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Hi, it's Finscoth, and I am sad. I had to trash what I had of the Madisons entirely, and now I have to restart it. Why? Because Scott's character changed dramatically. That's great and all, I actually love it when my characters sort of have a mind of their own, but not when it requires me to restart. *sigh*
Oh, well. I guess that means I'll be able to make it better this time. A fresh start is always good!
By the way, I am writing nowadays, just I'm working on another project that won't be finished until later. But now I'm working on two stories about the Madisons! (That's what the other project is.)
Mother readied the house for next twenty-four hours. Not wanting to be thought a slob, she went and did every one of her chores. Included in this was sweeping, mopping, dusting, washing dishes, and the laundry.
None of the chores needed to be done, though. All her clothes were clean, savet he dress she wore while cleaning. This dress was only washed once a year. The rest of her dresses, bright and cheery yellows, were what she wire when not cleaning.
The dishes she washed one too many times. She owned only five plates, and four cups. For every plate was a set of utesils. Each set was made up of a knife, a spoon, and a fork. Hankerchiefs were in abundance, for she knitted them to pass the time in the evening after reading The Heavenly Father's Book, and praying to Him.
When the long awaited knock sounded on the little cream colored cottage, mother sprang to the door in a skip and two blissful bounds.
A piece of hair, brown with a grey tint, fell infront of her eyes. Placing it beind her ear, and smotthing her white apron, she gently opened the door with a large smile.
"Margie!" she exclaimed with glee,." Come in, come in." She stepped quickly aside to let them pass.
Margie crosses from the ourtside to the cottage so gracefully, she looked almost royal. As she scolded her children for not wearing smiles, she looked up at her old friend.
"Hello, dearest. You look wonderful....but a great deal taller then I remember you."
Mother's cheeks became rosy. Not from shyness or embarassment, but from a piping pleasure.
"Thank you." she said, wiping the stray piece of hair once more."You yoursekf have grown quite a bit."
Margie chuckled as she looked up and around to what seemed to her a very large home."Well, if you call growing an inch a great deal, then thank you."
Mother folded her hands."For a fairy, you are quite tall. Really you are."
Margie, flapping sparkling white wings that matched he glistening white hair, flew up to level her face with mother's."You always were kind to the fairies."
The cheeks of mother turned redder."It is shame that not everyone seems to like fairies. The Heavenly Father created you as well as humans, you know."
"It is a shame." whispered Margie. She sighed, and the brightened once more."But come, let us not talk of such things."
Flying down to where the two children stood, she landed. Placing her hand on the girl child, for one was a girl and the other a boy, she smiled.
"Dearest, this is my oldest child, Clair." Motioning the black haired boy she continued." And this is my son, Joseph."
Both of the younger fairies frowned, but bowed politely.
Not sure what to do next, Mother shut the door and invited them to come into the kitchen for tea.
She walked around the room preparing the tea as they sat on the table whispering among themselves. They seemed to be sharing some secret when she came over with a plate of cookies for them. If there was a secret at all, she never found out, for they quieted.
An akward silence filled the room as mother turned to get the tea which was steaming cheerfully over the fire in the little brick fireplace.
Using a hankerchief to protect her elf from burns, mother took the tea carefully away from the fire. Slowly, she walked back over to the table.
Sitting down at one of the seats, for there were two, she pushed the cookie plate in the fairy's direction.
"There you, sugar cookies." She smiled as she poured a cup of tea.
Clair, with a haughty air, frowned."There too big, in case you have not noticed."
Margie frowned at the girl, but Claire continued. This time she adressed her mother.
"You never mentioned that your friend was a human, mother." She crossed her arms over a silk looking wite dress.
Margie, who did turn red from embarassment, took a crumb from one of the cookies."So what if she is a human? The Heavenly Father loves her, as much as he loves you or me."
Joseph spoke up."Mother, do you realize what will happen if someone finds out where we are?"
Mother shifted uncomfortably in her chair."I have little acorns that would be splendid tea cups for one's your size."
Clair smirked."See Joseph?" She stood up."We, the prince and princess of the fairies come and visit a human. Then, as if we were some commoner, she offers acorn tea cups when we are used to gold."
Piir mother. She had been sipping from one of her very fine china tea cups when the girl had said this. She dropped it out of suprisement, and it broke.
"R-r-royal?" She croaked.
Margie, having just finished her cookie crumb, stood and went to her friend.
"I mean't to tell you, Dearest." She sent a glare to her children." You see, I married the fairy prince who is now fairy king."
Mother, in a bit of shock and hurt from the younger fairies words, bent to clean the cup. Salty tears rolled down her white round cheeks as she picked the little cup up piece by piece.
The two younger fairies, ashamed of their cruel words, flew down to help her.
"I'm sorry, Miss Dearest." cried Clair as she held up a chip from the cup to cup to mother."It was quite rude of me, and of Joseph to act so....."
"Meanly." finshed Joseph for her. Unfortunately, he lost his balance as he was holding the handle, and tumbled to the floor, breaking it into two.
Mother gently patted his head when she saw tears in his oval shaped, brown eyes."It's alright, 'tis only an accident."
Margie, having watched her two children, glided over to where the broken pieces laid all over the table.
"Oh!" she squealed excitedly." The cup broke into pefect puzzle pieced."
Mother frowned, despite her effort of not showing how much she would miss the little tea cup.
The white haired fairy's lips turned up."Cheer up." she commanded mother."With this wand of mine, your cup will be as good as new."
A wand the size of a needle appeared in her hand. It sparkled, and shined, making it a pretty thing to look at. Taking the wand, Margie twisted it around and then....
"Your fixed it!" cried mother in triumph."Oh thank you, Margie."
The fairy queen smiled."Anything for an old friend." She watched her children nibble on a very small crumb of cookie."And, to them, a new friend."
So the little tea party went. The faires drank form the hollow acorns, and mother from the newly fixed cup.
Soon they engaged themselves in various topics of conversation. Like what had happened to the freckled boy down the street who had been sweet on mother? Was Heather Flopsy really the richest woman, under the queen, in the land? Why, she had been the dirtiest and poorest thing in all of Roseford(where mother and Margie had grown up.)
Being queen of the fairies, Margie was usally accompanied my guards. It was soon evident that this trip was like any other, for sounds of buzzing wings could be heard all around the little cottage in the woodland.
Tme flew swiftly by, and soon Margie and her children had to leave.
Clair gave mother a daisy of small size, but the thought was counted to mother. Joesph had brought no gift, but gave her a kis on the cheek. He proclaimed that a fairy's kiss keeps the wrinkles away, and mother laughed.
The two younger fairies exited the house, but Margie lingered a moment.
"Dearest?" she said, as mother bent down to give the fairy queen a wrapped present.
