This week, since we kinda missed getting the word on Monday, me and my friend Sora decided to start today with Monday's word. This gives us all weekend to write and hopefully homework will not be getting in the way this time. :)
Little sister's birthday party tomorrow!! Whoo. :D I am so looking forward to celebrating her 21st. Such an exciting time.
That's about it for me today. I'll have a much longer post on Monday with details on my life and The Night Is Darkest, my novel in the works. No spoilers (there are a lot!) but I might be posting snippets from time to time.
If I remember to, I'll be sure to post movie reviews and my thoughts on the new Sherlock episodes, which will reach the US this coming May, but are already out on DVD in the UK (the last episode aired almost two weeks ago!). It's really quite fantastic. For now though I need more coffee and some breakfast.
This week's work is:
Otrance [oo-tRahNs] -noun French. 1. the utmost extremity.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
By-week
No short story this week. Homework is kicking my butt and my dad failed to give me a word on Monday and I forgot to follow up on that. Oops.
Little sister's 21st birthday yesterday, going out this weekend to celebrate. Sure to be fun.
I found a new way to do my English homework - tipsy. Now, while this is not something new, I have a personal rule not to drink until after homework. But last night I decided to watch the second episode of season 2 of Sherlock and, well, I like to drink when watching them for the first time. I've done that with every episode, the first time through. Next time I'll be sure to finish my homework first, then watch Sherlock.
Little sister's 21st birthday yesterday, going out this weekend to celebrate. Sure to be fun.
I found a new way to do my English homework - tipsy. Now, while this is not something new, I have a personal rule not to drink until after homework. But last night I decided to watch the second episode of season 2 of Sherlock and, well, I like to drink when watching them for the first time. I've done that with every episode, the first time through. Next time I'll be sure to finish my homework first, then watch Sherlock.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Quarter
A day later than I promised, but I'm mostly proud I finished it. I just had to start this project on the first week of classes. Anyway, without further ado, here is my unedited short story of the week.
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Quarter
Ketting looked over her shoulder again. This time she could have sworn there was a noise. After a few seconds of silence, she looked back at the book in front of her, satisfied she was alone.
_________________________________________________________
Ketting looked over her shoulder again. This time she could have sworn there was a noise. After a few seconds of silence, she looked back at the book in front of her, satisfied she was alone.
_________________________________________________________
Ketting had begun the task no one else in her family seemed inclined to do.
The apartment was empty that evening. Her roommates were out for the evening, Louise at work and Jenna out for dinner. An almost eerie silence had slowly descended throughout the rooms, blocking out even the sound of the traffic passing below.
Ketting had been slowly going through each of her grandmother’s possessions that had been left to her, deciding what to keep and what to sell. She had never been very close with her grandmother, and had only seen her three times. Both her mother and her only uncle hadn’t spoken to their mother in nearly thirty years, longer than Ketting had been alive at least. Her grandmother had left almost all her possessions to her only grandchild. Her great wealth, all her furniture, material possessions. Everything except for the sprawling manor house in upstate New York and all the paintings that lined its walls. That went to her uncle, Harrod, who, wanting nothing to do with anything of his mother’s, immediately placed the house on the market and donated all the paintings to museums and galleries throughout the world. What had been left to Ketting was placed in a storage facility for three months. In that time she had to figure out what to do with it all or it would be auctioned off.
Her mother said to leave it all to rot, and good riddance. Ketting of course, immediately began sifting though everything, selling off furniture and other house decor that she didn’t want or need and incorporating the rest into the apartment. All of her grandmother’s clothes she donated, though she kept the antique jewelery. The books she kept, and most were piled about the apartment, the bookshelves overfull.
There were four boxes that held papers and photographs, all personal odds and ends. These Ketting was reluctant to open. Her roommates chided her for her nervousness, but Ketting couldn’t shake the feeling that within those boxes was the answers to all the questions she had about her mother’s childhood, and the key to knowing who her grandmother was.
And Ketting had a strong feeling it wouldn’t be what she expected.
