Forgotten – NaNo Novel 4th Excerpt

As you can see, I finally found a better name for my novel. It came to me a couple of nights ago and it fits the story much better. And yes, I was in bed at the time, and yes, I had to get up and forage for a pen and paper to write it down so I wouldn’t forget it. 😊

In this, my final excerpt from my story, we have Sabella reaching some ruins where she’s taken shelter for the night. Aaban is on his way back to extend the village’s invitation to join them, but he’s not there quite yet and Sabella is trying to figure out what her next move is.

Sabella woke to a rustling sound in the bushes outside of her shelter. She looked up in time to see one of the monkey-like creatures make off with the scanner, which she’d left on top of the packs.

“Hey!” she shouted, getting to her feet. “Come back here with that!”

The monkey made a chittering noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter and scurried up the nearest tree. From there he leaped to another, then another, and was soon lost to view.

“Great start,” she said in disgust. “I lose the one thing from the ship that was of some real use.”

With a sigh she turned back to her shelter, having taken several steps outside of it to chase the thief. Rooting around in the pack, she took three of the water bottles down to the river. Kneeling at the edge, she filled the bottles, then set them aside to splash the cold water on her face.

“What I wouldn’t give for a hot caffeine,” she said with a sigh, turning back to her shelter.

No sense thinking about things like that now. Her chances of ever having a coffee again were pretty slim. There were a lot of things she was never going to see again and she would do best not to dwell on them. She needed to focus on survival.

But suddenly the thought of all those long years ahead of her, all alone, were almost too much to contemplate. What had she done? She sank down until she was sitting on the ground. A tear slid down her cheek, followed by a torrent of others.

She didn’t want to be alone on this world. She especially didn’t want to die alone here. Sniffling, she swiped the tears away with her hand. But she’d certainly would die here if she didn’t get ahold of herself.

“Okay. First things first,” she said, feeling marginally better after her little outburst. “Time to take stock of what I’ve got.”

She pulled the packs towards her and opened them up. Her cursory look the night before had left her puzzled as to some of the contents. The blankets and empty bottles she understood, but she held up several metal objects, one after another. Tools, maybe? But tools for what purpose?

There were twenty-two of the foil pouches left. She’d have to be careful not to go through them too quickly. It would be a shame to have made it this far, only to starve to death. Of course there was always the fruit. She’d suffered no ill effects from it so far, but she doubted it would be a viable diet in the long term.

“Oh! This might be handy.” ‘This’ was small, metal box that held several barbed hooks. “Fish hooks, I think,” she said.

Or maybe not so happy. She’d read historical books that talked about fishing, but she had no idea how to do it herself. Hopefully she could learn. A sudden though struck her, sending her to her feet. This building she was in was not natural. Someone had to have built it. There had to be people somewhere, hopefully not too far away.

Stepping outside of the shelter, she considered it for a moment. She couldn’t climb the surrounding trees, but she’d bet she could climb up to the roof. And maybe once she was up there she could climb one of the trees that pressed against it.

It wasn’t easy. Her legs were a little shaky from all that walking over the last two days, and her upper body strength was pretty much average. But she managed to hoist herself up onto the rubble strewn roof.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t high enough to give her much more of a view than she’d had before. She could see down to the river, and a few feet along it in both directions, but in the grand scheme of things there wasn’t much else to see but trees.

Going over to one of the trees abutting the building, she put a hand on the trunk and looked up at the crown. The trunk was smooth, and there were no branches sticking out. There was no way she’d be able to climb that, even with the boost the building gave her.

With a sigh she turned away to look out at the river again. Didn’t people usually settle near rivers, or some other source of water? What would happen if she kept following the river. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it would have to do.

Now all she had to do is get down from this roof.

“Well this isn’t good,” she muttered, surveying the tumbled down wall she’d climbed up.

Grumbling under her breath, she sat down on the edge, dangling her feet over the side. Then, thinking better of it, she turned around so she was facing inwards instead, backing towards the edge on her hands and knees. Carefully, she eased her legs downwards, holding onto the roof for support. Her feet made contact with the ruined wall, and she spared a glance downwards before moving her hands from the edge of the roof to the top of the wall.

She was a little off of where she’d climbed up, but this way there were some sturdy looking vines she could grab onto, which was a good thing. She was only halfway down when one of her feet slipped.

A man’s voice called out as she grabbed for a smooth brown vine. Startled, she looked up as her hand connected with the vine. As she watched in amazement, a man dropped onto the roof of the building. There was a frantic look on his face as he kept talking, and she realized the vine under her hand was moving. She transferred her look to her hand, just as the snake she’d grabbed onto bit her.

Fire shot up her arm. Sabella screamed and fell the rest of the way to the ground, snake still attached to the back of her hand. The man, moving faster than she’d ever seen anyone move, was beside her in seconds. An enormous knife appeared in his hand, and with one swipe he cut the head off the snake. Even then, he had to pry the snake’s jaws open to get her hand free.

Tossing it aside, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back into the shelter of the building. Sabella was in no shape to protest. The fire continued up her arm and she was starting to feel dizzy. Obviously the snake was poisonous – the man had probably yelled to warn her of the danger. She was too dazed to even wonder where he’d come from.

Forced Landing – NaNo Novel 3rd Excerpt

Today’s excerpt comes in two parts. First, we have a continuation of last week’s scene, in which Sabella is still searching for a good place to camp out. Unbeknownst to her, she has a protector/observer who’s been following her, and the second scene is him making a report to his superiors.

Before she could seriously start looking [for some place to camp], the jungle began to thin a bit and she found herself in a group of tall trees, though not quite as tall as the trees in the surrounding jungle, that were laden heavily laden with a bright green fruit.

It looked delicious. “But is it safe to eat?” she wondered.

Just then, a small, furry animal swooped down from one of the tall jungle trees. It snatched up one of the fruit that Sabella only now noticed littered the ground beneath the trees, and leaped away again.

“Well, I guess that answers my question,” she said, laughing in spite of herself.

She recognized the creature as a monkey. She’d learned about them in a documentary she once watched. As she recalled, there were many different species of them, but she couldn’t have said exactly what kind this one was. He was small and brown and had an extremely long tail that if she remembered correctly, could be used almost like an extension of its paws.

Stooping down, she picked up one of the fruit, wondering as she did so what exactly it was. Not that she’d seen much fresh fruit in her life. Not since she’d been a child. The world she’d been raised on was a mix of agriculture and technology. She and her parents lived in one of the settlements at the edge of a city, more because it was more affordable than because they had any great affinity for nature.

While some of their neighbors had large gardens, her mother had no time for such nonsense, as she put it, and limited her efforts to some potted herbs to be used in cooking. Her mother was a supervising technical analyst for the Branyon Corporation, Tel-Corp’s greatest rival, which her father also worked for as an engineer. Branyon paid for their quarters, and when they’d chosen to live on the outskirts of the city, they provided them with vehicles to get them to and from work.

