," he sighed, and rubbed the base of a tusk stump in
an attempt to focus his center. She batted her lashes and he cleared his
throat, forcing himself to keep looking at her. "Not only are you almost
an hour late—"
“Forty
minutes,” she corrected in a soft, melodious voice that clawed into the troll’s
last nerve. “And it wasn't my fault! I was on time until I got to Juniper
Street! The motor coaches are never that dense on a weekday. Everyone was going
to market and I couldn’t get through!" the pert, cherry mouth was quick to
interject.
She doesn’t even stop to think up a good lie, Paddlelump mused, full-well knowing that not only was
Juniper Street was nowhere near the common market, it was also the
organization’s day off. "At any rate, I laid out a purse for you
yesterday, a purse that was gone from the table last night, though there were
no groceries in my cupboards—”
“I took it home,” Nobody explained,
twisting her hands in front of her. “I didn’t want to lose it. I thought I’d
have enough time to go to shop on my way here! It wasn’t my fault I got slowed
down.” Her sharp chin raised haughtily and the troll fought a shudder. He’d
seen the town girls get snooty, of course, but this was different. From
Nobody’s expression, it was obvious that she expected her employer to not only
say her behavior was just fine, but she looked like she expected an apology!
“I understand you’re still learning
the area and getting settled in, but don’t forget that I’m paying you good
wages and letting you board your cow on my land for free.” Paddlelump took a
deep breath and loomed over the maid, doing his best to channel any inner brute
that might be buried way deep down in his genetic makeup. Remember how Da could scare the dung out of you when you snuck out as a
youth. Channel that. “The lists that I give you aren’t that involved,” he
growled, and worked up a good glower while he was at it. “Not doing the work is
one thing, but if you’re stealing from me, lass…”
For
a moment the twin oceans darted away. Then Nobody was staring at him again,
wide-eyed and brainless. It was an expression he had never seen on Flora's
face, nor on any of the other hired lasses in town. The young maidens and shepherd
girls had their moments, but they never walked around as if they were trying to be unintelligent. "It was
the oddest thing! I took it with me last night so I could shop before I arrived
this morning; it was my intention to arrive early with the goods in hand! But I
was so flustered from the birds outside my window—dear little things, though a
bit noisy—that I completely walked out without it!"
Paddlelump
paused and tilted his head, his effort at rage deflating at her inane
conversational parry. She was lovely, but not as sturdy as Flora or the other
union wenches in town. He couldn't imagine her doing a full day's worth of
lugging grain at the mill or carting a barrow around with her thin little limbs
and lithe build. Her speech was altogether different than the rough melodies he
regularly heard in the streets and meadows. While he was a young-ish troll, he
was far from stupid and it didn't take a lot to sniff out that something was
afoot. Still, it was clear that she wouldn't willingly give the game away.
"Do you still expect to leave at the regular time?" he demanded, his
throaty tone gruff from his frustration.
The
pain near his tusks rose up his jaw in a full-fledged migraine. He hated to
crush her spirit, but she was wearing on his last nerve. The troll took a deep
breath, silently counting to five. I am
deep, still water. In his mind’s eye, he could almost see the pool come
into being as he attempted to get the girl to see reason. "But you came in
late,” he persisted. “I could easily get a copy of the rules from a friend of
mine just to see what proper procedure on that is. It seems to me that there's
a vast exaggeration on the use of the word 'work.' For a week now more than
half of the list has been left unfinished! How am I supposed to accomplish
anything when I'm picking up all of your slack, Nobody?” The calm pond water
his mind clung to rippled on the surface. Just
do it. Let her go. Better to find someone else than constantly be paying her
for work you’re doing, he realized. “I really don't know if this is working
out—"
To
his horror those little round pools of robin-blue sweetness grew wider as they
filled with tears. Her apple cheeks deepened to the hue of overripe tomatoes
and her face scrunched up and she began to cry. "I can't help that there's
so much to do! I'm only one person!" The soft, lilting voice that was
often annoying as blazes rose a few octaves, and she put a hard accent on the
last word. “I just found a place to rent in town; how will I live if I don’t
work? How will my poor cow survive? I promised my family I’d make it in the big
city!”
The water of his mental image boiled and churned, and before he could count himself back to serenity the troll got a very clear image of a giant, tentacled sea monster slashing through the water, mouth snapping for any prey it could reach. His head throbbed and he fought the urge to rub his temples. It took Paddlelump a moment to find his voice; he had to shut his eyes to continue. "There are a lot of girls who'd love to have your job instead of making a living cleaning stables or working the telemarketing lines!" he snapped and shuffled blindly towards the door, his hand fumbling to grab his cloak from its hook. "You said you didn't mind hard work—damn!" he hissed as his nose squashed against the doorframe. He bit back his more colorful remarks and rubbed the sore area. Turning from the door, he was confronted with those blasted eyes again. They were like something out of a horror movie: large, devoid of humanity, and apt to follow a poor soul anywhere, ready to suck the life and will right out of a warm body.
Bio:
Selah Janel has been blessed with a giant
imagination and a love of story since she was little and convinced that fairies
lived in the nearby state park or vampires hid in the abandoned barns outside
of town. Learning to read and being encouraged by those around her only made
things worse. Her work ranges from e-books to traditional print, and she
prefers to write every genre at once rather than choose just one. The stories
Holly and Ivy, The Other Man, and Mooner are available online through Mocha
Memoirs Press. Her work has also been included in The MacGuffin, The Realm
Beyond, Stories for Children Magazine, The Big Bad: an Anthology of Evil,
Thunder on the Battlefield: Sorcery, The Grotesquerie, and the short story
collection Lost in the Shadows, co-written with S.H. Roddey. She likes her
music to rock, her vampires lethal, her fairies to play mind games, and her
princesses to have adventures and hold their own.
Catch up with her thoughts and projects at:
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