Mother, got on her knees, but was still a giant to the smaller woman.
"Yes?" she answered.
Margie flew up again to put there eyes direscty in level."I knowyou want a child, is it not so?"
A true blush of scarlet spread over mother's cheeks."Well,I-yes, I do."
Nodding her head, the fairy queen clapped her ands together in delight."I have reason to believe that soon you will be given the challnge of taking care of a child." She claped once more."It shall not be your child, but you will cherise her as you would a child of your own."
"When?" mother imapatiently asked.
Margie flew out the door, and turned around for one last look at mother."When news of my next's child birth shall come and you hear, then shall the babe appear."
Mother began to follow them outside, but they zipped off in a flash.
The woman in the little woodland cottage closed the door, now pondering if what the fairy said was to be.
Here's more of Chloe, and thanks y'all for the encouraging comments!
Chloe looked around the room now that the girl had disappeared. It seemed calm and quiet without her rantings. “What on earth have I gotten myself into?” she said to herself. She began to forget this was a dream, so she didn’t think to wake up. Chloe knew there were two more people that would come with gifts. Would they all be annoying like the orphan ‘gell’? She had no idea. All there was to do was wait.
She expected for the next character to slowly float across the room with a candle, like the hunchback and the little girl, but the next one did not. As Chloe wondered about how the next person would be, they suddenly showed up in front of her face. There was no gradual appearance about it. The man stood— or floated— right there.
He was an elderly man with a sweet, simple look about him. His soft eyes twinkled in the light of the lantern he carried. He smiled at Chloe, tipping his hat.
“Good evening, Miss Chloe.”
“Good evening, sir.” She stood up on her bed and made a curtsy with her nightgown. “Or is it morning by now?”
The man raised his eyebrows and said, “That don’t matter right now, because I have come to bring you a gift.”
“Oh goody, what is it?” Chloe said.
He looked down at the basket on his arm. “Eggs.”
Chloe looked confused. Twisting up her mouth, she repeated, “Eggs?”
“Yes, ma’am, eggs.”
Looking into his basket, she saw it was full of fresh, large, eggs. “How charming.”
“Aren’t they? I have white eggs,” he said every word very slowly and carefully, “and brown eggs.”
“Oh. That’s, er, lovely, sir.”
“They are indeed lovely. And they fresh, too, so they taste very good.”
There was a silence. Chloe didn’t know what to say about the man’s eggs, and that seemed to be the only thing he wanted to talk about. “Thank you, sir,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Are they from your farm?”
“My farm? Well, that don’t matter much, does it? That don’t change the way they taste.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Do you like eggs very much?” he said.
“I guess so. We might have them for breakfast in the morning.”
“Oh, that’s good. You know how good eggs are.”
“I do, sir.”
This simply would not do. Chloe knew if she heard the word ‘egg’ one more time, she might go mad. She tried to think of an excuse to make the man leave. He was sweet, but she could not stand the conversation. There didn’t seem to be a polite way to excuse him. She hoped he would leave on his own.
“Well then, Miss Chloe, I’ll have to go now. There is a young lady who has to show you your last gift.”
The old gentleman tipped his hat once again, and all in a moment vanished.
I am not going to post my other story on here, but I have another one. It is my version of Thumbeina, but her name is Thimble.
Little Cottage In The Woodland
It was in the eighth year of King Joe, a simple name for a king if you ask me, when mother became an orphan. Being seventeen at the time, however, she was old enough to fend for herself.
So after selling all of her parent's belongings, for she needed the money from them, she packed up to move.
Traveling for days and days on a very boring dirt road, she finally came to a little woodland area. In the woodland she found a house, a cottage to be exact, and with her animals she set up her new home.
The two brown cows that gave the rich creamy milk had been sold. It had been hard, but she was thankful to the Heavenly Father for the large black and white spotted cow. True, it gave more milk then she could ever dream to use, but the extra milk was given to the two curly tailed pigs. The pink pigs enjoyed the milk, and so less was needed to feed them.
Ten horses had been how many she owned, but they too had to be sold. The only one she kept was Digoree , a black male horse that was too old and worn to be sold at a proper price.
Sixteen chickens found their keep, and so she only sold their eggs. They were red chickens, with light red combs, and dull yellow legs. Though their stick thin legs were dull from age, the hens still could lay eggs as good as any bright legged hen. A chicken coop and fencing had already been built at the tiny woodland cottage, and so in they went.
So the young freckled face girl with the chocolate brown hair, deep set green eyes, and the sunny yellow dress lived in the little woodland cottage. For years and years, save the small group of farm animals, she lived there all alone.
Every morning, whether crispy blue or dreary grey, she would set to doing her chores. First she would milk the cow, who enjoyed swiping it's long tail in her face. Next she would give the curly tailed pink pigs some milk and the previous night's leftovers. Then she would go the barn, give Digory an apple, and get the corn for the sixteen red feathered hens. After feeding the hens, who sometimes pecked at her bare toes, she would go inside to fix herself some breakfast.
Eating breakfast never took long ince she only had one person to cook for, and one person to wash dishes for. So after asking the Heavnly Father to bless the food, she would eat her usal scrambled egg, and drink her one glass of milk.
Then after eating her eggs, and drinking her milk, she would clean. Starting with washing her dishes, she would then dust all four rooms on the first floor, and then the four rooms on the top floor. Moving on to cleaning the windows, she would wipe them until they were speckle free. Carefully she would shake out the green bed covers of her bed. Then neatly and orderly, she would make her bed bed up.
On Tuesdays, and on Thurdays, she would do the laundry. This consisted of washing the blankets, flowered pillow cases, her three dresses, animal blankets, and any other unclean material the house had.
Mondays, Wednesdays, and on some Saturdays, she would go over the whole house with a mop. Up and down, left and right, no tiny crumb or spot of dirt would be left in sight.
Sweeping was an everyday, twice a day job. Aside from feeding the animals, and fluffing her two little pillows, this was one her favorite chores.
Finally came the first day of the week, Sunday. She would set aside all chores to worship The Heavenly Father and read His book of Love and Truth. After that, she would eat, feed the animals, and rest.
Those were her days for twenty years. Day in and day out she lived this way, and never did it bother her. That is, until one day a letter from a childhood friend put a longing in her heart.
The letter read:
My dearest friend,
It has been a great many years since we last spoke. Since you departed to go and live in your little woodland cottage, much has happened. I have wed(remember how we used to stay up late describing the man we would marry?), and have been blessed by The Heavnely Father above with two children. Another child is on it's way, but before I can no longer get out, I would love to come and visit you. Please send a letter in return with your answer. Until then, my friend, The Heavenly Father bless you,
Margie.
Mother was quite glad of receiving the letter, and yet a prick of sadness came with it.
