One of the highlights of the conference for me was this chapter by Spencer McKay, who didn't make the deadline for the First Chapter Writing Contest (the lucky grand prize winners won an Amazon Kindle II and an Alphasmart Neo - I don't have either, and I want them both!) but Tristi Pinkston graciously read the scene for all the attendees. I was laughing so hard I cried, which was a little unfair since I had to get up right after and announce the winners of the contest.
So, if you love Twilight (book or movie), here's the scene for your enjoyment:
* * *
“I know what you are,” I said. I looked at Tedward. “Your skin is green. You’re impossibly cheerful. You pay for everything with gold coins.”
“Say it,” he urged.
“You’re … a leprechaun.”
“Yes, Stella,” he said. “I am a leprechaun. How did you figure it out?”
“Hopsy told me.”
Tedward growled. “Hopsy is my mortal enemy. His people and my people have been enemies for years. Finally a truce was made, but it’s an uneasy truce. Leprechauns and Easter Bunnies will never be friends.” He reached out and touched my face. “I’m glad you know the truth about me, Stella. But I’m not just any leprechaun—I’m an evil leprechaun.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I said.
“You should be,” he said. Suddenly he was at my side. Then he was on my left. Then he was on my right. Then he was hanging upside down from a nearby branch. He was making me dizzy—or was it his sparkling white smile that made me weak?
“I could kill you,” he said. “I could rip you in pieces and eat this half with mustard and that half with ketchup.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” I said.
He reached out to touch my face. “But I could.”
“But you wouldn’t,” I said.
He trailed his fingers down my face. “I could strangle you and leave you out here in the woods.”
“Do go on,” I said.
“No, Stella,” he said, touching my face. “I have a rope in my backpack. I could hang you. You shouldn’t trust me.”
“But you won’t hurt me.”
He opened his jacket and I saw a gun in a holster under his arm. “This is a Glock. I could shoot you right now. I have thirty-seven vials of poison in my pocket. Plus, I have a knife in my boot. You shouldn’t trust me, Stella. I’m telling you. I’m dangerous. But, I love you, all these death threats notwithstanding."
I reached out and slapped his arm. “Silly boy! Whatever would you want with me? I’m just a wan, pale, homely little thing.”
“Stella, don’t you know how beautiful you are?”
“No, no, I don’t. I am wan and pale and homely.”
He touched my face. “You are beautiful. And your smell … do you have any idea how good you smell?”
I picked up a piece of my hair and sniffed it. “I’ve been told I smell like freesia …
“Freesia? Who would want to eat freesia? Girl, you smell like a double bacon cheeseburger with a side order of onion rings. And a Diet Coke.”
“A Diet Coke?”
“A Diet Coke. Do you see why you’re in danger?”
“You’d kill me for a Diet Coke? Real Coke, maybe I can see, but Diet Coke?”
“You shouldn’t be with me, Stella. I’m no good for you.”
“But Tedward, I trust you. After you saved me from the collapsing bridge and the falling tower and the crashing bus and the stampeding elephants and the cholera and the tumbling shopping mall, how could I not trust you?”
“But you can’t! Don’t you see? Your fingers look like French fries …”
“I thought you said I smelled like onion rings.”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me. You’re making it worse.”
“I trust you, Tedward. I believe in you.”
He reached out to touch my face.
After you finish laughing pop over to author Tristi Pinkston's blog where Spencer guest-blogged and read his comments.