Gretel–Second part

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For those who are interested, here’s the bit that follows right after the one where Nora meets Gretel.

Like the last bit I posted, this is raw and unedited, and probably bears only the faintest resemblance to what the final version will be like. Please save critique for December, since I’m still just trying to crank out 50,000 words between now and November 30th. (Although, the way this story is going, it’ll wind up taking closer to 200,000 to get the whole thing out. Sheesh!)

I feel obliged to give a small trigger warning; there is nothing graphically depicted except for the aftermath of nightmares. If you’re inclined to get triggered by that, then stop reading when they’re getting ready to go to sleep.

Gretel, part two:

This is the part I made sure not to talk about with Robin. It’s all so confusing, and keeps getting more messy the further I go. I know I’ll have to talk about it at some point, but I think I can keep it to myself until I’m a little more sure about what’s going on.

Gretel settled down, rummaging through my art supplies, and I went into the kitchen to think about something for breakfast. As I looked through what was in the kitchen, I couldn’t help wondering whether she was going to still be there when I was finished. I peeked around the doorway, and yup, there she was–Not my good pastels!

“Wait. NO! Gretel, you can’t mess with that!”

She stiffened. Her eyes were big and I saw a pout coming on. I took a deep breath. “Gretel, it’s fine with me if you color. I just would rather if you used something else, instead of those. Here, I should have gotten you the crayons and paper.”

I went to the shelves, and pulled out the box of ninety-six crayons. Then I pulled a stack of blank paper out of the printer. “You can use these. See, ninety-six colors. It will be plenty. Those ones you had, they’re special for me. I don’t like to share them very much.”

She was still holding onto the pastels, and didn’t look likely to let go. I dug inside, for the patience to deal with it. Come on, I told myself. You deal with little kids all the time. You can be patient with this imaginary little kid, too.

Right. Imaginary, but making a total mess of my art supplies.

“But I can be very careful,” she bargained.

I shook my head, and reminded myself to be patient. “No. I don’t want to share those. But you can use these crayons however you like. I bet you will enjoy them even more.”

A thought occurred to me: How did a fairy tale character even know about coloring? Oh, right. Because she’s a figment of my imagination, and I know plenty about coloring.

Read the rest…


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Here’s a piece of the novel I’m working on for NaNoWriMo this year. It’s absolute raw draft, and when I was typing, I wasn’t bothering even with capitalization, so apologies for that. I think the spelling is okay, but if not, oh well. I can go back and fix that later. :)

Feel free to comment, but if it’s an editing type comment, save that for December, because my goal for the next 18 days is to just churn out text until I’ve got at least 50,000 words. :) I’ll share parts of the novel this month, when I get things that hang together well enough to show up in the finished version, in some shape or form.

I’ll put the start of the excerpt on the main page, and then you can click the “read more” button to read the rest.

So, without further ado….

excerpt from Fairy Gifts:

it must have been a dream, even though i am pretty certain i was awake. here’s how i remember it: i came home, went inside to check the mail, and something caught my notice outside. i put down my bag, and went back outside. there was a stone. no, there was a trail of stones. for some reason, i followed it. it went around back, and then into my garden.

i kept following it, not sure why. at some point, i realized that i had gone out of my garden, and into somewhere totally strange. normally, there’s not a gate at the back of my garden, but this time there was. normally, what’s behind my garden is mark and josie’s back yard, but this time, it was a dim forest. why did i keep walking? i couldn’t say.

but i did.

i followed the stones, and the forest kept growing around me. it started to get dark, and i heard strange rustling sounds around me. i looked back, and it was like the stones were glowing. i walked a little further, getting more nervous with each step. finally, i chickened out, and went back home.

“why did you chicken out?” asked robin.

“wouldn’t you have?” i asked right back. “i mean, strange path, dark forest, weird sounds. any normal person would back out at that point, right?”

she just gave me that therapist look, the one that says, “this is your story. tell as much of it as you want to tell.”

“okay, so there is more. this was on thursday night. i didn’t have work on friday, and when i went out of the house in the morning, the stones were still there. but it was earlier this time, so i decided to follow them again.”

nod. nothing more. so i continued.

it was morning. so i figured that it wouldn’t get so dark, at least not so quickly. i figured that any of the sounds, i could handle them, so long as it was daylight. i followed the stones, and once again, they led through my garden, and into a dim forest. i kept walking. at least i had the sense to leave the stones where they were. i mean, if you’re going to follow a weird path, it might be a good idea to make sure you’ve got a way back out.

Read the rest…