Katia Arco

The mist hung low over the town of Birchwood, casting an eerie glow under the vintage lampposts lined along the streets below. The usual great horned owl glided along the overcast sky overlooking the townsfolk as they hurried to load salt-filled sacks into their trucks and cars. Frank shuffled down one of the cobblestone streets in a hurry, careful not to slip in the newly fallen snow. The ivy-clad buildings loomed over him, their intricate woodwork seeming to hold old spirits trapped within, their hands asking for some kind of release from the time-stricken world. His breath was visible in the cold air and his hands were nestled deeply in the pockets of his jeans. He’d forgotten to bring a jacket, of course. He’d run out in a hurry as he always did. This time he was running from a little brawl he’d had with Zack Primrose, just another one of those stupid fights. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t react to Zack’s taunts about his father leaving him and his mother, or more like abandoning them. But being fourteen and caught in the storm of some adolescence-fueled anger, he couldn’t help but snap back and fall into his trap, again. Sofia had warned him about this, she had warned him so many times. “Can you stop, Frank?” she asked. “It’s not my fault! Stop what?” “I know that you taunt him too,” Sofia said as she pointed a long finger at him. “How? I don’t even look at him.” “Oh…no…you don’t, you just run past by him, knocking the coffee out of his hand!” “I didn’t see him.” “Sure, you didn’t see him.” “Fine…he’s bad news, Sofia.” “I know that. But you don’t want to get into trouble.” “I can’t stand him,” Frank said loudly as he picked up a rock from the ground and pitched at some invisible target. “His parents spoil him, that’s all.” “That’s for sure, the Primrose’s are probably the worse parents out there.” A shiver ran down Sofia’s spine. “Yes the mother is strange. There’s something not okay about her.” “There’s something not okay about everyone in that mansion.” Frank stopped to catch his breath, feeling as if his lungs were filling with ice. He couldn’t warm his hands, no matter how much he rubbed them together. The cold was biting through his clothes as if the very air around him was trying to freeze him in place. His steps were labored, passing along Main street lined with the usual quaint, old-fashioned shops. He glanced at the warm glow emanating from a small restaurant, where the scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the cold air. The temperature had dropped fifteen degrees in a matter of two hours. Sofia had been right about that too: she had “foreseen” some kind of unusual arctic front. “I’m telling you, there’s a cold front coming. I can feel it.” “But it’s seventy degrees outside!” “And it’s December.” “Yeah, but it’s seventy degrees.” “I’m just saying.” Ever since he had met Sofia in first grade she had had these uncanny insights and predictions or moments of “seeing” or “foreseeing” or as she would say, “I foresee…,” and, then, she would ramble on about some event that would immediately or eventually take place in the future. She had foreseen (and seen) so many other things and situations, too, especially strange phenomena that seemed to have been happening a lot lately. Frank was tired of having to constantly confront the inexplicable, longing to return to those days empty of responsibility and “things to do,” or things to understand. A sudden jolt brought Frank out of his mind. He had stumbled over a hidden rock, nearly falling face-first onto the ground. He forced himself up, shaking off the powdery snow clinging to his clothes. As he walked back to look at the rock that had made him stumble, he realized it wasn’t a rock at all but something entirely different, unexpected, so unreal that he almost turned back around to continue rushing home. And he did, but after a few steps, he glanced back to see. And it was still there: a frozen cat, motionless on the sidewalk with a small tin can tied around its blue collar. He was a tabby, short-haired cat, with an unusual stare. His fur was a patchwork of dark stripes and lighter hues, and seemed as if he had just stepped out of a wild forest. Snow crystals that had accumulated on the cat’s head and on the tip of his nose sparkled in the dim light. The strange frozen feline stood like a statue at a museum, as if waiting for something to be given to him; his green eyes, piercing and unwavering, wise and old, ancient maybe. Frank ignored him and tried to go back to his thinking state. But this was a strange thing. Was it dead? But the cat’s eyes seemed so bright and alive; it couldn’t be dead. Frank knelt beside the animal, his fingers trembling as he reached out to pat him. He has indeed frozen, very much so. The tin can, about four inches in length and three in height, clinked softly, and all the snow fell from the little barrel revealing tiny words that had been inscribed onto it. He hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was watching, and he read: Dear Frank, Open the barrel on Christmas Day. Take the midnight ride. E.E.E.

