Bugs - A Poem

Good morning!

I don't know where this week went. I've written, I've worked on blog posts for Read Another Page, and I've even worked on my website. (It really needs updated!) And I am working on trying to make it easier to find stories that I posted on here a long time ago that I haven't posted since. To do this, I created some pages for my planner so I can write down the story titles and the date I first posted it, and any dates I posted after that. It just takes time to go through eleven years of blog posts! ;)

On other notes, we continue to get more campers signed up for the King's Daughters' Writing Camp and are now almost to 60 campers! That's almost double what I thought we might have!

Oh, there is something that I need some help on. I'm trying to make a list, well, actually 3 lists, of names I've used for bad guys, doctors, or ministers from all my published stories and books. If you want to help, you can either email me your lists, or leave them in comments. Share the book or story title, and then the names and who they are. (You can use abbreviations like: BG, Doc. Rev.)

Anyway, today's post won't be a story. Instead you get a poem. This was the very first thing I shared on this blog when I started it in January of 2009. I have always thought it would be fun to publish it as a kid's book with fun illustrations, but I haven't found anyone to do the illustrations for it. Anyone feel like drawing some cute or fun bugs? ;)

Next week I'll have a short story for you, and hopefully by the following week I'll have found a longer short story to share. :)

BUGS!
There are bugs upon the rooftops
There are bugs beneath the floors
There are bugs within the bedrooms
There are bugs behind the doors!

There are bugs inside each closet
There are bugs in every drawer
There are bugs all down the hallway
There are bugs and bugs galore!

There are bugs within the showers
There are bugs down in the sink
There are bugs that sting and bite me
There are even bugs that stink!

There are bugs when I am sleeping
There are bugs when I do dine
There are bugs when I am working
Of the creepy, crawly kind!

There are bugs with lots of colors
There are bugs with lots of legs
There are bugs that look quite ugly
And all of them lay eggs!

There are bugs that I can step on
There are bugs that I can smash
There are bugs I dread to look at
Like the ones within the trash!

Oh, I wish the bugs would leave me
That all would go away
That they would cease to bug me
All twenty-four hours a day!

Do you like bugs?

Have you had a productive week?

How long have you been reading this blog?

Mysterious Words - Part 2

Good morning, FFFs,

Summer is here to stay. And we haven't had much rain at all this past week so the grass still doesn't need mowed. Yay! Of course there is a chance for rain the rest of this week and into next so we'll see. Last night I looked out my window at dusk and enjoyed the dancing lights of the fireflies. There is just something about those insects that make me smile.

This has been a different kind of week for me. It feels like I've hardly gotten anything done.

Monday was pretty normal, but I had so many things to work on that it was hard to get much done. ;) Ever been there? My brain was divided into so many projects that it just seemed to take longer to get one thing done.

On Tuesday our internet decided to go out for 7 hours. I got many other things done that had been sitting around and waiting, but I couldn't work on my blog posts or things like that.

Wednesday I had to drive to a town 25 min away to get the paperwork for my job in July done. (I will be working here in town about 5 minutes from home.) While there I got to find out who the other person was who would be working with me. That was exciting because I've worked with her before at elections and we get along great! She had just told me when she saw me last that she really missed working with me. :) So that was fun. But it also took up half my morning.

Yesterday was one of those days. You know, the kind of day when unexpected things pop up and you don't get some things done because you have to do other things? Yeah, one of those days.

And today I clean the house. It needs it. We'll see what other things I can get done.

On the writing front, I have gotten some writing in each day. And Book 3 is now at 24k words. (Goal: 30k or longer.) I have many ideas swirling in my head, but I am not sure which ones are actually going to make it into the book and which ones won't. You can be praying for wisdom as I write. :)

And during all this, the King's Daughters' Writing Camp continues to grow. We keep sending out applications, and information, and signing new campers up. This has grown beyond our original thoughts, and it is amazing watching God bring in writers both young and old. If you haven't joined and would like to, or would like more information, send an email to kingsdaughterswritingcamp [at] gmail [dot] com. Or leave me a comment.

And now I hope you enjoy the rest of this story. The word limit on it made it a bit difficult to do much, but it is what it is.

Mysterious Words

Part 2

Last week:

    “Could I be of service in any way?” he questioned politely. “I have the afternoon off, if your brother doesn’t.”
    Brooke looked up at him, tipping her head and pursing her lips. Then she shrugged. “If you want. Mom and I just arrived last week, and today she is gone for the whole day. She expected me to have Chad this afternoon, but I guess that won’t work.”
    “What were you going to do with him?”
    “Oh, wander the beaches and talk, at least until the fireworks tonight. I haven’t seen him in over six months except the brief time when he came to meet us when we arrived.”
    “If you’d like,” White offered gallantly, “we could go down the beach and walk to the base. You might get to see your brother there.”
    Brooke was full of delight. “Could we?” she gasped. “I’d love to!”

