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Red Writing Hood: The End?

Seraphina stayed hidden, despite Rachel’s best efforts to rouse her. She went about her life, trying to forget the odd experience. Considering what she’d already gone through, it really wasn’t that odd. If she could be launched to alternate realities, it made sense she could be sucked into Seraphina’s mirror. At least, if Rachel kept telling herself she managed to keep the anxiety attacks from flaring up whenever she saw the mirror.

After a week, Rachel was getting antsy. Still no sign of Seraphina. The mirror even began looking ordinary. Rachel caught herself staring at it numerous times a day, her thoughts drifting to implications of Seraphina being gone. What if she never came back? What would happen to her?

Rachel sat at her desk in the living room, the documents on her computer screen forgotten as she stared into the mirror’s glass, the only thing in it her own reflection. Her fingers trailed along the edges, worn and softened by time. The appearance of another face beside hers made her jump.

“Nathan! You startled me.” She placed the mirror glass down on the desk and turned to face him. Nathan crouched beside her and grasped her hands in his.

“You’ve been so distant; I was getting worried about you.” His corners of his eyes creased with concern. Rachel forced a smile. She realized she needed to focus on her relationship with Nathan. If he felt abandoned who knew what decision he might make.

“I’m okay, really. Just a lot on my mind.” She glanced back at the computer screen. “Work, the wedding, our future…”

Nathan placed a light kiss on her brow. “If you want to offload some of it to me, let me know. I can contact caterers and halls and stationary stores too.” He cupped her chin with his fingers. “And stop obsessing about your looks. Your natural beauty is just one of the many things I love about you.”

“My looks? But I’m not-“ Rachel stopped, the mirror in her peripheral vision. She grinned. “You’re right. I’ll try to relax more. About everything.”

“Good.” Nathan stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of her chair. “I’m going to go get some dinner. Chinese okay?”

Rachel nodded and turned back to her computer. Nathan was such a great guy. He didn’t get hung up on silly things. She sighed happily and ran a finger through her tangled locks. A lone bobby pin, forgotten from an earlier up do caught on her fingers. She shivered in delight over Nathan’s comment. He loved her natural beauty. She didn’t need makeup and fancy hair styles. He lo-

Wait a moment. He said it was one of the things he loved about her. Rachel’s fingers gripped the mirror’s handle and she slowly turned it around to see in the glass again. Could that be why Seraphina was gone? Her wish had come true?

Stunned, Rachel spun in her chair to observe her surroundings. Was this it? Her home, her life…her reality?

~*~*~
Write On Edge: Red-Writing-HoodInspiration can be found in the most mundane items and in the most unlikely sources. When writers find themselves struggling, a change in perspective may help break through writer’s block.

“I spy with my little eye” is a popular game with children, and their acute observation picks up items adults may not look at twice. This week, choose one of the 14 items in this “I Spy” game and use it in a fiction or creative non-fiction piece.

This is from my WIP about Rachel. This follows a period when Seraphina used her magic to suck Rachel into the mirror’s world, allowing Seraphina to be free to wander. Eventually Rachel was released from her prison but Seraphina was nowhere to be found.

Her story has been my focus all month and slowly but surely it’s getting done. Is this the end, Rachel’s happily ever after? Well, I’m not telling ;)


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Implications

The lack of milk wasn’t the cause of Rachel’s frustration but it didn’t help matters. Pulling her coat collar tighter and huddling under her umbrella she considered the real source of her anxiety.

Nathan had been elusive the past few weeks. His secretiveness made her own angst flare up. Their relationship thus far had been practically perfect. But it had been practically perfect last time too. And then his own insecurities and rage bubbled up to the surface shattering Rachel’s hopes for a happily ever after.

Distracted, Rachel stepped into a deep puddle that overflowed into her low rise rain boots. Icy cold water dribbled down, soaking her sock. She hobbled towards a bus shelter and checked the damage. Pulling the sock off it stretched out, clinging stubbornly. Rachel sighed. Was this yet another sign that she shouldn’t cling so desperately to her wish?

A memory of their last date flew into her mind. It had been so romantic and she’d thought they really connected, sharing intimate details of their childhoods. Well, Rachel had tried. She wasn’t sure what she told Nathan actually happened to her in this reality but she figured he’d never know the difference.

She wringed out what water she could and tugged the sock back in place. The store was just another block; fingers crossed she made it without getting much wetter.

In response the rain seemed to let up a bit. Rachel stood, ready to dart down the street, when a couple walking briskly down the opposite sidewalk caught her eye. Through the clearing rain she noticed the color of the man’s jacket. The bold orange had made her laugh the first time Nathan wore it.

She was about to call out when Nathan’s companion emerged from beside him. Though she had never met her in this reality, Rachel recognized Amanda’s distinct pale blond tresses from their encounters in previous realities. A knot began to grow in her stomach.

The two passed by her position and paused down the street across from Nathan’s apartment. Rachel watched them embrace and then waved good bye. Nathan darted across the street, disappearing into his building and Amanda continued walking down the block.

Tears mingled with rain drops as Rachel considered the implications of what she’d witnessed.

~*~*~

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-HoodWeather can be a powerful catalyst in writing. Storms, sunny beach days, and days of rain can impact setting, plot development, and mood. This week, use rain as the inspiration for your fiction or creative non-fiction piece.

I’ve also incorporated the words from this week’s 3 Word Wednesday: Cause, Implicate, Stretch

 

Oh, I have missed the prompts :) Here’s a scene from my ongoing WIP about Rachel. This would fit in during leap 4, early on.


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Darkroom

The silence was sinister. Lia shuffled backwards, wedging herself underneath the table. She felt the fishnets catch on the floor and her corset dug into her ribs. The scent of chemicals lay in the air like a miasma clogging her sinuses. She fought the urge to sneeze.