But none of that was important now. She hefted the weight of the fruit in her hand. It was dense, and it had a faintly sweet scent. Shrugging, she finally bit into it.

“Oh!” she said in surprise. The sweet flavor burst onto her tongue and the juice ran down her chin. The flesh was firm, a lighter green shade, and delicious. She finished it in a hurry and then stooped down for a second one. This one she ate slower, savoring the taste.

Tempting as it was to keep eating until she was full, she knew better than to gorge on fruit when her stomach was so empty. She’d make herself sick for sure, and there were no med units here. She’d have to be very careful. So instead she gathered up a dozen or so – any more and they probably would just rot before she could eat them – and stowed them in one of the survival packs.

Feeling surprisingly refreshed, she continued on, seeking some place to have a proper rest.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

As usual, the clan chiefs knew he was coming and had already gathered. He had missed the communal mid-day meal, but that was nothing unusual. Eschewing the use of the ladders, he scaled the red cliffs much like the children did, using the handholds and rocky protuberances.

“Sometimes I think you are more a child than the children,” clan chief Ebou, Aaban’s friend, chuckled.

Aaban grinned in return. “Helps keep me fit. I wouldn’t want to become soft, like you.”

“What have you to tell us,” Mohlomi said, interrupting them before they got too carried away with their jibes.

“Forgive me, Clan Chief,” Aaban said, with a bow in his direction. “It is my opinion that the woman is not a threat. Those who pursued her came and left again, believing he dead.”

“And why would they believe such a thing?” Mohlomi asked with a frown.

Aaban hesitated. “Though the small ship crashed, it was intact. However, shortly after the woman left, it exploded in such a fashion that there was little doubt there were no survivors.”

“And that was enough to persuade the others? You did not assist in the deception?”

Aaban shrugged. “I may have accidentally dropped a few pieces of tak-tak flesh and bone when I was examining the wreckage. And they may have misconstrued what they saw.”

“Hmm.” Mohlomi eyed him balefully. “May have dropped flesh and bone, eh?”

Aaban made no reply.

“Where is this stranger now?”

“She follows the river Malarrich and should reach the ruins of the temple of the old gods before day’s end.”

Mohlomi pursed his lips. “She is already almost off of clan lands. Perhaps it would be—”

“Hold!” the voice came from the entrance of the meeting chamber. Ntsebo rapped her staff against the stone floor to get their attention.

There were murmurs amongst the clan chiefs. Ntsebo rarely left her cave, people usually were required to go to her. She was the oldest member of the clans, and arguably the most powerful. She was tiny, as though a breath of wind could blow her right off the cliff face, her stark, white hair confined in a braid that hung down her back, her face seamed from her many years. She walked with a cane, and was quick to use it on those who annoyed her.

She was the Mother of the Clans, a position she’d held since the first vision came to her when she was still a child. And she would hold that position until one was born to the clans who could take her place. No one knew how old she was, and there were some who believed she had always been with the clans.

“Clan Mother,” Mohlomi said, bowing his head respectfully. “You honor us with your presence.”

She snorted. “We shall see about that.”

“Have you had a vision, Mother?”

Using her stick to shoo the nearest clan chief aside so she could take his seat, she made herself comfortable before answering. “Is that not my function within the clans, to have visions of warning or guidance?”

“And which is it that you have had,” Mohlomi asked patiently. He was used to her sharp ways and was not offended by her rudeness.

“I do not know. But I have seen a stranger, a woman. She runs, though she has done no wrong. She has come to our world by accident and will surely die here if we do not give her aid. Her death would diminish us all.”

Forced Landing - NaNo Novel 2nd excerpt

In this scene, Sabella has escaped the bad guys and crashed her ship on a largely unpopulated planet. After grabbing a couple of survival packs, she blows up the ship, hoping the bad guys will think she died in the crash, and then started following a river into the vast unknown.

She spends her first night near a waterfall, and although it would make a great camp site, she’s worried it’s still too close to the crash site in case the bad guys are still looking for her. So she decides to keep going upstream along the river. She’s not able to climb the rocks the water is coming from, so she decides to go around instead.

There was the faintest of trails around the rocks, and she followed as best she could. It sloped uphill, and her calves felt the strain after only a mile or so. She wasn’t used to walking so much, although she did work out at the fitness center on a regular basis.

Suddenly, she stopped. How long had she been walking? Judging by the angle of the path, she should be above the waterfall by now, but there was no sign of the river. How could she have lost an entire river?

Remembering the hand held scanner, she pulled it out and switched it on. Damn and double damn. In her efforts to skirt around the edge of the rocks, she angled away from the river. It would take her hours to get back on track. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment.

A quick check of one of the survival packs showed no water, just empty bottles waiting to be filled. There were several foil packets with colour coding that meant nothing to her. She picked one at random and tore it open. Inside was some kind of grey paste. Making a face, she squeezed some of it into her mouth. It didn’t taste as bad as it looked, and she was sure it was nourishing, but the texture left a lot to be desired. Maybe it was meant to be spread on crackers or bread or something.

Whatever, at least it partially filled the hole inside her. Taking up her packs again – as soon as she found a place for a proper rest, she was going to have to go through the packs and take stock, maybe even reduce them down to a single pack. One last glance at the scanner, and she was ready to start out again in a new direction.

It occurred to her, after an hour or so of walking, that she hadn’t really seen any trace of animal life. There were more plants and trees than she’d ever known existed, but shouldn’t there be animals as well? There were birds, she’d heard a veritable cacophony of chirps and tweets and songs. And a couple of times she’d surprised groups of birds with her presence and they’d taken flight in a colorful flurry of feathers and squawking.

Was the lack of animals a good thing or a bad thing, she couldn’t decide. Maybe they were there, but up in the trees, or hiding in the bushes. Apparently they were more afraid of her than she was of them, although she highly doubted it. The closest she’d come to a live animal was one of the nature vids the service ran on rest days.

What would she do if ran into an animal? Being a trained linguist in no way prepared her for an introduction to wild creatures. Didn’t people use to kill and eat wild animals? And seriously, she could tell herself that there would be fish in the river, but even if she could figure out how to catch one, what was she supposed to do with it?

No, she couldn’t let these undesirable thoughts fill her head. She was beginning to freak herself out. What she needed to do was focus on getting back to the river. She needed fresh water. And if she was lucky, she’d find some fruit or roots or something to eat. If she was really lucky, one of the packs might hold a data cube of edible plants.

The sun was becoming uncomfortably warm, and she was all too aware of the insects that were buzzing around her. So far she hadn’t been bitten, but she figured it was only a matter of time. Finally, after what seemed like hours of walking, she found herself on the bank of the river again. Not that it was going to do her any good.

