Expect more stories, maybe a foray into another novel, many more ramblings, and one or two new things if I ever get off my duff and actually do them.
Happy third birthday to The Writing Fool, and here's to many more years to come.
i cannot believe it's been three years since I started this little blog. I have had so much fun doing it, and i want to thank the few people that read it. I know it's not that fancy, and there's not a lot of bells and whistles, but there doesn't need to be. I simply needed a place to put all my works, be they short stories, ramblings about nothing in particular, my novel for NaNo, or just announcements about anything that fancied my struck. (Heehee)
Expect more stories, maybe a foray into another novel, many more ramblings, and one or two new things if I ever get off my duff and actually do them. Happy third birthday to The Writing Fool, and here's to many more years to come.
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I'll Be Home For Christmas
Nate Davis rubbed his eyes as he tried in vain to see past the vast wall of white that was whipping his windshield wipers into a frenzy. He had been on the road for nearly seven hours now, seven hours of snow, sleet, and a steadily growing blizzard. The radio had squawked out warnings every half hour that anyone driving should get off the road at once and find shelter. But Nate was known for a streak of stubbornness a mile wide. It was what had allowed him to rise through the ranks at the firm until he was one of the top partners. This business trip he was returning from had been one of the perks of partnership. His hands free phone rang. He groused to himself, pressing the talk button. “What, Sara?” “Nate, please tell me you're not still on the road! For God's sake, at least pull into a hotel for the night.” His wife's voice, harsh with static, crackled through the phone. “One of these days, you are going to get in a serious accident.” There was a pause. “Nate, I know you can hear me. For once in your life, act like other people matter!” A long sigh. “Fine, be that way. I would have thought that since it's nearly Christmas, you would lose your ego. Just promise me you'll be home in time to decorate the tree.” Nate punched the 'End Call' button. “Stop being a goddamn mother hen, Sara. I don't need your mollycoddling, and the last thing I want to do is drape gaudy and tasteless bits of glass over a dead tree.” The radio squealed, and Nate angrily punched the off button and dug into the glove compartment for a CD. There was a loud honk, and Nate looked up to see a pair of bright lights heading right for him. He wrenched the wheel sideways and the car went into a tailspin, tires scrabbling for purchase on the icy road. An enormous tree loomed in his vision, and Nate clung to the wheel and shut his eyes, waiting for the inevitable crash. There was the screeching sound of glass and metal. Nate screamed, and then everything went black. He opened his eyes. At first glance, everything seemed to be intact. The car's hood was crumpled from the impact with the tree, and steam was rising from the hood. But other than that, everything seemed to be in good shape. He felt his body, and detected no broken bones. He looked at his hands. They had been cut by the glass from the shattered windshield, but there was no pain. The blizzard had stopped, leaving piles of snowdrifts on the side of the road that had been pushed there by the snowplows. On the CD, Frank Sinatra sang about having a White Christmas. Nate pushed open the front door and fell out onto the road. His legs felt like lead, and his head pounded. He pushed himself to his feet and glanced down the plowed road. He realized that he was closer to home than he had thought. Just two miles, and he would be on his front porch. He would be too late to help with the tree, but at least he would be home for Christmas. Nate limped off down the road. Somehow during the accident his ankle had gotten twisted, and it throbbed as he staggered down the street. But the pain was bearable, and Nate was in good shape otherwise. Colored lights rose up in his vision, solidifying into strands of Christmas lights. His wife had gone all out, as usual, and every inch of the snow covered yard was covered in tawdry knickknacks. “Damn it, Sara, do you have to get every single inflatable the Christmas store sells?” He kicked over a giant Rudolph, feeling a sense of vindictive pride. Nate mounted the porch, which was covered in garland and fake poinsettias, and reached into his pocket for his key. He pulled out a pile of change, a button that had fallen off his coat, and a washer, but no key. The other pocket yielded nothing but a lint covered piece of hard candy. “Damn, must have lost it in the crash.” He peeked in the window and saw Sara in front of a giant tree, hanging one of her tacky ornaments on a branch. Nate went back to the door and knocked. No answer, and he knocked louder. “Sara!” His voice startled him. He cleared his throat. “Sara, it's me!” The door opened, and Nate sighed. “It's about ti...” he was cut off by his wife's shriek of horror. Sara tried to slam the door in his face, but Nate stopped her. “Sara, what in the name of God is wrong with you?!” The shrieks continued, and Sara backed away from him, her eyes wide and bulging in her pale face. Nate stepped into the house. “Sara, stop that screeching. I've been in an accident, that's all. You don't need to act like some sniveling child who's just had a bad dream.” Sara screamed once again and fell onto the couch in a dead faint. “Stupid woman, I don't know what...” He stopped, the words dying in his throat as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the hall mirror. Half the flesh had rotted from his face, exposing the stark white bone beneath. The other half was pitted and scored with deep, oozing holes from which black blood was dripping. Nate screamed and threw his rotted arm over his face. He turned, and ran out the door, his vision blurring and doubling. His legs gave way, and he toppled headfirst onto the driveway. Then everything went black. Nate opened his eyes. At first glance, everything seemed to be intact. The car's hood was crumpled from the impact with the tree, and steam was rising from the hood. But other than that, everything seemed to be in good shape. He felt his body, and detected no broken bones. He looked at his hands. They had been cut by the glass from the shattered windshield, but there was no pain. The blizzard had stopped, leaving piles of snowdrifts on the side of the road that had been pushed there by the snowplows. On the CD, Frank Sinatra sang about having a White Christmas. He fell out of the car and started off down the road, hoping to be able to make it home in time for Christmas. Joseph shivered as he pulled the collar of his gray sports coat up to cover his ears. He blinked into the thick fog, looking around for some semblance of civilization, but saw nothing. Just his luck that his car had to stall out in the middle of nowhere. He turned and groped his way through the pea soup fog back to the Datsun, and tapped out 'shave and a haircut' on the passenger side window. "It's me, Nadine."