But, being the grateful and happy woman she was, she prudently replied that she would enjoy a visit from her friend. She also added that she would be glad if Margie brought her children along for the visit.
Two weeks later as mother checked the little tree stump mail box for a letter, Margie's long awaited reply came.
Dearest, thank you for answering. I had begun to fret that I had the wrong address. I and my two children, The Heavnly Father willing, shall be there two days after the full moon in autumn. My husband shall not be able to come due to his work, but he trusts that you will keep us safe. With a happy heart, The Heavenly Father bless you,
Margie.
The news was very exciting for mother. Only two days after the full moon, and the first guest she ever had would be there.
Rushing into the house she scurried to check the little homemade calender on the double door cubbard. Placing a finger on the date of the full moon, she realized that it had been the night before.
This of course mean't Margie and her children, The Heavenly Father willing, would be arriving the very next day.
And she went about to redo the mopping. After all, it was Wednesday.
“That was very odd,” Chloe said to herself, “Things just keep getting stranger tonight. I do wonder what will happen next? I hope the gift won’t be something like a spider; I detest spiders! How terrible that would be, for me to expect a real gift and then get spiders! Well then, I shan’t expect anything good at all. That way I won’t be disappointed when I do get a spider.”
She suddenly had a feeling that spiders were crawling up her back. Letting out a scream, Chloe jumped up and tried to get them off. Then she realized that there were no real spiders on her. She crawled back into bed, though sometimes fearing the spiders had gotten into her bedcovers. She reprimanded herself for being so foolish and waited for her present. The clock ticked slowly. Chloe wondered how long it would be until her gift would arrive. She wanted to get out of her bed and light a candle to see if it was already there, but there was no candle to light. She also wondered whether the gift would appear out of nowhere, or whether someone would bring it to her, and if it was going to be a person, would they be like the old hunchback? She grunted in frustration and gave the quilts a kick.
She could not tell what time it was, and felt she would go mad if she could not know the hour. She presumed it had to be after 10:30; more likely 11:00. As she wondered, Chloe did not realize that another person appeared in the dark corner of her bedroom.
Chloe turned her head to this corner and saw the silhouette of the tiny figure. This creature, like the hunchbacked old man, was miniature, and floated towards her very slowly. They held a candle that produced a dim light, being dim because it was such a small candle and it was at the other end of the room. Full of anxiety, Chloe watched it move closer towards her.
The figure stumbled (though Chloe didn’t know how someone could stumble and float at the same time) towards her, and once it was about three feet away from her face, she could make out what it was.
It was a girl. She appeared to be around nine years old, dressed in a dingy dress. She wrapped a blanket around herself and pulled the top of it around her head like a hood. Her boots were worn, and her hair was dirty and tangled. She held an empty, shabby basket, and was followed by a little brown terrier. She kept a maudlin smile on her face, which Chloe did not very much like.
“Hello, Chloe,” she whispered timidly.
She answered, “Hello. Are you bringing the first gift?”
“Yes, I am, but I’m a little o-o-orphan gell!” The child said the last five words with a distinct rhythm and her voice went up or down on each word.
“You are?”
“Yes, I’m a little orphan gell.” The orphan said this with the same inflections as before.
“I’m sorry.”
Holding out her basket, the “gell” called out, “Alms for the poor, alms for the poor!”
Chloe was rather confused. She thought the girl would give her a gift, not the other way around. She didn’t have any money left, because she had spent it all on Christmas gifts.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything to give you, but I supposed you would be bringing me my gift,” ending the sentence like a question.
The orphan looked around, acting a little perplexed. Her eyes suddenly grew large as she shouted, “Ooh, now I remember! Hmm, but I can’t remember where I put the gift. I was to bring it to you. I don’t even know how I could manage to come here, because I work at the factory all day and all night. My life is just so hard, and I don’t have enough money to eat, so I have to skip meals often. Oh, my life is so hard! Aren’t I sad? Isn’t my life miserable? Aren’t I a poor wretch?”
She didn’t know what to say in reply. What the child had said might have been sad if she hadn’t been determined she was the most pitiable creature ever lived. In truth, she was downright annoying.
The orphan’s dog suddenly started barking and shaking the little basket he held in his mouth. The girl gasped in delight, surprise, and remembrance. She picked up the basket, pulled out a small, blue blanket. After unfolding it, she shook the dust and dirt off the thing. Finally, she smoothed it out and held it to Chloe.
Chloe didn’t much like the appearance of the blanket. It look thin and scratchy, and it had holes in it. At first, she wanted to scold herself for being so ungrateful. Then she noticed that if the girl had made it with care, it would have showed on her face. Her countenance bore no loving expression. Despite her opinion of the gift— and the girl— Chloe thanked her.
“You are welcome. I made it in the few hours I get at night when I don’t have to work. Because you know I am a miserable wretch who has to work from 5:00 in the morning to 10:00 at night. I don’t even know how I got my poor hands on the supplies to make this little blanket, even though I work night and day at a cotton factory. Oh, poor me! poor, poor me!
“Anyway, I’ll have to set the blanket down on your bed, Chloe. All right? And you musn’t touch it until the hunchbacked man comes back. All right? Because you’re going to get two more gifts tonight. All right? So I’ll have to go now. All right? Back to the factory, where I’ll spend the rest of my poor, wretched life. All right? Good night.”
The orphan child dissolved into the darkness just as the old man.
Chloe slowly opened her eyes, expecting it to be morning. But it was still dark. Very dark. Then she remembered she had put out the candle. She turned over to see if her siblings were still in their beds, but they weren’t, and the beds were gone, too. She wished she could look at the clock, but it was too black to read it. “I wonder how long I’ve been asleep?” she wondered, “Or is this a dream?” It was rather difficult to tell whether this was a dream, because everything was as it had been before she fell asleep, except for David and Clara’s beds. “Dreams usually happen quicker than this. If I was in a dream, then something would have happened by now, would it not?” Chloe’s thoughts changed quickly. “But what if this isn’t my dream, what if it is someone else’s? Ha, what a funny thought! Perhaps someone in China is having this dream. How queer this is. But maybe it is my dream. I do wish I could know!”
“Well then, I shall have to look about the room and see if this is still my room.” Slowly, gradually, the light of a candle appeared at the other end of the bedroom. “Why, thank you,” said Chloe. She did not even begin to wonder why a candle came out of nowhere and whether anyone or anything was holding it.
