Copyrighted image 2010-2017 courtesy of Jennifer B. Fields
Hibiscus, Believe
This is what Hibiscus the fairy looks like.
Here's what the Webook expert readers had to say about the first fifty pages of Hibiscus, Believe:
~ I read all the way through [Hibiscus, Believe] and was very impressed with the story. I really hope to see this book in stores one day, and I wish you the best of luck.
~ Intriguing story. Patrick is a relatable character and really easy to sympathize with. [I] would love to read more.
~ I read all the way through Hibiscus, Believe and had to look at it again. I am impressed! This is the first book in a long time that has had me interested. Writing is clear and concise. Can't wait to read the full story.
~ Great story. Excellent writing skills with a great mixture of humor and irony. Captivating plot. I can't wait to buy your book and finish reading such a captivating and enjoyable book.
~ I read all the way through [Hibiscus, Believe] and was very impressed with the story. I really hope to see this book in stores one day, and I wish you the best of luck.
~ Intriguing story. Patrick is a relatable character and really easy to sympathize with. [I] would love to read more.
~ I read all the way through Hibiscus, Believe and had to look at it again. I am impressed! This is the first book in a long time that has had me interested. Writing is clear and concise. Can't wait to read the full story.
~ Great story. Excellent writing skills with a great mixture of humor and irony. Captivating plot. I can't wait to buy your book and finish reading such a captivating and enjoyable book.
Hibiscus, Believe
Patrick Dorsey has lost his mind!
Plagued by the same breathtaking woman in his dreams, Patrick's search for her has gotten him punched, slapped, dumped...No wait, cheated on and then dumped, drugged, nearly fired and blacklisted by his wealthy parents. Even his psychiatrist friend Frank is tempted to have him committed.
What the Connecticut bachelor needs is a vacation. What he gets is a two-word message: Hibiscus, Believe. With those words, Patrick finds himself following a trail of clues that sends him tumbling down the proverbial rabbit hole into the mysterious Otherworld of fairies and magical beings. There he finds his dream woman; a cunning fairy princess named Hibiscus. Along with the beauty of the woman and the enchantment of the Fairy Kingdom itself comes unimaginable treachery from every angle. How far will Patrick go for the life he always knew he was fated for?
Plagued by the same breathtaking woman in his dreams, Patrick's search for her has gotten him punched, slapped, dumped...No wait, cheated on and then dumped, drugged, nearly fired and blacklisted by his wealthy parents. Even his psychiatrist friend Frank is tempted to have him committed.
What the Connecticut bachelor needs is a vacation. What he gets is a two-word message: Hibiscus, Believe. With those words, Patrick finds himself following a trail of clues that sends him tumbling down the proverbial rabbit hole into the mysterious Otherworld of fairies and magical beings. There he finds his dream woman; a cunning fairy princess named Hibiscus. Along with the beauty of the woman and the enchantment of the Fairy Kingdom itself comes unimaginable treachery from every angle. How far will Patrick go for the life he always knew he was fated for?
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Summer 1986
“Fairies don’t exist, and if they did, they wouldn’t play baseball with little boys.” That’s what his mother said before she grounded him for a week.
Tossing a battered baseball in the air, ten-year old Patrick Dorsey sulked in his bedroom of the family’s upstate Connecticut home. It was just a stupid window, he thought with a sneer, and on the back of the garage, no less. No one would even care about a broken window on the backside of the garage.
His room was spacious, decorated with his favorite things, He-man and Transformers. The sort of things boys like; tough, scrappy boys. That was the kind of boy his father wanted him to be, and he was that kind of boy to a certain degree. Now, he was faced with a whole week of summer vacation stuck in this prison cell without fun, without his fairy friend. All that glorious sunshine calling to him in the great out-of-doors and he couldn’t answer for seven whole, long days.
He didn’t expect his father to understand that his son had a more artistic side; one of fancy and invention. He certainly didn’t expect his mother to understand that his best friend in the whole world was a real, live fairy, but it was true. They’d met in the woods behind his house two years earlier. He would never forget her tiny form fluttering before him. At first, he thought her to be a moth or a fly. She turned out to be such a joy; so full of magic and light and so much fun.
It was she who’d thrown the ill-fated baseball, not him, but his mother couldn’t or wouldn’t believe that.
