fantasy

The Purloined Princess: Chapter Twenty

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In Which I Beat Up My Friend And Get Turned Into A Frog

The next few days were a drunken blur. I vaguely recall being abducted by a gang of squat-legged woodland orcs and roasted on a spit for a while, and I obviously escaped with my life intact and my skin unroasted but I’ve no idea how. It seems I was also hexed by a warlock at some point, because although I have no memory of meeting and/or being cursed by such a character, for a whole 24 hours I couldn’t speak. Instead, every time I opened my mouth there came a series of shrieks like the bewildered mooing of a cow.

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The Purloined Princess: Chapter Nineteen

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In Which I Send A Flurry Of Ill-Advised Letters

Observe your narrator now, his heart freshly pulped, his ego pureed, as he sits alone in a tavern off the Great Valley Road, bedraggled and hammered. I had left infernal Bloodroot on a stolen horse and begun the journey home to my kingdom. Not that there seemed much point in being a king anymore. All I wanted to do was lie in the gutter and shout insults at the moon.

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The Purloined Princess: Chapter Thirteen

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In Which I Sort Of Destroy A Town But Not Really

“I told you!” cried Selladore as we stood watching my beloved pig sinking into the watery abyss.

We’d made it several miles, winding through the ranks of gnarled frozen fingers, when Margaret had misplaced her trotter and plunged through the ice. The hole around her grew, and within seconds she was in the middle of a large watery ring. She didn’t do a very good job of treading water. Through the ice, we watched the vague pink shape of my steed sink away from us.

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The Purloined Princess: Chapter Twelve

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In Which I Tell A Lovely Story About My Gorgeous Wife

The next morning we waved goodbye to the shrinking earthworms below us as we ascended up and out of the Mines of Mupplecock. Glob and Selladore were operating a large hand crank on a rickety old elevator made of frayed rope and gnarled wooden planks. The worms in the meadow had no use for it, obviously; worms don’t have hands. I was clinging on for dear life as we rose, as each turn of the giant cog sent a threatening shudder through the knackered machine. It didn’t help that we had the fat useless lump that was worm Edgar dangling below, suspended from a bundle of rope because he couldn’t fit aboard the platform.

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The Purloined Princess: Chapter Six

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In Which A Great Deal Of People Are Eaten

great thunder bird king athelstan purloined princess

It’s a curious experience, having your hand neatly clipped off by a mythical creature. The bird barely seemed to move; its feet stayed planted on the ground, its feathers never ruffled. Without a sound its gyroscopic head simply pecked at me, and its beak snicked off my left hand with all the clinical efficiency and utter nonchalance of a barber’s scissors. A millisecond later, the bird’s head was back in place, its eyes watching me with faint curiosity.

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The Purloined Princess: Chapter Five

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In Which I Meet A Great Thunder Bird

After several joyous hours of gorging and wining, my face had turned purple and my waistline was thrice its usual size. I was staggering around the bonfire trying to find somewhere to wee, but every dark corner was occupied by lecherous couples engaged in rampant canoodling and/or unbridled fondling. Eventually I decided there was nothing else for it and whizzed in a pair of old boots I found under a bench.

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The Purloined Princess: Chapter Four

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In Which We Cross The Desert And I Go Temporarily Bonkers

We spent the next evening in the wizard’s clearing, figuring that we’d already been doomed once so what the hell difference did it make. The next morning we set out early after a breakfast of delicious sausages (which Margaret did not approve of one bit) and an entire wheel of cheese, which we devoured in about fifteen minutes and had us all gaseous and bloated for the whole morning on the woodland trail.

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The Purloined Princess: Chapter Three

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In Which, Much To My Chagrin, I Have My Doom Prophesied

I don’t know how long I was unconscious for; all I know is that I was brought back around by a hand plunging into the snow, fingers outstretched and grasping. The probing hand happened upon my regal face, and as it prodded my buried flesh, I heard excited yells coming from above ground. The fingers gripped my face by the nostrils and hauled me up through the snow, slowly and painfully excavating me, inch by inch, and the wrenching agony wasn’t helped by the fact that the mead had worn off and I was now deathly hungover.

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My Book: An Excerpt from 90 Pages In!

/ Dan Hackett / 2 Comments

gavin-o-donnell-glacierscketch3

Hello again, you lovely thing.

Excellent news! I’m at 21,000 words in my book at the moment, which is just shy of 90 pages. By the time I’m finished I predict it’ll be near the 30,000 mark. It wasn’t supposed to be that long, but I’m simply having too much fun to cut the story short.

Below are 1,500 words or so that I wrote over the last day. As a quick recap: the king and his trio of companions are en route to rescue the kidnapped queen, Astra. The characters have overcome many obstacles, but are not without a few scars: the king is missing a hand, and Edgar has been turned into a panda. Yes, yes, it’s very silly, because silly is wonderful. Best if you temporarily switch off that grouchy part of your brain labelled ‘depressing adult cynicism’.

We join our bold quartet as they approach the last great danger of their journey: crossing the Sea of Pìss (pronounced peace). Enjoy. Or don’t. I don’t care. I love this shit! Continue reading →

My Book: The Opening Pages!

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fantasy

Oi, you. Yeah you. You with the nose. Stop what you’re doing right now. Stop it. Put down whatever you’re holding and back away from it, unless all you are holding is your mobile phone or laptop, in which case absolutely do not put it down and back away; instead widen your eyes and press your nose up against the screen, because I have something truly wonderful to show you, you lucky sod.

I’ve written some 6,000 words of my novella, which should be near enough 20,000 when I finish it in around six weeks. That’s right – I am almost a third of the way through. You know why? Because I am just bloody marvellous. No, it’s no use arguing. Hush. I am a marvel.

Because I have not posted anything on here for a little while, and I hate seeing my beloved blog sit empty, I’ve decided to publish the first 1000 words or so. It’s a work in progress, ‘aiight?  So if you read it and think it’s about as witty and interesting as a steaming keg of ox vomit, I’d like to offer you a preemptive ‘fuck off’.

Enjoy! Continue reading →