    Soon White was strolling down the beach by the side of Chad’s lively, younger sister whom he found very entertaining. They hadn’t gone far when Brooke, who was looking everywhere with delight, exclaimed, “What is that thing in the bushes?”
    White looked where she was pointing. A bit of faded yellow appeared tied around the branch of a bush. Going over to it, he carefully untied it and pulling it out, handed it to Brooke.
    She squealed, “Look! There is something written on it!”
    Sure enough, faded almost beyond notice were some words. After close examination by both White and his young companion they managed to make out the words ‘blood’ ‘save’ and ‘slave’ while several letters here and there were discernable.
    “It’s a mystery!” breathed Brooke, very much excited.
    “It looks like it,” White replied. “Do you want to take it and show Chad if he’s available?”
    Before Brooke could reply, a shout startled them. Looking up they saw Chad pounding down the beach. With a cry, Brooke flew to meet him, flinging her arms about his neck as he lifted her off her feet.
    “You came back! I’m so glad! Come and see what we found!” and not giving her brother a chance to explain why he had left, she pulled him back to where White was standing. “See?” she thrust the ribbon into his hands.
    Chad studied the lettering on it for several minutes before looking up. “What is this supposed to mean?”
    “We have no idea,” White said.
    “Maybe there are other ribbons around?” Brooke was already examining a few nearby bushes. The two members of the Coast Guard glanced at each other, shrugged and then began looking too.

    For nearly thirty minutes the trio searched but only discovered one more ribbon. It was much like the other one, tied to a branch, yet the words on it were different. After careful study, four words were recognized: ‘home’, ‘free’, ‘banner’ and ‘brave’.
    “What does the rest of it say? And why were they tied on these bushes, and who put them there and when?”
    “You’ve got me on that one, Sis. I have no clue. Any idea’s White?”
    White shook his head. “Not unless it has to do with the legend of this beach.”
    “What’s that?” Chad and Brooke asked simultaneously.
    “Why don’t we take these back to the base and see if any of the other guys can figure any more words out, and on the way, I’ll tell you.”
    The others readily agreed.

    “They say,” began White in a slow, mysterious tone that made Brooke shiver with excitement, “that it was on a day in July, much like this one that a young girl was seen walking down to this very beach early one afternoon. She was dressed in yellow and wore a red hat. No one was sure who she was. Supposedly someone from a sailboat out in the bay saw her back there near the rocks, heading this way. They claim to have heard a cry of some sort, and on looking at the beach saw the girl lying unmoving on the sand. Well, there was no way for them to come ashore here, so they radioed a call for help and waited. As they watched, the girl appeared to be disappearing into the bushes. They are sure she didn’t move herself, but was somehow dragged there or something. Anyway, when help arrived, there was no sign of her. The Coast Guard that was here at the time, I’m told, searched the shoreline for days, but nothing more was discovered. No one ever saw the girl again and no one knows what really happened.”

    Silence fell as White finished the tale. No one spoke until they were almost to the base.

    Then Chad said, “That was quite a tale. But, if they searched the whole shoreline, why didn’t they find these ribbons if they came from this girl?”
    White shrugged.
    “You know, Chad,” Brooke began slowly, thoughtfully, “if that happened years ago, those bushes would have been smaller and maybe if these were tied right near the ground, no one noticed them.”
    “But they’re white,” her brother protested, looking again at the ribbons,
    “Yeah, now. But maybe they were yellow to match her dress and they just faded.”
    “Then why the words?” White questioned.
    “What words?”
    White and Dancroft looked up. “These Pettrot,” Chad held them out to his room mate. “Can you make anything out of them?”
    Pettrot stared at the faint marks, and then calling a few more of the Coast Guard over, they all fell to work trying to uncover the mysterious message.
    Brooke watched them in shy silence a minute and then, seeing how interested everyone really was, began to offer her own suggestions. The ribbons were scrutinized, held up to the sun, studied in the shade, copies of the letters were carefully traced and criticized and yet no one could come up with a meaning for the seven words. More men came and joined the group and others left. Even the Captain, puzzled by the gathering came and tried, but with no success.
    It wasn’t until almost supper time that Chad Dancroft suddenly started up exclaiming, “Wait a minute! Let me see those again!” Snatching them up he began to read, “’Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps pollution. No refuge can save the hireling and slave.’ and the other one says, ‘And the Star-spangled banner shall wave, o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.’” He looked up, his eyes sparkling.
    “That’s it!” Brooke exclaimed.
    “We still haven’t a clue how they came to be tied to bushes on the beach or why they were there, but at least we found out the message.” Chad grinned at his sister and shook hands with White. “I’d say it was rather fun.”
    “I think so too.” White agreed.
    Brooke sighed. “Now, tomorrow I can start trying to find out the who, when, how and why.”
    The others grinned and then together they headed into mess for supper.