Patrick’s parents were the levelheaded kind. No nonsense, no excuses and absolutely no imagination allowed. He could never share his dreams with them. His drawing and writing abilities were considered a miserable waste of time, but oh, how he longed to paint his fairy friend. She was so lovely with her sunny blond hair that flowed like a golden river to her waist. Her pink, feathery wings made her look like an earthly angel and her smile…her smile could light up a thousand caverns of darkness.
Setting his ball glove down on his bed, Patrick took his favorite baseball and crossed to the one and only window in his room. It looked out upon an expanse of forest, huddled with dogwoods and sycamores. The trees created a puzzle-piece canopy of greenery so thick, Patrick could picture himself, as he so often did, hopping along the treetops like the stones across a burbling creek. Under that colorful umbrella is where he’d found her. It was where all their adventures happened. It was the only place he was allowed to be himself.
As he cast a longing fantasy out the window, he tossed his baseball in the air. A sharp pain in his hand shocked him out of his daydreaming and had him throwing the ball to the floor with a thud. Something had poked him like a shot at the doctor’s office. He gripped his palm and muttered the “D” word under his breath. Whatever it was, his hand wasn’t bleeding. Still smarted, though.
The baseball tumbled like a boulder across the wooden floorboards of his room. He chased it down, hoping all the while that his mother didn’t come up to reprimand him for the racket. His hand throbbed as he rolled the ball around in the light, looking for something jagged. He found a tiny shard of glass from the garage window lodged into the soft leather and adding to its already well-loved appearance.
The sight of the glass sent an unexpected feeling of helplessness welling inside of him. Maybe his parents were right. Maybe he should “keep his head out of the clouds” as his father put it. Sometimes he found that “the clouds” were a much prettier place than here on earth. Unfortunately, he always had to return to earth at some point.
If he kept up with the fairy talk, he feared that his parents might send him away somewhere, like a nut house or military school. He was ten years old now. Maybe it was time to do some growing up of his own. He loved his fairy friend more than anything. It would break his heart to hurt her in any way, but he was tired of getting in trouble for believing in her.
The punishments were getting more severe. The desperation on his mother’s face was too much for him to bear. Lately she’d been getting that little wrinkle in her forehead; the one that only made its appearance when she was both worried and mad. Patrick knew what that wrinkle meant. She feared for her son, he could see that in her eyes too. But more importantly, she was afraid of him. That was the most disturbing thing of all. He never wanted to make his mother fret.
Maybe it was time, Patrick thought as he scraped a dirty fingernail along the new gash in his baseball. It was time to grow up.
A flutter and a twinkle caught his eye. His fairy friend hovered anxiously just outside his window. Quickly, Patrick swiped at the tears that had appeared on his cheeks. He hoped she hadn’t seen him crying.
As he pushed open his He-man curtains and raised the stubborn sash, he found himself torn between elation and obligation. The carnival air of summer and the vision of his lovely friend intoxicated him instantly. He couldn’t help but smile.
“What are you doing here?” He whispered to her.
Being so tiny, the little fairy had to speak directly into his ear or she wouldn’t be heard. She pushed back a string of his jet-black hair and whispered a moment. The flurry of her wings tickled his jaw, and he felt his cheeks warm in response. She seemed to have that sort of effect on him. Having a fairy as a friend was dangerous and exciting. The secret thrilled him. She thrilled him.
“No. It’s not your fault.” He said to her softly.
She flew to his ear and spoke again.
“I know you threw the ball, but if my parents would just believe me, I wouldn’t be in trouble. I’m grounded for a week, by the way.” He leaned his elbow on the sill and plunked his chin in his hand.
She flew in front of him, her wings sounded like a busy hummingbird. Her blue eyes had lost their sparkle, he noted, and she blew him a sad, but graceful kiss.
He felt his insides sink somehow, as if he were an hourglass and the sand was draining out of him. Out of time, he thought. Time to grow up.
“I’m sorry.” He said with weary regret. Maybe there was something true in what his parents said. Maybe in his overactive imagination, he had created a pretend friend to play with. Maybe at that very moment, he was talking to no one but himself. The thought made him shiver.
She fluttered before him in the lazy evening warmth, urging him out into the sunshine. Normally, he would have followed, almost floating after her, carried on the music of her laugh and the promise of adventure, but today he didn’t listen. Not this time.
