Lucid Waking

Archive for the ‘Fiction Prose’ Category

Secrets of the Blue House (11)

        “Wait a minute,” Nick interjected and then added after catching a stern look from the nymph, “Excuse me. But I’m not even sure I want this house and yet, you seem to have decided for me.”
        “Well, think of it this way: wouldn’t you do anything you could to ensure your survival?”
        “All right, continue.”
        “Mr. Fontaine, Sr used to have three children: two daughters and a son. His son would inherit most of his fortune, but his daughters would still receive a good portion of the money. I’m sure its a typical story, but they both were killed in the hedge maze and we didn’t want…”
        “Wait, wait. Killed? What happened?”
        “We don’t have much time to discuss it, but Mr. Fontaine, Jr. and his eldest sister decided that in order to prevent their sister and her soon-to-be husband from receiving the money, they killed her, leaving her significant other no reason to stay. Then they killed the remaining sister’s husband before Mr. Fontaine, Jr. turned on her and killed her. With no one else to receive the money and the house, he thought he would inherit it all and then sell this land to building contractors to tear us down and put up smaller houses on this plot.”
        “This seems like a lot more serious than you are making it out to be.”
        “Believe me, we are concerned, but there was nothing we could have done. The blood line and magic energy here were too weak for us to speak to the girls and warn them before it was too late. More importantly, Mr. Fontaine, Jr. has come to visit his father, but we’re sure he somehow heard that Mr. Fontaine, Sr. was seriously considering giving you this house. We’re afraid that he is going to try to kill you so that you don’t inherit this area.”
        Nick took a deep breath. “But I’m quite happy in the city and I don’t need a house out here.”
        “Please reconsider,” the satyr said for the first time in the conversation, “I’m rather fond of the flowers in the garden and I would hate to lose connection to the house.”
        “You don’t have to live here,” the nymph continued, “You just have to keep me standing.”
        Nick took a deep breath and looked at the hall around him. “All right. But what am I going to do about Gervais’s son?”
        “Just be wary,” the nymph said, putting a cold hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I wish there was more you could do.”
        “If he attacks you and you can get outside, I’ll help you,” the satyr said. “But don’t go near the hedge maze. Stay near the house if you can.”
        Nick nodded. “Well…thanks.”
        The nymph and satyr smiled and both wished him good night. In a daze, Nick ascended the stairs to his guest room and after undressing for the second time that evening, he fell back asleep.

Author’s comments on post 399: Part two of the section I wrote on Tuesday. Tomorrow, a small diversion and I might publish more of this story just to keep the ball rolling. Otherwise, you will get more of this story on Saturday.

Secrets of the Blue House (10)

        The sight through the door made Nick froze. The tree in the fountain cast a silver glow stronger than moonlight, but with the same sentiment. The water no longer flowed and pooled in the basin at the tree’s roots. The boobrie was sitting among its branches while the satyr and nymph sat at the edge of the fountain with their feet resting in the water, both laughing quietly. The nymph was the first to notice him and her warm smile was inviting enough to get Nick to step forward and allow the door to shut behind him.
        “Come, join us,” she said, though her lips did not move. “Don’t worry, they can’t hear us,” she answered to Nick’s unspoken anxiety. Cautiously, but not wishing to be rude, he made his way to the fountain and then sat down on the edge, his feet still planted on the tile floor.
        “I’m sorry we had to wake you,” she continued, “but it was imperative that we talk.”
        “What do you mean, wake me?”
        “I sent our messenger to get you from upstairs.”
        As if on cue, the boobrie flew down from its perch and quickly landed into the pond, splashing a little water from its great wings onto Nick’s back. “That is my purpose; to retrieve those whom the castle wishes to speak to.”
        “The castle?” Nick wished he could sound more intelligent than he was, but nothing else seemed to form in his mind. The adrenaline of the dream had worn off enough that he was getting sleepier, but not enough for him to nod off entirely.
        The nymph smiled. “He means the house. The Blue House, of course, where you are currently a guest. I am the voice of the house, and my friend here,” she indicated the satyr, who waved, “is the voice of the grounds. We were just discussing what to tell you when you arrived.”
        “Look, I know this isn’t real and that I’m dreaming, but could you at least try to make sense?”
        The nymph smiled condescendingly. “Unfortunately, this is real. Magic is a lost art to humans, but it still resides in objects deeply connected to a bloodline. This house is just a copy of the Fontaine Château, but it is connected because of spirit—love to be exact—and thus, holds some of the same magical properties as the castle in France. But all of this is technical and has nothing to do with you, my dear boy.
        “We don’t have much time to talk, so I am going to try to be as brief as possible. I’m sure you are aware of your connection to the Fontaines in France, but there are a few old households in other places in Europe where pieces of the Great Water Spirit resided. Millions of years before humans, the gods lived on Earth and then the wizards. During the time of the wizards, the gods started losing their connection to this planet. When the humans—completely magic-less creatures who worships wizards and gods alike—finally came around, the Great Water Spirit decided to split herself and spread the pieces far and wide to random humans throughout the land. Eventually these humans built households and manors around these pieces and each family called themselves “The Fountains” because they were protectors of the water spirit.
        “Somehow the piece that remains in what is now Spain was lost, but the family line remained. You, as you can probably guess, are the product of a merge between two Fountain lines, which means that you have a greater connection to the magic of the house. It enables me to talk to you and it also enables you to use a bit of the magic from the house for yourself.
        “But I did not call you down here to give you a brief history lesson nor to teach you how to control magic, I wanted to warn you about your role in the story of this house. Mr. Fontaine, Sr. doesn’t know this, but anyone involved in the inheritance of this house is in danger. As one of the strongest links on the Fountain bloodline, we feel that you are the best one to own this house and will do all we can to aid in your welfare.”

