A Two Parter

THIS IS THE POSTING FOR FEBRUARY 19

Over the weekend, I spent time at the window watching the birds with Bella. I’ve been noticing lately that the songs of the feathered ones have been increasing, which can only mean one thing: spring is a-comin’. True, we are still experiencing dreadfully cold nights, mais, c’est la vie in February.

I realized today that it has been an awful long time since I have shared a literary piece with you of my own making. The reason for this is because the book that I am advertising primarily in these blogs is a heavy story, which defeats the primary purpose of the “Reading Escape” for the sake of peace. However, I am a woman of my word, so here is the resolution for this pickle – the first half of the following will be the start of Chapter Two in The Feasts and Follies of the Animal Court (to see part 1, please view "Chapter 1" of the blog from 11/10/12 or feel free to purchase the book J); the second and ending half of the blog will be a story that my grandmother told me about her first pet. Enjoy this two parter!

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The Feasts and Follies of the Animal Court

Chapter 2 ~ Brothers

Eighteen Years Ago

August 23, 1335

  Decades had died since Breyton last treaded the steps of his family’s castle. The years had changed him and the ancient walls of Maltoro Manor. His youngest brother, the king, had finally seen through his dream of revitalizing the decrepit and archaic halls of the royal castle by the sea. In his absence, the castle had become a palace beyond imagining.

  Breyton’s childhood memories of this place were still as bright and as alive in his mind as they were four decades ago when he lived them. How entranced then he was by the prospect of being king! So many times he childishly warned his brothers to be weary of their words and actions toward him, for one day he would have power over everything. ‘What fools we were,’ Breyton thought with a smile, remembering the days of old while mindlessly walking the well-lit and wide castle’s halls. Up until his seventeenth birthday Breyton entertained every intention of assuming the throne, but experience and maturity that spanned beyond his years changed his mind. He told his parents, the then king and queen, that he wished to pursue a grander leg of education before he took the crown so that he would not be a king of ignorance. However reluctantly, his father allowed him the three year education he desired from the Northern University in the not-so-near neighboring country Viramont. He learned much of life, a new language – the common tongue spoken widely throughout the world, and he gained a great perspective of international relations. After finding the game of horse racing to be a significant engagement to bring back from Viramont along with his education, Breyton found himself on the long ship ride back to his motherland. When the then twenty-year-old returned, he immediately requested to join the military so he could learn tactics, skill, and strategy for times of engagement. After emerging from eight active and structuring years of service, Breyton’s father told him that soon he would be king. However, much to the disgust and displeasure of his father, Breyton, with a spry smile and a firm look in his eyes, said as politely as imaginable, “No, thank you.”

  Walking down one of the brightest rounded halls of the castle, the one with the positively superb view of the coast line, Breyton laughed as he recalled how furious his father was when he officially denounced his title as heir to the throne.

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Intriguing, no? A prince, who abdicated power, seceding the right of king to his youngest brother of three?

If you can't wait to read what happens next, please feel free to click on the links below to fully open the doors to the world of Vitenka and the follies of its inhabitants.

For those of you with Nooks: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-feasts-and-follies-of-the-animal-court-s-faxon/1109967080 

For those of you with Kindles: http://www.amazon.com/Feasts-Follies-Animal-Court-ebook/dp/B008YQDPAY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1361326929&sr=1-1&keywords=s.+faxon 

For those of you who have neither - if you have a computer, you can download Nook or Kindle software for free onto your computer and you may read the book on your computer. The same thing goes if you have a smartphone. 

The next second half of the blog will be about one of my favorite stories, one that grandma used to tell. When I was a young child, my grandmother used to tell me stories every night before I fell asleep. These stories would range from expansions of Disney tales (call them Fan –Fic. epilogues, if you like) to memories from her life. One of the stories that I can recall most vividly is the following as grandma would tell it, as if grandma was telling it.

Father's Gift

As you well know, my father used to own a common goods store in Clinton, Oklahoma where I spent my childhood. Because he had access to such things, I used to bother my father endlessly about ordering me a pet. But not just any pet; I wanted a fluffy, bushy-tailed rabbit to call my own. We didn’t have places like Petco or the animal shelter, so the only way to get a pet like that would be to order one from a catalog, like those that my father had in his store.

I waited for the longest time until one day, my father called home to tell me, “Nelva, come down to the store. I have a pet for you.”

I can’t tell you how excited I was to finally be getting what I thought would be my white furred  rabbit. I rushed straight down to the store with all my might. The whole way I imagined how soft the rabbit’s fur would be and I remember how happy I was to finally have a rabbit for a pet!

When I finally made it to the shop, do you know what he had waiting for me? Instead of a furry white rabbit, he had ordered me a chicken. I was so mad at my father. He had a good laugh, but, oh, was I furious. So what did I do with this chicken to make it more like a rabbit? I tied a big pink bow around its neck. Plucky as it was, that chicken was my first pet.

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Many thanks are owed to my Aunt Arnell who reminded me of this story as she was telling me about the chickens that she is currently caring for. Arnell is my grandmother’s daughter; Grandma’s name was Nelva and her friends used to call her “Our Nel,” so when my aunt was born, it made perfect sense to my grandma to name her Arnell. I spent a moment to tell you this because as it so happens, today is my wonderful Aunt’s birthday. Happiest of birthdays to you, dear one!

Your humble writer,

S. Faxon