How was your week?

Do you enjoy fireflies?

What did you think of the story?

Mysterious Words - Part 1

Good morning, Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,

(I sometimes wonder how many years I've been calling you that. Perhaps I'll look some time.)

Anyway . . .

This week is disappearing quite quickly.

On Saturday I did quite a bit of work on the Christian Writing Camp. On Monday we got our last "Auntie" (our name for councilors) in, and opened the doors to a few "campers" to test things. Then we started sending information out to anyone and everyone. By the end of the first day we have quite a few join. And every day since then we've had at least a few people sign up. Right now we are over 30 participants! It's exciting to see this all come together. Yes, there are things we had to figure out that we hadn't realized before, or questions asked that we had to find the answer to. But it's been fun. If you want to join The King's Daughters' Writing Camp or want to know more about it, just send an email to kingsdaughterswritingcamp[at]gmail[dot]com and ask for the information, or an application.

On Sunday our church got to have Sunday school again, and a fellowship meal! That was exciting!

I've been trying to get writing in with all the Camp stuff. And I've managed to write most nights this week. Not all have gotten 1k, but I'm over half way done with Book 3! :) Maybe I will be able to finish it before the end of this month after all.

Okay, I went looking for a story to share today, and let me tell you, it was difficult! I have stories, lots of stories, but it seems that I've either just posted or re-posted them, or I've published them. This story was first written and published on here back in 2011. I thought it was safe to share it again. :) I was given some "rules" about writing this story, so it was a bit tricky.

Characters: 3 main and up to 10 minor
Length: at least 4 pages (it goes to 5)
Special Instructions: Mysterious, Happens on 4th of July

Mysterious Words

Part 1

    The sound of footsteps approaching down the sandy beach disturbed the peacefulness of the July afternoon. They came along quickly, not as one taking a leisurely stroll, but with purpose and intent, moving with the lightness which a child or young person would have when full of excitement, eagerly tripping along with a skip or jump now and then.

    Then came a sudden squeal, a gasp and a thump followed immediately by a mysterious silence. Only the swish of the water washing up the beach and lapping against the rocks disturbed the deathlike stillness which pervaded the southern island. That was all, yet somehow something was different. The palm trees whispered about it with the vines which seemed to grow everywhere. The pebbles murmured about it to each wave which washed them back and forth. Even the clouds gathered in clusters across the sky breathing the news to additional clouds that joined them. And so, for several years they whispered, murmured and breathed about it as they waited to see what would happen.


    The sky was blue; the kind of deep blue that makes you feel as though you were looking into a fathomless well trying to catch a glimpse of the bottom and yet not able to. The southern sky was full of clouds piled up on each other until at the top they lay floating about much as though they were feathers coming out of a feather bed. As the sun began its descent from the middle of the sky, the sands along the edge of the dense mass of vegetation spoke of intense heat while the waters washing up looked invitingly cool this hot Independence Day. A breeze was stirring the tops of the palm trees. It was a glorious day!

    Twenty-one-year-old Chad Dancroft strode purposefully down the shore, his quick blue eyes scanning first the bay on his right, where the waters changed from aqua to deep grey, to the seemingly impenetrable foliage of green on his left; from the high tops of the palm trees where a few bright birds twittered and sang, to the rocky, pine topped ridge before him. Brooke should be coming soon. In fact, after a quick glance at his watch, he realized that he was late, and she should have been waiting for him already.

    “Our watches must not be in sinc,” he murmured, thinking half aloud as he often did when alone.
    “Dancroft!”
    Chad wheeled around sharply. A older, fellow member of the United States Coast Guard was hurrying down the sandy beach waving something white. “I thought I’d never catch you!” he sucked in a gulping mouthful of air. “Anyone trying to follow you would think you were-- well, let’s just say you sure move fast for someone on leave.” The newcomer grinned. “Weren’t going anywhere special, were you, Dancroft?”
    Chad rolled his eyes, “Okay, White, why’d you chase me down?” Being one of the youngest members of the Coast Guard stationed here, Chad was often the brunt of good natured teasing.
The paper was held out, “Captain said to find you and deliver it. Don’t know what it’s about,” and White waited as the paper was snatched and read.
    Sighing deeply, Chad let his stiff shoulders drop, and his face took on a look of puzzled bewilderment.
    “What’s up?”
    “I’m ordered back to the base at once. Captain gives no reason but the note is worded like it’s important.” When White didn’t say anything, Dancroft went on. “I’m supposed to meet Brooke on the rocks there, but she’s late.”
    “Brooke?”
    “My sister.”
    “Oh, yeah. Can I give her a message for you?”
    For a moment, Chad tapped the paper in his hand and frowned. At last he said, “Yeah, if you’ll just wait and tell her ‘Pop goes the weasel,’ I’d appreciate it.”
    White looked at his companion in utter bewilderment, “Pop goes the weasel?” he asked at last.
    “Yep.”
    “I think the Captain must be wanting to send you to the hospital. The sun’s gotten to you. Pop goes the weasel indeed!”
    Chad shrugged, while a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “’I got sick from all the sun, my sonny boy got the measles, but still we had a lot of fun. Pop goes the weasel’.” And with a laugh he set off back down the beach at a dogtrot leaving his companion standing dumbfounded, gazing after him.