The mist hung low over the town of Birchwood, casting an eerie glow under the vintage lampposts lined along the streets below. The usual great horned owl glided along the overcast sky overlooking the townsfolk as they hurried to load salt-filled sacks into their trucks and cars. Frank shuffled down one of the cobblestone streets in a hurry, careful not to slip in the newly fallen snow. The ivy-clad buildings loomed over him, their intricate woodwork seeming to hold old spirits trapped within, their hands asking for some kind of release from the time-stricken world. His breath was visible in the cold air and his hands were nestled deeply in the pockets of his jeans. He’d forgotten to bring a jacket, of course. He’d run out in a hurry as he always did. This time he was running from a little brawl he’d had with Zack Primrose, just another one of those stupid fights. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t react to Zack’s taunts about his father leaving him and his mother, or more like abandoning them. But being fourteen and caught in the storm of some adolescence-fueled anger, he couldn’t help but snap back and fall into his trap, again. Sofia had warned him about this, she had warned him so many times. “Can you stop, Frank?” she asked. “It’s not my fault! Stop what?” “I know that you taunt him too,” Sofia said as she pointed a long finger at him. “How? I don’t even look at him.” “Oh…no…you don’t, you just run past by him, knocking the coffee out of his hand!” “I didn’t see him.” “Sure, you didn’t see him.” “Fine…he’s bad news, Sofia.” “I know that. But you don’t want to get into trouble.” “I can’t stand him,” Frank said loudly as he picked up a rock from the ground and pitched at some invisible target. “His parents spoil him, that’s all.” “That’s for sure, the Primrose’s are probably the worse parents out there.” A shiver ran down Sofia’s spine. “Yes the mother is strange. There’s something not okay about her.” “There’s something not okay about everyone in that mansion.” Frank stopped to catch his breath, feeling as if his lungs were filling with ice. He couldn’t warm his hands, no matter how much he rubbed them together. The cold was biting through his clothes as if the very air around him was trying to freeze him in place. His steps were labored, passing along Main street lined with the usual quaint, old-fashioned shops. He glanced at the warm glow emanating from a small restaurant, where the scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the cold air. The temperature had dropped fifteen degrees in a matter of two hours. Sofia had been right about that too: she had “foreseen” some kind of unusual arctic front. “I’m telling you, there’s a cold front coming. I can feel it.” “But it’s seventy degrees outside!” “And it’s December.” “Yeah, but it’s seventy degrees.” “I’m just saying.” Ever since he had met Sofia in first grade she had had these uncanny insights and predictions or moments of “seeing” or “foreseeing” or as she would say, “I foresee…,” and, then, she would ramble on about some event that would immediately or eventually take place in the future. She had foreseen (and seen) so many other things and situations, too, especially strange phenomena that seemed to have been happening a lot lately. Frank was tired of having to constantly confront the inexplicable, longing to return to those days empty of responsibility and “things to do,” or things to understand. A sudden jolt brought Frank out of his mind. He had stumbled over a hidden rock, nearly falling face-first onto the ground. He forced himself up, shaking off the powdery snow clinging to his clothes. As he walked back to look at the rock that had made him stumble, he realized it wasn’t a rock at all but something entirely different, unexpected, so unreal that he almost turned back around to continue rushing home. And he did, but after a few steps, he glanced back to see. And it was still there: a frozen cat, motionless on the sidewalk with a small tin can tied around its blue collar. He was a tabby, short-haired cat, with an unusual stare. His fur was a patchwork of dark stripes and lighter hues, and seemed as if he had just stepped out of a wild forest. Snow crystals that had accumulated on the cat’s head and on the tip of his nose sparkled in the dim light. The strange frozen feline stood like a statue at a museum, as if waiting for something to be given to him; his green eyes, piercing and unwavering, wise and old, ancient maybe. Frank ignored him and tried to go back to his thinking state. But this was a strange thing. Was it dead? But the cat’s eyes seemed so bright and alive; it couldn’t be dead. Frank knelt beside the animal, his fingers trembling as he reached out to pat him. He has indeed frozen, very much so. The tin can, about four inches in length and three in height, clinked softly, and all the snow fell from the little barrel revealing tiny words that had been inscribed onto it. He hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was watching, and he read: Dear Frank, Open the barrel on Christmas Day. Take the midnight ride. E.E.E.

