In Which I Humiliate Myself

Since you all seem to like me, I decided that should change.

How am I going to go about changing that? Well, I’m going to post a lot of random excerpts from books I wrote … years ago.

For this, I have to go here:

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Yep. The file folder “No Longer in Use.” *lightning, thunder, scary music*

And a peak inside the file folder, as if you weren’t scared (or scarred) enough already:

screentwo

I know. Scary, right?

So, I’m going to click on a random folder and give you an excerpt from one of my works-in-progress. None of these were actually finished. So. Let the games begin.


From The Everyday Observations of Gem Farjon 2

(Note: I actually think this bit is kinda clever …)

“Gem, where are you?”

“Coming, mama.”

“Right now or next year?”

“Right now. Just a minute.”

“Why not say ‘just an hour?’”

“I’ve gotta brush my hair.”

“I’ll do it. You never get out the tangles.”

Gem did not want to get out the tangles. It often hurt. But if she didn’t, Mama would. Usually Mama did it better, so Gem gave her the comb and allowed her to work with her hair until it was tangle-free.

“I was going to have Mrs. O’Brien over, this afternoon, so-”

“Aunt Emmy?”

“If that suits you better, yes. As I was saying, I was going to have your Aunt Emmy over, so if you would go and play by yourself ….”

“But I’ve nothing to do. And you promised,” she had promised nothing, but Gem used to word often.

“What did I promise?”

“Well, you did.”

“I don’t remember promising anything.”

“You’re getting old.”

“Gem Farjon, you must be blind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Me, old? Then Empire State Building, short. Ocean, shallow!”

“What do you mean?” Mama did not always make sense.

“I mean, you need to go play by yourself today. I promised nothing; I remember that.”

“Or maybe you don’t.”

“Gem Ellen, march outside,” she insisted.

Mrs. O’Brien – or rather Aunt Emmy – did come over, and talked and talked with Gem’s Mama. Grownups must have a lot to talk about. Gem was sure she couldn’t talk that long.

When she went into the kitchen to get a cookie, they were sitting there talking. A few seconds of listening told Gem that they were talking of Fantasies. Fantasies was an estate that had used to be a plantation. It was located in Virginia, just below Roanoke. It was owned by Gem’s daddy, as he had inherited from his father who had inherited it from his father.

“Gem, no cookies today. Remember, you were naughty yesterday.”

“What did I do?”

“You threw Ellie’s record out the window.”

“But mama! She was playing it over and over and over and over and over and over again, and I was so, so, so tired of it!”

“I was, too,” Mama admitted, “But it was still wrong of you.”

Gem’s family would be moving to Fantasies soon. The plantation grounds had mostly been leased out to families, and the rest became woodland or pasture-land for wild animals.

When the family came home that evening, they began a siege of packing. It would take weeks, naturally, but the packing for the children, who would be departing for the beach in a few days, would only take that short length of time.


From The Heirs of the Trunk (Version 2)

(Note: cheesy, corny, stupid …)

Ruby Farjon tiptoed out of the bedroom where her daughter was sleeping. She smoothed her coppery-red hair out of her green-blue eyes.

“She is asleep . . . finally. That felt like an hour!” she whispered to Gretchen Tappet, her friend and adopted sister, who was waiting just outside the door.

“Less,” Gretchen replied, “Fifty-eight minutes, by the clock.”

Ruby almost laughed, “I don’t know if I can handle this motherhood business. It’s only been a month, and I am exhausted! And only one little girl!”

“So was I . . . I still am!” Gretchen smiled, “I made coffee. Come on.”

“I don’t like coffee.” Ruby remarked.

“I know,” Gretchen admitted, “Well, then I will have some coffee, and you’ll just sit there and play around with yours.”

They linked arms and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Gretchen’s straight, black hair contrasted with Ruby’s own, and Ruby’s light eyes were quite opposite from Gretchen’s dark ones.

Ruby’s house was small. It had only a small yard in the back, which adjoined Gretchen’s. Both houses were side-by-side, in Shady Oaks, their hometown.

“How do you ever get Jessica asleep?” Ruby wondered.

“Jessica goes to sleep easily.”

“Well, Ellie doesn’t!” Ruby exclaimed.

“Gretchen, you mean!” Gretchen didn’t mind Ruby’s nickname for her little namesake, but she teased Ruby occasionally, just for the fun of it.

“Ellie is more her name now . . . it’s less confusing.”

“It’s not her real name!” Gretchen exclaimed.

“It’s not her real name but it’s . . . it’s her pretend name!” They both laughed out loud at that, and quickly hushed each other. Nevertheless, it was too late, for little Gretchen Helena, hearing the noise, woke up and began fussing again.

“Oh, why did you have to laugh?” Ruby moaned.

“And you?” Gretchen cried.

“That doesn’t matter. I’m her mother! I can do whatever I want!” She exclaimed.

