The Bloated One
Well-Known Member
Hi Everyone,
I thought I'd experiment with a different opening chapter to my Tarquin Jenkins time travelling opus. My current opener has introduced us to Tarquin already two years into his adventures and several beta readers commented on having been dropped into the middle of the story, rather than at the very beginning.
So, I started this at the beginning, when Tarquin first discovers from his weird uncle that time travel exists....
It is short, but as the opening two pages of a YA novel, would you want to read more?
TBO
The Adventures of Tarquin Seebohm Jenkins
The sleepy, Northamptonshire village of Steeple Snoring was not known for its bears. In fact, no one at the Post Office could recall ever seeing one, let alone twenty, walking down the High Street. That was, until this sunny morning.
“I see what I sees,” said Mrs. Harbinkle, crossing her ample chest with her arms and nodding sagely at the villagers around her.
“They’re here for a reason!” added her husband, looking warily through the Post Office’s casement window toward the bears last known position.
“Probably got lost coming in off the A43,” said the Postmaster, with a yawn. “You take the wrong turn by Bishop’s Rest and you’ll be down the High Street in no time.”
Standing in the queue, and listening avidly to the conversation was Tarquin Jenkins, a 13-year-old schoolboy. He knew bears. In fact, he was meeting two in the Enchanted Teapot that afternoon. “Perhaps there’s a circus in town,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
“Never!” Shrieked a small, rotund woman in a grey tweed suit, Tyrolean hat and brown brogues. Miss Hoploosely, spinster of the parish, and doyen of the lace-curtain brigade, had entered the Post office just as Tarquin finished speaking. “I’ll go to the Police,” she said, waving her Harrods umbrella, “we can’t have such things here!” Turning smartly on her heels she strode purposefully from the Post Office toward the Police Station. Tarquin quickly paid for his stamps and left.
Opening the door to the Enchanted Teapot, Tarquin walked in. It was empty, apart from two bears sitting drinking milkshakes through pink, bendy straws.
“Tarquin,” said a muffled voice, as one bear stood up and waved him over to their table. “Glad you could make it,” said the bear, offering a paw.
“Don’t you think it’s time to take off that silly costume Uncle Jules? Half the village is up in arms with your picnic,” said Tarquin, shaking the paw. “I’ll get myself a cup of tea."
Tarquin went to the counter and paid for a pot of Earl Grey tea. When he returned, the bears had removed their costume heads and two grinning, red faced, middle-aged men looked up at him.
“This is Jeremiah Cavendish,” said Jules, turning to the man next to him, sporting a huge, graying handlebar mustache. “Jeremiah is an old friend and runs the double lock on the canal.” Jeremiah nodded and Tarquin shook his paw, pulled up a chair and they all sat down.
“Okay Uncle, why did you want to see me?”
“Well, ever since your parents disappeared, Jeremiah and I have wanted to get you involved in our tour guiding business.”
“Wearing silly costumes and guiding tourists? Why on earth would I want to do that!”
“Your Uncle and me thought you lacked adventure,” said Jeremiah.
“And it would be a great experience during the summer,” added Jules.
“Oh, and dressing up as bears and going on picnics is adventurous!”
“Haven’t you wondered what really happened at the signing of the Magna Carta?” asked Jules.
“Or, the Declaration of Independence?” said Jeremiah.
“If I was that interested, I’d read it in a book.”
“Wouldn’t you rather witness it, first hand?” asked his Uncle.
“What? Go there and see it happening,” said Tarquin laughing. “Okay, what hair brained scheme are you working on now, I have homework to do.”
Across the table, the smiling faces turned stern and foreboding.
“What if,” continued Jules, “you could take people to Rome AD103 and watch a live chariot race?”
“Or, have a dinner with your favorite painter, that Mr. Manet?” said, Jeremiah.
Tarquin looked at them incredulously, “You’re actually, serious about this!”
