Read chapter one
Here is a sneak peak into Return of the Vinetropes, the first book in the THE VINETROPE ADVENTURES series.
Chapter one: The birth of lucinda vinetrope
It is a beautiful, cool, moonlit night in early October and the moment is very still. Trailing around the trunk of an old pine tree grows a mysterious vine. It is not like other plant life in the area and it has grown late in the season. But what makes it most unusual is the one large, pale green, silky pod that lays on its side in the pine needles. If you know it is there, you might notice a very light glow coming from it. The glow pulses on and off with a heartbeat like rhythm.
Then it stops for a time. There, just then, the glow pulsed! There is a quick clicking nose, and then several small cracking sounds, quiet and easily missed. It is not a late summer cricket at all. It reminds you of the sound you hear in your own head when you crack open a pumpkin seed with your teeth. Two delicate hands emerge from a slit in the top of the pod. The hands grasp the edges and push against each side and the pod opens wide. Into the night air steps a most fantastical being. Lucinda Vinetrope is born. And she is wearing an exquisite pumpkin colored dress.
“Where am I?” Lucinda whispers into the night. “Who am I? My name is Lucinda,” she does know that.
She looks around and recognizes nothing. This isn’t the world she expected to find. It is not even remotely like the place she has been dreaming about while growing in her growing chamber.
Something is terribly wrong. Where are her people? They should be here to greet her. Her broken pod lays there next to her, turning brown and withering away as she watches. Even the long tangle of vines around the tree shrivels up, now that her life is not attached to it. There are no other pods in sight. She is now feeling frightened. Why is she all alone?
“This is definitely wrong,” she thinks to herself. She sniffs the air and then puts her nose to the ground and sniffs the earth. “All wrong,” she confirms. “This earth is too dry. It smells a bit bitter and old. I’m sure it is supposed to smell moist and rich; bursting with life.” She looks up into the pine tree and then all around her. “I don’t recognize these plants. Where are the seedsong trees? They should be everywhere. And it is too quiet, even for night.”
It takes a bit for what she knows and what she sees, smells, hears and feels to be understood at all. After all, she has just been born and so much would be new even if she were in the right place. That’s when she notices the huge structure across the way and down a slope of land. It is so huge she can’t quite believe what she is seeing. “Is that a chimney? Why, if that is a place in which someone lives, it would have to be a giant. But giants, as I see them, were never able to build anything that fancy. Well, still, it may very well be some kind of giant. And that means there is life here.” This gives her a bit of comfort, but not much. She will need to be strong and get to the bottom of it all.
She can be strong. She would be strong for her people, so she must be strong for herself. She must, if she is to survive. Her fear subsides for a moment and she fills with a deep loneliness instead; an aching loneliness. She needs to be with her people to even be herself. And she’s sure her people need her. It is frightening to recognize nothing; to be in a world that feels so alien. Her mind aches and her body aches. She suddenly feels hungry, but more than hunger, she is overcome by complete exhaustion. She must sleep. She will deal with this in the morning after she rests. Maybe things will fall into place. Maybe her mind will feel clearer, work better. “I must sleep,” she says out loud. “In the morning I will be able to find food.” Lucinda circles the tree and finds a little hollow between its roots. She pushes some pine needles into the hollow, climbs in and covers herself with some of them. In a second she is in a deep sleep.
Then it stops for a time. There, just then, the glow pulsed! There is a quick clicking nose, and then several small cracking sounds, quiet and easily missed. It is not a late summer cricket at all. It reminds you of the sound you hear in your own head when you crack open a pumpkin seed with your teeth. Two delicate hands emerge from a slit in the top of the pod. The hands grasp the edges and push against each side and the pod opens wide. Into the night air steps a most fantastical being. Lucinda Vinetrope is born. And she is wearing an exquisite pumpkin colored dress.
“Where am I?” Lucinda whispers into the night. “Who am I? My name is Lucinda,” she does know that.
She looks around and recognizes nothing. This isn’t the world she expected to find. It is not even remotely like the place she has been dreaming about while growing in her growing chamber.
Something is terribly wrong. Where are her people? They should be here to greet her. Her broken pod lays there next to her, turning brown and withering away as she watches. Even the long tangle of vines around the tree shrivels up, now that her life is not attached to it. There are no other pods in sight. She is now feeling frightened. Why is she all alone?
“This is definitely wrong,” she thinks to herself. She sniffs the air and then puts her nose to the ground and sniffs the earth. “All wrong,” she confirms. “This earth is too dry. It smells a bit bitter and old. I’m sure it is supposed to smell moist and rich; bursting with life.” She looks up into the pine tree and then all around her. “I don’t recognize these plants. Where are the seedsong trees? They should be everywhere. And it is too quiet, even for night.”
It takes a bit for what she knows and what she sees, smells, hears and feels to be understood at all. After all, she has just been born and so much would be new even if she were in the right place. That’s when she notices the huge structure across the way and down a slope of land. It is so huge she can’t quite believe what she is seeing. “Is that a chimney? Why, if that is a place in which someone lives, it would have to be a giant. But giants, as I see them, were never able to build anything that fancy. Well, still, it may very well be some kind of giant. And that means there is life here.” This gives her a bit of comfort, but not much. She will need to be strong and get to the bottom of it all.
She can be strong. She would be strong for her people, so she must be strong for herself. She must, if she is to survive. Her fear subsides for a moment and she fills with a deep loneliness instead; an aching loneliness. She needs to be with her people to even be herself. And she’s sure her people need her. It is frightening to recognize nothing; to be in a world that feels so alien. Her mind aches and her body aches. She suddenly feels hungry, but more than hunger, she is overcome by complete exhaustion. She must sleep. She will deal with this in the morning after she rests. Maybe things will fall into place. Maybe her mind will feel clearer, work better. “I must sleep,” she says out loud. “In the morning I will be able to find food.” Lucinda circles the tree and finds a little hollow between its roots. She pushes some pine needles into the hollow, climbs in and covers herself with some of them. In a second she is in a deep sleep.