_________________________________________________________
When Ketting had the apartment to herself for a night she had a ritual that she would follow. First was a bath. Candle light, with bath oils and aromatherapy. She would then dress in one of her silk nightgowns and cook herself a gourmet dinner. A bottle of wine, a fire and a book followed.
Tonight she couldn’t get back into her book. The boxes that were in the corner of their living room were calling her name. They had a story to tell her. One she was desperate to hear. Her mother’s warning to stay away was playing through her mind, enticing her as much as spurning her away. With a sigh, Ketting set down her book. She knew that it was time to finally open the boxes.
Ketting pulled the boxes into the center of the room. Fingers tapping nervously on her legs, Ketting nervously paced in front of the boxes. She turned away, opting to pour herself another glass of wine. She sipped greedily from the glass, draining it, and filling up another before she finally sat down on the hardwood floor.
Prying open the boxes was a bit more difficult than the young woman anticipated. After a few glasses of wine, pulling tape off was not a simple task. It required some grunting, yelling and the eventual breaking down and getting scissors, which let to bringing the rest of the bottle of wine over. Once the tape was all more or less off the boxes, Ketting got to work. The struggle with the boxes took away all of the trepidation she had about their contents.
Financial files and records filled the first two boxes and made their way to the garbage shoot down the hall. The third box held an extensive coin collection. All of the coins were in books. There were coins dating back to the beginning of the country and quite a few from other countries as well. A coin collector was not who she thought her grandmother was, but obviously she had to have one of the most complete collections in the world. Carefully pulling out each book, Ketting gently looked through them. Every single coin slot was full. Except for one. A single quarter from 1965, Philadelphia mint. An odd coin to be missing. Shrugging it off, Ketting began putting the books back.
The apartment was empty that evening. Her roommates were out for the evening, Louise at work and Jenna out for dinner. An almost eerie silence had slowly descended throughout the rooms, blocking out even the sound of the traffic passing below.
Ketting had been slowly going through each of her grandmother’s possessions that had been left to her, deciding what to keep and what to sell. She had never been very close with her grandmother, and had only seen her three times. Both her mother and her only uncle hadn’t spoken to their mother in nearly thirty years, longer than Ketting had been alive at least. Her grandmother had left almost all her possessions to her only grandchild. Her great wealth, all her furniture, material possessions. Everything except for the sprawling manor house in upstate New York and all the paintings that lined its walls. That went to her uncle, Harrod, who, wanting nothing to do with anything of his mother’s, immediately placed the house on the market and donated all the paintings to museums and galleries throughout the world. What had been left to Ketting was placed in a storage facility for three months. In that time she had to figure out what to do with it all or it would be auctioned off.
Her mother said to leave it all to rot, and good riddance. Ketting of course, immediately began sifting though everything, selling off furniture and other house decor that she didn’t want or need and incorporating the rest into the apartment. All of her grandmother’s clothes she donated, though she kept the antique jewelery. The books she kept, and most were piled about the apartment, the bookshelves overfull.
There were four boxes that held papers and photographs, all personal odds and ends. These Ketting was reluctant to open. Her roommates chided her for her nervousness, but Ketting couldn’t shake the feeling that within those boxes was the answers to all the questions she had about her mother’s childhood, and the key to knowing who her grandmother was.
And Ketting had a strong feeling it wouldn’t be what she expected.
_________________________________________________________
When Ketting had the apartment to herself for a night she had a ritual that she would follow. First was a bath. Candle light, with bath oils and aromatherapy. She would then dress in one of her silk nightgowns and cook herself a gourmet dinner. A bottle of wine, a fire and a book followed.
Tonight she couldn’t get back into her book. The boxes that were in the corner of their living room were calling her name. They had a story to tell her. One she was desperate to hear. Her mother’s warning to stay away was playing through her mind, enticing her as much as spurning her away. With a sigh, Ketting set down her book. She knew that it was time to finally open the boxes.