“Deadly,” chorused the two bears.
I thought I'd experiment with a different opening chapter to my Tarquin Jenkins time travelling opus. My current opener has introduced us to Tarquin already two years into his adventures and several beta readers commented on having been dropped into the middle of the story, rather than at the very beginning.
So, I started this at the beginning, when Tarquin first discovers from his weird uncle that time travel exists....
It is short, but as the opening two pages of a YA novel, would you want to read more?
TBO
The Adventures of Tarquin Seebohm Jenkins
The sleepy, Northamptonshire village of Steeple Snoring was not known for its bears. In fact, no one at the Post Office could recall ever seeing one, let alone twenty, walking down the High Street. That was, until this sunny morning.
“I see what I sees,” said Mrs. Harbinkle, crossing her ample chest with her arms and nodding sagely at the villagers around her.
“They’re here for a reason!” added her husband, looking warily through the Post Office’s casement window toward the bears last known position.
“Probably got lost coming in off the A43,” said the Postmaster, with a yawn. “You take the wrong turn by Bishop’s Rest and you’ll be down the High Street in no time.”
Standing in the queue, and listening avidly to the conversation was Tarquin Jenkins, a 13-year-old schoolboy. He knew bears. In fact, he was meeting two in the Enchanted Teapot that afternoon. “Perhaps there’s a circus in town,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
“Never!” Shrieked a small, rotund woman in a grey tweed suit, Tyrolean hat and brown brogues. Miss Hoploosely, spinster of the parish, and doyen of the lace-curtain brigade, had entered the Post office just as Tarquin finished speaking. “I’ll go to the Police,” she said, waving her Harrods umbrella, “we can’t have such things here!” Turning smartly on her heels she strode purposefully from the Post Office toward the Police Station. Tarquin quickly paid for his stamps and left.
Opening the door to the Enchanted Teapot, Tarquin walked in. It was empty, apart from two bears sitting drinking milkshakes through pink, bendy straws.
“Tarquin,” said a muffled voice, as one bear stood up and waved him over to their table. “Glad you could make it,” said the bear, offering a paw.
“Don’t you think it’s time to take off that silly costume Uncle Jules? Half the village is up in arms with your picnic,” said Tarquin, shaking the paw. “I’ll get myself a cup of tea."
Tarquin went to the counter and paid for a pot of Earl Grey tea. When he returned, the bears had removed their costume heads and two grinning, red faced, middle-aged men looked up at him.
“This is Jeremiah Cavendish,” said Jules, turning to the man next to him, sporting a huge, graying handlebar mustache. “Jeremiah is an old friend and runs the double lock on the canal.” Jeremiah nodded and Tarquin shook his paw, pulled up a chair and they all sat down.
“Okay Uncle, why did you want to see me?”
“Well, ever since your parents disappeared, Jeremiah and I have wanted to get you involved in our tour guiding business.”
“Wearing silly costumes and guiding tourists? Why on earth would I want to do that!”
“Your Uncle and me thought you lacked adventure,” said Jeremiah.
“And it would be a great experience during the summer,” added Jules.
“Oh, and dressing up as bears and going on picnics is adventurous!”
“Haven’t you wondered what really happened at the signing of the Magna Carta?” asked Jules.
“Or, the Declaration of Independence?” said Jeremiah.
“If I was that interested, I’d read it in a book.”
“Wouldn’t you rather witness it, first hand?” asked his Uncle.
“What? Go there and see it happening,” said Tarquin laughing. “Okay, what hair brained scheme are you working on now, I have homework to do.”
Across the table, the smiling faces turned stern and foreboding.
“What if,” continued Jules, “you could take people to Rome AD103 and watch a live chariot race?”
“Or, have a dinner with your favorite painter, that Mr. Manet?” said, Jeremiah.
Tarquin looked at them incredulously, “You’re actually, serious about this!”
“Deadly,” chorused the two bears.