She looked around the room, and seeing that the dressing table and the washstand and the dresser and her bed were in place, she decided that this was indeed her room. Chloe noticed the candlelight was growing brighter, and it seemed it was coming closer to her. By now, it was halfway across the room, but she could not tell if it was floating on its own or being carried. “Perhaps it’s the ghost of the Candle that I put out earlier? How I regret that now. I never should’ve done the thing. Now this Ghost Candle will haunt me for the rest of my life.” Chloe sighed hopelessly. “There’s a slight chance he might forgive me, if I apologize really from my heart. And then he might come back to life! How lovely that would be. Then we would have a tea party celebrating…” She was going to finish her sentence, when she saw the most shocking sight, which took her breath away and made her heart skip two beats.
What was holding the candle was a man, eight inches tall. He had a hunchback and wore a green hooded cloak. His face was white and wrinkled, his enormous eyes all black. He had a large hooked nose, crooked teeth, and a wart above his bushy eyebrows. And to Chloe’s surprise, he didn’t walk, but float over to her. Slowly, slowly, slowly, until he reached her face.
Chloe screamed and tried to hide from it, but it was of no use. The ugly old man was already staring into her eyes, hunched over his candle. “Who, who, who are you, Mister?” she shrieked.
“Me?” he replied, in a low, raspy, whispery voice. “I’m me. And who are you? You are you, but that doesn’t matter now, does it?” Before waiting for Chloe to answer, he said, “Good. Now, Mees Chloe, I haf come to tell you that eet ees Christmas Eve, late Christmas Eve.
She nodded her head slowly. She did not know what he might say next, and if she was in trouble for anything.
“Good, good. Miss Chloe, you will be ebble to have one gift early. What would you think af that?”
Chloe swallowed and said in a whisper, “That would be splendid, Me.”
“Me? No, I’m me. You’re you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, You.”
“No. You’re you, I’m me!” the old man said, becoming very agitated.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to call you. But yes, I would love to have one of my presents early, sir.”
“And what would you think eef you could choose the one you would have?”
“All the better, sir.”
“Very well then, Mees Chloe, you wheel be ebble to choose between three geefts tonight… you may only keep one. Understewed?”
Chloe, shaking with fear, answered, “Yes, sir.”
“Wonderfool. A person wheel come with a geeft, woon at a time. Understewed?”
She nodded her head slowly. She wished desperately that she could say something to make this old man go away, but she couldn’t think of anything. Chloe was worried that he might talk all night instead of letting her see the “geefts”. Every moment she was growing more frightened of him.
“Very well then, Chloe, you shall see your first geeft. Soon.”
“But Mr. Me, I mean You, I mean whatever your name is, why are you staying here and talking? I only want to see my gifts.”
“Oh, yes, yes, I forgoat ebbout that. I shall haf to depart.”
At these words, Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. She watched the eight inch tall man dissolve into the air like sugar into tea. Sitting in the darkness once again, she waited for the first gift to arrive.
Done. My first completed work. I know it's weird. Y'all don't have to like it.
Chloe stared up at her clock. “The second hand is too slow,” she groaned, tossing and turning in her bed. Though the Christmas Eve was cold, and the snow was piled out her window, the frost etched onto the glass, the quilts were unbearably hot, making Chloe even more anxious for her bedroom clock to tell midnight. She could sneak downstairs and see if Santa Claus had already arrived, but she was afraid of waking her brother and sister. She could read a book until she fell asleep, but the heat made her feel too lazy to reach for the fairytale book on her nightstand. She could talk to herself in the darkness. She could do anything but stay waiting. What time was it? 10:00 at night. Too long to wait. Chloe remained staring at the ceiling, thinking she could hear jingle bells, but not exactly sure of it. She looked up at the clock again. Still 10:00. When would a minute pass? “Now how long would it take at this rate for it to be midnight?” she said to herself. “Well, let’s see. If each minute actually equals 5 minutes, then you times that by… 12, I’m sure. And 5 times 12 is certainly 80.” Chloe was too tired to make proper math figures that she knew very well how to solve during the day. Her brain felt foggy. She felt too tired to fall asleep. “And if you times 80 by 2, because it’s two hours until midnight, you get 180. Yes, that’s right.” Not only did the heat make her feel anxious, but it also made her rather stupid.
Chloe stood up on her bed, flipped the pillow over, and laid down again. “Bother, now my quilts are all messed up. Well, it doesn’t even matter, since I’m not going to get to sleep. I wonder if my eyes will have black circles around them if I don’t get to sleep. Like a raccoon. I wish I could see a raccoon, because I’ve only seen the skins. But don’t they bite people and eat raw eggs? Yes, just like the wolves. And raccoons are a member of the dog family. I wonder if I’ll get a dog for Christmas? Probably not. If anyone were to get a dog, it would be David. He’s wanted one longer than me. And Santa doesn’t even know if I want one? Do I want one? Oh no, I hope he won’t bite me. The dog, that is, not Santa. Then I’d have to get rid of him, how tragical! Who would I give the poor thing to? I don’t think Ada is allowed to have a dog, and Charlotte already has three. Oh dear. Whatever shall I do?”
Once again, Chloe jerked up from her bed and kicked the blankets around. What time could it be now? Certainly 11:00 by now. She stared at the clock. It was only 10:02. “Augh, I will never get to sleep!” she shouted out loud, and immediately clapped her hands over her mouth. “That will never do, you bad girl Chloe. You’ll wake up Clara and David, and then imagine what great trouble you would be in,” she berated herself. She grumbled about how she hated this and once again how she would never fall asleep and then night would last for at least a week, and how she had never been awake for one entire week. “But Polly from school says she has, but I know how Polly is such a dreadful liar. When will something happen?” The clock read 10:03. Finally some time had passed. But not enough time. Chloe thought it rightly deserved to be 11:30 by now. She turned to look at her siblings. They were sleeping so quietly that she felt sorry that she might have disturbed their rest in the slightest. She feared she had disrupted one of their dreams, and perhaps have put a horrible monster in it, turning it into a nightmare. And what a horrible thing to have a nightmare on Christmas Eve! Chloe was in such fear that she had caused this that she became more agitated. The quilts were always soft, so why did they choose tonight to be scratchy. Why did her nightgown choose tonight to have an itchy place in the back where she couldn’t reach? Why did the candle decide to be so flickering, instead of keeping a steady light? She scolded the poor Candle, and told it that the flicker was making her stay awake, and hurting her eyes. It needed to decide to either keep a bright light or no light at all. The candle must have taken this scolding very harshly, because its wax tears began to fall down the candlestick.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Candle. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry I lost my temper, oh, do forgive me.”
The Candle showed no change of mind. It stopped crying, but kept flickering.
“Now Candle dear, I apologized, so you should accept my apology. I shall hug you and then you shall forgive me, alright?”