That popping was gunshots, she was certain. Who would bring a gun to a Halloween party, to a school? And where was Andrew? He was supposed to already be in the classroom. Was he okay?

She froze at the sound of footsteps in the room adjacent. The dim red light in the darkroom, hanging low over the tables, began to swing, the light bouncing off the walls. Lia squeezed her eyes tight, letting the tears drip down her cheeks.

The door creaked open, a shaft of bright light slicing through the room. She shifted her feet closer and whimpered as a stiletto slipped off and clattered to the floor. The door swung open all the way and an overhead light flicked on.

Lia screamed.

~*~*~

The janitor backed into the room, dragging a large trash can with various cleaning implements hooked along its rim. Whistling, he flipped the switch to the fluorescent lights. His screams of terror echoed down the halls as the blood spatter camouflaged by the red light was exposed.

~*~*~

image from Write on Edge

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-HoodThe guidelines this week are simple: use the provided photograph to inspire a fiction or creative non-fiction piece.

Also using this week’s Trifecta word: sinister


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Overheard

“What could he expect me to do?”

The tremble in Janelle’s voice made Nick pause. At her sister’s reply, he recognized a need to remain hidden.

“Have you told him?” Tracey’s tone was soothing, comforting. Told me what?

“No.” Janelle let out a deep sigh. “He’ll be furious, I know he will. He’d been talking about this for months. And I saw some of the web searches…I’m just not ready, you know?”

“Maybe he’ll be okay. Come on, let’s go get a drink.”

Nick listened as the two women walked towards the other side of the room. He leaned back against the wall, wracking his brain about what Janelle was talking about. And then it hit him.

The baby stuff. Oh shit, she’d seen some of the searches for baby gear and freaked out. He knew she wasn’t ready for kids…Nick felt a plummeting in his stomach. Did she have an abortion? Did she feel that desperate she couldn’t confide in him? His hands clenched and he heard his jaw pop. Forcing himself to relax he straightened his shoulders and went to find his wife.

Janelle stood near the makeshift bar, aloof from the rest of the group, a fake smile painted on her face. Nick felt his anger melt away at her vulnerability.

“Hey.” He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled his close. A light kiss on her cheek brought out an authentic smile.

“Hey,” she answered.

“Can I talk to you a sec?”

She chewed on her lower lip before nodding. They moved to a quiet corner.

“Janelle…I know. I know about…well, you know.” He glanced meaningfully towards the couch where she and Tracey had been speaking. Janelle followed his gaze and frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

Nick lowered his voice. “The abortion. I overheard you talking to Trace and I know you saw my web searches for baby stuff but that was for…”

“Wait.” Janelle held up a hand. “You thought I’d had an abortion?”

“Didn’t you?”

“NO! Oh my God, Nick. The breeder called. I told him we changed our minds about getting a dog!”

~*~*~

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-HoodThis week, write a 300 word fiction or creative non-fiction piece focusing on tension arising from a misinterpreted written note or eavesdropped conversation.

I’m also using the Inspiration Monday prompt: brush with life

and the Studio 30+ prompt: no regrets

 


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Social Detection

Detective John Sanderson knocked on the door frame, wincing at the pain shooting through his hand. Damn arthritis. The captain looked up and gestured him in with a wave, never making eye contact.

“You asked to speak with me, Captain?” John eased himself into a chair. The captain finished off his note and closed the file on his desk. Purple flag, John noted. Must be dealing with the recent escalated gang activity.

“I wanted an update on the First National Bank robbery. Any leads on the case?”

John flipped open the black notebook he always carried with him. “Some. This is the most complex case I think I’ve ever dealt with, Captain. In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it.” He scanned the page. “Are you familiar with ‘social media’? Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest?”

“I have two teenage daughters, Sanderson. What’s the link?” The barest hint of a smile graced the captain’s lips. John nodded briskly.

“It seems the robbers used something called a ‘hashtag’ to connect with the gang members for the heist. And the instructions themselves were all coded but if you know what to look for, it’s all laid out. Crystal clear.”

The captain leaned back in his chair, fingers tented before him. “How did you figure it out? Can’t say you strike me as a tweeter.” The smile ghosted across his face again. John forcibly relaxed his jaw before speaking.

“One of the new recruits was talking about this ongoing thread on Twitter involving the hashtag #secretpiefridge. Pretty funny stuff if you see them in isolation. He showed me a few then opened up the whole thread. If you have them continuous on a screen a coded pattern emerges laying out coordinates, exits, security, cameras…It’s a primer on bank robbery in some respects” John looked up from his notes to see the captain staring at him. Clearing his throat, he continued. “I’ve set the IT department on tracing the various IPs and pinpointing the key accounts sending the messages. It’ll take time to get it.”

“Good work, Sanderson.” The captain flipped open the file on his desk again, dismissing him. John stood up, groaning under his breath as his knees popped. As he turned to leave, the captain spoke.

“Nice to see even us old dogs can learn new tricks.”

“Yes sir.” John smiled as he walked out.

~*~*~

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-HoodEvery in-joke has a backstory, a moment when events coalesce into something memorably funny.

But you had to be there.

I know not everyone is on Twitter, so bear with me here. #hashtags can be fun, whimsical, serious, informative. We have one: #writeonedge. Hashtags can also function as a kind of code, a public nod to a private joke.

Sometimes they pass you by and you pause. “What? What was that?” And you can’t help but wonder what inspired that hashtag.

In that spirit, for Friday write a 400 word or less scene which shows the event(s) which led to this hashtag:

#secretpiefridge

And because I just can’t pass up the fun of a prompt I’ve used primer from this week’s Inspiration Monday over at BeKindRewrite.

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