    “Chad?” A bright voice recalled White from his bewilderment and sent him hurrying up the sand to where a young girl in a red and white sailor dress was skirting the rocks. When the girl realized that the older man approaching was not her brother, she paused as he came up.
    “Brooke Dancroft?”
    The girl nodded, noting the emblem of the Coast Guard on his shirt, “Where’s Chad? Who are you?”
    “Tyler White, Miss: I work with your brother. He got called back to the base unexpectedly, but he left a message for you.”
    “A message?” Brooke’s eyes lighted up at this news. “What is it?”
    White frowned, “He said to tell you, ‘Pop goes the weasel’ but I haven’t a clue what he means by it. I hope you do.”
    “Oh bother, and I was planning on spending the afternoon with him. Now what am I supposed to do?”
    White looked down at the girl before him. She didn’t look more than twelve, with blonde hair and eyes as blue as her brother’s. Her face and arms were tan from the sun as were her feet in white sandals. As he stood looking at her, he was reminded of his own daughter back in Texas.
    “Could I be of service in any way?” he questioned politely. “I have the afternoon off, if your brother doesn’t.”
    Brooke looked up at him, tipping her head and pursing her lips. Then she shrugged. “If you want. Mom and I just arrived last week, and today she is gone for the whole day. She expected me to have Chad this afternoon, but I guess that won’t work.”

Are you interested in our Writing Camp?

How was your week?

What do you think is going to happen in this story?

Into June

Good morning FFFs,

    I'm sorry to inform you that I don't have a story for you today. I planned on getting one picked out to post yesterday, but I ended up being very busy helping create the new Christian Writer's Camp since I'm not using NaNo any longer. The new place is already looking good even if we haven't finished setting it all up. You'll be able to be in a "tent" with your own friends, or can be assigned a tent. You can visit the Campfire or the Lakeside to chat and hang out with people who are not in your "tent," and you can do word sprints on the Writing Trails. Oh, and yes, we will have a place to keep track of your goals. I'll let you all know when it's up and ready for campers. ;)

    This week was warm. Okay, some of the days have been hot. But we've had sunshine! Yesterday was cloudy and we got rain in the morning, then the sun came out and no more rain.

    I worked as an election judge once again on Tuesday. This is the first time we've had an election in June so it was odd opening the polls when it was already starting to get light out. And leaving the polls after we'd packed up when it was still very much light out. We had a fairly good turn out in spite of the virus keeping some people away. We were only required to wear gloves not masks unless we wanted to. None of us did. :)

    Guess what? I got the proof copies of my Secret Project! I am pretty excited! Make sure you are following Read Another Page because in a few weeks I'll be releasing the covers on there.

    Speaking of Secret Project, I'm working on Book 3. Right now things are a little difficult trying to figure out how everything works and what comes next, and I've been a little distracted. My goal is to get this book written by the end of this month. I'm not sure if I can or not, but you can be praying the ideas would all come together.

    Oh, and I did accept the job to work in the County Clerk's office here in town for the month of July. I'll be working Monday–Thursday. It should be interesting. I am hoping I'll still be able to get some writing done in the evenings and on weekends.

    And since I'll be gone most of next month, I'm trying to get blog posts for Read Another Page done and scheduled for this month, next month, and at least a few in August.

   Anyway, that's my life right now. Sorry for no story. I'll try to have something for you next week.

How was your week?

Are you interested in a Christian Writing Camp?

Are you excited to learn more about my Secret Project?

Beyond the Border - Part 5

Well, um, good morning, FFFs,

I guess it is Friday, isn't it? Guess what? The sun is shining! And it's not supposed to hide behind clouds today! Or tomorrow! Or Sunday! Wow. This past week has been clouds and rain, and temperatures in the 60s. Now and then we'd get bits of sunshine, or it might reach 70º for a few minutes. Today my mom and I are planning on finally getting out to buy flowers for the yard. We've only been wanting to do that since our birthday in April.

On the writing front I've been getting at least 1k written on Secret Project Book 3 every day this week, and some last week. The story is now at 8k words and counting. Plots twists I didn't know about are up to 3, and unexpected people are 1. It's really starting to move and I am eager to get back to writing.