“Well, I’ll go get her.” Gretchen hurried up the stairs. She was back in a minute with the red-haired baby who was still crying at having been woken.

“She’s a loud little girl, and her scream will pierce any ear,” Gretchen complained, but then her gaze softening into fondness and she remarked, “However, I would be mad too if I was woken from my nap of a few minutes, still tired!”

“You laughed too! However, I can do nothing to quiet her.” Ruby said, laughingly, “Can you put her back to the sleep she needs?”

Gretchen smiled, rocking the baby back and forth, “She just needs quiet, and she’s not going to get any if you keep talking!”

Ruby opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly the door opened and shut in the other room.

“Alan, why aren’t you with Jessica? You can’t leave her alone in the house!” Gretchen said with an annoyed tone to her voice.

Someone laughed in the next room, “I’m sure Alan is with Jessica,” responded a deep, well-known voice.

“Colin!” Ruby exclaimed. She ran out of the kitchen, where Colin awaited her with open arms. Ruby allowed him to kiss her, but then an annoyed look crossed her face.

“What about Law School?” she asked.

“It’s basically spring break . . . if there was a spring break in that exasperating college. It’s the weekend, and I wanted to see you!”

“Colin! It has only been a month! Less, actually! You’re going to get in trouble!”

“Take it easy on me!” Colin exclaimed, “Gretchen, a man comes home to see his wife, and she’s furious for no good reason whatsoever. I won’t miss anything . . . no lectures on subjects I’ve already well-studied, or anything or the sort. Can I see my little girl?” Gretchen obligingly handed him the screaming Ellie.

“Look at how she’s grown!” Colin exclaimed, “And so . . . loud,” he rocked her gently, and her screams diminished. “See, she just needs a gentle touch!”

“Why, she’s been screaming for two hours . . . almost continually!” Ruby looked mystified.

“She missed her father!” Colin explained.

“Well, she hasn’t gotten bigger. She’s the same size.” Ruby looked exasperated. It seemed like everyone else had a way with her child but herself!

“She’s prettier.” Colin put in.

Ruby narrowed her eyes, “She’s not prettier! And she was never ugly!”

“She’s less . . . red and wrinkled.” Colin said, playfully, “She’s beautiful now. Like her mother,” he kissed Ruby again, though Ruby pushed him away and took the baby.

Gretchen got a strong sense of ‘three is a crowd’, and excused herself. She walked quickly to her own home.


Also from The Heirs of the Trunk (Version 2)

(Note: and secrets are practically revealed … in the cheesiest way possible …)

After a time, all the guests left, including Ruby. Mr. Hilton, eventually, gained courage to bring up the subject to his wife.

“Did you see her, Cassidy? Did you, darling?”

“Yes,” quietly replied she.

“She is the mirror image of Gem. I do not know how it is possible, but she is related to her, somehow.”

“Likely,” was the answer.

“Darling, how is it possible? That girl is not that much younger than Cathie.”

“August, Colin said, 1888. It is very possible,” Mrs. Hilton responded, softly.

“Perhaps, but unlikely. Why have not we heard from her? It has been twenty-two years,” said Mr. Hilton, ponderingly.

“Should we ask Cathie a little about this girl before we jump to conclusions? They are good friends, I’ve heard.”

“Darling, I could not take another disappointment – another dead end. If you want to, we can try. I, for one, am sure that it is impossible,” then he raised his voice, “Cathie?” After a few moments, Cathie walked into the bedroom.

“You wanted me?”

“Sweetheart, something has come up, and we need to know what you know about Ruby,” said her mother, softly, “What do you know about her past?”

“She is an orphan,” was the prompt answer, “Her mother died the day after she was born. Her father died . . . oh, months before that. She does not have any known living relatives, but she was adopted.”

“Hmm . . . ,” Cassidy Hilton’s gaze traveled out the window. She was trying to puzzle this out, then something came to her, “Cathie, what was Ruby’s last name before she got married?”

“Err . . . let me think. Could it be Strauss? Yes, Ruby Lynne Strauss.”

“But her father’s name?”

“Jerry Smith was what she said,” Cathie replied.

“You . . . you are sure?” Mr. Hilton asked, going rather pale.

“Yes,” Cathie replied, very confused, “What is it?”

“Did she tell you anything that she knew of her parents? Other than what you’ve said already?”

“She said her parents were poor, but crazily in love, from what she knows. Her father was a farm boy, and her mother a city girl. They eloped, and came to Shady Oaks to live.”

“Shady Oaks,” Mrs. Hilton breathed, excitedly, “Of course!”

“As you said, let us not jump to any conclusions. Cathie, does Ruby know of any relatives that might be living?” Mr. Hilton asked.

“Yes, but she does not want to find them. Not at all. Her parents were rejected. Her grandmother hated her mother. She does not care about them, and has not even thought about looking. She does not think they would care about her.”