A vicious wrench twisted in his stomach at the thought of what he must do, and the tears he’d tried to hide surged forward.
He pressed his hands on the peeling white paint of the windowsill and began to retreat inside. “I can’t hurt my family anymore.” He said with a quivering chin. “I’m sorry, my friend, but…” A single tear dashed down his face. He felt like he was burying someone, like someone had died. “I’m too old to believe in fairies.” The heavy words echoed and tumbled from his lips, cascading like an avalanche of poison, but it was too late. He’d said it.
Her frantic figure eight stopped to a dead hover. Her beautiful eyes grew wide with fear. Silently, she waved her arms and reached for him. In that instant, as both their hearts broke, she disappeared, leaving nothing but a brief twinkle behind.
Immediately regretting his actions, Patrick grappled for her, catching only the balmy summer air and nearly fell out of his second story window in the process. She was gone. She’d never disappeared like that before. He looked around for her; left, then right, but she was simply gone.
Anger filled him like a rapidly sinking ship. He snatched his ball glove off the bed and pitched it to the floor with a smart slap. Damn his parents. Damn this house and this town. Damn doing the right thing. Why did it have to be so hard?
He collapsed on his bed, burying his face in the soft down of his pillow and let the tears flow, grateful that the fluff of the pillow muffled his sobs. He’d just chased away the only friend he ever had and he hoped, as his heart shattered over and over again, that his mother was happy.
Summer 1986
“Fairies don’t exist, and if they did, they wouldn’t play baseball with little boys.” That’s what his mother said before she grounded him for a week.
Tossing a battered baseball in the air, ten-year old Patrick Dorsey sulked in his bedroom of the family’s upstate Connecticut home. It was just a stupid window, he thought with a sneer, and on the back of the garage, no less. No one would even care about a broken window on the backside of the garage.
His room was spacious, decorated with his favorite things, He-man and Transformers. The sort of things boys like; tough, scrappy boys. That was the kind of boy his father wanted him to be, and he was that kind of boy to a certain degree. Now, he was faced with a whole week of summer vacation stuck in this prison cell without fun, without his fairy friend. All that glorious sunshine calling to him in the great out-of-doors and he couldn’t answer for seven whole, long days.
He didn’t expect his father to understand that his son had a more artistic side; one of fancy and invention. He certainly didn’t expect his mother to understand that his best friend in the whole world was a real, live fairy, but it was true. They’d met in the woods behind his house two years earlier. He would never forget her tiny form fluttering before him. At first, he thought her to be a moth or a fly. She turned out to be such a joy; so full of magic and light and so much fun.
It was she who’d thrown the ill-fated baseball, not him, but his mother couldn’t or wouldn’t believe that.
Patrick’s parents were the levelheaded kind. No nonsense, no excuses and absolutely no imagination allowed. He could never share his dreams with them. His drawing and writing abilities were considered a miserable waste of time, but oh, how he longed to paint his fairy friend. She was so lovely with her sunny blond hair that flowed like a golden river to her waist. Her pink, feathery wings made her look like an earthly angel and her smile…her smile could light up a thousand caverns of darkness.
Setting his ball glove down on his bed, Patrick took his favorite baseball and crossed to the one and only window in his room. It looked out upon an expanse of forest, huddled with dogwoods and sycamores. The trees created a puzzle-piece canopy of greenery so thick, Patrick could picture himself, as he so often did, hopping along the treetops like the stones across a burbling creek. Under that colorful umbrella is where he’d found her. It was where all their adventures happened. It was the only place he was allowed to be himself.
As he cast a longing fantasy out the window, he tossed his baseball in the air. A sharp pain in his hand shocked him out of his daydreaming and had him throwing the ball to the floor with a thud. Something had poked him like a shot at the doctor’s office. He gripped his palm and muttered the “D” word under his breath. Whatever it was, his hand wasn’t bleeding. Still smarted, though.
The baseball tumbled like a boulder across the wooden floorboards of his room. He chased it down, hoping all the while that his mother didn’t come up to reprimand him for the racket. His hand throbbed as he rolled the ball around in the light, looking for something jagged. He found a tiny shard of glass from the garage window lodged into the soft leather and adding to its already well-loved appearance.
