Chloe was brimming with curiousity about what would happen next. She looked at the old man in confusion.

    He croaked, “Wheech geeft looks good to you? Which appeals?”

    She sat staring at the three presents which lay on the bed. This whole ordeal was indeed perplexing. However, she needed to obey her instructions, so she tried to decide. Perhaps the eggs would be a good choice. After all, they did look tasty and fresh. On top of that, the giver of that present had been generally agreeable, despite his repeating himself. She then considered the blanket, but she didn’t take long pondering that. It did not seem like a decent gift at all, and Chloe simply could not stand the ‘little orphan gell’ who gave it. Then there was the sprig of blossoms. They had a certain air of mystery about them for some reason. Maybe it was because the maiden had tried to be secretive about it.

    “Having a hard time deciding?”

    Chloe said, “Yes, sir.”

    “Perhaps eet would help you decide better eef you knew that each of the geefts were... magical. Yes, each one ees. But, ha! I shall not say how they are magical oonteel you choose. So there!”

    Chloe couldn’t help herself from staring at the blossoms. Every time she took her eyes away from them, they strayed back.

    “Well,” she breathed, “I suppose I will have the flowers.”

    The maiden gasped in delight. She looked even comlier now than before.

    Chloe was filled with excitement. “What is magic about it, mister?” she cried.

    “Feerst I must say, you made a very good choice. Once the clock strikes meednight, the blossoms wheel begin to grow eento an apple, they wheel. By the morning when you wake, eet should be full-grown. And then what? Take a bite of the apple, and then you shall becoam as beautifool as the maiden who gave eet to you.”

    The maid blushed and looked down.

    “Goodness gracious! really?”

    Chloe woke up with a jerk. She looked around the room, and it was morning. All the beds were in place, and David and Clara were still asleep. “What a queer dream!” she said to herself. She felt something hard and smooth resting in her hand. Pulling off the covers, Chloe realized it was an Apple. She felt like her heart stopped for a moment. She could hardly breathe; she was so shocked. The Apple was very red and very shiny. And the red was a deep, rich color. On the stem was a fresh, green leaf, like the Apple had been just picked. But it had been just picked, or something quite like. Chloe looked at the clock. It was 7:30. The magical Blossom had started growing at midnight, so now it had finally grown into this beautiful Apple.

    At first, she wanted to take a bite and become as beautiful as the maiden, but then she snapped at herself, “Don’t you dare go ahead taking a bite of a strange apple, Chloe! You don’t want to end up like Snow White, do you?” “You’re right, Chloe, I should listen to you more often. But the maid didn’t seem evil. She seemed kind. And the old man wouldn’t have lied about what the Apple would do.” “Would he?” “Oh, I don’t know! Maybe I shouldn’t listen to you more often.”

    Then Chloe wondered how any apple could find its way from a dream into real life. “That’s impossible! But it is a magical Apple, and magic can find the way, can’t it?” She sat staring at the almost-glowing fruit that lay in her palm. It was the most perfect apple she had ever seen. It looked like it would taste juicy sweet. And this Apple could make her divinely beautiful! “Then Mary Alice couldn’t go round bragging about how she’s the prettiest girl in school, now could she? That ought to hurt her pride. Oh, dear, now I’m being prideful, and ‘pride cometh before destruction.’”

    She needed to decide what to do quickly. If her brother and sister saw the Apple, they would want to know what it was for and where it came from. Then they might want to have a taste. If it was a poison Apple, she didn’t want to poison David and Clara. Chloe either had to eat it now, or hide it somewhere where they could not find. Perhaps the top drawer of her dresser, where she also hid her journal? That would do fine. Or inside a box under her bed. They would never look there. Or behind the books on the bookshelf? Chloe wished she had three Apples, just so she could use all of the wonderful hiding places.

