Sunday, January 5, 2014

Excerpt -

Writers pen what they know. This scene, (part of a current work in progress) is loosely based on a story about my sister and me when we were little. Her favorite color was red and mine was purple. And yes, we still have the drawing. :)   


I got the crayons out for Myra and me to color with, because she wouldn’t stop her blasted singing. Is blasted a bad word?
Purple Mountain’s Majesty is Myra’s favorite color, and she won’t let anyone else touch it but her. Not that I want to color with it or anything. I’m too grown up for coloring, now that I’ve had another birthday. I do it with Myra because she likes it. She copies me, too.
“Here,” I told her, pushing my drawing at her, glad she’d stopped her blasted singing. “It’s Erik the Red.”
“Erik the Red?” she looked up at me, her face clouded with confusion.
“Yeah, he’s a Viking from history.” I made sure she knew history was an important word. Myra wasn’t grown up enough to know all the important thing I knew, so I made it my job to inform her.
Myra pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not fair.” She opened her mouth, and I was afraid she’d start singing again.
“What’s not fair?” I asked.
Myra jabbed her bottom lip out even further before looking up at me. “It’s not fair that your favorite color is red and you get to have an important person named after your favorite color.”
I rolled my eyes. He wasn’t named Erik the Red just because it was my favorite color. Maybe it was his girlfriend’s favorite color—if Vikings had girlfriends…yuck! I was really beginning to notice how babyish Myra was compared to me. After all, I just turned eight years old. I looked back at her. “Myra?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed a new piece of paper from the stack, covered it with her left elbow, and began scribbling furiously with Purple Mountain’s Majesty.
“Fine.” I let out a puff of air—at least she isn’t singing—and picked up a piece of paper from our stack along with another red crayon.
“There.” Myra slapped down the page in front of me before I’d even started coloring. I stared down at a scribbled drawing similar to the one I’d colored of Erik the Red. Except, there was purple seaweed on his face. “Who is it?” I tried to pretend her drawing was actually as good as mine. “And what’s with all the seaweed on his face?”
Myra looked at me as if I should have known all along. She grinned, her bright eyes flashing, “That’s not seaweed, that’s his beard.”
I raised an eyebrow at the lopsided figure with the purple beard.
There was still a grin tugging at the corner of her lip. Her face was pink and she looked like she was going to explode just with the excitement of it all. “Why,” she told me, clapping her little hands together with glee. “It’s Erik the Purple!”


  1. I really like how you described this scene--very vivid and enjoyable to read :-)

  2. Thank you, Rosalie! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. :)