Author’s comments on post 398: Part one of what I finished writing yesterday. This was a lot harder to write than I thought it would be, not because I didn’t know what was going to happen, but because I can’t seem to find enough motivation to sit down and finish it. The conversation will conclude tomorrow and then we’ll have a very interesting climax and "le fin." I started another story which I have a hunch will probably turn into a novel/novella, but I don’t really want to publish it until I have a good idea how long it might be. Also, I am working on something good to celebrate the 400th post on Friday. All in all, I’m super busy so I will go and finish what I need to do now and stop writing commentary

Secrets of the Blue House (9)

If you are starting here, please read the story thus far before continuing. Edits have been made to the story after the posts, so it might be a good idea to refresh yourself of the details.

        There was a tapping at the guest room window, even though it was nowhere near a balcony and on the second floor. Trying to ignore it, Nick continued surveying the closet where the guest set of clothes that Gervais had lent him were hanging. The tapping became more persistent, but when he finally looked towards the window, there was nothing there. After turning away again, the tapping continued, so Nick walked over to the window and opened it, sticking his head out and surveying the house and grounds.
        “You really shouldn’t do that,” a voice said behind him. He turned around and faced a rather horrifying bird, much like a heron but with feathers that seemed like spikes. Its eyes were dark and voluminous; they seemed to swallow the light and comfort from the room all the while masking emotion, although, Nick assumed, a bird could not hold such complicated emotions that could need masking.
        “You might fall,” it continued. “It would be so easy to push you.”
The bird flew right at him and though Nick never felt the impact of the great bird hitting him with incredible speed, he found himself falling. Panic gripped his limbs as the world started fading.
        Nick woke up with a gasp. His heart was beating loudly and the darkness suddenly seemed menacing. He propped himself on his elbow and tried to scan the room for any activity, lingering on the shadows longer as if they would become clearer the longer he looked. Suddenly there was a brush of wind across his bare arm, though the room did not seem particularly drafty. In the stillness afterwards, Nick could have sworn he heard feathers beat against the door, but there was no other movement to suggest a winged visitor and, after a quick glance, the window was closed. Nick moved quickly to the light switch but after finding nothing in the room, grabbed his clothes from where they were draped against the desk chair and dressed quickly. He shut off the light again and cautiously peered into the dark hallway, feeling foolish for expecting something that he logically knew should not be there. This time, though, he saw a shape go down the stairs. After the first initial bit of panic, he made his way as quietly as he could towards the staircase.
        The servants had left candles burning, for some reason, in the hall and it cast a meager, haunting glow to the bottom of the stairs. Nick couldn’t see anyone or anything at the base of them, though he did catch a thin line of silver light coming from under the door to the main hall. Just as Nick made up his mind that he had no reason to go and investigate, he found himself descending the steps towards the door and then gently and silently going through.

Author’s comments on post 397: Things are slowly picking up. What or who is behind the door? You shall have to wait and see.

Secrets of the Blue House (8)

If you are starting here, please read the story thus far (if you haven’t already) before continuing. Edits have been made to the story after the posts, so it might be a good idea to refresh yourself of the details.

