If you are looking for a sample ya fantasy novel, or in other words Young Adult fiction, read the below:
SAMPLE YA FANTASY NOVEL
YOUNG ADULT FANTASY BOOK ABOUT CHRISTMAS
This is the first three chapters from a book ghost writer, a sample YA fantasy novel for you to enjoy. You may read it over, looking for clues on style, form and substance. The ghostwriter is a bestselling published author on Amazon with over three decades of experience. See what you think of our work in progress – we signed for a five-book series so far, publication on the horizon soon.
By Seayoon J.
Edited rough draft of partial chapter
CHAPTER ONE – ADRIANNA’S UTTERMOST LONELINESS
It’s tough to feel lonelier than you can bear. More lonesome than you could cry about, but your tears have all dried up soundlessly, centuries ago.
Supposing you had no parents, no relatives, nobody to talk to. No one.
What if the only event you looked forward to in your life was Christmas? While that joyous time of year remained permanently scarred by the death of the only person you ever truly loved?
Each year you received wonderful presents, coming from an anonymous source. But there was nobody to love you. These presents were all exactly what you needed. But nothing can take the place of love – nothing at all!
Quietly gazing out the bus window, ears ringing with the noise levels generated by dozens of children, Adrianna gazed at a distant snow-covered field. It reminded her of Yuletide or Christmas, a favorite time of year for everybody. She herself practically worshipped the Holiday Season…but with profound reservations.
Two years ago, her beloved mother passed away. Now Adrianna knew no one to confide in, with no surviving relatives or any actual friends. While the place she lived in was horrible, miserable; not a home but a hotbed of perpetual fear.
As the snow field slipped out of view, the 15-year-old popped open the silver, heart-shaped locket on her gold necklace. Fondly, almost tearfully, she peered at the blurry photo of a mesmerizingly copper-haired woman.
Freckles adorned the lady’s regally sophisticated nose, much like the speckles coating her daughter’s face. The young girl continued to peer fondly at the picture, the only one she had left, for several uninterrupted minutes of pure, bereaved longing.
Adrianna shared the dulcet, attractively ginger tones of her lost Mom, along with a pair of determined hazel eyes that showed uncommon maturity for her age. In fact, she looked almost exactly like her beloved mother. This was a painful reminder of the loss, every time she passed a mirror. It made her feel more adult, but heavily accentuated her achingly deep loneliness.
Staring down at the photo quizzically, as if to ask, “Why did you go away? Why have you deserted me, left me all alone?” the young girl stroked the loose, russet-colored strands of hair back from her broadly widening forehead. Totally expressionless, she also stroked the beautiful, ginger-colored woman’s face on the surface of the photo in tiny waves, using the tip of one pinky finger.
Today marked the anniversary of Mom’s tragic death from morbid blood cancer, more commonly known as acute leukemia. It was the one thing that marred and destroyed Adrianna’s only solace: Christmastime. Yet she swore silently that she’d never allow her pain to completely overcome her.
Reserved, staunchly proud, looking as regally noble as her mother, she would not let herself fall into depression, fear or fatalism. She’d maintain the dearest memories of that beloved Mom until her own dying day!
Always, she would hold her flame-colored head up high. She meant to be just like her mother, bearing her cross with stoic indifference, no matter what unkind souls might manage to hurt her feelings. Yet the agony of that untimely death ached like it happened yesterday, making her heart sting like a huge bee deep inside.
Why am I left all alone in the world? she wondered silently.
Her mother’s death carved out a growing chasm in Adrianna’s soul, causing extreme detachment and a nearly total lack of animation in her youthful features. If you were to look upon her face, you would see nothing: no hope, no fear, no smile, no frown; nothing but a flat, continuously lifeless gaze of sorrow.
Her Mom had battled leukemia for year after long year, without much proper medical care from the doctors. She simply couldn’t afford the expensive chemotherapy and radiation treatments, nor the alternative special therapies such as expensive vitamins, herbal remedies, TB vaccines and dietary supplements.
At the time, their small family couldn’t afford any expensive health care plans. Meanwhile, Mom’s husband and Adrianna’s father was missing, presumed dead for over a decade – his daughter had no clear memories of him. Her blessed mother never spoke of the man anymore. It was obviously Adrianna’s responsibility alone to take care of things, which she did with a graceful will of her own making.
She sat with Mom for hours at bedside, happily reading aloud their favorite Christmas stories, making them both feel better. But it all came to nothing, in the end. Loneliness was to leave its pitiless mark on the attractively mature girl. For good…and sometime later, for evil as well.
Adrianna’s mother was an orphan herself, with nobody but her daughter. Which meant the 13-year-old had to do everything: housework, laundry, grocery shopping by bicycle and bus. Stripping her Mom’s bed regularly, as it was usually soaked with sweat and worse, took away her energy; she was zapped out at the end of each rugged day. But her strong love and devotion kept her going against all odds.
She took jobs distributing newspapers, babysitting, making bicycle deliveries and dog-walking to pay for food, the utilities and other monthly bills. Fortunately for them both, the mortgage on their house was entirely paid off.