Sabella stood on the edge, looking down. The land had risen more than she realized. It was several feet down to the water, and no way to get down to it. She supposed, if she was desperate enough, she could just jump, but she couldn’t swim very well, and there was no way to get back up again.

With a sigh, she turned and began to follow along the top of the edge, hoping that either the land would lower again, or the river rise. Her footsteps began to drag a bit. She no longer feared the Tal-Cor men finding her, now she was worried about surviving. But surviving to do what, she hadn’t the faintest idea.

The reality of her situation was beginning to sink in. Yes, she’d escaped the Tal-Cor thugs, at least for now, but now what was she supposed to do? How was she going to survive?

“One day at a time,” she muttered under her breath. “First priority, find a new camping spot, preferably near the water.”

Forced Landing - NaNo Novel 1st excerpt

Seriously, I have got to find a better title for this thing. Even as a working title it’s bad. But I had to use something on the cover.

This excerpt is from the beginning and doesn’t really need much explaining. Bear in mind that it’s in draft form. And no, I couldn’t come up with a better name for the agent than XYZ.

They were persistent, she’d give them that much. Sabella cursed as a blip showed up behind her on the scan. She rubbed the grit out of her eyes and fought back exhaustion. If she didn’t get some proper sleep soon, she was afraid she was going to pass out, and then it would be game over. She thought she’d lost them in the nebula two days back, but she’d no sooner shut her eyes then the alarm from the scanner sounded.

A little over a week ago she’d been contemplating a change of career. Her work as a linguistics specialist provided enough credits to pay for a small apartment of her own and a few luxuries, but working for the Talarian Corporation wasn’t what she thought it would be. And when the rumors of their shady dealings started to surface, she started looking for a position somewhere else.

In fact, she’d been approached by an agent for the Federated Security Alliance to help them, undercover of course, to investigate some of the company’s dealings. While he was adamant that she not take any unnecessary risk, they were getting desperate for inside information. All she needed to do was keep her ears open.

It seemed simple enough, when he laid it out for her, and she readily agreed. To be honest, her job was a little monotonous and her skills were underutilized. And it bothered her, the rumors about some of the shadier dealings, the arms dealing to smugglers and the trafficking in human and alien slaves.

So she kept her ears open as she went about her work, and paid close attention to who was coming and going in the offices of the supervisors. Then four days ago she had been in the break room when she’d been close enough to a table full of executives discussing details of a shipment of hominids. They were speaking in Frezian, an uncommon dialect but one she was trained in. She’d edged as close as she could to them, but one of them grew suspicious and spoke to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, smiling apologetically. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“You are a linguist, are you not?” the man asked, voice heavily accented.

“Yes, I specialize in Cretian and Zenarii. What language were you speaking, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before,” she said, striving to show an innocent curiosity.

It must have worked, because the man muttered something under his breath and then turned away. She worked to the end of her shift, conscious the whole time of being under scrutiny and trying not to react to it. But she breathed a sigh of relief when her shift was done and she was able to leave, chatting and laughing with several of her co-workers as though she hadn’t a care in the world.

The moment she was safely in her apartment she activated the null field and then contacted the agent on the secure communicator he’d supplied her with.

“You’re sure of the day and time,” he’d asked her.

“I have an eidetic memory,” she told him. “I remember exactly what they said.”

“Good work. If we can get our people in place, we might be able to take the entire network down. But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you sure they didn’t know you understood Frezian?”

“I’m pretty sure,” she said, not sure at all. “They’d have to do a deep dive into my records to find out the truth. I’m pretty sure it was one of the languages I listed on my resume.” She was starting to get a little nervous.

“But they don’t know who you are to do that, right?”

“Well . . .” she hesitated. “We’re required to wear our ID badges. If he caught a glimpse of the one I was wearing he might have caught my employee number.”

The agent swore. “I think just to be on the safe side, I think this would be a good time to take a vacation.”

“A vacation? Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But better to be safe than sorry. I can arrange for you to go to a safe place. If something goes wrong, we’ll need you to testify. How soon can you be ready to go?”

Now she was seriously getting nervous. “I’ve got plenty of vacation time accrued, but won’t it look suspicious if I take it now?”

“Pretend you have a family emergency,” he directed. “I’ll meet you at the spaceport in 90 minutes. South entrance, bay two.”

“You’re starting to scare me, Agent XYZ,” she said.

“I’m sorry, but what you’ve stumbled on is bigger than I expected. I’ll get the take-down in motion and meet you at the space port.”

“South entrance, bay two,” she repeated.

She’d sent a message to her supervisor at work, telling her that she had a family emergency and would need to use some of her vacation time. Her supervisor messaged her back telling her to take as much time as she needed, things were slow at work right now anyway. Then she threw a few necessities – toiletries, a couple of changes of clothes – into a shoulder bag and headed to the spaceport.

The space port was always busy, day or night. As she passed through the south entrance and headed towards bay two, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being followed. She looked around furtively, but couldn’t see anyone, but the sensation of being watched didn’t abate.

The bays usually held six ships, but bay two only had one. As she approached she realized there was something lying at the base of the ramp leading to it. Something that resolved itself into Agent XYZ. She knelt beside him with a gasp.

He reached up with one bloody hand, and pressed a security disc into her hand. “Take the ship,” he gasped. “Run!”

Second NaNo Excerpt

I’m still blindly trying to find my way with this year’s NaNo story, so I decided to post another excerpt from a previous NaNo.

This one was from 2017, and it’s actually the sequel to Driving Into Forever (the one I posted last week), called Lost and Found. This time, however, I reached the 50,000 word goal (actually, the final word count was 53,000+ words).

In this story, Sara (the best friend of main character Hannah from DIF) is worried when she can’t get a hold of her friend, and decides to drive out to her place to make sure she’s all right. She also ends up driving through the same interdimensional fog, and ends up crashing into a person.

The fog began to thicken as Sara turned off the highway onto the road that wound through the woods to the causeway. Unlike Hannah, she’d never liked being out in the fog, it creeped her out. But it was definitely at times like this she appreciated her Cadillac El Dorado. It may be a gas guzzler but it would stand up to anything the fog could throw at her.

She could barely see the road but she kept to a steady pace, you never knew what might be lurking if you stopped in the fog. Every horror movie Sara had ever seen flashed through her mind. The road was usually in good repair but it had been a hard winter and it felt like the pavement was being held together with potholes.

There was no worry that she strayed off the road, she’d been down it often enough she could probably navigate it blind-folded, which is what it felt like now. But it led pretty much straight to the causeway, which lead straight to the island Hannah lived on, and there were trees bordering the sides, not that she could see much of them either.