    Then again, maybe she could just eat a few bites now, and throw the core away. Throwing away an entire apple would seem suspicious. Throwing away a core was ordinary. Her thoughts argued with each other in her head, whether to save it or eat it, or just throw it away. If she hid it and saved it, then someone still might find it. If she ate it, it might turn out to be a poison Apple. If she threw it away, Ma or Daddy might ask who threw away a perfectly good apple. Since it was a magical Apple, could it disappear if she didn’t eat it? Chloe kept telling herself to be sensible, but she truly could not decide what to do. After a deep breath, she said:

    “Don’t be silly, Chloe, it’s only an apple.” She threw it out the window, and that was the end of it.

    _____________________

    That is the end. I hope y'all enjoyed it. If any of y'all could maybe suggest a better title for it than "Chloe", I'd sure appreciate it.

    ~Finscoth Eire Martin~

    “Goodbye,” said Chloe, though he had already gone by the time she said this. “Well,” she sighed, “this evening is getting stranger and stranger.”

    She expected to wait a long time for the next character to approach, as for the others. Chloe didn’t know whether it would come from the end of the room or appear out of nowhere, or maybe something else entirely. All this surprise kept her anxious. She heard a creak as the window by her bed opened up. The cold, frosty wind blew into the room. Chloe shivered. She heard a rustling of the curtains. Then she saw her.

    It was a young lady, very small like the other figures who had come earlier, who had slipped through the window. She did not carry a candle. Instead, her whole body shone with a marvellous golden light. Her enchanting brown eyes twinkled, her face shone. Executing a twirl of her golden gown, she flew down towards Chloe.

    Chloe smiled as the lady curtseyed to her. Returning a curtsy, she said, “You look beautiful, miss!”

    The radiant maiden blushed. “Thank you, Miss Chloe. You are very pretty, too.”

    She thanked her for the compliment and sat back down on the bed.

    The lady carefully took out a silken bag that hung at her belt. Slowly, she pulled its strings and opened it. Glancing inside it, she giggled a little. She closed it again and looked up at Chloe. “Now, miss,” she said, “what do you suppose I have in this bag?”

    “Oh, my present!” she squealed.

    The maid nodded her fair head. She ran her dainty fingers over the bag once more and opened it. Out of the bag she took a sprig of some sort of plant. Blooming from the sprig was a pink blossom.

    Chloe thought the bag must have been bigger on the inside than on the outside. To fit inside the tiny purse, the branch would have to have been smaller than Chloe’s thumb. But it was a life-sized twig, and a life-sized blossom. “It must be magic,” she thought. And so she was right.

    “How beautiful! What kind of plant is it from?”

    “It is from an apple tree. Though, the tree isn’t like all others. It is magic— oh, dear.” The maiden frowned. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you. It was to be a surprise. I’m sorry, miss.”

    “No, it’s all right. But now that you’ve already revealed that it’s magical... could you perhaps tell me what it does?”

    “I’m afraid not. Not yet. He shall tell you very soon.”

    “Who do you mean?”

     “The hunchback. He is going to come back with all the other gift givers, and you’ll only be able to choose one gift. But each of them is magical, and he won’t say in which way until you decide on a present. Now I mustn’t say any more on the subject.”

     “That’s slendid!” Chloe clasped her hands together. “I do wonder when he will come back.” Then she stopped. “Dear! I didn’t think I would want him to come back.”

    The pretty maid laughed.

    Chloe stared at the blossom, wondering what was so magical about it. Would it turn into something wonderful, like a diamond, or into something horrible and eat her? She could not begin to imagine what it could be. Looking at the pink blossom lying on her bed, she could see that the whole twig was sparkling.

     to be continued

    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.)

    ~Finscoth Martin~

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.

     to be continued

    “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.

    “Now what?” Chloe said, alone in the dark.

    to be continued

    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.

    to be continued.......

     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.

    to be continued.

    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.

    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.”

    * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    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.”

    ~Finscoth Eire Martin~

    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.

    ~Finscoth E. Martin~

    Hello, it's Finscoth again. And this *deep breath* is my new story. Just warning y'all, it's a Western, so it's really different from what everyone else here is writing. I don't know how y'all are going to like it. *is anxious*

Scott Madison, who had just come over to the desk where Jack sat writing, and who was leaning against the wall, looked down at Jack’s little paper he was writing on. “Whatcha writing?” Scott’s brown eyes twinkled and glinted.