Chloe reached out with her thumb and her forefinger and tenderly wrapped them around the candlestick, when a drop of hot wax rolled down and burned her little finger. She shrieked and instantly jerked her hand away from the rebellious Candle. She sucked on her hurt finger. “Well, if that’s not the rudest thing ever been done to me!” She licked her thumb also, and put the candle out. “Serves him right. Awful thing.” After a long pause, she said, “Now I’m all alone in the dark.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “No, I must be brave. I am not alone, because David and Clara are still in here. And if I shut my eyes, it won’t seem dark anymore.” And thus, Chloe fell asleep in peace. Or so it would seem.
It was a cool November evening. The skies were blue-gray and the sun was starting to set on the horizon. It was a beautiful evening, but no one would enjoy it.
A man with broad shoulders and light brown hair stepped out of his car and looked carefully at the surrounding houses None of the houses looked lived in, but finally he selected a little old blue house on the corner. It appeared to be the most recently lived in. James Marker knocked but heard no response, so he entered. “Hello? He called. Still no response. He walked into the dark kitchen, it smelled of old food and death. He opened the pantry. The smell was so horrible that he could taste it. There were a lot of canned foods. He closed the pantry again, and started searching the rest of the house. He checked the bedrooms and the linen closet and found some blankets and few other trivial things, but he what he really wanted to find, was a survivor. He opened the door to the master bedroom and stopped cold when he saw a dead woman on the bed. He was horrified and quickly retreated. Searching for survivors was harder than he had thought. As he was heading back to the front door, he noticed a small note on the dining room table. He picked it up and read it.
Please, whoever finds my little home, don't hesitate to take things.
I know that I will be dead by the time you get here, so please take
my things! I hate to see it all wasted. Also, if you see my little cat,
Fluffy, would you please be so kind as to take care of him?
Izzy
The note was written in a shaky hand and James had to read it twice before he could make out what it said.
“Hm,” he said softly to himself.
He wanted to get out of house, but he decided to honor the woman's wishes. So he took another look around. He found a few sheets and blankets that could come in handy and he took the canned good out of the pantry. He couldn't find Fluffy anywhere though, so he left the house, tossed the things he'd gathered into the trunk of his car and got into the drivers seat. In the passenger seat sat a dark haired woman with a book in her slender hands. She looked up from the book as James got into the car.
“Are you okay?”
James glanced at her and replied, “Fine. I'm fine, Amy.”
Amy frowned. “I'm not convinced.”
“There was a dead woman in there. We keep looking for survivors, we've been looking for nearly a month, but all I see is death. I'm just not sure how much longer I can take this...”
Amy touched his shoulder sympathetically, unsure of how to reply.
“Do you think we'll ever find anyone? I mean, I found you, but it feels like we're the last ones left,” James said quietly.
“I don't think we're the last ones. God promised that He wouldn't wipe the earth out like that again,” Amy replied.
“If you hadn't noticed, I don't exactly believe in God.”
“Well, I believe in Him and I'm quite sure that there are more people left.”
James frowned. “If God were real, he'd show us in some way. If He loves us, He'd show it. Instead, all I see is death, pain and suffering. If your God is real then He wouldn't put us through this.”
“God does love you, James. So much in fact that He-”
“Stop! I don't want to hear anymore. My day has been stressful enough. The last thing I need is to have this conversation again!.”
Amy fell silent and turned.
James frowned and pulled away from the curb. He didn't say anything and didn't look at Amy. He just wanted to get some sleep. He wanted to wake up from this horrible dream.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
A girl of about fourteen or fifteen, Stephanie Monroe. She had chin length sandy-blond hair and she sat curled up in a window seat. The light of the moon reflected in Her bright blue eyes and the tears streaming from them. Her thoughts were far away. On what had led to all of this, trying to make sense of it.
Just a year ago, a virus had popped up in Asia and had in a few months it had into Europe and the Americas. It had been discovered by Dr. Bradford Goode. So it had been named after him. And the Goode epidemic began. Everyone panicked. Thousands of people were infected. It was like a flash flood and everyone started drowning. Schools were shut down. And work on a vaccine started. After three months it was released. Many rushed out to get, while others doubted that such a hastily made vaccine would be reliable and still others didn't believe in getting vaccines, ever.
Stephanie's family had been amongst the people who didn't believe in getting vaccines. Then her seven year-old sister, Sylvia, had gotten the virus. She just kept getting worse and her parents had taken her to the hospital. While Stephanie and her thirteen year-old brother, Jordan had stayed home. Sylvia had died that night and her parents had been forced into getting the vaccine while they were at the hospital. Shortly after they got the vaccine, they started acting oddly, almost drunken, then they just seemed to slip into a state of stupor.
A week after that, The U.S. had decided to follow in the footsteps of several other countries and force the vaccine upon the people. If you didn't get the vaccine, it would be forced upon you and you would face five years confinement. Most of the people willingly got the vaccine, but others rebelled. They got it forced upon them. Then came the horrible realization that the vaccine was more dangerous than the virus. They had the same reaction as Stephanie's parents. They started acting drunken, then fell into a stupor. After a few weeks their brains completely shut down and they died. Withing a few months, most of the population of the Earth was dead and gone. Leaving Stephanie horribly alone.
After a while, Stephanie turned her thoughts back to the present. She knew that she couldn't stay here, but she didn't want to leave. This had been her home for the past six years. It held everything that her family had owned and held dear. Now it was empty, except for her and the dog. She'd let the cat out yesterday and he hadn't returned. Maybe it was for the best that way. After all, it would be hard to travel with a cat. It would be much easier to travel with the dog.
As she sat there wondering what to bring and what to leave, she heard a noise that she hadn't heard in a long time. For a moment she froze, then she ran out the door into the front yard and nearly fell to her knees in relief. A car! There were still people alive! She ran towards the street and the car stopped abruptly upon seeing her. A broad shouldered man in his mid-thirties stepped out of the car, surprise written all over his face. They stared at each other for a few moments, shocked. Before either of them said anything, a tall woman in her late twenties stepped out of the car and said, “Hello! I'm Amy Hanson,” as though this were a normal meeting.
“Hello... I'm Stephanie,” the Stephanie replied still shocked but a smile was coming to her lips. She hadn't smiled in over a month. It felt good.
The man had an odd look on his face, “I'm James Marker.”
“Okay,” Amy said, “Stephanie... Are you the only person here or are there others?”
Stephanie stiffened and looked away. “It's just me.”
Amy looked sad and sympathetic at the same time and put a hand on Stephanie's shoulder. “You okay?”
Stephanie pulled away a bit and shrugged. “As good as I'm gonna feel I guess.”
She then looked over Amy's shoulder to James, “Um, Mr. Marker-”
“It's James,” James cut her off.
“Okay then, I'm Stevie.” Stephanie replied. “Would you and Amy like to come inside?”