It was probably just an illusion because of the fog, but the road seemed to go on forever. Shouldn’t she be on the causeway by now? A dark shape loomed up suddenly in front of her.

“Holy crap!” Sara slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. The big car jerked to a halt and she sat there, clutching the steering wheel and gasping.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!”

Did she hit whatever, or whoever that was? She should go check. Really she should. Just as soon as she could make herself let go of the steering wheel. They might be hurt. It might even have been Hannah. That ratty old Jeep she drove might have broken down and she could have been walking along the road, on her way home.

That thought was enough to make her release her death grip on the steering wheel and scramble out of the car. The fog swirled and eddied around her. It was so thick she could barely see and she kept one hand on the car until she reached the front bumper. It was disconcerting not to be able to see the road under her feet. She shuffled forward slowly, hands out in front of her to ward off anything she might run into.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

She’d always thought fog was supposed to amplify sound, this fog was so thick it seemed to muffle it.

“Are you alright? Hannah, is that you?”

Was that the sound of someone in pain she heard over there? Sara followed the sound, not sure if she was on the road or not. Her foot struck something soft; this time there was definitely a groan.

“Oh jeez!”

She hunkered down and found the form on the ground more by touch than by sight. “Oh my God, are you okay?” Frantically she ran her hands over the body, trying to determine if there were any serious injuries.

“I am so sorry! You just appeared out of nowhere. I know I was probably going a little too fast, you know, considering the fog and all, but oh my God what are you doing out here in the middle of the road anyway? Didn’t you have enough sense to move out of the way when you heard my car coming?” She was babbling and she knew it, but couldn’t seem to stop herself.

The body started to rise under her questing hands.

“Are you sure you ought to do that? Maybe you should just stay put until we’re sure you’re alright. Is there someone I could call for you?” She patted her pockets. “Oh, damn! I must have left my cell phone at home. Do you have one with you?”

She was on the verge of checking his pockets for a phone when a thought struck her. “I don’t know if the 911 service would risk sending an ambulance out here or not. It’s probably not such a good idea to have someone else risk coming out in this fog, unless you feel you need one?”

This last was phrased more like a question and she paused for a breath, waiting for a reply. When there was none, she shrugged.

“Oh well, it shouldn’t be too far to my friend Hannah’s house. We can use her phone.” She helped him as he started to rise. “Wow, you are a tall one, aren’t you? Let me help you to my car.”

So far her victim hadn’t said a word. Sara couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. All she could tell was that he was a man, a tall man, and he felt pretty solidly built under her helping hands. He moved slowly, carefully, with her towards the car. Or least towards where she thought the car should be.

After a few minutes she halted them. Sara bit her lower lip and glanced around. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I think we missed the car in this fog.”

The man mumbled something.

“What did you say?”

“Not fog, Myste.” His voice was strained.

“Well, whatever you want to call it, it’s as thick as pea soup. I’m telling you, I’ve never seen a fog this thick in all my life.”

“Got to keep moving,” the nameless man told her. She had to strain to hear him. “Not safe.”

“Not safe? Well, yeah, obviously since you got hit and all, but it can’t be far to my friend Hannah’s house.” She carefully turned them around.

“Not there.”

“What’s not there?” Sara asked absently. She tried to concentrate on where they were going. They couldn’t have strayed off the road, could they?

“Hannah,” he said with a great deal of effort. “Not there, she’s with Kelvin.”

“Kelvin?” Sara stopped and turned to him. “Who’s Kelvin? You’re a friend of Hannah’s?” She peered closer at him but his features were still indistinct. “Who are you?”

“Nathan,” he answered.

She sighed in frustration. “Okay Nathan. Save your strength. We can talk once we’re out of this damned fog.”

He didn’t answer and she got the feeling it was taking all of his concentration just to stay upright. The bad feeling she’d been having was starting to grow in proportion to the thickness of the fog. There was something unnatural about this fog, it was giving her a real bad case of the heebie-jeebies. Worse than fog usually did.

The Raven

Seeing as last night was All Hallows Eve and today is All Saints Day (tomorrow is All Souls Day), I thought I’d do something a little different. I have many poems that deal with the spirit season, but I think none are more appropriate than The Raven, by Edgar Allan Poe.

Today I’m not only sharing this classic poem, but I’ve included a video so you can listen to the great Vincent Price recite it as you read. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.





The Raven

by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

First NaNo Excerpt

And by first NaNo, I mean the very fist NaNo I ever participated in, way back in 2006. As you read, I’m sure you’ll notice how much my writing has improved since then. :-)

This is from a story called Driving Into Forever. The premise is, a woman is driving home in the fog and ends driving through some kind of dimensional shift and ends up crashing into a tree. She’s found by a group of scientists who are researching this phenomena they call the Myste. In this scene, she and the nephew of one of these scientists are going on a excursion back to her car to remove the stereo – one of the things they do is look for other technology. Oh, and Hannah and Kelvin are attracted to each other (in case you couldn’t guess), only Kelvin seems to be fighting it.

Sorry about the poor quality of the cover picture, but I couldn't find my original and had to pull this off the NaNo site, which apparently has changed the sizing of their covers.

“Good morning, sleepy heads,” Hannah called to Kelvin and Terrell as they finally put in an appearance for breakfast. Always an early riser, she’d been up for over an hour, and in decidedly good spirits.

“Sorry we’re late,” Terrell said. “Kelvin kept me awake with his tossing and turning.”

“Really,” Hannah grinned and turned to Kelvin, “Trouble sleeping?”

“Not at all,” he replied, sending her a look that made her tingle all over.

While they helped themselves to breakfast, Hannah went over to where Colby and Padraic had an assortment of tools waiting for her. She picked through them carefully, looking for tools that not only looked familiar but would aid in removing the stereo system from the jeep. By the time she had half a dozen of the most helpful looking instruments assembled, Kelvin was finished with breakfast and waiting for her.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked. “I could take Terrell with me.”

“And you both know what a car stereo looks like?” she asked. “And how to remove it? It’s okay, Kelvin. I’ll be fine, really.”

“All right then,” he said, handing her a breather. He picked up the pack and slung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Good luck,” Terrell called after them.

It might have just been Hannah’s imagination, but the Myste seemed thicker than usual as they followed the trail. The trail seemed longer, narrower too. Maybe it was just the oppressive silence and the eternal gloom. She shivered and stayed close behind Kelvin. Finally they reached the spot where they needed to leave the trail.

Hannah was so busy looking around nervously that she didn’t realize Kelvin had stopped until she walked right into him. Reflexively he put his arms out to catch her and they stood there for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes. Kelvin’s arms tightened a fraction and her breath caught, but instead of the kiss she expected, he gently released her. She felt like grinding her teeth in frustration.