His wife rolled the window down a fraction and glared out at him through mean, narrow eyes. "Well?" Her voice grated on him, and he bit back a sarcastic reply, knowing it would do nothing except fuel her contempt. "I didn't see anything, and with the fog being as thick as it is..." Nadine cut him off. "You weak little mouse! I should have known you didn't have the guts to go find help! What was I thinking, agreeing to drive out here with you? 'Let's go for a drive in the country, you said. We can walk around and stretch our legs, you said.' I told you to watch the weather, but no, you insisted that it would be a fine day! I told you to make sure the Datsun was fixed, but you didn't! God, Joseph, can't you do anything right?" Joseph looked down at his Oxfords, clenching his fists. "I'm very sorry, dear." Nadine snorted and rolled the window back up, but not before telling him that he had better find someone to help them jump the Datsun. Joseph sighed and started off down the rutted, pitted country road they had gotten stuck on. The fog pressed against his ears, his eyes, and went down his throat, chilling him to the marrow. His coat and slacks felt as though he had walked through a lake fully clothed. On his right was a fenced pasture, with a locked gate. Joseph walked over to the fence and stared into the pasture, trying to see if maybe he could spot a farmer herding his cows home. There was a single glowing light up in the distance, but Joseph couldn't tell what it was. It was too high up to be a lantern, and there had been no street lights for miles. Joseph pulled his phone out and stared at the "No Signal" sign on the screen. "Damn it." A soft sighing sound came from the pasture, and Joseph turned and peered into the thick whiteness, eyes burning from the strain. "Hello? Is anyone there?" Out of the fog a figure stepped, eyes glowing like a lamp. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, with a strange, flat head, a black hole for a nose and a mouth made of fog. Its arms and legs were stick thin, and it appeared to have no hands that Joseph could see. It came torwards him, making a sound like a teakettle, its arms outstretched. Joseph was paralyzed with horror as the thing neared him. The eyes filled his vision, and the last thing he remembered was feeling a bone numbing cold pass through him. Then everything went black. "Joseph! Joseph, you useless little toad, wake up!" Someone was shaking his shoulder. Joseph blinked, looking around at the rapidly darkening road. Funny, but he could see perfectly now. The fog seemed to have vanished completely. He looked over at Nadine, and she took a step back. "Joseph, what's the matter with your eyes?" "My eyes are jussst fine, my dear." Joseph said in a voice like a teakettle's whistle. "They're jusst...fine." He grinned, and the fog seeped out of his mouth and rolled along the ground towards her. Joseph smiled, and fog poured out of his nose, ears, and eyes. "Nadine...come and walk with me...come walk in the beautiful fog with me.." Joseph stretched out his thinning arms, his fingers groping. "We can walk forever, my dear, forever..." Nadine screamed as the thick fog entered her. She coughed and choked. Joseph glided forward, eyes glowing like a lamp. "Nadiiinnee...you always hated meeee...the fog lovessss meee..." Joseph, or the thing that had once been Joseph, shoved his hand deep into Nadine's throat. "Goodbye...." The fog, or whatever it was, thickened, and Nadine screamed again. When it was over, the figure stepped back into the safe, warm arms of the fog and faded away. The local police that found Nadine were baffled. How had it come to pass that a well dressed woman had been found, on the warmest day of the year, not only dead but frozen. Just a very quick post about what's in store for the month of December.
Of course, the big announcement is that I won National Novel Writing Month with a grand total of 51,857 words! I'm very proud of myself. I don't know when or if i'm going to be publishing the fruits of my labor, but if I do, it most likely will be sometime next year after I've edited it to my liking and added page numbers, etc. The second announcement is that I am coming up on having this lovely blog for three years. I'm pretty proud of myself that I've been able to (usually)find enough things to write about to last that long. I may post something on the day of the Anniversary. The third and final announcement is that I am going to be getting back into short stories as soon as I possibly can. I have some ideas for holiday themed horror, and while I most likelywon't do any theme month for December, I will be posting as often as i can. i need to get back in my comfort zone after stepping out of it for NaNo. That's all for the moment. Thank you to everyone that still reads my stuff, and i hope for a good December. |
Megan
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