Hello Lady Authoresses. It's been a little bit since anyone had posted, and I finally decided to post. However first I would like to annouce that Laura is doing Nanowrimo( The National Novel Writing Month). It is when you write a 50k novel in thirty days. Anyway, the reason I am telling this is because I just wanted to encourage Laura in this and wish her well in doing so. With the LORD's help, I know you can do it.
Okay, with that being said, I thought I would post a story finally. Since there were two votes for "When The Moon Turns Pale", The good LORD willing it shall be the one I post for now. Here is part one of chapter one of it:
Drip.....drip.....drip, drip, drip..... fell the water from the roof of the library. A hole, no larger then a grown human's thumb, allowed the tiny droplets from outside to sneak their wet selves inside. The dripping sound it made began to drive the red headed girl, who was sitting by a little candlelit table , crazy. Perhaps even insane. She grimaced as it kept repeating, only two feet from where she now was reading.
Steadily turning the brown books leafy page, yellow and old from time, her finger slipped. Down it went, slicing against the edge of the page, and causing a horrible pain to reach her nerves.
"Ow!" she yelped in distress. Blood droplets, as big as the rain droplets were, slid down her finger and onto the wooden oak desk. Drip, drip, drip.
The nearest piece of cloth to her was the brown dress she wore. She wrapped her finger in the folds of the scratchy material, pressing it hard to stop the red stream.
She held it that way while standing up. With no free hand, she could not close the book that layed on the table. Rushing out of the room,she ran down some back wooden stairs, up some stone stairs, and into the warmth of the bustling castle kitchen.
Not to alarm anyone, she walked up slowly to her friend Breeanne. Her thin white hand reached out to touch the sleeve of the brown hair girl, who was stirring some stew in a large pot by the spitting fire. It's flames caused her face to glow the same orange color, and her face was covered in sweat. But though she looked to be suffering, a smile remained on her lips, and she faithfully did her work.
When the tug of her sleeve made her turn around, Valina, the red hair girl, held her finger up to show the wound.It was still gushing sticky red droplets. Breeanne hung the spoon on a peg hanging on the wall. She grabbed Valina's wrist, and pulled her out of the kitchen. No words were spoken, but Valina knew the exact place they were now heading to.
In a quiet like voice, Breeanne called through a tiny stone door at the end of the hallway, staright from the kitchen.
"Chess? Are you in there?" She opened the door, and dragged Valina behind.
Valina began to tremble in fear."Now Breeanne, you know I despise the thought of having my skin sewn back together.....and I am sure it just needs someone to wrap it so my dress can stop turning from brown to red." She made a gesture to show the red stain in her dress.
"Back here!" called a voice from further in the room. Sure enough, there sat Princess, or Chess as everyone called her as to not confuse her with the real Princess. Seeing the two figures step into the light where shesewed tiny vine designs on a silken white dress, she dropped her kneedle. Then shr saw the blood.
"Oh dear!" she exclaimed." What ever has happened to poor Valina?" she smiled a mean little grin.
Valina rolled her eyes, ignored 'Pin Prin', and waited for Breanne to speak.
Breeanne spoke little, and now was no different from any time. She made her way to the scrap material pile, and bent down to look through. Ignoring the silk, despising the sack, she finally found a thick piece of material made of cotton. It looked like the material from a servants apron, and Valina smiled to herself while happily thinking of how funny it was that Chess had to sew servant's aprons and dresses. The same dresses that she wore.
Breeanne asked Chess something, too quietly for Valina to hear what it was. Chess agreed, and sat down to return to her stitching.
Breeanne placed the material around Valina's finger, making a bandage. The bleeding had stopped some, which relieved Valina.
When finished tying a knot to hold it in place, Breeanne waved goodbye to Chess, then she waved goodbye to Valina. Smiling as she usually does, she moved back through the door, up the hall, and vanished into the kitchen.
Not wanting to be left alone with Chess, Valina nodded to the other girl, as is required, then half ran through the door and shut it as loud as she could behind her. No matter how much Chess picked on her status, she would never give her the saisfaction that 'Pin Prin', a seamstress, was better then her.
I need to explain why I haven't posted Stonewater in awhile. I've got caught up between two writing commitments. One was to finish Chloe; one that I think I have been putting off. Chloe is nearly done, so once I finish it, I will continue with Stonewater. Thanks for being patient with me.
On another note, when do y'all think I should start posting Chloe on here? It's a Christmastime story, so I don't know when I should start putting it on the blog. Should I start on December 1? Please tell me.
One last idea before I go, should we have entry categories on here? You know, that way we could keep the posts more organized. Just a thought, nothing needs to be done about it.
Temporary title, I don't know if I will keep it or not.
Alrighty! It has certainly been awhile since I last visited this club. I am sooo sorry for neglected ya'll!
So I have started a new novel and let's just say it's....different. I don't know if any of you read Redwall or the Warrior series but I have recently decided to try something different! Usually my stories are romance/fantasy but this time I decided to write about animals...talking animals. Strange, I know! But I'm always open to try new things and I have to say so far I am really enjoying this noval. It has been a lot of fun and I can hardly leave it alone!
Now, if any of you have read the Warrior series then you may think I am copying Erin Hunter. Well, I definently got my insperation from her but I am in no way trying to copy her. I also got insperation from the fact that I LOVE wild cats! Ocelots are my favourite! =)
Alright, I hope you enjoy! Oh and by the way I love the new template! It's absalutly lovely!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Prologue
Sranh jumped to the top of the meeting rock, muscles rippling as he did so. Standing straight and tall , he called out to the other cats around him. "Let us join together in a meeting."
He watched as lynxes, leopards, ocelots, cougars, tigers, and fellow jaguars gathered in the clearing. The cats watched him with anger in their eyes, all thinking the same thing.
Sranh nodded toward one of the leopards and waited for him to push a cougar forward. The cat looked completely confused and scared.
"We have before us a cat that has betrayed us." Sranh yowled out.
The large group of cats all became loud as they yelled in protest, cursing the traitor's name. "Harne, Harne!"
With a flick of his tale, Sranh beckoned for the cats to quiet and they did so, lapsing into a angry silence.
"What should we do to this traitor?" Sranh called out, his voice strong.
A female tiger, lithe muscles, ran forward and sprang upon the rock. Standing beside Sranh she began to speak.
"Harne betrayed his family. And through them he betrayed mine. Do we really want him around? If he lives around us he can easily plan another attack. I say banish him!"
Her words brought the voices of many cats chanting, "Exile, exile, exile." A slow, steady chant that grew louder and louder. Harne sat in the middle of it, looking small and defeated.
The female tiger jumped back to the ground, leaving Sranh up on the rock.
Sranh growled out at the cats, silencing them once again. "Kelia's right! He shouldn't be around!"
Everyone watched as Kelia walked past Harne, stopping briefly to snarl at him. "Traitor." She hissed.