“This is it,” he told her unnecessarily, stepping back. “We’ll need the breathers from here.”

Although she felt more like smacking the back of his dense head, she watched him put his breather on and then followed suit. Holding on tight to the guide wire, she followed him into the Myste. The path twisted and turned and if she didn’t know better she’d swear it was longer. At last they reached the wreck.

“My poor jeep!” Hannah exclaimed, through the breather.

It was little more than a rusted out shell. Kelvin passed her a pair of heavy gloves to protect her hands as they carefully peeled back the sagging roof. The interior seemed to be still relatively untouched by the Myste, the seats and the dash board anyway. Hannah nodded to Kelvin and tried to open the door. It seemed to be rusted shut; she tried again but it was stuck fast.

Kelvin motioned her to the side so he could try his luck. Muscles rippling beneath his shirt he gave a mighty heave and wrenched the door not only open, but off the hinges entirely. Hannah’s eyes widened in appreciation.

He handed her the tools and she ducked into the jeep to remove the stereo system. She’d laughed at Sara at the time, but now she was grateful that Sara had sweet-talked that same teenager into installing a similar system in her own car. Hannah had watched him do it and now had a vague idea of how to remove it with the least amount of damage.

Once she’d removed the screws and disconnected the wiring, Hannah passed the stereo to Kelvin who placed it carefully in a protective bag. On a whim she popped open the glove box. The contents were untouched by the Myste and Hannah removed another half-dozen CDs and a personal CD player. She handed these to Kelvin as well, who looked at them curiously before covering them carefully in more protective wrapping and stowing them in his pack.

He waited patiently while she had one long, last look at her last link with her old life, then gently took her hand and led her back into the Myste. Hannah was not the only one who felt the Myste was thicker, Kelvin noticed it too. They only went a short distance when he stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” Hannah asked, voice muffled by her breather.

“The guide wire, it’s not right.”

“What do you mean it’s not right?”

The desire to protect her warred with the desire to be honest. “I have what my Aunt calls an over developed sense of direction, that’s why she prefers me to lead any forays into the Myste when Raynor isn’t available.”

“And what’s your sense of direction telling you right now?”

“That we’re going the wrong way.”

“What should we do?”

He hesitated. “I’m probably wrong, the Myste can be very disorienting. We should keep going.”

They went a few more yards and the guide wire grew lax in their hands. A few steps further and Kelvin stopped again. “It’s been cut.”

“What?”

“The guide wire,” he turned to show her the loose end. “It’s been cut.”

“But why? Who would do something like this?”

The roiling Myste seemed more oppressive, a shiver went down her spine at the thought of someone trying to deliberately strand them out here.

“I don’t know.”

Winter's Child - Conclusion

After lulling the young one to sleep, I set aside the reeds I had been playing. For reasons I did not fully understand, I did not wish to leave yet. Nor did I believe I was supposed to enjoy playing with the young one as I had. It was difficult to feel aggression in the face of such joy.

I began to sculpt the snow beside the nest, working noiselessly with minimal movement, as I’d been taught when I was much younger. One of the many-spired buildings of the old times began to take shape, something from before the transformation. The young one seemed to like the pictures I drew in the ice of this the best.

Sometimes, during the times of warmth when we were trapped on the mountain, the old ones would create sculptures for entertainment. They were beautiful, delicate structures, some purely visual, others designed so that the wind blowing through them would create music.

There were those among us who began to question the ways we had adopted. They preferred to stay high in the mountains, creating their sculptures and music. When pressed to do their duty to the clan, they simply gathered their things and moved to another mountain. In time, we lost all contact with them.

This war with the humans had gone on for centuries, and from what I could see, few humans were even aware of our existence any more. Was this to be how I ended my days, picking you off, one by one. I derived no satisfaction from your deaths.

I have seen ages pass. Is it possible to have lived too long? Though winter is far from over, I can smell a tang in the air that means a thaw is coming. I look at the young one sleeping so peacefully, so trusting. I must return to my mountain.

I will not be back down again.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Though Frank was adamant everyone was to look with a buddy, James searched apart from the others. His voice grew hoarse from calling and the cold seeped into his bones. How cold must poor Joey be feeling?

He wished his father were here, he knew these woods like the back of his hand, in fact he had been a volunteer for the search and rescue, often leading the way. Then he grimaced at the thought. This was the kind of weather Joseph would say belonged to winter’s children.

It felt liked he’d been out here forever, walked for miles. How far could one little boy wander by himself. It was almost as though Joey had been following something, or been led away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Reluctantly he stopped to answer it, pulling off his glove so he could push the buttons.

“James, it’s Frank. It’s getting dark, we’re going to have to call it quits.”

“Just a few more minutes,” James begged. “We’ve come so far, he can’t be much further.”

There was a sigh. “Half an hour, then I’m sounding the horn.”

“Thank you, Frank,” James said,

“You’ve got your light, just in case?”

“Yes.”

“At least it stopped snowing, you’ll be able to follow your tracks back.”

“I’ll see you back at the house,” James said.

They both knew that, dark or not, he wouldn’t be going back without Joey.

James pocketed his phone again and caught sight of something moving in the trees.

“Joey?” he called, hopefully. “Is that you buddy?”

The movement seemed to be going away from him, rather than towards him, but some instinct had him following. As he neared the clearing where the pond lay, a nameless dread filled him. Could Joey have made it this far and found a soft spot in the ice?

Then he saw her. She stood a few feet away, tall and thin, unearthly beautiful. His breath caught in wonder. Impatiently she beckoned and he followed, spellbound. As they reached the edge of the pond she disappeared. James cried out, looking around wildly. Then all else was forgotten as the small, snow covered mound almost at his feet, began to move.

James set off the alert to the others as he dropped to his knees, gathering his son to him. In no time, they were surrounded by others from the hunting party. Those with guns pointed them in the air, letting off a volley to let the others back at the house know Joey had been found.

Joey squirmed in his father’s grasp, he couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

“Did you see her Dad?”

“See who?” James asked hoarsely.

“My friend. I think she was one of Winter’s children. She played with me and when I got tired she made me this bed and I felt nice and warm.”

James glanced down at the hollow Joey had been curled up in and saw that it was filled with pine boughs, insulating him from the bitter cold.

“She was, wasn’t she Dad? One of Winter’s children, just like grandpa said.”

“Yes, Joey, just like grandpa said,” James hugged his son closer to him, tears streaming down his face – tears of relief, tears for himself, and tears for the father he hadn’t believed in.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,  Part 12 Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

Winter's Child - Part 17

We had lost much in the way of knowledge and science over the ages. There were of course drastic measures we could have taken, but these would have left the world a barren desert, devoid of all but the most rudimentary life forms. This we could not bring ourselves to do.