Part I: Seven Assignments Assignment 1: The Act of Story Statement Frank must harness and hone his newfound magical abilities to protect his loved ones, uncover the truth behind his father’s disappearance, and defeat the malevolent sorceress Rebecca, who threatens to plunge his world into darkness. Assignment 2: Antagonist Sketch Rebecca Primrose Rebecca is a powerful and malevolent sorceress driven by an insatiable thirst for power and control. Her primary goal is to harness the immense power of the crystal of Uman, which she believes will make her invincible and allow her to control multiple dimensions. Rebecca's background is shrouded in mystery, but it is known that she delved into dark magic from a young age, leading to her expulsion from the sorcerer's council. Her ambition has no limits, and she has no qualms about using any means necessary to achieve her ends, including manipulation, deceit, and violence. Rebecca reacts to the world with a cold, calculating demeanor, always staying a step ahead of her adversaries. She views people as mere pawns in her grand scheme and is willing to sacrifice anyone who stands in her way. Her interactions with Frank, the main protagonist, are marked by a sinister charm and relentless pursuit, making her a terrifying opponent. Rebecca’s presence in the story creates a constant sense of danger and urgency, pushing Frank to the limits of his abilities and forcing him to confront his deepest fears and insecurities. Assignment 3: Possible Breakout Titles 1. The Chronicles of Frank Pierre: The Dragon Pendant 2. Frank’s Quest: The Dragon Pendant 3. The Guardian of Elendria Assignment 4: Genre and Comparables Genre: Low Fantasy with Coming-of-Age Elements Comparables: 1. Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan The Lightning Thief introduces a young protagonist, Percy Jackson, who discovers he is part of a hidden magical world connected to Greek mythology. This book mirrors the journey of self-discovery, magical adventures, and battles against antagonistic forces that are central to my novel. The blend of contemporary settings with mythological elements and the coming-of-age theme make it similar to my story. 2. Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer Artemis Fowl is a young, clever protagonist who navigates a modern world interwoven with magical elements. Both stories involve complex plots with magical creatures and powerful artifacts, and central themes of moral development and the protagonist's coming-of-age journey. This makes it another suitable comparable for my novel. Assignment 5: Hook Line Struggling with the abandonment of his father, which has left him with a deep sense of inadequacy and underlying anger, young Frank Pierre must navigate a world filled with dark sorcery to prevent an ancient crystal from falling into the hands of the malevolent sorceress Rebecca, whose ambitions threaten to engulf both his world and the mystical realm of Elendria in darkness. Assignment 6: Inner and Secondary Conflicts Inner Conflict: Frank Pierre’s inner conflict revolves around the abandonment by his father, which has left him with deep feelings of inadequacy and underlying anger. These emotions drive much of his behavior and decisions throughout the story. Scenario: As Frank embarks on his journey to save his father and retrieve the crystal of Uman, he constantly battles his internal fear of not being good enough. An important moment occurs when he faces a formidable adversary and fails to protect a friend during a crucial battle. This failure triggers a flood of memories of his father leaving, reinforcing his belief that he is not capable of succeeding. Trigger and Reaction: During a confrontation with Rebecca, Frank is overpowered and a close friend, Sofia, is captured. This event awakens his fear of inadequacy. He withdraws from his companions, and questions his worth and ability to fulfill his role as a guardian. His anger surfaces, directed at himself and the circumstances, leading to a period of introspection where he has to confront and overcome these feelings to move forward. Secondary Conflict The secondary conflict involves Frank's relationship with his best friend, Sofia. Their friendship is tested by the increasing dangers they face and the responsibilities Frank must shoulder. Scenario: As the quest intensifies, Sofia, driven by her own sense of duty, decides to undertake a risky mission alone without informing Frank. This decision stems from her desire to protect him and prove her own worth. Trigger and Reaction: When Frank discovers Sofia’s plan, he feels deeply betrayed and fears for her safety. This leads to a heated argument where both characters express their frustrations and fears. Frank’s reaction is a mix of anger and hurt, stemming from his fear of losing another loved one and his belief that he is responsible for keeping everyone safe. This conflict forces both characters to confront their trust issues and eventually strengthens their bond as they learn to rely on and trust each other more. Assignment 7: Sketch out a Setting Frank's town is a quaint and picturesque village, nestled amidst rolling hills and ancient woods, exuding an air of the timeless. The streets are lined with cobblestones, and vintage lampposts that cast a warm, golden glow in the evenings. The town square serves as the heart of this community, with its market stalls and old trees flanking the perimeter, casting shadows that dance in the flickering light. There is always a scent in the air: a mixture of fresh bread from the bakery mingling with the musty smell of old books. Boo Street is a narrow, winding street filled with mystery and intrigue. Flanked by towering, ivy-clad buildings, Boo Street is often hidden in a light mist. The street is known for its peculiar residents and strange happenings, making it the perfect setting for the beginning of Frank's adventures. The houses here have steep gabled roofs, and their facades are adorned with intricate woodwork. The doors have strange, ornate knockers that glint in the dim light. Each step on Boo Street feels like a journey into the unknown, where every corner hides a new secret or surprise. Away from the town square, there are streets that contain picturesque stores, each with its unique charm. Mystic Tomes Bookstore, for example, is a haven for book lovers, which stands out with its ivy-covered facade and a bell that chimes softly as customers enter. Inside, the shelves are lined with ancient tomes and new arrivals. The bookstore is a maze of narrow aisles, creaky wooden floors, and nooks filled with plush armchairs. The shopkeeper, a strange man, with an extensive knowledge of both books and old lore, often shares stories and secrets with curious customers. Sometimes, however, the bookstore seems to disappear for a while only to reappear when the time is right. Franks’ town and Boo Street serve as a gateway to Elendria, the magical realm where Frank's true journey unfolds. Hidden passages and secret doorways along the town’s streets and buildings lead to this fantastical world. Elendria is a realm of beauty and wonder, with its lush forests, crystal-clear rivers, and the occasional ancient castle. The transition from Frank's town to the majestic Elendria marks the start of his transformation from an ordinary boy to a guardian of the magical realm. In other words, the magic of Elendria seeps into the very fabric of the town, binding the two worlds in an unspoken pact.