"Then it's settled." Sranh said. "Harne, I banish you from your Tribe. You are no longer allowed anywhere near your former Tribe, nor the Tribes of any other cats."
Harne jumped a step closer to Sranh and protested, "But I didn't do it! It wasn't me who led them here. You have the wrong cat!"
"Quiet." Growled Sranh. "We don't want to hear any more from you. It's no use trying to pin the blame on somebody else. You are now...an outcast."
Hey y'all, it's Finscoth again with a very very short exerpt from my story "Chloe's Peculiar Christmas Eve Adventure". I will start posting the real thing in December, but untill then, here is a taste of it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chloe screamed and tried to hide from it, but it was no use. The ugly old man was already staring into her eyes, hunched over his candle. “Who, who, who are you, Mister?” she shrieked.
“Me?” he replied, in a low, raspy, whispery voice. “I’m me. And who are you? You are you, but that doesn’t matter now, dose it?” Before waiting for Chloe to answer, he said, “Good. Now, Miss Chloe, I haf come to tell you that eet ees Christmas Eve. Late, late at night, at Christmas Eve.”
She nodded her head slowly. She was scared of what he would say next, and if she was in trouble for anything.
“Good, good. Miss Chloe, you will be ebble to have one gift early. What would you think af that?”
Chloe swallowed and said in a whisper, “That would be splendid, Me.”
“Me? No, I’m me. You’re you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, You.”
“No. You’re you, I’m me!” the old man said, becoming very agitated.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to call you. But yes, I would love to have one of my presents early, sir.”
“And what would you think eef you could choose the one you would have?”
“All the better, sir.”
“Very well then, Miss Chloe, you wheel be ebble to choose between three geefts tonight… you may only keep one. Understewed?”
Chloe was shaking with fear, but she answered, “Yes, sir.”
Hello Lady Authoresses. Over the past few days, I and the Vice President, Laura, have been working to make this place better for everyone. The things we have done are:
1.Vice President. Without the Vice President, not much probally would have gotten done. As Vice President, Laura is able to answer PM's, allow new members, bann members who do not obey the rules, and take my place if need be.
2. New template. I thank Laura for the lovely new template she did for Lady Authoresses.
3. Rules. There is now a button on our sidebar that says"Please click here to see code of conduct." This will take you to the rules. The rules have also been updated, and I have added one that says you must be a homeschooler to join. Please reread the rules.
4.Link Button. This is just here if you would like a link button to Lady Authoresses.
5. New members. We have four new members, and one old member who has rejoined. I would like to welcome you all, and I hope you enjoy your time at Lady Authoresses.
6.Picture post. What is that? It's a picture I can, or you can, post over your post that says it's your post. For example, I did one for Anna Carwright(does not have to be used):
If you all would like this, I'll just need to know what kind of picture you would like.
Now that I have listed the new things about Lady Authoresses, I woul like to hear from our members. Are the rules okay, does more need to be done, and are you fine with everything? If you have a serious complaint please write me or Laura on our actual blogs, and not on Lady Authoresses.
It was early morning the next day. Alex had just gotten dressed and headed downstairs. Waiting for Scott and Jack to come down, he had a cup of hot tea. Until they came, Alex decided to take a look outside.
The morning was sunny and humid; a stiff, hot breeze blew. The surrounding brushy plants and wildflowers were beginning to wither. He was glad August was nearly over, because the summer had been hot and dry. As he looked further out, he saw a glimpse of the Rocky Mountains. Alex sighed and closed the door, leaving himself outside.
He thought he should probably see how Jeff was doing, since he was sick. Jefferson Carswell was the young man who Jack mentioned the day before. More than just a ranchhand, he was Alex’s closest friend, one of the only people he confided in. At the present time, Carswell was living with the Madisons at the Stonewater, but in the somewhat shabby added room on the side of the house.
Alex knocked on the door of Jefferson’s room. After a few moments’ wait, he answered:
“Come in.”
Stepping inside, Alex said, “G’morning.”
“G’morning,” Jeff replied. “I was just straightening this place up a little bit.” He paused and looked about the cluttered room. “Goodness knows it’s been a long time since that happened. I like it better messy, though, so I’ll have to undo all this cleaning.” He had muttered and slurred his words together as he said this. That was his usual way of speaking.
“I take it you’re feeling better.”
“Yeah, I’m all right.”
“That’s good. It’s not been the best having Jim Astor take your place. He’s— not the most agreeable guy.”
“I’m real sorry ‘bout that, Alex. I hate that I couldn’t work. But about Jim, I know what you mean. I’ve had a run-in or two with him. He seems— I don’t know.” Jeff stopped leaning against the wall and stood up straight, which showed his full height: 6 feet and 4 inches. “I don’t trust him. There’s just this greedy look about him. I think I knew a guy like him before.”
“Really? What did he do, exactly?”
Carswell’s eyes drooped. “He used to be a friend of mine. I guess the whole thing don’t matter, though.”
Alex furrowed his brow.
“It don’t matter, Alex. You wouldn’t want to hear.”
Crossing his arms, he replied, “I think I would. That is if you’d be willing to tell.”
Jeff, sighing, reluctantly said, “Well, it happened before I met y’all and came to the Stonewater. I was already living in Wyoming. I was homesteading and he had a claim near mine.”
“Who’s ‘he’? The guy you mentioned before?”
“Yeah. Him. We were both just starting off with making our way here in the West. He had a temper, like your Astor, but we depended on each other anyway.”
Alex slowly smiled.
“He was a good friend of mine, or at least I thought so. I didn’t notice his jealousy at first. Maybe I did, actually, but I wanted to ignore it. Stupid for me. Long story short, he turned on me. Robbed me of everything I owned, destroyed my property and left me penniless till y’all came along. Alex, I’m afraid that’s what Jim Astor is like. He might seem all right and trustworthy at first, but he’s only a greedy backstabbing monster.”
Alex muttered, “I don’t trust him either, Jeff, but I’ve got myself into a predicament.”
Jeff looked confused and asked what he meant.
Alex bit his lip and fought a shiver. “Jeff, the very last thing I want is for you to get wrapped up in this.”
“Get wrapped up in what?”
“It’s nothing. Really. I can handle it on my own.”
Hey ya'll, Anna Cartwright here! Here is part one of the prologue of my story, I hope you enjoy it!
“What are you two doing?” asked Nalene, who lay in bed as she saw her young children coming in, “You know the doctor doesn’t want you in here.”
“Yes, I know Mama, but…but Enna and I haven’t seen you all week. We’ve missed you so much, and, when the doctor left, we…we just had to come see you. Why hasn’t he let us see you Mama?” said the little boy.