Mr. Hilton frowned at this.

“Is it possible . . . there could be a lot of Smiths around . . . ,” Mrs. Hilton looked at her husband, unsure.

“I hope it is not the way it is. I am believing with all my heart that it is not,” Mr. Hilton was trying to keep his voice from shaking, “I … I couldn’t bare it to have spent all this time missing her when she had been dead all along. I loved her next to you, Cassie.”

“I did as well,” Mrs. Hilton replied, “Cathie, go to bed, now. We will explain in the morning.”

A curious Cathie left, closing the door behind her. Immediately, Cassidy Hilton turned to her husband.

“If . . . ,” she thought aloud, “If she is Gem’s, how I shall love that girl! I would anyway – she is so like her. I wish . . . what will you mother say?”

“She is regretting what she said and did now. She would give anything to hear a word of forgiveness from Gem. She would be willing to die the instant afterwards if only to see her again. I will bet she is sick with worry, and scared that she will never see her daughter again.”

They turned out the light and both tried to sleep, but how could they? They both lay staring into the dark thinking the whole event out. What would happen in the morning?


From The Heirs of the Trunk, Version 1

(Note: I miss this book (even though it’s awful), which is why there is so much of it!)

Susan ’phoned Ruby every once and awhile, always sounding cheerful and enthusiastic, and all she wanted to talk about was Josh Bailey. Madeline also telephoned, but only to complain about Susan.

“She’s to nice. This is unnatural. I don’t like it. Did you know she can play the piano? Very well? I didn’t. She’s strange, just now. Just the other day she bothered me into letting her take me out for lunch. Go figure!”

But even her sisters’ hesitations to accept the new her didn’t seem to dampen Susan’s spirits. The only thing that did was a day when she didn’t see Josh Bailey.

By November, Ruby was demanded to come to Minneapolis. Susan wanted her there for her wedding, and the Hiltons wanted her to spend Thanksgiving at their house, which was accepted, after a lot of discussion with Colin, who was beginning to wish he had never heard the name ‘Hilton’. It was difficult enough with both Strauss’s and Farjons.

When Ruby and Colin got to the Farjon household, Susan was in her room. Ruby was allowed to walk in without hesitation, as the door was wide open, strangely enough. Susan was staring out of the window, absently tugging at her own hair.

“Hey, Suzie! It was so nice of you to greet me.” Ruby teased. Susan started and turned around.

“Oh … hi, Ruby. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I called you yesterday and told you I was!” Ruby laughed, “Are you becoming forgetful?”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just a little bit fidgety, and my mind is elsewhere. But I’m glad you’re here. You don’t act wary around me. All my sisters are, except Polly. I’m not such an awful person, am I?”

“I never thought you were.” Ruby said, shrugging, “I liked you alright. Hey, you’re not to smart, but you’re pretty.” Susan rolled her eyes.

“Thanks a lot. That makes me feel much better.”

“Well, all the Farjon girls, except you, Susan, have a bad habit of under-estimating themselves – even your mother. Your habit is over-rating yourself! You could use some de-grading, really, though not from me.” Ruby commented, laughingly, though her words were truer than she knew.

“Hey! I’ve been throwing a lot of pride and habit away recently! I’ve been faithful to one man, I’ve treated my mother like a human been, I’ve tried to convince my sisters that I’m sane, and haven’t worn any violet perfume, or any at all, in ages. Josh wanted me not to – he says the smell was killing his nose.

You know, I would even mind having a baby, now. With Josh, I couldn’t possibly raise It wrong. I feel like I’ve just met the girls’ children for the first time. Especially Polly’s. Isabelle is an angel, and Henry and Alexander are pretty smart kids. I like them a lot.”

Ruby began laughing then. This was Susan, still, but the way she ought to be, and the way she really was. She was very fun. Her words bounced off her tongue in a way that made you love to hear them, and her eyes sparked with anticipation. Susan joined in Ruby’s laugh, a little. She had a laugh very like her mother’s – pleasant and happy. It was a laugh off delight, not amusement.

“Well, sounds like you’ve been a really good girl.” Ruby said, still giggling. She reached over and patted Susan’s head, “When my dog performs a feat like that, I give him a biscuit. Do you want one?”

“No thanks.” said Susan, making a face, “I’m fine without.”

“Alright, good. The wedding on the 20th, correct?”

“Yes.” Susan said, beginning to twist her hands together.

“That’s nine days. You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“No. Not exactly. I mean, what is there to be nervous about?” Susan said, sounding rather nervous.

“Oh, I don’t know. Say I didn’t mention it. What kind of flowers are you going to have? What do the dresses look like? What about a honeymoon?”

