I know, I know. It’s been some time since I last posted anything. Life just gets crazier than normal in August for us here at the Asylum. There’s so many things we have to do to prepare for the next school year.
Lock had freshman band camp and then Jack had school registration, both in the same week. Lock also had a band trip to a local water park as well as freshman registration. I had a meeting at the local attorney general’s office on behalf of my eldest son. Since he’s been living with his dad for the last year, we decided to forego child support since there’s not that much time left on it anyway. Sean turns 18 in October and graduates in June, so it just made sense to go ahead and cancel it. His dad still has to carry insurance on him but that’s not a big deal anymore either.
So, what else have I been doing since I last posted? Well, I’ve read a lot, knitted a lot, got caught up with some past projects, worked, and I have done a little bit of writing as well. I haven’t written any poetry amazingly. I worked a little on a story I’ve previously posted a bit of on here as well as I think I mentioned working on it a couple of posts ago. I called it The Faerie’s Tale but that’s just a working title. I needed to save it under something so that’s what it became. Well, my little idea sparked a new beginning for the story so I wrote on it until I had to stop. I thought I’d post a bit of it tonight for you since I haven’t posted anything new for a while. I am really happy with the way it’s going.
I’ve also come up with a couple of other new ideas and one of those I’ve already sat down and started writing character and scene sketches. The other began with a simple scene and I sat down with that in mind today and began writing the story for it. I’m calling the first story The Ripple Effect, and the second one The Spa Squad. I’m actually having a lot of fun with the second one because I’m telling it from a kick butt woman. She’s going to be tough, funny, and smart. I’m hoping to make it a mystery but who knows? Mags is leading the story so we’ll see where she takes us.
So that’s where I’m at for now. The kids all start school next week so on Monday it’ll just be back to the Tornado and me in the house. I can’t tell you how wonderful the (relative) quiet will be. I’m hoping to be able to get my writing schedule back as well because I’d really like to finish one of these stories so I can get to another one. The sooner I finish something, the sooner I can begin to look at getting it published. That would be really exciting!
Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this short portion of The Faerie’s Tale.
The Faerie’s Tale Excerpt
I woke with a start, my heart racing, and sat up in bed. I could see out the window across the room and a flash of lightning lit up the night sky. I counted: one Mississippi…two Mississippi. The next thunderclap was so loud I thought it was going to shake the walls apart at the very least. It seemed as if the storm was trying to bring the house crashing down. It had been raining all day and now it appeared as though it would last until morning. I looked at the alarm clock on my bedside table. The red glow of the numbers read 2:55 a.m. I lay back down and buried myself under the blankets, shivering. I had always thought I’d grow out of this fear of storms, or at the very least, get used to them. But at eighteen years old I was still just as scared of them as I was when I was six. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down, beginning the relaxation trick I had taught myself when I was little and scared. I pictured my mom sitting next to me telling me one of her stories.
My mom used to tell me stories when I was younger about ghosts and witches, the gods and goddesses, and all the magical creatures. She read all the fairy tales to me, pointing out how these were all stories passed down the ages; like rumors, they changed with each telling. Everything wasn’t what it seemed. Not all witches were necessarily bad, nor evil stepmothers really evil. There would always be some truth in them, but you have to remember to keep your eyes open and look a little bit deeper. I didn’t know what she meant at the time. I just loved hearing her stories, how she would always add more to them, like a history of sorts. She told me once: “All fairy tales are someone’s truth twisted into someone else’s lies. Don’t trust everything you read, Anna. Look between the lines and keep an open mind. Sometimes, the stories are exactly the other way around.”
One of the things that the storytellers got wrong, so she says, is ‘the witching hour’. Most people think it happens around midnight. Mom says it happens at 3 a.m. Nothing good ever happens after three in the morning. That’s when a door opens and all the magic creatures are free to play in the world. Then, as the sky lightens and the sun’s first rays start to glow on the horizon, they must all go back into their hiding places to wait for the next night’s mischief. Although, not all of the creatures are mischievous. Some, the ‘good’ ones, go out to prevent, or correct, the problems the ‘bad’ ones create. Some have tasks to do, while yet others just like to encourage good in the world. There was a lot more to her tale, but I’ve long since forgotten the details.
I used to try and stay awake to see if what she said was true. I made it all the way past midnight once, and when nothing happened at midnight, I began to think she might be right. After all, Santa Claus never came to our house until after I fell asleep and neither did the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy. I could never stay awake to see what would happen. Even at sleepovers I fell asleep before three. The few times I did find myself awake at that time, I never noticed anything more than the noises that all houses make at night as they settle their joints in the cool night air. By the time I was old enough to stay awake all night, I didn’t care anymore. Magic and fairy tales were childish and I was growing up with more important things to think about, like high school, friends, and boys. So, I began to forget Mom’s stories.
Until tonight. I hate thunderstorms. It’s always during thunderstorms that Mom’s tales begin to feel true. I know it’s nothing but wind and electricity and the resultant noise, but there’s always been something frightening about night storms. It’s as if the worst of the evil creatures hide within the dark clouds, like they use them to disguise their coming and going. Despite the fact that I haven’t believed in magic or ghosts and ghouls for years now, I still find myself feeling like there could be something dark and twisted riding the lightning. And with the clock showing that it’s close to Mom’s witching hour, I feel even more like something is going to happen.
I look again at the clock. 2:59 A.M. One minute left. I wait and watch the storm outside my window. My eyes flick back to the clock and I hold my breath. I know nothing is going to happen but here in the dark with the storm raging outside, it’s easy to doubt yourself. Those last few seconds seem to last forever.
Then, the numbers change…