Hints for today are two chapter titles:

1. Aunt Bertha Takes a Hand

2. Banking on Trouble

On another note, I had my first real job offer yesterday. It's to work part time in the County Clerks office the 4 weeks prior to the August election. It sounds rather fun, but I'm still praying about it. Do you think it sounds fun? I'd be voting people absentee, and some other office stuff.

And here is the final part of this story. Enjoy!

Beyond the Border

Part 5

    “It’s coming from around that side,” Alex exclaimed, rushing off the porch with Eleanor and Catherine on his heels.
    Rounding the corner of the house, they stopped short. No one was to be seen.
    “Miss Gray,” Eleanor called, “where are you?”
    “The window,” came the voice.
    The open window was high but still allowed the two older children to see inside. The woman of the house lay on the floor, her face white. “Thank God someone came at last! Can one of you get in and–” Her face contracted in pain.
    Alex acted first. “Eleanor, let me boost you inside, and you can go open the front door.”
    This was done, and soon the three children were gathered about the woman on the floor.
    “She needs a doctor,” Eleanor stated.
    “Phone . . . over there.” A shaking finger pointed to the wall, and Alex disappeared. “Water.”
    “Yes, of course,” Eleanor said, noticing her dry lips, and brushing a hand over her hot face. “Catherine, stay here with Miss Gray. I’m going to go fetch some water.” Giving her sister no time to protest, Eleanor stood and headed for the back of the house where she guessed the kitchen was. She was right, and, after filling a glass with water, she also put water in a clean pail and carried it back to the sitting room.
    Eleanor took charge and bathed the lady’s face, and held the glass of water while Alex lifted her head, and Catherine sat still and held her hand.
    Slowly, with many pauses, Miss Gray told how she had been sick for a few days and had finally decided to call the doctor yesterday afternoon, but before she could make the call, she had gotten dizzy, and fallen,  injuring her leg. “I get faint any time I try to move,” Miss Gray murmured. “I’m so thankful you came back!”
        It seemed like a long time to the children who never once thought of fetching one of the adults from the orphanage, but at last the doctor arrived in an ambulance, and soon the three children were left alone in the house.
    “We’d better lock up,” Alex said.
    “Yes,” Eleanor agreed.
    “Can’t we pull some more weeds?” Catherine begged. “Miss Gray won’t be able to with her injured leg.”
    Eleanor looked at Alex, and Alex looked at Eleanor. Should they stay?
    “Let’s finish the garden right here,” Eleanor suggested. “We can do more another time if she’ll let us.”

*

    “You missed the excitement,” Julia said at the supper table. “There was an ambulance over at the house next door. We saw it drive by, and some of us watched it from upstairs. They took the lady away. I expect she’s going to die, and then WE can have the place.” She gave a slight toss of her head.
    Eleanor stole a glance at Alex and quickly dropped her eyes.
    “Where were you anyway, Eleanor? You and your sister are always disappearing. I think I should tell Mrs. Cobell. She might want to know where you two go and–”
    “And what?” growled Alex. “Why don’t you mind your own business for a change, Julia, instead of acting like you should know everyone else’s.”
    Julia opened her mouth, but no words came out. For once she had been silenced.

*

    The next day was Sunday, and there was no time to cross the border and pull weeds in Miss Gray’s garden, for everyone went to church in the morning and in the afternoon quiet play or reading was required. Late in the afternoon, Eleanor stood alone near the front gate looking out at the world beyond their confining border. Catherine was still inside reading. Alex came up and stood nearby, though he didn’t say anything.
    Eleanor looked over at him. “Alex, why are you so nice to Catherine and me? Why don’t you let Julia bother us at the table like the others do?”
    Alex’s reply was low. “You remind me of my sisters. They died of the same sickness that took my parents.”
    “Oh, Alex!” Eleanor turned quickly. “I . . . What were their names?”
    “Amelia and Elsie.”
    Stepping toward him, Eleanor held out her hand. “Can we pretend we’re your sisters?”
    Alex nodded and took her hand. “I’d like that.”

