Title: Griffin Cryer
Author: Julia Hughes
Frankie Shaunessy’s friends are out of this world!
It’s an easy mistake to make – instead of whistling and calling for her dog, fifteen year old Frankie accidentally summons a griffin and his rider from another world. The Rider is tall, blond and extremely rude. On the other hand, Balkind is the sweetest, most lovable griffin Frankie’s ever met, and Frankie is determined to help the Rider and his griffin find a way back to their own world.
Dealing with parallel universes, disgruntled warriors, and hungry griffins is the easier part of Frankie’s life. At school, Frankie learns friends can become enemies, teachers aren’t always right, and the boy of your dreams can be all too human. Told in approximately 53,000 words, suitable for young adults, and all those who’ve ever dreamed of riding a griffin.
Last night, while calling her dog, Frankie accidentally summonsed a griffin and its rider from another dimension. Dog and griffin flee from each other. This is Frankie's second encounter with the Rider, he has retrieved her missing dog, and wants something in return ….
A man sat outlined against the brow of Six Acre Meadow, a large black dog by his side. Frankie stumbled towards them, clutching at the stitch in her side. By the time she reached the top of the hill and stood over him, all the furious insults she'd rehearsed on the nightmare jog here were useless. Instead she glared down at him, struggling to catch her breath. Bally's tail thumped, but he made no attempt to cease worrying at the mammoth bone he held down with one paw.
Finally Frankie managed: 'That's my dog.'
Calmly unscrewing the lid from a bottle of water, the stranger took a couple of swigs, then offered it to Frankie. After a moment's hesitation, she swiped the bottle from him, tipped her head back, and chugged down.
'Where's my griffin?' the man asked.
Frankie clutched the now empty bottle, longing to chuck it at his head and snatch up Bally and run. But somehow she doubted his temper had improved any since last night.
'Please – I don't know your name – but please – let me have my dog back. Please – it'll break my mum's heart.'
'Get me back my griffin and you can have your dog.'
'I'll call the police.'
He shrugged, looking completely unconcerned. 'Call for my griffin, and you can have your dog back.'
Frankie gave a sigh of surrender, and tossed the empty bottle neatly into his opened rucksack.
'If I call your …griffin – and it doesn't come, will that satisfy you?'
He nodded. 'If you call with all your heart, and Balkind doesn't answer, you may have your dog back.'
Call with all your heart. Frankie knew without asking what this meant. Inflating her lungs, and placing her hands either side of her mouth, she summoned up a cry from the heart.
The sound flooded the meadow. Frankie sucked in air and called again. 'Baalll-kind.' She could feel two pairs of eyes on her, watching intently, Bally's ears were pricked. Before calling for the third time, Frankie took a couple of steps away from her audience, and focussed on projecting her cry across the village, across the lakes, across the country if needs be.
Frankie glanced behind her. The blond head nodded approval.
Of course it would: Any griffin within a hundred miles would have heard that.
About The Author
The London born author of the Celtic Cousins' Adventures: A Raucous Time; A Ripple in Time; and An Explosive Time. The Bridle Path, and her latest title is a young adult/crossover action adventure: The Griffin Cryer.
"I'm an eldest child and walking my younger brother and sister to school and back, I'd tell them stories - a captive audience! On leaving college, I worked at the BBC, helping write stories for their "Schools' Programmes". That was back in the day, before satellite telly made it over to the UK and 'Auntie Beeb' ruled the air waves! I gave it all up for the good life, and moved down to Cornwall, one of the most beautiful counties in England, and often known as 'God's own country.' I think the greatest compliment I received was 'Julia's more Cornish than the Cornish.' I picked daffodils in winter and made pasties for the holidaymakers in the summer. But all good things come to an end: I upped sticks to be closer to my family, and landed in a little village just outside London, and have been here ever since, scribbling away at my stories. "
I don't specifically write in any one genre, an idea will flitter into my mind, and the story develops. My first three titles, "A Raucous Time", "A Ripple in Time" and "An Explosive Time" are action adventures, while "The Bridle Path" is romance. I think I'd overdosed on the testosterone flying around in the previous three books and wanted something a little more feminine and romantic.
My latest title "The Griffin Cryer" is an adventure/fantasy. What makes this genre special is the opportunity to really allow imagination to take flight, and even create whole new worlds for readers to explore.