What I Write
(Where We Keep Our Sorrow- Excerpt)
The kitchen was an unfamiliar battlezone but Autumn felt the pressure of time creeping on her. There was no telling how long before that thing found her, she needed to be prepared. Still, she had no idea where to start looking.
Garlic didn’t have to be refrigerated, did it? At the store, it was always out with the potatoes and onions, which meant room temperature was okay. Right?
She started her search on the counter, inside and behind the bread box. Nothing. Autumn was pretty sure the only thing in the cabinets by the stove were plates and bowls but she climbed on top of a chair to double check. Better safe than sorry.
All clear there too.
She thought of the way the stranger had been watching her. The way he distorted photographs and made her head hurt when viewed in a mirror. The way he always seemed to be in the shadows and gone without a trace. If you had asked her yesterday if vampires were real she would have laughed at you but now… now she wasn’t so sure.
On top the fridge where there was nothing but dust. She checked inside the fridge, just to be sure and there was a small container of already chopped garlic and that was tempting but she couldn’t help thinking whole cloves would be better for what she needed.
She was elbow deep in the pantry when her brother’s voice sounded behind her. “What the hell are you looking for?”
Uh-oh. She froze, mind racing as she tried to come up with a plausible excuse. There was nothing in this cabinet except baking supplies and the very idea of it was probably enough to send Nate into an early grave from choking on his own laughter.
“I thought I heard a rat,” she panicked. Autumn would have slapped herself if that wouldn’t have drawn more attention to the situation.
“You thought you heard a rat?”
“You? And your first response was to go look for it?”
She swallowed, pretending to still be rummaging around for the fictional rodent. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Last time you thought there was a mouse you screamed so loud the neighbors came to see what was wrong.”
“I’ve matured a lot since then.”
“That was last week.”
“Its been a very long week.”
Nate was very close now, crouched down beside her, looking over the top of his glasses. “Mind trying again?”
She swallowed and felt her will to live slipping away. “Need garlic.”
Don’t say vampires don’t say vampires don’t say vampires. “I… am hungry.”
Nate perked up immediately. “Are you going to cook?” he asked in the kind of awed tone that small children use to inquire about Santa.
Oh the webs we weave. “Yes,” Autumn lied. “I am absolutely going to do that.”
Her brother leaned closer, hands on his knees and eyes shining. “Do you want help?”
There was no getting out of it. Memories of burnt toast and charred scrambled eggs flashed behind Autumn’s eyes. They should probably pre-emptively take the batteries out of the smoke detector. “I would like that.”
If asked about the high pitched noise later, Nate would deny it coming from him and insist there had been a mouse in the cupboards after all.
|What I Write||
Above is the first draft of a novel that is pretty much my characteristic wheelhouse: stories about depression and coping, about family both blood and found. Stories about finding your way, your voice, your path when everyone around you says no, says hush, says listen I know best. There will always be an edge of once upon a time (in this case: a knight errant, a touch of death, a decision thrice made.) There will, when I do my job right, be feelings and resolutions and moments that you, the reader, walk away from feeling better for having experienced them. (there will be comma abuse until I run things by an editor. Alas, the comma splice has me deeply in its grasp.)
None to speak of yet. Most of my writing can be found on my website listed above or if you’re brave enough, a collection of fanfiction over at Archive of Our Own
My Write-a-thon Goals
Just moved across the country at the beginning of May and am still considerably discombobulated. As such writing goals this year is just: write. Five words a day. One hundred. As long as I make progress and make something that wasn’t there, I’m counting it as good.
I do not feel confident enough to aim for a set amount, any amount given is appreciated.