Some chose to leave well enough alone, these withdrew from the world altogether. Ask me not how it was accomplished, just know that it was done. Those of us who remained watched, and we waited and we learned. Your weapons were an anathema to us and we had none of our own. Instead we relied on stealth and cunning and your insatiable curiosity.

The Clans lost contact with one another. My Clan settled on this mountain and called it ours. And ours it remained, until the first human settlers came.

Direct confrontation with you brought only our own death, so we were forced to find a different method of dealing with you. I do not know how other colonies dealt with you – communication between colonies, by this time, was limited. Our way was to lead you astray.

You have only yourselves to blame really. You are such a curious race, and we found that curiosity was a tool we could use to great effect. All we needed to do was to allow one of you a glimpse or two of one of us. It would fire up that curiosity of yours and you would follow as we lured you to your death—a fall from a height, drowning, or just far enough from shelter that you would succumb to the cold, which was apparently an anathema to you. It never failed.

But we were limited to picking you off one at a time. It was never enough. No matter how many of you died, there were always more to take your place. Our numbers began to dwindle, and yours continued to grow.

So many humans, so few of us. We fled further and further up the mountain seeking refuge in places inhospitable to your kind, away from you and your technology. We grew older and more tired, but still we preyed upon you. It became a matter of old hatred and pride; habit, if you will.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

“Did you find him?” Maggie called from the back deck.

James turned at the sound of Maggie’s voice and started back towards her. He’d followed the tracks as far as he could. “There’s no sign of him. These tracks just peter out.”

“Where could he have gone?”

“I don’t know, Mags. But I think we need to call Frank Jensen.” Frank Jensen, his friend who volunteered with Search and Rescue.

“No, we need to keep looking.” Maggie tried to push past him.

“Maggie,” James said, taking hold of her by her shoulders. “There’s a lot of woods out there. We can’t do this on our own.”

“But he’s so little.” She collapsed against him.

“I know Mags,” he said gently. “But he’s a tough little guy. We’ll find him, but first we need to get some help.”

“I’ll start making some calls,” Frank said when James called him. “We’ve still got maps of the area with a grid laid out over them from when the hikers got lost last fall. Try not to worry, Jim. We’ll be at your place before you know it.”

Frank was as good as his word, and in a short time cars began pulling into the Preston’s driveway. Word had begun to spread; some of the cars belonged to friends and neighbors coming to lend their support.

Snow was just beginning to fall again as they set out in groups of two, one of each pair carrying a lantern. There was still a couple of hours of daylight left, but better to be safe than sorry. No one said it, but it was on everyone's mind. The longer the boy was out there, the smaller the chance of finding him alive.

One neighbor brought his hunting dogs, but so far they proved to be ineffective. The light was beginning to dim and the temperature was beginning to drop. Hope was fading.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,  Part 12 Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

Winter's Child - Part 16

We had seen many different species develop, but you were the first bearing a resemblance to our own. When you first began to stand upon two legs, we took a great interest in your beginnings. Had we known what you would become, perhaps we would have done things differently.

It was we who gifted the first cave man with fire. A whim, just to see what he would do with it. We remained apart, watching, guiding when we deemed it necessary. Such crude creatures you began as. But really, has evolution changed you for the better?

It seemed like only a few years – a few hundred, a few thousand? What are years to a race as long lived as we? We grew bored with watching you stumble about. You were no longer entertaining and we moved on to other things. When next we noticed you, you’d already spread across the face of the earth.

Civilizations rose and fell with alarming swiftness. Your barbarism was appalling. You preyed not only on other species but each other as well. Your population was ever expanding, and there were some who were concerned. But the world was large. We foolishly believed there would be room for all.

We were not a prolific race, we had only a handful of colonies scattered across the globe. Our tolerance for the heat of the sun was beginning to wane, and those of us living in this region took to the high mountains, coming down only when the cold would support us. There were still many who believed co-existence was possible.

Peaceful by nature we were ill-prepared to meet the violence of your dealings with us. In a few short centuries we had gone from gods to creatures to be hated and feared. And what you feared you destroyed.

Some, among us, could not let go of the belief we could be friends. You were so much like us. They tried to make peace, to make you believe we meant no harm, that we had much to share. They were the first to die.

In the end we did the only thing left to us, we fought back.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

His new friend was quite nice, Joey later decided.

“I think Grandpa would have liked you,” he told her. “You’re not at all scary. I think he got his stories wrong.”

The creature didn’t answer, but he no longer minded.

“I really wish you could talk,” he continued. “I want to ask you about being a winter’s child. Like, what’s it like to be in the cold all the time? And does it hurt when you have to be in the sunlight?”

The creature cocked her head to one side but didn’t seem to understand what he was saying.

“That’s okay,” Joey said. “But I bet you could tell stories even better than Grandpa.”

She didn’t seem to know where he lived, any more than he did, but that was okay with Joey, as long as they were together. He had no idea she was leading him further into the woods, not closer to home. In his mind, there was no reason not to trust her. Never mind Grandpa’s warnings about how winter’s children always led people astray to freeze to death in the snow.

Having her for company made Joey forget how cold it was. He was having way too much fun for that. Snow began to fall again but they laughed, running and jumping through the swirls. Joey fell over backwards trying to catch a snow flake on his tongue and while he lay there he made a snow angel. She looked at him curiously before laying down and copying him, making an angel of her own.

There seemed to be no end of the things his friend could do. She held out her hand to let snow collect, then swirled it around to make a tiny snow whirlwind. She showed him how to build castles, just like the ones he built of sand in the summer, but there would be no tide to wash these away.

When they came to the small clearing with the pond, she reached up and broke an icicle off a maple tree branch and gave it to him to suck on. It was just like candy. Then they took a running start and slid across the pond, landing with a puff of snow at the other side.

Neither of them seemed to notice how the light was fading. Nor did they notice the way the fresh snow blanketed their tracks. Joey’s friend breathed on a clear patch of ice and showed him pictures in the frost. Joey laughed with delight.

She stood up, giving herself a shake that sent the snow swirling. Joey’s eyes were getting heavy but he watched as she broke off some of the reeds sticking up out of the ice on the pond. Then she dug a cosy nest out of the snow for him. Joey curled up, dowsily listening to the lullaby she played on the reeds. It made him forget how cold he was; soon he was fast asleep.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,  Part 12 Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Winter’s Child – Part 15

I am the last. Indisputably the last of my Clan, most probably the last of my kind. We’ve been here since the world was born. We watched the lower life forms evolve and die; we survived through cataclysm and ice age. In the end, all it took was the coming of you humans to bring our race to its knees.

My race has no name, we needed none. We just are. Were. Call us the First Ones, if you must label us, for we were here first; long before your ancestors crawled out of the primordial ooze.