His mother gave a small sigh and answered, “Because I have been very sick Ariock, along with many others in the palace. He is just doing what is best for you. This sickness is very contagious, he doesn’t want either of you to get it, and neither do I. I think you should go back dear, both of you. I only want what is best for you.”
The two children did not leave; they were too young to understand how serious this sickness was. Instead of obeying their mother, Ariock grabbed Enna’s hand and moved closer to the bed. “But…but…I can’t leave, I’ve only just come. Don’t send us away Mama, Enna and I won’t be much trouble, will we?” He looked at his little sister as he said this.
Enna raised her eyebrows, concerned and confused. She didn’t know why her mother, after not seeing them for so long, would want to send them away.
“Well, I suppose you can stay, but do not get any closer to me. Where is your father?”
“He is in court right now. But Mama, you won’t be sick for too much longer, will you?” he asked, “Everything will be back to normal soon, right? Just like it was before, right?”
“No my dear, I won’t be sick for much longer, but no, everything will not be back to the way it was.”
The poor boy didn’t know what to say. He stammered, “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“I am going to go to a wonderful place Ariock, more wonderful than you, or I, or anyone else could ever imagine. I will not have this sickness anymore, and I will never be unhappy, ever again. Do you know why?”
“Why Mama?”
“Because my Father will be there, and He will greet me with open arms. I will never ever be without Him. My Father is your Father, Ariock. Yours, mine, Enna’s, and everyone else who lives and breathes on this earth. He wants everyone to come to Him, and now He is calling me to live with him forever and ever.”
“That is wonderful Mama, can I come with you?”
His mother gave a weak laugh, “No, I’m afraid you can’t come with me. Not yet. It isn’t your time to come yet. You will have to wait until He has called you.”
Tears started falling from the siblings’ eyes and down their cheeks. He and Enna came closer to their mother. “I’ve only just now seen you again, you can’t leave me now, not yet!”
“It is not up to me to decide when I go, me dear. It is up to God. I cannot stop Him.”
Enna and Ariock hugged their mother. Their minds were so full of questions, and did not have enough answers. Their mother also hugged them tightly, and she kissed their cheeks. She said to her children, “I love you very much Ariock, I love you very much Enna.” She laid back in the bed and was no longer ill.
Before I post this, I'd like to say this is our 30th entry, yay! YAY! WE DID IT! *just had a Mr. Smith Goes to Washington moment* And I think I'd like to explain why I don't have much description so far. Stonewater Ranch is sort of therapy for me. I am recovering from all the dreadful books I had to read and stories I wrote that had NO dialogue. Dialogue is my favorite... and best thing... to write, so I'm doing it to help me get better from DDD (Dialogue deprivation disease).
Scott needed to know what was going on. He ran over to the door, swung it open, and darted outside. Here he saw Alex walking in the direction of Silver Waters, Jim Astor’s ranch. Alex didn’t seem very confident, because he was walking so slowly and hestitantly.
“Hey, Alex, didn’t you say you were going into town?”
He turned around and looked at his brother. He said casually, “Yes, but first I needed to work something out with Jim. Is there something wrong?”
“No, just wondered why you seemed sort of upset.”
“If you really want to know, there was just a bit of an argument. You know how Jim’s got a temper.”
“Yeah, I do. See you.”
Scott went back to the house, and Alex went to Silver Waters Ranch. Scott began thinking about how strange it was that their ranch was called Stonewater and Jim Astor’s was called Silver Waters. They both had an “S” and a “W” in the name. The ranches were named on account of the long, winding creek that ran throughout the area. It was quite an odd coincidence, though.
It had been late afternoon when Alex left. It was growing dark now, and he still hadn’t returned. At first, the brothers had planned to wait on him to come back until they ate supper, but as the evening wore on and Alex still wasn’t there, they forgot about that plan. The evening seemed to roll by very slowly. In time, Scott decided to go upstairs, because he didn’t think it very likely for him to come back any time soon. Jack, however remained downstairs.
Finally, at around 10:00 in the evening, Alex stepped through the front door. Jack had almost dozed off leaning against the table. The sound of the door closing woke him up. He looked at Alex and the first thing he noticed about him was that he had a bruise on his cheek.
“How’d you get that, Alex?”
“Got hit on the corner of a door. Jack, would you mind stepping outside? I need to talk with you for a bit.”
They did as he asked, stepping out into the hot, starry night. Alex crossed his arms and looked at Jack in the eye.
“Now, Jack, you wrote a letter earlier today.”
“I did.”
Alex paused, as if he was trying to put his thoughts together. He gazed up into the sky. Then he looked back down at Jack, matching his own blue eyes to Jack’s soft brown eyes. “Who was it to?”
“Why does it matter?” Jack shrugged his shoulders.
“Jack, who was the letter for?” Alex’s voice suddenly shifted to a severe tone.
Jack looked ashamed of himself. “The— the letter was for—”
“Was it for Darcie Astor?”
Darcie was Jim Astor’s much younger sister, who was only seventeen, two years younger than Jack. She lived in Kentucky with her parents, but had come out west to stay with her brother Jim for a few weeks.
When Alex mentioned the name, Jack acted more embarrassed. He hung his head and sighed.
“Don’t feel bad about it, please. I just need to know.”
“Yes,” Jack said nervously, “it was for Darcie.”
“And have you already given it to her?”
No one said anything for a few minutes. Jack kicked a rock around with his boot.
“Jack, have you already given the letter to her?”
Hesitating, he answered, “Yes, I have.”
Alex took a deep breath and was quiet for a moment. “Had you sent her any letter or note or anything before today?”
Jack was so self-conscious that he felt sick. “What, Alex, did you hear something around town?”
“I did. Now Jack, had you sent her anything before the letter you gave today?”
Jack ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair in an agitated way. “Yes,” he mumbled. “What was it you heard about it?”
There was a silence. Alex’s face was expressionless. “In the note, did you say anything about marriage?”
“What? Marriage? Me?” He looked shocked and insulted. “Is that— that what you heard?”
“Yes, it is. I didn’t think that sounded right. Is it?”
“No. I swear I never said anything like that!”
“I figured as much,” Alex muttered. “Thank you, Jack.” He stared off into the distance for a while. Then he focused back on his brother. “Look, I’m sorry I had to confront you like this. I really am.”
Jack did a half-smile, because he didn’t know what to say now.
“Well, I guess we should be heading inside. Come on.”
The two brothers stepped inside the house and closed the door.
Just a reminder...when posting, unless you are saving it as a draft, please to not forget to click "yes" on the "send to mailing list" thing. This way, we will all be aware when someone is posting. Also, if you have not sent your e-mail address to LadyAuthoresses, please do so! (Unless your parents do not want you giving out your e-mail address, in which case we understand. )
Also, if anyone would like a signature, let me know and I can make one for you.
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