        Gervais glanced over his shoulder to see where Nick was looking and said calmly, “What is it, Edna?”
        Edna took a deep breath and kept her eyes on her shoes. “Your son, sir, is here visiting.”
        Gervais nodded with a strange void of emotion. “I will see him in the parlor shortly.” After Edna left, he turned to Nick. “I hope you don’t mind staying here over night; it is getting awfully late.”
        “It’s not too late. And I wouldn’t want to impose.” Obviously, something lay between Gervais and his son and Nick already felt that his stay had been long enough. The unspoken tension between Edna and Gervais gave Nick a reason, internally at least, to want to leave.
        “You wouldn’t be imposing, in fact, I insist.”
        Nick forced a smile. “All right.”
        Gervais walked over to the wall to his left and pressed a hidden button near the corner of the room. “I need someone to escort Mr. Fuentes to a guest room.”
        Within short moments, a short, meek woman came from the direction of the kitchen and bowed very slightly. Gervais waved his hand nonchalantly in Nick’s direction before bidding him goodnight.
        “If you need anything at all, don’t be afraid to ring the bell next to your bed and a servant should come down to help you.”
        Nick smiled as best he could. “Thank you.”

Author’s comments on post 396: It’s not much, but it’s a post. I really hope to finish this story before school, but it’s weighing heavily on my head. Luckily, the concluding section should start soon and we are getting to some exciting revelations. Sit tight and enjoy the show, folks!

Secrets of the Blue House (7)

If you are starting here, please read the story thus far (if you haven’t already) before continuing.

        The other doors in the front hall went to the dining room, ballroom, billiard room, and second hall. Behind the billiard room was the kitchen, which connected only to the dining room and had a stairs down to the cellar for storage. The second hall had the identical tile and white-wall appearance as the central hall, but was much smaller; there was barely enough room for both Gervais and Nick to stand. A mirror on the left wall faced the coat closet and straight across from the door was a set of marble stairs. These stairs led to the second floor directly where a myriad of doors surrounded the chandelier in the middle of the hall ceiling. Most of these rooms were bedrooms with their own bathrooms and various color accents for white walls. The master bedroom took up the entire corner of the floor with windows overlooking the elaborate French garden. The balcony from the master bedroom obscured the view of the patio, which was seen fairly well from the other bedrooms. The floor also boasted a study and library; the latter extended to the third floor as seen by the room’s height, though there was no door to lead to the upper floor. A small set of wooden stairs was hidden by a separate door and led to the third floor, which except for a rather extensive conservatory, was filled with servants bedrooms. Gervais let slip that this portion of the house had the most secret passageways, but he did not mention where, though the vagueness of the fact left Nick with a slight feeling of being watched. Gervais seemed to notice some sort of change in his guest’s demeanor, because he quickly mentioned with another uncharacteristic smile that even he did not know all the nooks and crannies of the house, which meant that no one else—especially the servants—would either.
        “I’m sure the servants will stay with the house,” he added later on in their tour, “And because I’m feeling good spirited, I’m willing to give you a little stipend to pay them, if you wish.”
        “We’ll see.”
        Though the house was grand and beautiful, it could not compare to the grounds before which it stood. The ballroom led directly out onto a stone patio, which based on the raised nature of the house, also served as a small balcony. Stone stairs on either side led down to another stone area with a large fountain in the middle of it. This fountain had a knight on a bucking horse holding up an unassuming goblet that sprayed water high into the air. The far edge of the stone patio bordered a geometric French garden, in the left corner a hedge maze began that Nick could see he mistook as the edge of the property from the street. There was also a gazebo far from the house beside a small pond that trickled into a thin brook leading off the premises. A few benches were set up under the trees nearest the house next to some glass tea tables with potted plants in the center. Far to the right of the house was the carriage driveway, which led to a garage and stable along with a rather large greenhouse.
        “There is a fountain in in the middle of the hedge maze, as well, although there is only one entrance. There is a reason we are called the Fontaines.”
Nick smiled at the quip. “Is there any reason for the statues being the way they are?”
        “You noticed that, did you? I’m not sure the significance, although this one must seem obvious. This is a no name knight who found the Holy Grail. The one inside is of a nymph, satyr, and boobrie dancing around the tree of life. The nymph represents nature, the boobrie represents water, and the satyr represents merriment. And the one inside the hedge maze, I believe, depicts Theseus killing the minotaur, but it’s been so long, I’m not sure.”
        “That’s a very morbid subject for supposedly a romantic place.”
        “Ariadne is somewhere in there as well, I think. But I always thought it was a rather strange topic, as well.”
        The sun was falling over the tips of the hedge and splashing light everywhere. Above it, the pink and lavender sky was quickly turning into a grayish blue while the shadows among the leaves and flowers got darker and larger. Nick accepted Gervais’ dinner invitation and stepped back inside the house, which was now darker and filled with random multi-colored spots from Nick’s glance at the sun. Conveniently, dinner was already set on the table, but still steaming and the two men seemed to lose no time in piling food upon their plates.
        It wasn’t until they both waited within conversation for desert that the doorbell rang, muffled by the dining room door. Gervais’ face clouded over just slightly, but he neither moved towards the door nor broke his train of the conversation. Out of the corner of Nick’s eye he could see Edna step into the door, her head hanging to avoid staring, but there was something rigid about her stance as well that gave Nick a slight, but needless, feeling of dread.