*

    On Thursday morning Mrs. Cobell requested Eleanor, Catherine, and Alex to go to the office as soon as breakfast was dismissed.
    Eleanor didn’t miss Julia’s smirk. Had she said something? They had been careful about slipping next door.
    In the office, Mrs. Cobell and Miss Stroder looked at the three children. At last Mrs. Cobell spoke. “Did the three of you go beyond the borders of the yard and into our neighbor’s property last Saturday?”
    Eleanor felt Catherine’s hand tighten on her own. “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Did you go into the house and help her?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Alex replied sturdily.
    Mrs. Cobell sighed and looked at Miss Stroder. “It seems,” she said slowly, “that you followed the Golden Rule. Miss Gray needs help for a few weeks and has requested you three. I suggested she take a few of our older orphans, but she wouldn’t have anyone else. When you leave this room, you are to pack your things and take them down to the hall. Miss Stroder will escort you next door. Don’t think this move is permanent. The lady hasn’t mentioned anything about keeping you once she is back on her feet again. That is all. You may go.”
    In a daze, Eleanor packed hers and Catherine’s few belongings, and the sisters waited in the hall for Alex.
    Julia swaggered in and stared. “Did you finally do something so bad they are sending you away?” She laughed scornfully. “Where are you going?”
    “Next door to help Miss Gray until she is well,” Alex said, coming into the hall.
    It was obvious that Julia didn’t believe them. Miss Stroder came. The walk out the gate, down the road, and up the stone path to the large house was taken in silence. A nurse opened the door at their knock and led them into the room where Miss Gray was lying in bed with her bandaged leg resting on a cushion.
    Holding out her hands, Miss Gray said, “Welcome home, children.”
    Eleanor smiled. It did feel like home. She was glad they had gone beyond the border to help someone in need.

Have you had more sun or rain this week?

Are you excited about Secret Project?

Did you enjoy this story or was it too short?

Beyond the Border - Part 4

Good morning! Happy Friday!

Guess what? It's cloudy. :P It's not really dark, but it's not sunny either. So much for having a week of sunshine. It was partly sunny on Sunday, then it was cloudy on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. We would get a little bit of sun after 5 in the evening, but it usually didn't last long. Then yesterday (Thursday) we had a SUNNY morning! Blue sky with hardly a cloud in sight stretched above us, and the sun shone brightly! My sis and I took a walk after breakfast and really enjoyed the warmer weather, the sunshine, and getting to be outside. It's a good thing we went out when we did, because after lunch it got cloudy. And it rained.

But let's leave the clouds and the rain, and rumbles of thunder behind and talk about something more interesting, shall we?

Writing. This week has been a better writing week for me. Not only did I finish the Prequel for Secret Project (it still has to be read by my editor), but I started writing Book 3! And Books 1 & 2 are uploaded and ready to order the proof copies. I'm just waiting until I can order the Prequel proof too. Covers have been designed, and . . . I'm excited! It's been a while since I've been this excited about a new release. I mean I'm usually excited because it's always fun to finish another story and send it out to you readers, but this series? I can't wait!

Hints for this week:

1. Aunt Bertha doesn't make a very good first impression

2. A main character is keeping a secret

Wow, the thunder is rumbling overhead, but the birds are singing. I have a window open a little and the breeze is cool, but not cold.

Oh, and if anyone is interested in maybe being a part of the Five Fall Favorites blog party this year, fill out this form.

Enjoy this next part of the story.

Beyond the Border

Part 4

    “You should talk, Julia. Your background is just as questionable as anyone else’s. And there’s no need for any of it. If you don’t leave Catherine and Eleanor alone I’ll speak to Mrs. Cobell myself.” The boy’s eyes flashed.
    “Well! You are rude!” But Julia didn’t say anything else.
    Eleanor stretched her foot out and nudged her sister’s leg, while Alex patted her shoulder.

    The large dorm was dark and still. Eleanor lay awake and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe they did have some friends. Alex had at least acted like a friend. And he had known their names. Some of the other children didn’t call them by name. Eleanor didn’t blame them, for she herself didn’t know everyone’s name yet.
    At last, when she was sure everyone else was asleep, she crept from her bed and over to the window. Not a breath of air stirred the muslin curtains. Outside fireflies flashed and flickered their lights. The house beyond the bushes was dark.
    No, not completely dark.
    Eleanor leaned closer. There was a faint light in one of the windows. Miss Gray must be home. Or had she only just arrived home that evening?
    “Please, Dear Lord, show us what to do.”
    After one final look at the dim light, Eleanor left the window and crept back to bed.