Adrianna didn’t think for a moment that Mom was a burden, nor did she resent not being a “normal kid” who played sports, slept over, gossiped or dressed up like the other girls. Her mother was the Universe, whom she dearly loved – her best friend in the whole world!
No teenager loved her Mom as dearly as Adrianna. And no mother loved her daughter, sick as she was, with an iron will like her Mom’s. No matter how challenging the day, her mother stroked Adrianna’s cheek with a glowing warmth and appreciation. Even when every muscle was dog-tired, she made sure her daughter felt special, calling her “Princess” as if she meant it and Adrianna was full-blooded royalty.
Somehow, her mother could make her believe it.
“Wait and see,” Mom would coo in a sweet, succulently honeyed voice. “You’ll find out one day how special of a Princess you truly are!”
Laughing at this, Adrianna didn’t mind if she remained a peon. Only love and caring mattered to this temperate, mature-acting adolescent. She lived solely for her mother’s smiles of appreciation. Hard work never put her off. She cheerfully performed her constantly arduous chores, feeling honored and deeply contented.
However, one fateful morning as Adrianna entered the bedroom to sit down, Mom didn’t respond to calling out her name. Nor to stroking her hair gently. The girl couldn’t comprehend what that meant, understanding death only in theory – as her mother constantly reminded her it must happen, sooner or later. Yet Adrianna had already received a warning of this, from which she turned away heedlessly.
A few days earlier, the girl felt struck by an aggressive feeling of doom, along with a severe bout of mysterious migraine headaches. Combined with painful ringing of the ears, these tended to last only a few seconds. But they often preceded awful, tragic events in her young life. Whenever she experienced these symptoms, something dreadful was about to take place. Shuddering, she knew exactly what it meant: the time she had left with Mom was limited.
Her mother joked around about it, telling her daughter such feelings were a type of sixth sense “everybody in the world has, one way or another.” Agreeing, Adrianna thought she must surely be wrong. Mom was going to be fine, of course! Her stupid “sixth sense” was off, even though that had never happened before. How could she tell the future from a series of migraine headaches?
Trembling, Adrianna gripped Mom’s hand tightly. No breath, no movement. None. The pall of Death filled up the beloved bedroom. There would be no more good times at home, not anymore. As she looked down at her mother’s lifeless body, Adrianna slowly entered a full-scale shock from which she didn’t fully awaken, well into the future. Not even during the Holidays. Her face, frozen in the moment of time she first realized Mom was dead, remained utterly expressionless.
It made her appear mature, but not if you looked closely. Then you saw only the empty countenance of a lost, lonely teenage girl. Her face, so much like her Mom’s, reflected it in the moment of death, as if she too had somehow died.
It took her the entire day to realize her beloved mother was gone. “She’s joined my father, I suppose,” Adrianna sighed in defeat. “In Heaven. I don’t know if he deserved that, I know she did. But…where will I go, where?”
That evening she wandered lifelessly over to a house nearby, to knock on the door of their neighbor. This was a lady who occasionally came to see her and her Mom, to check up on them. She wasn’t a friend, was kind of a religious nut, too.
She didn’t do anything for them, except for taking the young girl to church on Sundays. It was her only time away from Mom, who needed her constant care and oversight. That beloved job was now over for all eternity.
As the neighbor looked on fearfully, dreading the worst, Adrianna’s face registered no emotion. Only a kind of listlessly shocked horror. The neighbor prayed loudly to God, wrapping her arms around the emotionless girl’s drooping head, and then she dutifully called 911. The screaming wails of a siren broke the silence, an ambulance collecting Mom’s body and speeding it down to the local morgue.
Adrianna was told by the neighbor that she’d have to move. She couldn’t live in her old house anymore, because she was underage – only 13. This made the silent, morose-looking girl furious, though she couldn’t adequately express that.
“No, I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it all along, I’ve been doing everything!” she angrily whispered to the saddened neighbor, who prayed as she held the quiet girl’s lightly shaking hands against her ample bosom.
Peering down into Adrianna’s emotionless face, wondering what would become of her, the neighbor lady said, “The authorities can’t let you live alone when you’re still a child, dear. You’ll have to stay in the local home for youths.”
The kindly neighbor talked to the police, and arrangements were made through the Department of Health and Human Services to put Adrianna into a group home for children who’d lost their parents. It was a shelter for wayward teens, pregnant child mothers, and kids given up by their birth parents for assorted reasons.
Such as extreme juvenile delinquency. Some of the kids living there were mean, horrible, uncontrollable, through most were nice enough. But a few of these “children” were killers, murderously inclined, rendering their shelter unsafe.
The kind female neighbor arranged for the sale of Mom’s house, and the proceeds were used to fund Adrianna’s boarding and education at her new, but rather rundown warehouse-style group home. What the young girl would do once she turned 18, she wasn’t sure. She had no money, no relatives, no future, just a state-run education program. Nowhere to go, really, when she finally grew up.