Author’s comments on post 395: I wrote this all the way back on July 13, but didn’t edit it until now. I also did some semi-major edits to the rest of the story, so if there is a difference between the published posts and the story in its entirety, please disregard the posts. The big time lapse was mostly because I didn’t like how I initially wrote it, believing it was not poetic enough, and finally came up with a good solution. I’m also pushing myself to finish this before I start other projects that have been slowly forming in my imagination and are almost ready to hatch. Never fear, I do have an ending in mind for this, I just need the time to write. More soon!

Secrets of the Blue House (6)

If you are starting here, please read the story thus far (if you haven’t already) before continuing.

        While they were talking, Gervais had finished his cigarette and he stopped pacing long enough to get another one. “I hope you don’t mind me asking: why did you answer my letter? For someone who barely believed his mother’s family existed, you seemed quite interested in following this lead.”
        “It’s not that I thought my mother had no family, it’s that I didn’t know who they were. When someone claiming to be your rich relative says that you are the probable owner of a large house, it’s natural to want to investigate.”
        Gervais cracked a smile, which seemed extremely uncharacteristic. “Then, I am sorry to inform you that you don’t actually own the house, yet.” He remained standing and slowly smoked the new cigarette, taking in Nick’s appearance so long that it took all Nick had not to squirm.
        “It’s interesting,” Gervais finally said after what felt like a long while, “you look nothing like your mother.”
        “I’m sorry to disappoint.”
        “No, no. It’s not a disappointment. It’s just…interesting.” Gervais continued smoking his cigarette and staring before he finally said, “Luckily for you, I believe you are who you say you are.”
        He put the cigarette out in a glass ashtray sitting on the nearest coffee table and walked over to the door to the hallway. Pressing a well camouflaged button, he said, presumably to an intercom, “please bring the copy of the family tree, Edna.”
        Within a few moments, the round lady who answered the door entered the parlor carrying a sheet of paper. Gervais thanked her and set it down on the table between Nick’s and his chairs. Gervais sat down again and gazed at the paper as if it were an old friend.
        “I copied this out for you earlier today in an effort to help explain the situation. This is just a portion of the tree, but I started here at your great grandfather, Nicolas Fontaine, who happens to be my great uncle. You can see how the line splits here and how your mother and I are second cousins.
        “Traditionally, all of my money would go to my son as he is my eldest and only heir. But I do not want to give him everything and have decided to give you a little something for your still being a relation.
        “This house was designed to be an almost exact replica of the guest suite in the east wing of the Chateau de Fontaine in France. It is my way of connecting to the family castle that I love so much. My son, however, prefers to live in France and, having no need for a house in America, has made it clear that he wants to destroy the house and sell the property. I am much to attached to this estate, so I am willing to give the house—and just the house—to you. Everything else in it belongs to my son along with any money I still have at my death.
        “I’m not sure about your intentions regarding staying here in this region. I thought since you were not directly involved with Fontaine affairs you might feel better about staying here with the house. But, on that same note, there is nothing here that is particularly sentimental to you. So, I will give you a week to decide whether or not you want this house and its property.
        “Until then, perhaps you would like a tour of this house and the grounds?”
        Nick stood up and Gervais followed his lead. “That sounds good to me.”

Author’s comments on post 394: Part 2 of the section I wrote on Saturday. This is just a little break in the story for more description, this time of the house and grounds. I am actually very excited to get to this part since it is a chance for me to be most creative. I know that this might not be the most interesting part of the story, but I will try to make it entertaining and really, there isn’t much action in the tale as a whole. Hopefully you’ll all enjoy it.