*

    Seated at the breakfast table, her hands folded neatly in her lap, Eleanor stared at the table cloth and listened to Mrs. Cobell read the morning’s verse from the Bible.
    “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.” Mrs. Cobell looked up and pushed her glasses down on her nose so he could look over them. “All of you children remember that today.”
    After a few words of prayer, the children were dismissed and sent to complete their chores. Eleanor began clearing off the tables while Catherine gathered the napkins to be washed.
    “Can I help you carry those plates?”
    Eleanor turned and saw Alex standing beside the table. “Don’t you have your own chores to do?”
    Alex shrugged. “I did my part in the garden early before it was hot.” He picked up the larger stack of plates.
    Picking up the other stack Eleanor started for the kitchen. “Thank you for sticking up for Catherine last night,” she said softly, glancing across the room and seeing that her sister was out of earshot. “Julia’s words hurt her.”
    “What about you?”
    Eleanor looked surprised. “What about me?”
    “Don’t they hurt you too?”
    It was Eleanor’s turn to shrug.
    After leaving the plates in the kitchen, Eleanor, with Alex beside her, walked back to the dining room to gather the last few dishes. “Thank you for helping me.”
    “You’re welcome. Thanks for getting my ball for me the other day.”
    Eleanor almost dropped the glass she had just picked up as she whirled around to stare at Alex. How had he known?
    With a soft chuckle, Alex whispered, “I had seen you and Catherine disappear into the bushes for several days and guessed it was you who did it. What is it like on the other side?”
    “Alex,” Miss Stroder’s voice called, “don’t bother the girls when they are working. You will have time to talk later if you wish. Now run along.”
    Giving Eleanor a slight grin and wink, Alex turned toward the door. “Yes, ma’am.”
    During the rest of her chores, Eleanor's thoughts were busy. If Alex saw them go to their special hideout, who else saw them? Would it be all right to tell Alex what they had been doing the last few days? But why was Alex being so friendly to them? Surely he wasn’t going to tell on them.
    When Eleanor and Catherine were at last free to go outside, there was no sign of Alex. Hand in hand, the sisters crossed the yard to the bushes. When she was sure no one was looking, she nodded to Catherine to slip inside. Then she followed. Alone in the shade, Eleanor looked into the neighbor’s yard. There was no sign of Miss Gray.
    “El,” Catherine whispered, “what are we going to do? Do you think she went away?”
    “No, I saw a light in a window last night. I think she’s sick.”
    “Who’s sick?”
    The question made the girls jump. Eleanor turned her head quickly and scratched her cheek on a twig. Outside the bushes sat Alex with a book in his hand. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
    “Trying to finish our conversation. Who’s sick?”
    “Miss Gray,” Catherine whispered. “That’s what we call the lady next door.”
    “Oh.” Alex didn’t ask any more questions but sat in silence waiting.
    Catherine smiled. “Are you going to tell on us?”
    “No.”
    Eleanor looked again at the silent house, her thoughts conflicting. “We have to go check on her. I would want someone to check on me if I were alone and sick. But what if she’s not sick? She might get mad at us, and Catherine might get frightened. But I can’t go alone because we aren’t supposed to leave the yard alone. What if Alex comes with us? He said he wouldn’t tell, but then he’ll find out that we’ve been weeding the flower gardens.”
    Alex’s quiet voice interrupted her thoughts. “Can’t I do it too?” There was something almost wistful in his tones.
    Drawing a deep breath, Eleanor nodded at her sister. “All right. We have to go make sure Miss Gray doesn’t need help, and I suppose, if you can get through the bushes without being seen, you can come with us, Alex.”
    Alex didn’t lower his book. “You two crawl out first, and then I’ll come in, unless there is room for three of us at once.”
    Eleanor crawled out first and Catherine followed. A few moments later Alex appeared beside them, minus his book. He looked around with wide eyes but didn’t say anything.
    With firm steps, but with a rapidly beating heart, Eleanor led the way to the large porch. She was thankful for the shade of the roof, as the stone walkway was hot under her bare feet. She knocked softly, but no one answered.
    After waiting a few minutes, Alex knocked.
    Eleanor cringed at the sound, afraid those in the next yard would hear it.
    “Help.” The call was almost too quiet to hear. “Please, come help me!”

Are you excited about my Secret Project?

Any ideas of what it might be?

If you were one of the children and heard that call, what would you do?

Beyond the Border - Part 3

Good morning, Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,

This morning is cloudy. It's sprinkled a little, but the birds are still singing. It rained Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The fun finally came out Wednesday evening, and then it was out most of yesterday. Yay! But now we get clouds and rain again for today and tomorrow. Anyone have a boat? We might need it. ;)

This week started out very nice. We went to my brother's on Saturday and got to enjoy time with them. Then on Sunday we went to church!!!! Oh, it was wonderful to see people again! Yes, we'd seen some of them last Wednesday, but not everyone.

I've been working on Secret Project this week. I have the cover for Book 1 done. And no, I'm not going to show it to you  . . . yet. Book 1 is also formatted. Book 2 is ready to be formatted and the cover finished. I'm back to writing the prequel. My original thought was to have it be 5k words. But it wasn't working. Sorry, you'll have to settle for longer. ;) I can't wait to share these stories with you all! If any of you are possibly interested in helping spread the word about these later, just let me know.

Here are you weekly hints.

• Aunt Bertha is in there! She plays a more prominent role in Book 1, but she's in Book 2.
• I got to use my Montgomery Ward catalogue. :)
  

Okay, here is part 3 of this story. I hope you enjoy it.

