An Agent's Inbox #6

Dear Agent,

CHILDREN OF THE WOOD is a dark middle grade fantasy complete at 54,000 words. Best described as Coraline goes to Neverland, it will appeal to fans of A CURIOUS TALE OF THE IN-BETWEEN and SERAFINA AND THE BLACK CLOAK. 

Alistair Toddlefin spends his days in the haunted woods behind his house, collecting trash pile trinkets, longing for a friend. So when spooky, freckle-faced Lucy Punch appears near his fort in the laurel bushes, he believes she could be the answer to all of his problems. 

Ali follows Lucy deep into the forest, to a dark and looming willow tree. There, she pulls back the Curtain of Illusion, revealing a world where children rule. A world of lantern-lit treehouses and endless fun where Ali might finally belong. But when Ali and Lucy accidentally let in a Left Behinder--a cursed, dark spirit hunting for the last living relative of the witch who first cast its curse--Ali’s newfound happiness is threatened. Telling their leader could mean banishment for Lucy and Ali both, not telling him could lead to something far worse. 

If Ali doesn’t come clean and find a way to take down the Left Behinders, he and Lucy and the Children of the Wood will remain captive, their minds ensnared for eternity, and Ali may lose the only place he’s ever truly belonged.

I amicably parted ways with my first agent and am seeking new representation. A previous middle grade project of mine, THE TRINKET GUARDIAN, was a 2015 PitchWars finalist and the winner of the 2016 Pikes Peak Zebulon contest in the MG/YA category. My middle grade fantasy, LAIMA MONTROVE WANTS TO BE A WITCH, was a finalist for the 2015 Eldin Memorial Fellowship, an award to honor Christine Eldin’s memory and recognize talent in unpublished middle grade writers.

The CHILDREN OF THE WOOD manuscript is available at your request. It has not yet been in front of any editors. Thanks for your time!

Best,
H.H.

CHILDREN OF THE WOOD

Alistair Toddlefin closed his library book and peered out his bedroom window for the fifteenth time that day. He imagined he was a dragon and breathed plumes of fire over the forest, scorching it, burning it to a crisp, forcing his parents to move back to civilization. Then he leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head, resting against the wall behind his bed, admiring his smoke-singed work. 

His parents had moved to the Connecticut woods just four months earlier, wanting a break from the effervescent zip of the city, or so they’d said. Ali couldn’t deny the freshness of the air and the soothing chirping of spring peepers, but he hadn’t quite gotten used to this new loneliness, and he figured he probably never would. 

He shoved aside a stack of library books and climbed down the ladder of his bunk bed, shaking off the pins and needles. If they’d been in the city, he’d have walked himself to a museum or to the iron-gated park around the corner. But here, there was nothing but miles of trees in every direction. No friends. Nothing much to do. 

With a quick look down the hall, he dusted off his hands. Perhaps someone could take him to see a movie. Anything would be better than another minute trapped indoors, alone. They’d taken the house over from his great Aunt Hulda who’d died last year. The leftover smell of her mothbally clothes still curled Ali’s nose hairs today.