“Well, as far as flowers, lilies. They are sort of a thing in our family. My father called my mother his ‘lily’, and he called Ellen his ‘Easter lily’ because she was born on Easter. In fact, the truth is, he called all of the girls ‘lily’ at one point or another, except me. Which is funny, because Ellen had lavender … all right, now I’m way off subject. But the dress in beautiful, and we’re going to spend several weeks in Italy. You do not know how much begging that took. He thinks this is all a waste of time.”

“Huh! Well, your wedding is something you’re supposed to remember.” said Ruby.

“That’s what I told him. Did you bring your dog?” Susan was not trying to change the subject. She simply wished to know.

“What? You can’t bring a dog on a train, Susan. But I hope you’ll meet her someday. She’s a great dog, and so smart. She must know two dozen tricks. Alan is taking care of her.”

“Who’s Alan?” Susan asked.

“Gretchen’s husband.”

“Oh.” Susan still looked confused, but she didn’t really want to know who Gretchen was, terribly, and she had a general idea.

They ran down the stairs. Mrs. Farjon had taken Gretch from Colin, and exclaimed over how much she’d grown.

“She’s almost nine months old, isn’t she?” Mrs. Farjon marveled.

“Yes.” Ruby said, smiling, “Jessica walks now, you know, very well. And she says several words.”

“Jessica, Jessica, Jessica.” Colin complained, “You talk more about her than about Gretch.”

“Who is … ” Susan began, then, “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” Mrs. Farjon laughed.

“She’s Gretchen Tappet’s daughter. You know Gretchen – she’s Peter Strauss’s daughter.”

“Peter Strauss is married?” Susan asked, looking surprised.

“You weren’t born when he wasn’t.” Mrs. Farjon said, plainly amused, “Let me see … he was married in 1880. That’s what – three years before you were born?”

“Two.” Susan said, “Everyone thinks I’m younger than I am because I was born in June.”

“In time, you’ll be happy if people think you’re younger than you are.” Mrs. Farjon said, grinning, before exiting the room. She had a tendency to always have something to do.


From A House Divided, book

(Note: this is the one that embarrasses me the most. I was quite pleased with it at the time, but now I look at it and grimace. Thank goodness I only wrote five pages! Anyway, it involves an arranged marriage and a mention of a (married) couple sharing  a bed, so be warned.)

It rained on their wedding day. If Clarence or Lynne had been superstitious, it would have been taken for a bad omen. Lynne proclaimed to herself that even if she didn’t believe in ‘that silliness’ she was sure it was some sort of a message from God, trying to hint that they were most definitely not meant for each other.

When it came to the ‘speak now or forever hold you peace,’ Lynne could not restrain herself. She would not be pronounced man and wife. She may have spoken those silly vows, but she could still escape.

“I object to this union,” she said, suddenly, taking a few steps back from Clarence. The veil had been hiding her tears for some time, now, and she quickly removed it to wipe her eyes.

Her father stood up from where he had sat, giving her looks, “Lynne!”

“No! I will not be forced into this!”

The entire audience gasped. Clarence stared at her in disbelief.

“Lynne McCullough, you will marry him,” Mr. McCullough told her, “You be quiet.”

“I will not! This is my life, and I am not even a woman yet. I will not have my life ruined. Besides what you seem to think, I’m not something you can bargain and trade with as you would a piece of goods. I am a person.”

“Lynne,” it was her mother now, standing next to her, “Don’t make such a fuss. You’ll only embarrass yourself. Just go on, reverend, sir. She’s not entirely sane.”

The reverend tried to object to this, but Mrs. McCullough helped Lynne put her veil back on. Clarence continued to stare in amazement, until he blinked and looked up towards the ceiling as if to say, “Why me?”

Clarence decided, after the scene, that it was best to skip the rest of the wedding, and after the reverend hastily said, “I pronounce you man and wife,” he didn’t even bother to kiss the bride. He simply took her hand, led her down the isle, got her into a carriage which he directed should go to his house. He did not get into that carriage, however, but lingered behind to talk to his mother and father.

“Just be patient with her,” her mother advised, “Oh, what a scene! I would do anything to get you out of this. Poor girl! Her parents must have forced her into it.”

“You mean ‘poor Clarence,’ I’m sure, dear,” said Clarence’s father, “I wouldn’t be caught dead with that girl.”

“Well, I’m just going have to be caught,” said Clarence, grinning, “Ah, well, I’d better go follow her. She’s not in the best of moods.”

“Follow her?”

“I sent the carriage ahead of me. I’m not ready for that confined a space yet.”

“Takes ours,” his mother offered, “I’ll do my best to explain. Really, this is quite an embarrassing situation.”

“Do your best, mother, for my sake,” and he hurried out the door.

Lynne cried all the way to the house, then hurried out of the carriage and inside. Her things were already in his bedroom. The room was neat and tidy, which meant he had likely not slept in it yet, she reflected, knowing her brother.