I am older than you can imagine. I can remember when my race was pure, long before the ice age taught us about death and dying. We were a race of artisans, musicians, scientists–peaceful and peace loving. Our days and nights were filled with music and dancing and laughter.

We had reached our peak and begun a slow, inevitable slide into ennui when the ice age began and the lesser beasts began dying out. Our scientists thought, at first, that the cold was a temporary thing, as with the changing of the seasons, but then calculations proved we could not outlast the cold should it come to either building well stocked shelters against it or even hibernation. Relocating was pointless as well.

Many died before we found a way to adapt to the cold. It was a great transformation, and when it was done we were changed. No longer were we creatures of the light and warmth, instead we embraced the cold, thrived in it.

Our metabolism adapted to our needs–we had no need for your layers of clothing; warm or cold it was all the same to us. The earth underwent many changes and we grew and adapted to each change. Countless species evolved and grew extinct. We thought you humans would be more of the same. To our great sorry, you were not.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

She stood in the shadows of the trees, watching him. At least he thought it was a she, it was hard to tell. She was tall and thin and white and looked like a picture from the story book Joey got for his birthday.

When she realized he saw her, she made as if to leave, but Joey called out, “Wait. Don’t go.”

She stopped, but looked like she was ready to run any second.

Someone else might have mistaken her for Jack Frost, or maybe one of the frost fairies from the old movie Fantasia, the one his mother made him watch, but Joey knew who and what she was. This was one of Winter's children. There was no doubt in his mind.

He knew he should be afraid, Grandpa's stories had been clear on that, but she didn’t seem scary at all. In fact, she seemed kind of scared herself. She was kind of pretty really. She was wearing a short dress out of a shimmery white material, and her feet were bare. Her hair was short and spikey, like Jodi, his second favorite babysitter.

They stared at one another for a few minutes, then Joey said, “It’s okay. I know what you are. You’re one of Winter’s children, aren’t you?” He smiled and slowly she smiled back.

“Do you live around here?” He knew she probably didn’t, but he was trying to be polite. Mom was always telling him to mind his manners.

She cocked her head but didn’t answer. Maybe she didn’t understand what he was saying. There was a new kid in his kindergarten class who came from Japan and he didn’t always understand what people were saying because he didn’t speak English very good.

“My name’s Joey, what’s yours?” Maybe if he kept talking she’d understand.

Again, she didn’t answer, but she kept smiling. The more he talked, the more she seemed to relax.

“I think I’m lost,” Joey admitted. “Do you know how to get to my house?”

Still not speaking, she beckoned him to follow. Joey hesitated only a moment, then stepped forward to take her hand.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,  Part 12 Part 13, Part 14,

Winter’s Child – Part 14

The snow wasn’t as deep in the woods as it had been in the back yard, but Joey wouldn’t have cared if it was. He was on a mission, a secret mission for his grandpa. He could pretend to be one of those monster hunters, like grandpa liked to watch on television.

He pushed through the brush and ducked under low hanging branches, the fresh air tasted cold on his tongue. Things would be different, he was sure they would be. Back when grandpa had been living with them there were lots of times when he was supposed to be sleeping that he heard his parents fighting about grandpa and grandpa’s stories.

They didn’t believe him, but Joey knew the stories were true. Grandpa said so. And the fighting didn’t stop after his grandpa left, either. They started arguing about something called “misplaced guilt” and that being taken off the mountain was what killed grandpa.

Joey knew, deep down, that all he had to do to make things right was to find one of Winter’s children. Then his mom and dad would know that grandpa’s stories weren’t fibs and they’d stop fighting. Everything would be okay again, and grandpa could come home from that place he had to go to. Heaven, they called it.

After wandering deeper into the woods for an hour or more, Joey started to get tired. The clouds of steam puffing from his mouth intrigued him and he sat down with a quiet plop in the snow to rest for a while and watch himself breathe.

Even when he went on rambles with grandpa he’d never been so far into the woods before. It was real quiet out here. And even though he thought he knew where the path grandpa had talked about was, things looked really different with snow all over them. Not for a minute did he think he was lost though.

He rested until the puffs of air from his mouth got smaller, ignoring the melting snow seeping through his snow pants. At last, curiosity satiated, he climbed to his feet to continue on his way. A snap from ahead sounded loudly in the silence. He looked up and froze.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

James and Maggie took their time coming home from the luncheon. Between their busy work schedules and the stress of first looking after Joseph, then dealing with his estate, they hadn’t been able to engage socially in a long time.

“I think we should try to do this more often,” James said as they drove towards home.

“What, go to a faculty luncheon?”

“Very funny. No, I mean go out to lunch or dinner. Be among other adults once in a while.”

“Like a date?” Maggie suggested.

James took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at her. “Exactly. A date. Maybe we could even swing dinner and a movie once in a while.”

“Or the theatre?” Maggie asked wistfully.

“Let’s not get carried away,” James said, chuckling when she mock-punched him in the arm. “I think that was very sweet of you to buy that new video game for him because we left him behind to do grown up things.”

“Yes, but I'm sure it’ll mean more to him that you turned down a game of pool and a chance to play poker tomorrow so you could stay home and play in the snow with him.”

“I’m sure we’ll build a veritable army of snowmen.”

“He does love his snowmen,” Maggie said with a sigh.

They made it home and James left the car idling in case Christine needed a ride home. A white-faced Christine met them at the door.

Fear clutched at James’s throat. “Christine? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I—I—can’t find Joey.”

Maggie pushed by her and into the house. Unmindful of the snow she was tracking in, she swept through the house, calling Joey’s name.

“What do you mean, you can’t find him?” James barked.

Tears filled Christine’s eyes. “He wanted me to go build snowmen with him, but I told him not until it stopped snowing. I thought he was in his room playing, but I just checked and he’s not there. I couldn’t find him anywhere in the house. I’m so sorry, Mr. Preston. I don’t know where he is.”

“James?” Maggie called from the back door. “You need to see this.”

James hurried to the back door, Christine trailing after him. Maggie pointed wordlessly to the empty peg where Joey’s snowsuit usually hung. The bench by the door had been dragged over to just under it.

James flung open the back door and took in the scene at a glance. Trampled snow everywhere. Snow balls for a snowman arranged side by side. And a trail of small footprints leading into the woods.

“Joey!” James called. “Joey, where are you buddy? Time to come home now. Joey!”

But there was no answer.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, 

Winter’s Child – Part 13

James Joseph Preston III looked out of the big window in the living room and grinned at the falling snow. He loved the snow.

“Dad! Dad!” He pushed off the window ledge and raced through the house, looking for his father. He found him in the study, cleaning up the desk.

“Dad! Did you see?”

“Hey, buddy. What’s got you so excited?

“It’s snowing. The big flakes that are best for buildin’ snow men!”

