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So, below is my entry...
Query:
Dear Agent:
In Oriane, witches
are born with a pair of witch stones embedded in their palms, but Rossi, the
daughter of the Nowan County Witch, is born with only one. And harvesting
lightning with one stone is harder than convincing her troll to take a bath. If
only her element had been a gentle babbling brook. But no. One tiny mistake and
she could end up fried chicken, just like the only time she’d ever tried to
catch it. Something she vowed never to never attempt again.
In spite of
Rossi’s best effort to avoid it, a lightning bolt seeks her out. As does a
stranger, a warlock boy who claims to know secrets about her single stone and
claims he’s here to protect her. But, from what? Other newcomers pop up, a tiny
unicorn with a broken horn, a fire witch who is as sweet as a ripe strawberry
and a water witch with secrets of her own – Rossi struggles to determine who is
friend or foe.
Rossi must learn
to control her lightning and fast. Something sinister is lurking in the shadows
of her mountains. Something that wants to steal her stone for the dark craft.
WITCH STONE is a
middle grade fantasy complete at 59,000 words and should appeal to fans of Plain Kate and The Wizard of Dark Street.
I am an SCBWI
member and belong to a local critique group in Northwest Arkansas.
Thank you for
your time!
All best,
Mandy
Silberstein
First 250:
Chapter
1
Lightning
struck the dirt close to where Rossi sat, her fingers jammed in her ears. She
jumped with every crackle of energy, but didn't dare open her eyes.
Rossi hated
harvesting lightning. It was loud, hot, and smelled like roasted cat. Plus, her
short brown hair always stood on end for several days afterward, frizzed beyond
any hope from the mix of electricity and drenching rain that would follow.
“Mom,
that was too close. Stop flinging it at me.” Rossi glanced at her mother
perched above her on the edge of Nowan cliff, arms outstretched like she was
welcoming an old friend. Her white gown whipped around her legs in the storm
winds. She always dressed in her finest for the lightning ritual, while Rossi
had just thrown a jacket over her mud spattered pants and her favorite worn shirt
that was missing two buttons, along with dusty boots.
“You
could use a charge or two. You've been rather pale lately.” Mom lowered her arms
and another bolt streaked through the night sky, straight for the pair of emeralds
embedded in her palms. “Come here and try. You give up too easy.”
“No!”
Rossi opened her hands. The brilliant diamond she’d been born with sunk into
her left palm and marked her element as lightning. Her right hand was empty of
the corresponding stone that would have made her a complete witch.
Lightning had nearly killed her the only time
she had tried to call it. 