All men are the same!” she ranted, “My father, my brother, and this Hilton man. They think they’re in control of the world and women were designed as their personal slaves. Well, I don’t think that’s how it is; not at all. If he thinks he has his little wife now, he will have a rude awakening! Ah, but no awakening, as I shan’t let him go to sleep!”

Lynne noticed that there were two pillows on that bed. She rolled her eyes, picked up one, opened the window, and threw it out. It landed at Clarence’s feet. He glanced up, then glanced down, picked up the pillow, muddy in the street by now, and set it on the front step. Then he hurried up the stairs and into the bedroom.

“Hello,” he said, awkwardly, “Um, what do you think of the place? I wasn’t quite sure, but my mother said it was all right.”

“I suppose it is all right. There was one adjustment; I just made it.”

“Ah, the pillow?”

“Mm-hmm, and don’t think it’s because I want to share mine!”

“I guessed that,” said Clarence.

“You’re not all that stupid, then,” responded Lynne, “Will you leave my bedroom now?”

“Your bedroom? All right, then. No, I will not leave ‘your bedroom,’ I will sleep on the sofa in here.”

“No, you will not,” responded Lynne, “There are sofas in other rooms. You may sleep on these.”

Clarence sighed, “As you like it, my love,” he responded, “But you know we were going to take a honeymoon? I told you of that cabin; I thought we were going to go there. I suppose that is off?”

“No,” said Lynne, after a moment, “To save face, we will travel to that cabin in a few moments. My things, I believe, are in suitcases downstairs. I will just change into my traveling clothes, now.”

“As you like it,” he murmured before leaving.

“Hateful man!” Lynne thought, locking the door behind him and going into the adjoining boudoir, “Well, we won’t be staying here tonight. Cabin! Yes, he spoke of it; it’s somewhere in the country. Very secluded, that is what he said! Oh, how shall I bear this!”


From Midnight and Twilight, first draft

(Note: this is the first ‘book’ I ever wrote. This is the last ‘chapter.’ There is a lot of violence – horses killing each other, basically – in this section.)

Twilight walked around the rim of the valley, and around the mountain plains above the valley. His band followed, sometimes stopping to graze, or rest under a shade tree. Usually, they would rest, and then run to catch up with Twilight and rest again. Twilight took no breaks, but all the same, it took him all that day to come to a jagged cliff, that once climbed, showed a sheltered pass were Midnight and his band were. Twilight at once hurried back into the valley. He checked to make sure his entire band was there, and then walked up the side of the valley, into the pass. Midnight was expecting him. He was no longer scared once he saw Twilight. He knew that if he was going to die, he was going to die. Twilight paused, savoring the moment. He stared his brother straight in the eyes for a second, and waited his on-coming rush. Twilight glinted his evil eyes. He rolled his eyes back and tilted his head so, at the same time watching Midnight; he could watch his mares trudging up towards him. Discord topped the valley, and stood proud and tall behind him. Flame nodded their little heads up after her, and so followed the rest of the band. Twilight stood, for perhaps fifteen minutes, or perhaps fifteen seconds until a few more of his mares arrived behind him. This worked extremely well, for the biggest, strongest mares arrived at the top first, and created a beautiful spectacle. Twilight was in the middle, holding his head high, baring his teeth as if to pounce in a second, his eyes going red again, as if a sudden evil had possessed him which took all traces of mercy and good from his system, if any had ever existed. Discord stood on his right. Her eyes glinted almost like Twilight’s, her head tilted to gain the best view of Midnight and his mares. Flame pranced at Twilight’s right. He did not wish to fight, but merely to get his extra energy out. He had followed the mares around, resting often, and had not had a chance to get rid of his excess energy, which is often possessed by young colts. Midnight let out a weak neigh, and Celilo and the rest of his mares stood around him, and behind him. They did their own bad impressions of brave-ness, acting as if they were not the least bit scared, but they were truly so far beyond terrified that they were frozen where they were. Terror, on the other hand, was showing no signs of pain, or suffering. She looked as if she would accept nothing but victory. She had learned to harness her feelings, and show only hate, but not love, pain, or even react to torture. She had learned, by living with Twilight, to hold her head and body so that her mane and tail whipped in the wind. Her eyes burned with a million flames, a wild fire, focused at Twilight. Her eyes flashed of the terrible things she had seen, death, murder, destruction; horrors which haunted her dreams. Other than that, she might have been made of stone. She stood still, with her burning eyes on Twilight. He glanced at her, and wished he hadn’t taught her to look at horses like that. She had stone eyes with flames in them, or were they flamed eyes with stones in them. He couldn’t tell, but if he had been human, he would have winced, and shivered, but he was Twilight. He had his own flamed eyes, and he put them to her. She remained defiant. In the end, he looked away, and turned his attention back to Midnight.

