Day 1 of Year Seven
Yeah, so this is technically posted on Day 2...
So far, things are going well. I wrote over 2,000 words my first day. My characters are wavering between being solidly defined and impossible to figure out. The plots have barely gotten going and everything I've written for the Mermaid Novel is all flashback. Anyways, here you all go (let's hope the LJ cuts work this year:
The sky was clear, the stars bright, and the ocean calm the night Diana Peters met him. She had just turned seven years old in the aged beach house her family lived in sta vacationed in every summer. After all the obligatory celebration, gift unwrapping, and cake eating, her mother had ushered her upstairs to her bedroom she shared with her sister on the third floor of the old beach house. Changing into her pajamas, brushing her teeth, she was tucked into bed. A loose sheet draped over her, she watched as her mother opened all the windows, salty sea air filtering into the room from outside.
“So you dream of the sea,” her mother said, their customary night time bidding, kissing her on the forehead before turning off the light and closing the door.
From downstairs, Diana could still hear the swelling of noise as the rest of her family chatted and cleaned up from her birthday party. It was tradition for the Peters family to spend a month of the summer in the old beach house in Maine. It was the only time the entire family found time to come together. The house had originally belonged to her maternal grandmother, Grandmama, who left the house to Diana's mother in her will when she passed away two years ago. It had been written in her will that the family continue the tradition long after she died, and so they did. The house, that during the majority of the year was empty, filled with laughter and noise for the one month during the summer when a gaggle of aunts and uncles and cousins and siblings filled its walls.
The noise from downstairs began to dim, her cousins being sequestered up the stairs. Diana turned on her side as her older sister, Beatrice, readied herself for bed. Beatrice was fourteen this summer. To Diana, the number fourteen signified a change in character. When Bea turned fourteen, it seemed as if her sister was swept away by the sea, an angry and resentful copy put in her place. Bea, who had been like a friend, letting Diana tag along after her in all her adventures, now wanted nothing to do with her little sister. A swelling of hurt ached near her heart as Diana listed to Bea brush her teeth, slip into bed, and turn out the bed side lamp she had turned on. She wondered what had happened to her sister and friend to be so angry. It must have been something she did, but Diana could think of nothing.
When Bea's soft breaths turned deep as she fell into sleep, Diana turned over and looked at her sister's pale face in the darkness. She sat up, pulling herself to her knees in bed. Gripping the head her her bed, she twisted around to look outside. The ocean was calm and dark, the stars large and brightly reflected in the smooth water. She glanced at Bea.
“Bea,” she whispered quietly.
Her sister snorted quietly in her sleep and turned on her side, her back to Diana. She began to snore softly.
Diana sighed and bit her lip, looking once again to the ocean. It was supposed to be a secret tradition started last year.
“We'll do this every year,” her sister had said this time last year. “It'll be our secret tradition.”
Diana had just turned six. When her sister woke up her up in the middle of the night, whispering of adventure, she had eagerly followed. Her six year old mind curious about what her sister wanted to show her.
“You can't tell anyone,” Bea had whispered as they quietly crept out of the house.
“It's a secret?” Diana had asked.
“Yes.”
“Alright then,” she had said, liking the idea of secrets.
In nothing but their nightgowns and barefeet, Bea and Diana stepped out into the sand. It was cold, Diana's feet sinking into the sand. Her sister guided her across the beach she played on during the day. They passed by the sand castle she had made that afternoon, her bucket and shovel still sitting in the sand, partially forgotten. At the far end of their property, where the sand began to turn into brush, a wooden pier extended out into the ocean. Bea stepped onto the wooden planks.
“Bea,” Diana whispered, pulling on her sister's hand. “I'm not supposed to.”
“What Mom doesn't know wont hurt her,” Bea said. “Remember, this is our secret.”
“Right,” she replied, stepping onto the pier, a surge of defiance welling up in her chest. She was breaking the rules.
Quietly, they padded down along the pier. At the end, it widened into a small deck. Bea stood against one of the railings.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing Diana's hand. “Climb up.”
Placing her feet on the bottom boards of the railing, Diana pushed her weight up so she could see past the railing and off into the sea.
“See,” Bea said, pointing across the ocean.
The water was calm and flat, the full moon reflected perfectly in the water like a mirror.
“Wow,” Diana breathed softly.
“No, over there,” Diana said, angling her pointing finger slightly to the right. “See them.”
Off in the distance, something disturbed the water. Moonlight reflected off of a small patch of smooth skin as an animal breached the surface and dipped back down.
“Dolphins!” Diana whispered excitedly. “They're dolphins.”