Secrets of the Blue House (5)

If you are starting here, please read the story thus far (if you haven’t already) before continuing.

        “Do you mind if I call you Nicolas?”
        “Nick is fine. Since we’re doing away with formalities.” Nick smiled.
        “I have to say, Nick, I’m very glad you accepted my invitation. I was afraid getting a hold of you was going to be a lot harder than I expected, what with your mother practically being removed from the family.”
        “She didn’t hold any grudges that I knew.”
        “That was very noble of her.” Gervais stood up and walked to one of the coffee tables where a wooden cigar box sat. He tipped it towards Nick so that Nick could get a good glimpse of the goods inside, which was surprisingly only cigarettes. “Would you like a smoke?”
        “No, thank you.”
        “Do you mind if I do?”
        Nick shook his head. Gervais took one gingerly and lit it with a gold lighter he pulled from his inside breast pocket. He blew out the smoke thoughtfully and then returned back to his chair beside where Nick sat.
        “I understand, since we don’t know each other, that you probably just want to get to specifics. But I need to get to know you better before I make this decision. As you’re probably aware, the issue we need to discuss is your stake in the Fontaine inheritance, but I would rather know something about you before I get your hopes up.”
        Nick took a deep breath. “All right. But I don’t know much about the family.”
        “Nor do I expect you to. Do you even remember your maternal grandparents?”
        “No. I just remember finding old birthday cards and children’s books that they signed. My mother showed me photographs, but I don’t remember meeting them.”
    “I can assure you that they did come to see you in person. It was a big to-do when the came to Chicago to visit your mother. For the Fontaine family, relations are important and we always keep in touch. I remember when your mother announced at a family reunion she was going to get married to that Spanish boy. It didn’t bother me, but my parents were livid and I knew better than to say anything.”
        “Just because she didn’t marry within the family, she was ostracized?”
        “No, no one married within the family. It’s just expected that you marry someone with good upbringing, solid background, and preferably wealth. It goes back to when nobility in France was important and quite frankly, I’m not sure why it still is in our family.”
        “Did you know my mother was here?”
        “Yes and no. I knew she was in America, but I didn’t know around here. The only family she stayed in contact with was her mother who died a few years after you were born. Her father cooped himself up in his property in Vannes and talked to no one, not even his own family. His sister managed to contact him and as far as I know, he still writes her every now and then. But I’m curious to know what your other family was like.”
        “They were much closer. My grandmother would always dote on me and though my grandfather pretended not to approve, he would do the same thing when she wasn’t around. They always visited around Christmas and my birthday until my mother died when they came to live with my father.”
        “What about you?”
        “I was already out of the house.”
        “You were already working?”
        “Not quite. I lived at school and then got a job at the company where I am currently top CEO. I got my first apartment shortly after I graduated.”
        Gervais nodded, stood up, and started pacing across the room. Nick watched him, warily as he walked past the cigarette box and towards the far window.
        “Did you love your father’s family more than your mother’s?”
        Nick paused. “Why would I favor a family I never knew to one that I did? I can’t answer that question truthfully because for most of my life, my mother never had parents, aunts, uncles or cousins. She was an entity all in herself.”

Author’s comments on post 393: I wrote a lot more to this story on Saturday (which was yesterday) and this is part one. Part two will be published tomorrow. I’m sorry that it’s mostly a boring wall of dialogue, but hopefully something interesting is revealed. It flows well, so it was hard to break up into two sections, but I hope the ending isn’t too jarring. And if it is, just wait for a few hours and the rest will pop up and create a lovely ending.

Secrets of the Blue House (4)

Please read part one, part two, and part three before continuing.