Midnight was also defiant of Twilight. He took a step forward. Twilight lifted his head higher, stamped the ground, and let out his war cry. Midnight let out a weaker cry, and galloped toward Twilight. Midnight’s band pulled back, and ran a little ways up the pass. They stood, watching the battle, terrified and ready to run. Terror, too, turned, and galloped away, but only for a better view. She was not scared, or at least she didn’t show it.

Twilight and Midnight clashed together. Rearing, kicking, nipping; anything to gain the upper hand. They circled each other, again and again, trying to land a blow. Finally, Twilight made a quick move, and bit Midnight’s neck. Midnight staggered back, overwhelmed momentarily by the pain. Blood steamed from his neck. Luckily, Twilight had not severed any major veins, and Midnight recovered, and managed to kick Twilight’s leg. Twilight began to bleed. It was just a minor cut, but blood gushed forth, throbbing from the wound. Twilight reared, and screamed. His heart was bounding around in his chest, his leg hurt terribly. They clashed together again and again, every time one landing some blow on the other. Drenched with blood and sweat, Midnight took a step backward, coughing and gasping. Twilight took the opportunity, and crashed down, almost on top of Midnight, and landed a death-dealing blow, with a hard latching bite near to Midnight’s jugular vein. Blood gushed out, and Midnight fell to his knees. Celilo screamed, and called for Midnight to get back up, to run, to hide, to recompense the blows. But Midnight rolled onto his side. He tried desperately to raise his head. He failed miserably, and lay back down, panting and terrified. Horses know when the end is near. He glanced about, moving only his eyes. Twilight stood above him, triumphant. He stared down at him, contemplating his next move, then, turning to his band, let out his war cry again, but this time, he was calling out ‘Victory! I have won!’. Then Twilight galloped off. He would take the best of Midnight’s mares, killing their offspring. Celilo hid behind a tree for a second until Twilight passed, heading toward a group of Midnight’s mares, and ran to Midnight. She looked down at him, a weak look came into her eyes, and then she began to panic. Terror managed to make it there as well, and gave Celilo a look, which quickly brought all traces of panic out of her system. Celilo’s colt could not understand death yet, and looked at his father, not understanding why he didn’t get up. Moon-Dance also stood near by. She rubbed against her mother’s legs, and then pranced off. She didn’t understand the danger, or death. She usually acted how her mother acted, but right now her mother was acting solemn, which was not a thing Moon-Dance did well. Midnight looked up at Celilo’s colt, and without saying a word or making a noise, he named him.

Sudden Death. Sudden Death for Twilight, when the little colt grew older. Celilo understood, and nodded that, yes, she would call the colt that. Midnight, then, let out his last call, a scream which conveyed this message:

“Run, and take all the mares you can save with you. Save yourself, and save your foals.”

The mares did run, with all their strength. Celilo did not want to leave, but Terror gave her a quick shove, and she left with backwards looks. Midnight lived long enough to see his lead-mare, son, Terror, Moon-Dance, and three other mares with their foals escape. Then he fell in a silent sleep, a sleep with no dreams, no breath, no life.

Twilight finished off or took all the other mares and their foals. But the five mares, the five foals, and their foals that would arrive next year would be enough to restart the band in a couple years when Sudden Death was old enough. Twilight would take over the valley. He would live in it for a time, but not forever. Someday, perhaps years later, but someday, Midnight’s descendents, be it his son or his great grandson, would rule the valley in peace.


From Dolly of the World

(Note: this is part of an outline. I don’t know if I’ll ever write this … but if I do, I’ll likely change the novel 100%)

Dolly Splitzen has lived the first thirteen years of her life at the Atlantic seaside town of Meerseite, Virginia, USA. The population is mostly German-American immigrants. There is a lot of fishing and tourism. She always feels very different from the rest of the village who seem somehow prejudiced against her; they call her the devil’s daughter and exclude her. Even her own family seems to reject her. ((She doesn’t fit in because she has socialized with the tourists and become somewhat modernized and etc. Everyone in the village is really old-fashioned and hate change and things like that.))

In the summer after her fourteenth birthday (1930), two things happen: she meets the Farjon family who teach her that there is more to life than constant work and that she’s not as different as she seems to be.

Also, a strange woman comes to live in the outskirts town. Dolly slowly gets to know the lady, who seems to like Dolly in a motherly way. However, Dolly’s father is unwilling to let Dolly hang out with the Farjon children … and when he finds out about the lady (Belle de Lebeau) at the end of the summer (after the Farjons have gone) he becomes fanatic and confines her to her room.

So, basically, Dolly runs away. She goes first to Miss Lebeau who agrees to take her back with her to the city where she works (WELCOME TO NEW YORK! IT’S BEEN WAITING FOR YOU! WELCOME TO NEW YORK WELCOME TO NEW YORK … haha, Taylor Swift reference …) and have her properly educated for some “great work in the world” which Dolly has not decided on yet.


From The Misadventures of Dr. Kelly and Her Assistant James (earlier writings)

(Note: I decided to include the first short story in the collection as a whole … so read on!)