Beyond the Border

Part 3

    “Only pull what you know are weeds, Catherine,” Eleanor reminded. “We don’t want to pull up any flowers by mistake.”
    Catherine nodded and knelt in the grass. “Smell them, El; they smell like . . . home.” And she buried her nose in a pansy.
    “I know.” Eleanor quietly began pulling weeds as she blinked back tears at the thought of Mama. No matter where they had lived or where they had traveled, Mama always had a pot of pansies.
    It was exciting to see the garden take on a neat and tidy appearance. The longer they worked, the more nimble their fingers became at pulling only the weeds. Soon the flowers were freed from the weeds and given more space to breathe and grow. The weeds were piled in a heap, and at last Eleanor sat back to wipe her hot face.
    “It looks so much better, Catherine.”
    “Uh huh. Can we start on another one?”
    But Eleanor shook her head. “No, we should get back and sit in the shade a little while, or someone will notice how hot we are.”
    “What do we do with the weeds?”
    That was a puzzle. Eleanor remembered Miss Gray had put the weeds in a basket, but what she did with them after that, she didn’t know. “Let’s put them in the hole under the porch. They can’t grow there.”
    Quickly the girls stuffed the weeds through the lattice and then scurried back to the bordering bushes. Both were red faced and damp from sweat, and four hands were dirty. But the flower garden looked lovely.

*

    The next day there was only a little time to slip through the bushes and pull weeds in another garden. Once again there was no sign of Miss Gray.
    “What if she’s sick, Eleanor?” Catherine asked on the third day. “Maybe that’s why she hasn’t come outside.”
    Eleanor gave no reply but pulled a few more weeds in silence. Stopping, she sat back on her heels and looked at the house. There was no sign of life. “Maybe–” she hesitated and looked all around. “Maybe I should knock on the door.”
    Catherine gasped.
    “She probably isn’t home.” Though she said the words as firmly as possible, there was a slight quiver to her words. “If we don’t see her tomorrow, I’ll knock. But Catherine, we should see if we see any light in the windows at night.”
    Suddenly both girls turned their heads and looked above the bushes to the orphanage. It had never occurred to them that someone looking out of the girls’ room on the second floor could see right over the bushes and into Miss Gray’s yard.
    Neither one spoke.
    Should they go back to their hiding place and stay there day after day? Should they knock on the door and find out if Miss Gray was all right? What should they do?
    “Come on.” Eleanor beckoned to her sister and slipped away from the house and behind the shelter of a lilac bush which would shield them from anyone looking out the orphanage windows. “Catherine,” she said soberly, “we’ve forgotten something.”
    Catherine started to look around, as though wondering what had been forgotten.
    “We’ve forgotten to pray.”
    “No, we haven’t,” protested the younger girl. “We pray before we go to bed, and Mrs. Cobell prays at meal times.”
    “I don’t mean that.” Eleanor gently stroked a green leave on the bush. “I mean like we used to pray before Mama died. About everything. We didn’t pray about coming over and helping Miss Gray, but I think we should pray now.”
    Catherine nodded at once.
    Together the sisters knelt in the grass, folded their hands and bowed their heads.
    “Dear Jesus,” Eleanor began, “we’re sorry for not asking You if we should come here and help Miss Gray before. You said we are to take care of the widows, though I don’t know if Miss Gray is a widow, but she’s all alone. But we also don’t want to get in trouble for helping. And we don’t know if Miss Gray is sick or not. Please help us know what to do.”
    “And Jesus,” Catherine added, “if Miss Gray is sick, please don’t let her be sick like Mama was because . . . well, because I think I like Miss Gray. She has the same flowers as Mama.” Her voice died away in a sniff.
    “Please show us what to do. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.”
    They didn’t think anyone heard them but God, but someone did. On the far side of the house, a window was open. A soft breeze stirred the curtains and brought the sweet petition into the room.
    A ringing bell sent both girls racing for the bushes.

    At the supper table, Eleanor noticed the smudge of dirt on her sister’s face. Why hadn’t they paid more attention and come back before the bell rang? Someone was sure to notice.
    Almost as thought reading her thoughts, Julia started right in. “I can’t believe Mrs. Cobell would allow someone as dirty as you are, Catherine, to come to the table. Why, you have dirt on your face! Or did you get in a fight and bruise it?”
    Catherine kept her head down and said not a word.
    “And you, Eleanor, you look like you’ve been out playing in the dirt all day. Your hair is a mess and you have dirt down the side of your face. Ugh! I don’t know why I have to sit next to you.”
    “Maybe so you can, oh so kindly, point out all the things they are doing wrong, so you’ll look good,” Alex replied sarcastically.
    Julia tossed her head. “They need someone to point out their errors. Who knows where they came from. They were probably found in an alley from the grungy way they always look.”
    A sniff came from Catherine, and a tear dropped on her plate. Eleanor opened her mouth to defend her little sister, but before she had a chance to say a word, Alex draped an arm around Catherine’s shoulders and spoke in a low voice.

Have you had lots of rain this week?

Are you excited about Secret Project?

Would go with the girls to help Miss Gray?