The sight of the glass sent an unexpected feeling of helplessness welling inside of him. Maybe his parents were right. Maybe he should “keep his head out of the clouds” as his father put it. Sometimes he found that “the clouds” were a much prettier place than here on earth. Unfortunately, he always had to return to earth at some point.
If he kept up with the fairy talk, he feared that his parents might send him away somewhere, like a nut house or military school. He was ten years old now. Maybe it was time to do some growing up of his own. He loved his fairy friend more than anything. It would break his heart to hurt her in any way, but he was tired of getting in trouble for believing in her.
The punishments were getting more severe. The desperation on his mother’s face was too much for him to bear. Lately she’d been getting that little wrinkle in her forehead; the one that only made its appearance when she was both worried and mad. Patrick knew what that wrinkle meant. She feared for her son, he could see that in her eyes too. But more importantly, she was afraid of him. That was the most disturbing thing of all. He never wanted to make his mother fret.
Maybe it was time, Patrick thought as he scraped a dirty fingernail along the new gash in his baseball. It was time to grow up.
A flutter and a twinkle caught his eye. His fairy friend hovered anxiously just outside his window. Quickly, Patrick swiped at the tears that had appeared on his cheeks. He hoped she hadn’t seen him crying.
As he pushed open his He-man curtains and raised the stubborn sash, he found himself torn between elation and obligation. The carnival air of summer and the vision of his lovely friend intoxicated him instantly. He couldn’t help but smile.
“What are you doing here?” He whispered to her.
Being so tiny, the little fairy had to speak directly into his ear or she wouldn’t be heard. She pushed back a string of his jet-black hair and whispered a moment. The flurry of her wings tickled his jaw, and he felt his cheeks warm in response. She seemed to have that sort of effect on him. Having a fairy as a friend was dangerous and exciting. The secret thrilled him. She thrilled him.
“No. It’s not your fault.” He said to her softly.
She flew to his ear and spoke again.
“I know you threw the ball, but if my parents would just believe me, I wouldn’t be in trouble. I’m grounded for a week, by the way.” He leaned his elbow on the sill and plunked his chin in his hand.
She flew in front of him, her wings sounded like a busy hummingbird. Her blue eyes had lost their sparkle, he noted, and she blew him a sad, but graceful kiss.
He felt his insides sink somehow, as if he were an hourglass and the sand was draining out of him. Out of time, he thought. Time to grow up.
“I’m sorry.” He said with weary regret. Maybe there was something true in what his parents said. Maybe in his overactive imagination, he had created a pretend friend to play with. Maybe at that very moment, he was talking to no one but himself. The thought made him shiver.
She fluttered before him in the lazy evening warmth, urging him out into the sunshine. Normally, he would have followed, almost floating after her, carried on the music of her laugh and the promise of adventure, but today he didn’t listen. Not this time.
A vicious wrench twisted in his stomach at the thought of what he must do, and the tears he’d tried to hide surged forward.
He pressed his hands on the peeling white paint of the windowsill and began to retreat inside. “I can’t hurt my family anymore.” He said with a quivering chin. “I’m sorry, my friend, but…” A single tear dashed down his face. He felt like he was burying someone, like someone had died. “I’m too old to believe in fairies.” The heavy words echoed and tumbled from his lips, cascading like an avalanche of poison, but it was too late. He’d said it.
Her frantic figure eight stopped to a dead hover. Her beautiful eyes grew wide with fear. Silently, she waved her arms and reached for him. In that instant, as both their hearts broke, she disappeared, leaving nothing but a brief twinkle behind.
Immediately regretting his actions, Patrick grappled for her, catching only the balmy summer air and nearly fell out of his second story window in the process. She was gone. She’d never disappeared like that before. He looked around for her; left, then right, but she was simply gone.
Anger filled him like a rapidly sinking ship. He snatched his ball glove off the bed and pitched it to the floor with a smart slap. Damn his parents. Damn this house and this town. Damn doing the right thing. Why did it have to be so hard?
He collapsed on his bed, burying his face in the soft down of his pillow and let the tears flow, grateful that the fluff of the pillow muffled his sobs. He’d just chased away the only friend he ever had and he hoped, as his heart shattered over and over again, that his mother was happy.
Content copyright (c) Jennifer B. Fields 2010-2017