“I think so,” Bea said. “They come this time every year. And only at night.” She gripped the railing's banister. “But they've been coming every summer since I was eleven.”
A year later, Diana sat in her bed, eyes trained upon the calm ocean. It was a night just like the one a year ago where she and Bea watched the dolphins off in the distance. They never came nearer to them, and they had only caught a small glimpse of their bodies here and there. It was supposed to be a yearly tradition for the sisters, but this year Bea wanted nothing to do with Diana. Diana glanced at her sister once and then out the window again, watching the moon and the stars warp slightly as reflections in the water. Then she made up her mind.
and the other...
It began with the white room.
***
Quinn Rochester rushed through her apartment, her red phone pressed against the side of her face. She picked up a pile of unfolded but clean laundry from the corner of her couch and unceremoniously dropped it onto the floor.
“What did you say it looked like?” she said into the phone, pushing a stack of People magazines to the carpeted floor. “Jeremy, I don't see it. Are you sure you left it here?”
She sighed and straightened up, pushing a chunk of red hair behind her ear.
“Well, I don't know what to tell you,” she said. “Your chemistry book just isn't here.” She paused. “No, I didn't look in the bedroom,” she said, beginning to sound irritated. “Why would it be in there? You weren't in there last night.”
She placed a hand on her waist, shaking her wavy, auburn hair out of her face.
“Fine,” she said shortly. “I'll go check.”
Sighing softly, she stepped around the spilled magazines and dropped laundry. Her apartment was small and the furthest possible from tidy. The living room was tiny, the room blending in with the kitchen as the kitchen table often doubled as her computer desk and the coffee table functioned as a depository for dirty dishes. Stepping around her coffee table and the old, faded blue arm chair, she opened the door to her bedroom.
A sheet of icy air passed through her as she moved across the threshold and into her bedroom, except it was no longer her bedroom. The phone pressed to her ear went dead and a cold slice of dread slid down her spine. The room she stepped into was white, small, and perfectly square. Along two walls sat a window each, a faded white shade drawn against the sun. In the far corner, a small twin bed sat, the covers pushed down to the end. Next to the bed, a children's book sat open on the braided, rag rug. At the foot of the bed there was a white chest and across from the bed on the wall sat a white dresser. Atop the dresser a lamp cast a weak glow on the room.
Quinn stood frozen on the threshold to the room, her hand still glued to the phone pressed to her ear, and her breath stuck in her throat. Then, she closed her eyes, turned, and stepped back into her living room. Her phone clattered to the ground, the back casing popping off as the battery sprung out and across the floor. Hands trembling, she crouched down and retrieved the parts of her phone. Standing back up, she tentatively glanced back into the room and was relieved to see her messy queen bed, the antique dresser, and open closet door with the partially visible full length mirror. She snapped the battery back into the phone and clicked the casing back on. Within moments, it rang.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Why'd you hang up on me?” Jeremy asked.
“The call dropped,” she said, staring at her room.
“Oh,” he responded. “Well, did you find my book?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Did you even look?” he said next, accusation coloring his words.
Quinn blinked and tore her eyes away from her bedroom. “What?”
“You're not even listening to me.”
“Yes I am,” she said. “I didn't find your book.”
Jeremy sighed, annoyed. “Fine,” he said. “I have to go. If you see it, call me.”
He hung up before Quinn could say anything. The phone silent again, she lowered it from her ear and hit the End button before sliding it into the back pocket of her jeans. Blinking again, she turned away from her room, deciding the white room was just her imagination running off without her as midterms approached. Stress could do funny things to someone.
***
“And that concludes our lecture for today.” At the front of the lecture hall, the TA moved the mouse around, clicking out of the powerpoint presentation. “Don't forget that midterms are next week.”
Quinn shoved her notebook into her messenger bag as she stood up, swinging it over her head as a hundred and fifty other students did the same thing. Outside the lecture hall, a short young woman with black, choppy hair sat on one of the tables by the large windows. She grinned and hopped off when Quinn emerged from the lecture hall.
“I'm hungry,” she said as way of a greeting.
“You're always hungry,” Quinn said.
The other girl fell into step with Quinn. “I require feedings every three hours.”
Laughing, Quinn pushed through the double door leading outside. “Julie, you never cease to amuse me.”
“Amusing people since nineteen eighty seven,” she said.
A smile remained on Quinn's elfin face. “Where should we eat today.”
“The Pit,” Julie responded excitedly.
“Is this because you like their tacos, or because Reed works there now?”
“Both,” she said. “I get tacos and cute boys. How can you go wrong?”