“The winter’s just starting, Joey. You’ve got lots of time to build snow men.”

“But I wanna build one now! Can we got outside? You’re puttin’ your stuff away. That means you’re done workin’, right?

James came around his desk and squatted down so he was on Joey’s level. “I am done what I was doing,” he said. “But we can’t build a snowman today. You mom and I are going out, remember?”

“Do you have to?” Joey asked, a hint of whine in his voice.

“Yes, buddy, I have to. But maybe I can find some time tomorrow.”

“Promise?” Joey asked, having heard this before.

“I’ll do my best, buddy.” James rose to his feet and tousled Joey’s hair.

“And hey, you get to spend time with Christine today. You like Christine, don’t you? Maybe she’ll go out with you.”

“Chrissy doesn’t like the snow,” Joey informed him.

James barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “Well, maybe she’ll play video games with you. And we’ll be home by suppertime.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Joey sighed loudly, arms crossed with his chin resting on one chubby fist, his too-short legs dangling over the edge of the chair, swinging back and forth. If he really strained on the outward swing, the toes of his running shoes could just reach the edge of the coffee table leaving a very satisfying scuff mark on its shining surface.

Not that it mattered really. Chrissy wouldn’t care. Chrissy didn’t care about anything but her phone since she got herself a boyfriend. Joey didn’t know who he was, but he hated him all the same. His favorite babysitter wasn’t fun anymore.

His legs stopped swinging and he jumped off his chair.

“Chrissy,” he went over and tugged at her sleeve. “Chrissy! It stopped snowing. Can I go out ‘n play?”

Chrissy waved a hand in his general direction, but it was unclear whether she was giving him permission or shooing him away. Joey wasted no time on an interpretation but headed with five-year-old speed for the back door.

He struggled into his snowpants and pulled on his old boots that did up with velcro instead of the new ones with the laces. Not being able to manage the zipper himself, and not wanting to ask Chrissy for help in case she hadn’t been giving him permission to go outside, he left his jacket undone. Leaving his hat and scarf behind, but putting his mittens on, he went out the back door.

And hour later found him perched atop the snow covered picnic table, surveying his work. In the center of the back yard, amid the much-trampled snow, was a large snowball with two smaller ones beside it. Try as he might, he lacked the strength to stack them.

He sat much as he had in the house, dangling legs swinging back and forth, chin resting on a very damp, clenched mitt. He sighed and tried to think of something else to do outside. There seemed to be no point in going back inside.

Grandpa Preston would have known what to do. Joey missed him a lot. Grandpa never yakked on the phone all day. Grandpa was never too busy to play with him. And when it was too nasty to play outside, grandpa would sit with him by the fire and tell all kinds of neat stories, like the ones about winter’s children.

Joey sat up straight. That’s what he could do. He could go look for one of winter’s children. Maybe one of them would like to play with him. And then he could bring it back for his dad to see and then maybe grandpa could come back to live with them again.

He slid down off of the picnic table and shot a quick glance at the house before hurrying off, unmindful of the fact he was never, under any circumstances, to leave the back yard without permission. Forgetful of all of grandpa’s warnings of what could happen to little boys in the snow.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Winter's Child - Part 12

Classes done for the day, James spread the notes he’d made from the journals over the desk in his office. He had a copy of his father’s book as well and was going through it highlighting relevant passages.

“How’s it going?” Ben asked from the office door.

“It’s going,” James said, without looking up.

“What are you doing?” He came all the way into the room, peering at the papers cluttering the normally pristine space.

James sighed. “I’ve finished going through all those family journals I told you about, and now I’m going to compare the notes I took to my father’s book.”

His friend was unnaturally quiet, and James glanced up at him. “What?”

Ben hesitated, then asked, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“The book is out there and your father is gone. What are you trying to prove?”

James was a little taken aback. “What are you talking about, I’m not trying to prove anything.”

“You sure about that?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” James said, shuffling the papers around on the desk. “I’m just curious about how much of Dad’s obsession came from the journals and how much of it was the fact he was just bat shit crazy.”

They’d been friends long enough that Ben knew when to back off, as he did now. “If you say so,” he said, moving back to the door. “Are you and Maggie coming to the faculty luncheon on Saturday?”

“Yes,” James said, grateful for the change of subject. “We already have Christine booked to babysit.”

Ben nodded.

“What about you, are you and Heather Bradshaw still a thing?”

“Stephanie Tamsin,” Ben said with a grin.

“Tamsin,” James repeated, brow furrowed. “Isn’t she the newest addition to the philosophy department?”

Ben’s grin widened.

James shook his head with a chuckle. “Is there anyone on the faculty you haven’t dated?”

“I’ll see you Saturday,” Ben said, giving a small wave as he departed.

James waited a couple of minutes, then got up and closed the door. Technically he was still on the clock, but maybe the closed door would be enough to deter any more visitors.

Seated once more behind his desk, he stared at his notes. Maybe Ben had a point. Maybe he was trying to prove something, if only to himself. He just wasn’t sure at this point if he was trying to prove his father was delusional, or if he was right.

With a sigh he opened his father’s book and picked up the first page of his notes. Rumors of the creatures had begun almost as soon as the settlers arrived. That first winter, in fact, corroborating Joseph’s account.

“They were there from the beginning,” he read. “The truth is, they were probably there from way before the beginning. But I don’t believe they were a threat then. I think they were just overly cautious in meeting us, maybe they perceived us as the threat. That’s why they stayed hidden.”

Okay, that much was verified by the journals. But the early sightings were so vague they could have been anything, really.

“Wait a minute. He said he didn’t believe they were a threat then,” James said, going through his notes. “So when exactly did they become a threat?”

He flipped through his father’s book until he came to that section.

“There were many deaths that could be traced back to Winter’s Children, but I believe they were accidental. I think they were shy by nature, and lured single folk away to try and communicate. Maybe they didn’t understand that we couldn’t take the cold the way they could.”

“Seriously Dad?” James sat back in his chair with a thump. “After all your big talk of how evil they were, you’re defending them?”

Leaning forward again, he continued reading.

”But all that changed when Joshua Preston shot several of them. There were no bodies, of course, Winter’s Children left nothing behind. But that showed them beyond a shadow of a doubt what kind of threat we could be.”

There, Joshua Preston. He was the one who made the first detailed description of the creatures. Then later he went crazy and killed his brother Ethan. According to Johnathan Preston, his surviving brother, Joshua had suddenly started shooting at shadows.

Shadows, James read. Not creatures, shadows. No one else saw anything. He was almost disappointed that Joseph had blown the whole incident out of proportion, then twisted it to fit his own version of the truth.

With a sigh, he gathered up his papers and shoved them in the bottom drawer of his desk, along with his father’s book. Time to let it go.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,