    Jack jerked his head up and quickly turned the paper over so his brother couldn’t see it. “Nothing.”

    Scott leaned closer. He look the paper in his hand. As he began to read it, he smirked. His smile always had a tendency to the right side of his face.

    Jack jumped up from the chair. He tried to snatch the paper back, but his older brother kept it away.

    Still reading it, Scott lauged quietly to himself. “Well, what have we got here?” he said, “A love letter, Jack?”

    A tight knot formed in his stomach and he bit his lip.

    “Don’t be embarrassed about it. But who’s the gal?”

    “That’s none of your business. You didn’t need to see the letter in the first place.”

    Jack tried again to get the letter from Scott.

    “Seriously, who is she? Faith McKinley, Emily Jacobs, Sally Carter?”

    “Don’t matter!”

    “Rachael Kingston?”

    “What’s it to you if it is?”

    “Darcie Astor?”

    “Quit it, will you?” Jacked kicked Scott hard in the gut and he fell to the floor with the wind knocked out of him.

    Just at that moment, Alex came through the door, in time to see why Scott was on the ground. Alex looked hot and sweaty, and like he’d had a bad time with the roundup. He took off his black hat, and sending a hand into the air, he shouted, “Great, I come in from a long day with Jim Astor, and now you two?” He walked over and helped his younger brother to his feet. “You all right?”

    Scott choked and said, “Yeah.”

    Alex crossed his arms and pointed his blue-eyed glare at Jack. “What was that for?”

    Jack slowly sunk into his chair, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, Scott, I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean for it to go that far. Didn’t mean to do no one no harm. Scott stole a private letter from me and then started teasing.”

    With a cough, he replied, “I did. Sorry ‘bout that. Now, what was that you said about Jim Astor?”

    Alex looked down at the floor and sighed. “Nothing. Just a little trouble. It doesn’t matter.” There was a long pause. The silence lasted for about thirty seconds. No one really knew what to say, and it felt awkward not to say anything. They only stood glancing around at each other and the dirty walls and floors of the house.

    Jack eventually decided to break the silence. “I guess I could imagine with Jeff come down with fever and not being able to help, things might be tough.”

    “Yeah, you’re right,” said Alex, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Jeff Carswell’s a good worker and a good friend. It’s a shame to have him sick. But he’ll be better soon, I can guarantee.”

    “I should hope so. You know we would have been happy to help with the roundup,” said Scott, “if we hadn’t needed to go into town.”

    Alex turned pale and shuddered.

    Scott lowered his eyebrows and said, “What, you’re not sick too, are you?”

    “Me? No. It’s just, er, something that happened out there. But that’s irrelevant. I’m not sick. What was it y’all said about a letter? A letter you wrote, Jack?”

    Slightly confused, Jack nodded his head.

    Alex put his hat back on and said there was someone in town he needed to see. Before he went out through the back door, he ran his hand over the gun on his belt. He slipped out and headed away.

    This worried Jack and Scott. Why would Alex have gone out the back door, and why did he touch his gun like that? Both the brothers had the same thoughts going through their minds. Scott and Jack stared nervously at each other. Jack bit his lip and drew a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. Scott twisted up his mouth and let out an anxious sigh.

I am her. I'm Darcy Jo Jarndice, and I'm back. The only difference is I've changed my pen name to Finscoth Eire Martin. I did that for two reasons. First is I didn't like the look of the two J's next to each other in Darcy Jo Jarndice. It was weird to say. Second is Darcy Jo was strictly for one style of writing. I've changed my style quite a bit, so it needed a new pen name? Y'all follow? And it's better to pronounce. (FIN-scoth AIR-ah). Greetings from Finscoth Eire Martin. (Just so y'all know, my username on HSB is gelpenprincess)

Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil.
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.
Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.
Stand firm, therefore, having girded your loins with Truth, and having put on the breastplate of Righteousness,
and having shod your feet with the preparation of the Gospel of Peace;
in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.
 
~Ephesians 6:11-16~