“I guess you can't.”
So far, things are going well. I wrote over 2,000 words my first day. My characters are wavering between being solidly defined and impossible to figure out. The plots have barely gotten going and everything I've written for the Mermaid Novel is all flashback. Anyways, here you all go (let's hope the LJ cuts work this year:
The sky was clear, the stars bright, and the ocean calm the night Diana Peters met him. She had just turned seven years old in the aged beach house her family lived in sta vacationed in every summer. After all the obligatory celebration, gift unwrapping, and cake eating, her mother had ushered her upstairs to her bedroom she shared with her sister on the third floor of the old beach house. Changing into her pajamas, brushing her teeth, she was tucked into bed. A loose sheet draped over her, she watched as her mother opened all the windows, salty sea air filtering into the room from outside.
“So you dream of the sea,” her mother said, their customary night time bidding, kissing her on the forehead before turning off the light and closing the door.
From downstairs, Diana could still hear the swelling of noise as the rest of her family chatted and cleaned up from her birthday party. It was tradition for the Peters family to spend a month of the summer in the old beach house in Maine. It was the only time the entire family found time to come together. The house had originally belonged to her maternal grandmother, Grandmama, who left the house to Diana's mother in her will when she passed away two years ago. It had been written in her will that the family continue the tradition long after she died, and so they did. The house, that during the majority of the year was empty, filled with laughter and noise for the one month during the summer when a gaggle of aunts and uncles and cousins and siblings filled its walls.
The noise from downstairs began to dim, her cousins being sequestered up the stairs. Diana turned on her side as her older sister, Beatrice, readied herself for bed. Beatrice was fourteen this summer. To Diana, the number fourteen signified a change in character. When Bea turned fourteen, it seemed as if her sister was swept away by the sea, an angry and resentful copy put in her place. Bea, who had been like a friend, letting Diana tag along after her in all her adventures, now wanted nothing to do with her little sister. A swelling of hurt ached near her heart as Diana listed to Bea brush her teeth, slip into bed, and turn out the bed side lamp she had turned on. She wondered what had happened to her sister and friend to be so angry. It must have been something she did, but Diana could think of nothing.
When Bea's soft breaths turned deep as she fell into sleep, Diana turned over and looked at her sister's pale face in the darkness. She sat up, pulling herself to her knees in bed. Gripping the head her her bed, she twisted around to look outside. The ocean was calm and dark, the stars large and brightly reflected in the smooth water. She glanced at Bea.
“Bea,” she whispered quietly.
Her sister snorted quietly in her sleep and turned on her side, her back to Diana. She began to snore softly.
Diana sighed and bit her lip, looking once again to the ocean. It was supposed to be a secret tradition started last year.
“We'll do this every year,” her sister had said this time last year. “It'll be our secret tradition.”
Diana had just turned six. When her sister woke up her up in the middle of the night, whispering of adventure, she had eagerly followed. Her six year old mind curious about what her sister wanted to show her.
“You can't tell anyone,” Bea had whispered as they quietly crept out of the house.
“It's a secret?” Diana had asked.
“Yes.”
“Alright then,” she had said, liking the idea of secrets.
In nothing but their nightgowns and barefeet, Bea and Diana stepped out into the sand. It was cold, Diana's feet sinking into the sand. Her sister guided her across the beach she played on during the day. They passed by the sand castle she had made that afternoon, her bucket and shovel still sitting in the sand, partially forgotten. At the far end of their property, where the sand began to turn into brush, a wooden pier extended out into the ocean. Bea stepped onto the wooden planks.
“Bea,” Diana whispered, pulling on her sister's hand. “I'm not supposed to.”
“What Mom doesn't know wont hurt her,” Bea said. “Remember, this is our secret.”
“Right,” she replied, stepping onto the pier, a surge of defiance welling up in her chest. She was breaking the rules.
Quietly, they padded down along the pier. At the end, it widened into a small deck. Bea stood against one of the railings.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing Diana's hand. “Climb up.”
Placing her feet on the bottom boards of the railing, Diana pushed her weight up so she could see past the railing and off into the sea.
“See,” Bea said, pointing across the ocean.
The water was calm and flat, the full moon reflected perfectly in the water like a mirror.
“Wow,” Diana breathed softly.
“No, over there,” Diana said, angling her pointing finger slightly to the right. “See them.”
Off in the distance, something disturbed the water. Moonlight reflected off of a small patch of smooth skin as an animal breached the surface and dipped back down.
“Dolphins!” Diana whispered excitedly. “They're dolphins.”