The Elastic Cord

“Kelly, look at this!” shouted James Garrett, Dr. Kelly’s assistant, and brother. Dr. Kelly rushed over to James.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Look at this picture! It was taken yesterday!” shouted James.

“WHAT IS THAT?” Dr. Kelly shouted, not to be left behind.

“It’s a Elasmosaurus.”

“A Elasticourus?”

“A Elasmosaurus,” corrected James, patiently.

“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place!” said Dr. Kelly, “It’s just a . . . WHAT! A ELASMOSAURUS! A Swimming DINOSAUR! You ARE crazy! You ARE kidding! Right?”

“Nope.”

“Ok, if there is a swimming dinosaur, where is it?”

“In Loch Ness.”

“Ok, James. DO YOU HAVE ANY PROOF!”

“Nope.”

“Would you like to investigate.”

“Are you kidding?”

“YES.”

“Why?”

“Because I am not going to journey several thousand miles to prove a myth is a real!”

“Oh.”

… a week or two later …

“There it is, Loch Ness. Aren’t you excited Kelly?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When we bag that monster we will be famous.”

“Sure.”

“And so will Nessie.”

“You brought your girlfriend?”

“Not Nellie, Nessie.”

“Nessie? The Loch Ness monster?”

“Yep, that’s what we’re after.”

“You said a Elasticrorror.”

“An Elasmosaurus.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No you said…”

“Forget it.”

“Okay.”

… about an hour later, at their hotel …

“James, were is my camera.”

“I don’t know. Where are my swimming shorts?”

“You brought swimming shorts?”

“Yes, I want to go swimming with Nessie.”

“WHAT? ARE YOU CRAZY?”

“I hope not.”

“You are NOT going swimming with Nessie.”

“I even brought my beach ball. Why can’t I go swimming with Nessie.”

“Because he’s an important scientific discovery. And he might HURT you.”

“A little feller like him?”

“He’s 43 feet long!”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“You didn’t ask, did you?”

… silence …

“No.”

… A hour later, in the speedboat…

“James, where are you?”

“Over here.”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“Talking to this interesting animal.”

“Show me.”

… a second later …

“James, leave that fish alone.”

“It’s not a fish, it’s a sturgeon.”

“A surgeon? A person who operates on people?”

“No, a sturgeon. It’s a kind of fish native to the waters of Lake Loch Ness!”

“It’s not ‘Lake Loch Ness.’ It’s just ‘Loch Ness.’ ‘Loch’ means ‘lake’ in Scottish.”

“I thought Scottish people spoke English.”

“Not whenever Loch Ness was named, apparently. Stop fooling around!”

“I’m not fooling around. I’m fooling in one place!”

“Just get over here!”

“Ok.”

… a few minutes later …

“Calling Dr. Kelly. Are you there?” blared the radio.

“Dr. Kelly, reading you loud and clear.”

“O.K., we have a large animal on our sonar take, Approx. 40 feet, give or take a little. It is a very fast swimmer and seems to be coming to surface near you boat.”

“NEAR OUR BOAT!”

“Yes, near your boat. Please get you cameras ready. OVER AND OUT!”

“James, grab your camera!”

“Why?”

“Because your Nessie is surfacing!”

“No she is not! I told you, I did not bring Nellie.”

“NESSIE!”

“Help! Save me! Nessie’s surfacing! Where’s my camera?”

“Calm down! Here’s your camera. QUIET!”

“Look over there Kelly!”

“I am!!!”

… a second later after a tranquilizer dart was injected into Nessie …

“Secure that Dinosaur!”

“Help! It’s trying to eat me.”

“James, it’s asleep.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want make you flood Loch Ness with your tears, so I am not going to tell you.”

“But why is he sleeping?”

“Forget it. He is taking a quick nap.”

“Oh.”

“Just take pictures or something.”

“Ok.”

… after Nessie was set free and proven to be a Elasmosaurus…

“Home again, home again, Rickety Rig. I found Nessie and I dancing a jig!”

“No, you didn’t find Nessie, you found a Elasticourer.”

“Elasmosaurus.”

“That thing.”

“But that doesn’t go well.”

“Forget it, you, um, WE found Nessie.”

“And me to.”

“Shut up.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I’ll give you a punch in the nose.”

“Oh.”

The End (or is it?)


And … I refuse to explain any of that.

Unless you ask, in which case I might.

What? This is my extra day! On my extra days, I can do whatever I want whenever I want. I mean, as long as it’s actually on the extra day … but otherwise, there are no rules. And today I chose to shatter all your childish illusions of me maybe being a good writer someday.

So there.

