I will have you know, recently I finished the first first draft of my novel. Here is a wee sample for your readerly eye holes: One week had passed since she had been left alone, and now, her new surrounding space and its accompanying quiet seemed forced.  She would need another hour alone before getting used to herself again. 

There were various versions of herself alone: Alone in the bathroom, alone at sea, alone with music, alone in Ducks Pub, etc., all different depending on the time of day, the setting, the weather. 

To Callisandra, there were two types of solitude: new and old. New solitude was a fleeting solitude one experienced when one's company, housemates, or employer leave on a temporary basis, and old solitude was a more permanent fixture that only elderly people, the insane and misanthropes endured. 

Albeit frequently, Callisandra had only experienced new solitude. As all new solitudes did, this particular new solitude opened up a myriad of possibilities; she could read one of Frederick’s books on sailing; flip through albums then pop a record on and lie on the floor, feet up the wall; she could touch herself between her legs; she could sit and stare into the sky in search of the mysterious ibis. 

They were all enticing newly alone options like fresh laundry hanging in a wardrobe ready to be worn. But, oftentimes new solitude was more burdensome than appealing. The endless propelling of ideas and options consumed more energy in the brain than the activity itself. Time would be up before she would begin to experience her new solitude. 

Having already solved this conundrum years before when her parents would leave her alone to new solitude again and again, Callisandra now acted instantaniously in her newly alone state, and this time, she chose to read one of Frederick’s books Lost at Sea wherein she found prose regarding the Lost Northern Isles, the Irish Sea, and the fishermen who tame it, or at least attempt to. 

In 1749, Four islands, Toos, Tulero, Cearofinin, and Selpester, sunk into the sea after an earthquake in Greenland reverberated fault lines. Each crumbled like cake and dissolved into the frothy sea.

Callisandra flipped to the next chapter and scanned its contents. 

The island of the Gods, Havertia, had rare flora and fauna virtually unseen on any other island in the world. Havertia provided a plethora of flower, trees, fruits and vegetables to other islands in the northern isles. Even throughout the coldest seasons, fragrant lilies lined the shore, peaches, citrus fruit, cherries, and apples, plump and ripe bursted from its trees. Wheat and barley grew in abundance and oftentimes oxen, boar, tigers, and sheep would graze upon the sweet, nutty grains. 

…Havertia was in fact such a fertile, lush island, that at the time it was believed amongst many Scots that it was the island where upon Noah emptied his ark. 

…The island was simply a biological, agricultural, geological, and botanical mystery. Scientists were left humbled and perplexed for such diverse plant and animal species to thrive in close proximity to one and other was, according to all proven scientific facts, an impossibility. 

…When the Royal Highness was informed of Havertia, she summoned her knights and sailed there promptly. Upon landing, the Queen, quite mesmerized by Havertia, deemed it as her own, and from that point on, no one, save for Her Royal Highness and Royal Staff were to set foot onto its soil. 

Mysteriously, a day after the Queen departed the island for London, the island disappeared, taking with it twelve Royal guards and 6 Royal guard pugs. 

The Queen, deeply distraught by the loss of her prized island, accidentally killed herself when a Royal horse fell on her mid-penetration (a therapy for gloominess she claimed worked unlike any).

…Since the death of the Queen, Havertia was not to be spoken of again. It was instantly removed from maps, books, and sailor’s journals. 

…Some believed Havertia sunk into the sea due to uncommon weather patterns in the Northern Pole, others believed Havertia was accosted by extra terrestrials and buried inside the outer ring of mars, but most were quite convinced that Havertia never existed in the first place. 

…Havertia has remained, if anything, an oral myth amongst fisherman and older Northern Island Scots, a story to quietly ponder over a few pints, but only after inhibitions have loosened. 

…As the years have passed, so has the memory of Havertia.