“I think so,” Bea said. “They come this time every year. And only at night.” She gripped the railing's banister. “But they've been coming every summer since I was eleven.”
A year later, Diana sat in her bed, eyes trained upon the calm ocean. It was a night just like the one a year ago where she and Bea watched the dolphins off in the distance. They never came nearer to them, and they had only caught a small glimpse of their bodies here and there. It was supposed to be a yearly tradition for the sisters, but this year Bea wanted nothing to do with Diana. Diana glanced at her sister once and then out the window again, watching the moon and the stars warp slightly as reflections in the water. Then she made up her mind.
and the other...
It began with the white room.
***
Quinn Rochester rushed through her apartment, her red phone pressed against the side of her face. She picked up a pile of unfolded but clean laundry from the corner of her couch and unceremoniously dropped it onto the floor.
“What did you say it looked like?” she said into the phone, pushing a stack of People magazines to the carpeted floor. “Jeremy, I don't see it. Are you sure you left it here?”
She sighed and straightened up, pushing a chunk of red hair behind her ear.
“Well, I don't know what to tell you,” she said. “Your chemistry book just isn't here.” She paused. “No, I didn't look in the bedroom,” she said, beginning to sound irritated. “Why would it be in there? You weren't in there last night.”
She placed a hand on her waist, shaking her wavy, auburn hair out of her face.
“Fine,” she said shortly. “I'll go check.”
Sighing softly, she stepped around the spilled magazines and dropped laundry. Her apartment was small and the furthest possible from tidy. The living room was tiny, the room blending in with the kitchen as the kitchen table often doubled as her computer desk and the coffee table functioned as a depository for dirty dishes. Stepping around her coffee table and the old, faded blue arm chair, she opened the door to her bedroom.
A sheet of icy air passed through her as she moved across the threshold and into her bedroom, except it was no longer her bedroom. The phone pressed to her ear went dead and a cold slice of dread slid down her spine. The room she stepped into was white, small, and perfectly square. Along two walls sat a window each, a faded white shade drawn against the sun. In the far corner, a small twin bed sat, the covers pushed down to the end. Next to the bed, a children's book sat open on the braided, rag rug. At the foot of the bed there was a white chest and across from the bed on the wall sat a white dresser. Atop the dresser a lamp cast a weak glow on the room.
Quinn stood frozen on the threshold to the room, her hand still glued to the phone pressed to her ear, and her breath stuck in her throat. Then, she closed her eyes, turned, and stepped back into her living room. Her phone clattered to the ground, the back casing popping off as the battery sprung out and across the floor. Hands trembling, she crouched down and retrieved the parts of her phone. Standing back up, she tentatively glanced back into the room and was relieved to see her messy queen bed, the antique dresser, and open closet door with the partially visible full length mirror. She snapped the battery back into the phone and clicked the casing back on. Within moments, it rang.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Why'd you hang up on me?” Jeremy asked.
“The call dropped,” she said, staring at her room.
“Oh,” he responded. “Well, did you find my book?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Did you even look?” he said next, accusation coloring his words.
Quinn blinked and tore her eyes away from her bedroom. “What?”
“You're not even listening to me.”
“Yes I am,” she said. “I didn't find your book.”
Jeremy sighed, annoyed. “Fine,” he said. “I have to go. If you see it, call me.”
He hung up before Quinn could say anything. The phone silent again, she lowered it from her ear and hit the End button before sliding it into the back pocket of her jeans. Blinking again, she turned away from her room, deciding the white room was just her imagination running off without her as midterms approached. Stress could do funny things to someone.
***
“And that concludes our lecture for today.” At the front of the lecture hall, the TA moved the mouse around, clicking out of the powerpoint presentation. “Don't forget that midterms are next week.”
Quinn shoved her notebook into her messenger bag as she stood up, swinging it over her head as a hundred and fifty other students did the same thing. Outside the lecture hall, a short young woman with black, choppy hair sat on one of the tables by the large windows. She grinned and hopped off when Quinn emerged from the lecture hall.
“I'm hungry,” she said as way of a greeting.
“You're always hungry,” Quinn said.
The other girl fell into step with Quinn. “I require feedings every three hours.”
Laughing, Quinn pushed through the double door leading outside. “Julie, you never cease to amuse me.”
“Amusing people since nineteen eighty seven,” she said.
A smile remained on Quinn's elfin face. “Where should we eat today.”
“The Pit,” Julie responded excitedly.
“Is this because you like their tacos, or because Reed works there now?”
“Both,” she said. “I get tacos and cute boys. How can you go wrong?”
“I guess you can't.”