~Kellyn Roth

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22 thoughts on “In Which I Humiliate Myself

  1. Ahhh!! =D This was great. And I’m interested to see what happens with Lynn and Clarence…. is… is she gonna light the cabin on fire? ;D
    The Heirs Of The Trunk… *whispers* If you miss it…. you should write it…
    Thanks for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I didn’t really have much of an idea past what I wrote, but … that’s actually kind of a good idea. I want to write that book, but I’m not sure. It really is a kind of entertaining story, but I’d be nervous about writing a husband/wife relationship (not because I think it would be inappropriate with me writing it – although arranged marriage stories tend to get … eh – but that I’ve never been married myself … so I don’t know!).

      Well, The Heirs of the Trunk is great idea. It unfortunately got a little too complicated for my eleven-year-old self to handle, so I ditched it. After begging my friends to go back in their trash and scour their trash bins and all that for bits of pieces I sent to them, I was able to save some of it … but yeah. It’s pretty awful. I’m going in a slightly different direction with those characters now. 🙂

      Oh, I was gonna mention in the post but I didn’t: Lynn and Clarence are the grandparents of Ruby from The Heirs of the Trunk. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. That little spoiler makes everything even better!! =D I totally feel you with that (never being married)- that makes it harder to write married couples… but I guess, maybe look at married couples in your life and kinda gather information…and go off that, lol. But that’s what I do when I must. Mostly, I sort of trust that either I write it how I can now, or God will give me that story to write when I’m an adult and ‘know’ that stuff, lol. ;D
        That’s cool! As long as you keep ’em, haha! Oh gosh…. I wrote a novella, ‘Flying and Diving’, when I was 12 yrs old… It was what I made my blog for right…. I uploaded each chapter as I did them… and my 12 yr self didn’t safe the files. I deleted them off my blog and BAM. My first FINISHED story… gone. forever. gone gone gone. xD I regret it, but, the story hasn’t really stuck with me at all so.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Yep, all my books are pretty much connected! Except TLOTV … that’s not related to anything. Except Flowers, I suppose. 🙂

          That’s true. I feel bad about observing my parents, though. I’m like, “Don’t mind me, Mom and Dad … I’m just over here … taking notes …” 😉

          Oh, sorry! I’ve done that to quite a lot of stories. It’s sad. 😦

          Liked by 1 person

            1. I’m hoping I won’t be disappointing people with Flowers. I didn’t really outline it, so I’m not 100% sure where it’s going. But I’ve only got a little more to write, anyway, as it is, after all, a short story, so hopefully I’ll be able to make it turn out how I want it to. 🙂

              Liked by 1 person

    1. Not usually … but these stories are pretty awful. I mean, they don’t look quite as bad in pieces, but … when you stick the pieces together, they don’t really make a story.

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  2. Until you have a grieving sister going for a walk and her brother start knocking on his gravestone and jumping out alive, you have nothing on me… I may or may not have had a wild imagination and a firm belief in miracles when I was nine… 😉

    Thanks for sharing—those were fun to read! Reminded me of a few of my youthful efforts.
    ~Hannah

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Wow. To be honest, I’m actually kind of impressed! 😛 I mean, obviously they aren’t perfect, but they’re all actually written semi-well, even The Elastic Cord (which I really loved, actually, hehe). Like, sentence flow, Kell! That’s awesome! I really liked the names in Midnight and Twilight–Discord…Flame…Celilo…they’re great!

    This was a fun post! I kinda want to try it, but the thing is that no one can get a feel for the oddities of my early stories and how bad they were without reading the entire thing…just one scene on its own is meh but not horrible…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Well, I think I was in the 11-12 range when I wrote most of those. That was technically when I officially started writing with intent on becoming a ‘famous writer,’ but yeah, I suppose I cheated a little because I don’t have any of my oldest writings … except Kicky the Dolphin. But I can’t read my own handwriting in that case …

      Same here! I don’t think anyone can understand how awful these were without reading the whole things …

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      1. Hehe, that’s pretty good. I’d thought about being an author before, but I only decided I really wanted to be one when I was 13. Before that, I just have bits and pieces of random stories. Afterward…I still have bits and pieces of random stories, as well as random novels. 😛 What’s Kicky the Dolphin about?

        Liked by 1 person

        1. A dolphin named Kicky. 😄 Sorry, that’s what I always tell my friends. It’s about this little dolphin who is … gray instead of blue? Something like that, anyway. Apparently all dolphins but Kicky were this bright blue. Anyway, he … somehow got separated from his pack and didn’t have a mother or father or brothers and sisters or a first-breath-of-air-mother (I don’t know what this was; apparently it’s different from an ACTUAL mother? Maybe some sort of nurse-dolphin? Idk) and … yeah. They’re reunited at some point. Anyway, I was seven, so … yeah. I illustrated it myself, though, and let me tell you: I AM NOT AN ARTIST! 😄

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          1. What, really? I couldn’t have guessed that… 😛

            Oooh, that’s fun. -wants to see the illustrations, hehehe- -is totally innocent in this wanting- -totally wouldn’t laugh at them at all-

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