Title: THE GRYPHON HOUSE OF THE FEARSOME, FRIGHTENING, AND FORMIDABLE
Genre: Upper MG Urban Fantasy
Word Count: 62,000
Set in twentieth century London, the story follows thirteen-year-old William Tucker, who is the youngest, and smallest member in his family’s long-line of creature catchers. Started by his grandfather and now run by his father and two, rather large, rather awe-inspiring older twin sisters, The Gryphon is now the most respected in all of London. Tuck longs to be assigned creatures larger and far more perilous than those he has been assigned to hunt so far, but his astonishing accidents, unbelievable incidents and incredible mistakes have not yet allowed that wish to come to pass.
Finally he is given the opportunity with a task at the Spellbynder School of Practical Sorcery in the north end. He meets Stella, a thirteen-year-old wizard’s apprentice who helps him, with her emerging talent, sharp wit and unfathomable knowledge, follow the trail of the wisps of jet-black smoke and the ravens that have been seen near every disaster throughout the city.
The trails do indeed lead to larger and more perilous creatures, but also to casters of arcane magic who are casting spells to tear away the fabric of reality. It is within these gaps that the Morrighan, goddess of battle and death is manifesting her power, building her strength and her armies for an assault on London. Tuck and Stella are separated from the others and find new allies in a group of orphans, children much like themselves who catch creatures on the streets of London in order to survive. They soon realize they will need the entirety of Gryphon House as well as a faith in these new allies if they hope to stop Morrighan before she has reached her full power.
THE GRYPHON HOUSE OF THE FEARSOME, FRIGHTENING AND FORMIDABLE is my debut. It is a 62,000-word Urban Fantasy MG novel with plans to be a series.
I am a few credits away from getting my Masters in English Literature with a concentration in Fantasy (Tolkien, CS Lewis, Lewis Carroll, GK Chesterton, etc.) and wrote this novel over the past three months while taking these classes.
The last remnants of the morning mist hugged the cobblestone streets tightly after blanketing all of London on a very uneventful night. As the first bit of sunlight pierced through the darkness the mist began to race, skimming the surface of the cobbles as it moved wildly through the streets, trying to avoid the touch that would ultimately dissipate it.
Moving farther and farther from the Thames, the mist twisted and turned, down back alleys and snickelways, eventually being caught as it turned on to Barrow Street and faced the slowly rising sun. The last bits of mist floated away, falling just short of the darkness within a snickelway that lead off the road.
Several stories up, thirteen-year-old William Tucker waited silently at the edge of an old, drafty, tumbledown brick building and stared down onto the street below. Five feet tall, with wispy blond hair, both uncut and unkempt, Tuck was slightly smaller for his age and occupation than he and much of his family had hoped. He wore a grey button down shirt with the word GRYPHON neatly printed on the single pocket (well, as neatly as could be managed by a thirteen-year-old hand in haste). At his feet there lay several items that were rather unusual for someone his age: an old canvas bag, a long length of rope, a whip, and a bright silver hammer. In his hand was a piece of blackthorn, pared clean of its bark and razor sharp thorns, hand rubbed to a smooth polished finish.