        She stood aside so he could enter. The interior of the house was nothing like Nick expected from observing the outside. It was more of a palace than a Victorian mansion. The entrance hall alone boasted an expansive floor of mirror-like white tile with a fountain in the center. The fountain was easily the size of a swimming pool—if not the depth—and had a larger-than-life-size statue of a barely clothed woman dancing with a satyr and a bird, looking like a cross between a white tailed eagle and a heron. They seemed to have been dancing around a tree that almost reached the ceiling and the water fell from somewhere between the branches at the top. The small portion of walls that Nick could see were white and reached up to a gold ceiling. Most of the walls were covered by doors, which were more than adequately tall and ornately decorated with fantastical creatures that Nick could only guess came from different legends.
        The maid let him soak in the overabundant details in the room before leading him to the second door on the left into a typical parlor. There were several couches, easy chairs, and love seats around the room with twice as many coffee tables and ashtrays strategically placed. The two walls to Nick’s left and right sported large windows with lace curtains but the wall adjacent to him was decorated with a large tapestry that could easily pass off as one created during the Middle Ages. Nick didn’t know what scene was depicted, but he could still see the appeal in having such a large art piece displayed where people probably often frequented.
        The door opened and shut behind him and Nick turned around to find a tall, gray haired man smiling and extending his hand. Nick took it and gave it a hearty shake. The man looked nothing like the other people Nick saw along his journey. He had no trace of work on his frame, nor did he have a trace of age other than his silver hair. It was hard to tell anything about his character, except for the wrinkle-less suit that he had on and the overly shined shoes. He motioned for Nick to sit down and then followed his guest’s lead.
        “I hope your travels weren’t too taxing,” the man said.
        “No. Thank you for asking.”
        “Would you like anything to eat or drink?”
        “No, thank you, Monsieur Fontaine. If you don’t mind, let’s just get down to business.”
        “Of course, Mr. Fuentes. And to start, you may simply call me Gervais. We are, after all, family.”
        Nick smiled curtly. “Of course.”

Author’s comments on post 392: As I said yesterday, this is part two of my recovery story chunk (for lack of a better term). More at a later date…hopefully tomorrow. On a completely different note: I can’t believe I’m almost at post 400! I have no idea what I’m going to do–if anything–to celebrate.

Secrets of the Blue House (3)

For those of you starting here, please read part one and part two before continuing.

        The two-story shops with apartments on top became houses spread apart. A few farms started popping up next to the houses if he had continued on the same main street, but upon turning onto Chestnut Street, the view remained the same. It stayed fairly monotonous until he turned onto Nottingham Street.
        Nottingham Street seemed as if it has stepped out of a Victorian fairy tale. The painted lady houses were in such bright colors it was as if a rainbow had fallen out of the sky and left its hues behind. Most of the mansions continued down the street to Nick’s left; those to the right were all dwarfed by a single house a block down the street. It sat in the middle of the block, but there were no other houses around it for miles. Nick wouldn’t say it was bright blue, but the sun made it seem a shade darker than the paint looked up close. The windows and walls were well kept, the porch was in tip-top shape and the pebbles in the driveway neatly smoothed and swept.
        Nick got out of his car and took in the house’s appearance. The house was wider than it was tall and the porch curved around one side of the house. While the front semi-circle driveway was better kept and obviously the preferred spot to park, there was a carriage trail leading next to the side of the house towards a garage and stable in the back. The rest of the grounds were mostly grass, with a few trees scattered here and there. There was a white picket fence blocking the main street from the lawn in front and far away, a hedge blocking the western edge of the property. The rest of the garden—if there was one—in back of the house was impossible to see.
        Nick stepped away from his car and made his way up the porch steps to the front door. The woman who answered it reminded Nick of a teddy bear: she had rosy, round cheeks underneath sparkling green eyes. Though she wasn’t smiling, there was a joyous curiosity about her so Nick couldn’t help but be polite when he greeted her.
        “Ah, yes. Mr. Fuentes. The Master said that you should be coming.”

Author’s note on post 391: Well, I’ve been recovering from getting my wisdom teeth removed, so I thought I’d use this time for more than computer games. And I’ve been writing. This is just part one of what I wrote today (part two will be published tomorrow), but it’s a lot more than my usual 10 minutes. In addition, I planned a lot, not necessarily about the plot–though I know where it’s going–but about the characters. So, I’ve been a busy bee and I feel a lot better having gotten work done.

Secrets of the Blue House (2)

        City. Nick laughed at the thought. There was nothing about this town that reminded him of a city. A city had magnificent geometric buildings whose entrances were masked by walls of a writhing mass of hurrying people. A city was bathed in the sounds of car horns, chatter, car motors, the smell of car exhaust and stale air. A city had no light, just the blue-gray shadows of the buildings looming over the people that made the giant machine of the city run, day in and day out. A city had no night and day, just constant motion and a disregard for time, except to switch from work to play.
        This town had night and day, sunlight, fresh air, and space. The street was practically deserted and except for the people seen from the large shop windows of the diner and bar, the place looked like a ghost town. The people were molded by work and weariness and the only bit of sophistication were the tacky striped awnings over the windows.

Author’s comments on post 390: I think I like this part of the story best. I know it’s just boring description, but there is a cetain part of poetry in it that tickles my fancy. More at a later date.