Ketting pulled the boxes into the center of the room. Fingers tapping nervously on her legs, Ketting nervously paced in front of the boxes. She turned away, opting to pour herself another glass of wine. She sipped greedily from the glass, draining it, and filling up another before she finally sat down on the hardwood floor.
Prying open the boxes was a bit more difficult than the young woman anticipated. After a few glasses of wine, pulling tape off was not a simple task. It required some grunting, yelling and the eventual breaking down and getting scissors, which let to bringing the rest of the bottle of wine over. Once the tape was all more or less off the boxes, Ketting got to work. The struggle with the boxes took away all of the trepidation she had about their contents.
Financial files and records filled the first two boxes and made their way to the garbage shoot down the hall. The third box held an extensive coin collection. All of the coins were in books. There were coins dating back to the beginning of the country and quite a few from other countries as well. A coin collector was not who she thought her grandmother was, but obviously she had to have one of the most complete collections in the world. Carefully pulling out each book, Ketting gently looked through them. Every single coin slot was full. Except for one. A single quarter from 1965, Philadelphia mint. An odd coin to be missing. Shrugging it off, Ketting began putting the books back.
A strange echo seemed to follow the sound of the book being placed in the box. Ketting glanced over her shoulder. Nothing was moving. The windows weren’t open and there wasn’t even noise from the neighboring apartments.
Ketting laughed softly. Her imagination was starting to kick in. She was definitely tipsy at this point. Still, Ketting quickly finished putting the books away. All but the one with the missing quarter. That she was going to remedy. Banks had to have stashed of coins and maybe she could check out a few other places, antique stores and the like. Her mom’s dresser was a definite place to hunt through.
Tap.
Ketting looked over her shoulder again. This time she could have sworn there was a noise. After a few seconds of silence, she looked back at the book in front of her, satisfied she was alone. She gently brushed the place where the coin should have been. It looked as though there had at one time been filled, but was no longer. Closing the book, she set it on the floor next to her.
Finally, Ketting turned to the last box. This one held journals and photo albums. There was water damage on most of it. And a few unidentifiable stains.
Something hit the ground behind her, with the distinct tapping clatter a coin makes as it strikes wood. Ketting turned her gaze to the floor behind her. There lay the quarter that was missing from the book. It was no longer shinny, but dirtied. A grimy film covering its surface. Ketting slowly reached out and picked up the coin.
A floorboard creaked.
Ketting froze, eyes wide, the quarter now clasped in her outstretched hand.
Unexpected. Without a doubt. Monday, January 16, 2012
The New Year
I've begun writing a book. And while I'm not constantly writing, I am making decent progress.
One of my two new years resolutions was to write more. This is an achievable goal. The other is to graduate from a college, which I will do in May. Yes! Though I have my application for Columbia to worry about now and graduation to deal with on top of my busy schedule, its got my excitement at a new chapter of my life fueling these processes. End tangent.
On to my writing goal. Each Monday my father is giving me and my friend Sora a word. We both are writing a short story that must be finished by Friday. I'll be posting the short stories I write on here then. On Mondays I post what the word is and other nonsense that is on my mind that week.
I'm looking forward to developing my writing skills and building my creativity. Hopefully I won't put this off due to school work, and vise versa. Hahaa.
That's all for today, writing is taking over my single free hour left until after bouldering tonight.
This week's word is QUARTER.
One of my two new years resolutions was to write more. This is an achievable goal. The other is to graduate from a college, which I will do in May. Yes! Though I have my application for Columbia to worry about now and graduation to deal with on top of my busy schedule, its got my excitement at a new chapter of my life fueling these processes. End tangent.
On to my writing goal. Each Monday my father is giving me and my friend Sora a word. We both are writing a short story that must be finished by Friday. I'll be posting the short stories I write on here then. On Mondays I post what the word is and other nonsense that is on my mind that week.
I'm looking forward to developing my writing skills and building my creativity. Hopefully I won't put this off due to school work, and vise versa. Hahaa.
That's all for today, writing is taking over my single free hour left until after bouldering tonight.
This week's word is QUARTER.
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