For several weeks, I’ve been mapping out a potential fiction novel about a changeling child. I’m still in the planning stages, and have done very little actual writing, but I’m pretty excited about the concept.
I’m not going to give it all away, but I am going to be looking for some input on little parts, and eventually, someone to help edit and proofread the whole thing. (Don’t everyone jump to volunteer (yeah, right.)- I’m nowhere near that stage yet.) Here’s a little taste- something I wrote last night. No promises- this may be promptly chucked in the garbage.

Brambles pulled at my skirt and my hair as I pushed through the thick underbrush. I felt the mosquitoes nudge and prick my skin, and I swatted at them in vain. A hare started and dashed between my bare feet, grazing my ankle with his cotton tail. I, too, jumped as his wild eyes flashed on his zig-zagged dash away from me.
At last, and all at once, the thick forest gave way to a perfectly round clearing. It was as bright as the daylight had been over our tiny farm at noon, though the moon was but a silver sliver above me. A thick ring of toadstools and sawgrass bordered the clearing, and my breath caught in my throat at the sight. I stepped gingerly towards the circle, feeling faint as I watched my toes cross over the line of mushrooms.
As my foot touched down inside the ring, I heard a deep, steady beat begin, echoing my heartbeat. Faintly, a chiming began- so close to my ear that it might have been inside my head. I took a shallow breath and looked up under my lashes. Swirling around me were thousands of tiny, furred, white flies. My fingers began to twitch on their own accord, but I didn’t dare raise my hands to try to catch one of the fuzzy insects.
I listened carefully to the drumbeats and the bells as they rose and swelled and were joined by a melodic humming. Against my will, I slowly closed my eyes, hearing the rise and fall of the strange music and feeling faint brushings against my cheeks. Finally, my eyes opened, and the ring was empty save for me, standing shaking in the center. In my head- in my whole body; my very being- I felt a question. It was wordless, soundless, but in every way it sang: ‘Why are you here?’
I tried to speak my answer, but I could not find my voice. With a small squeak, I collapsed in a heap.
I found myself thinking of Arthur. I thought of our courtship and the way he had held me late at night when we should have been home. I thought of our marriage- small and inexpensive, but just as beautiful to me. I thought of our twelve years together, and how happy I had been with him. I thought of how hard we had tried to conceive a child, and how saddened we were when we realized we could not.
I thought of the consumption that had taken Arthur from me, slowly and painfully; how I had begged for God to take me too, and how ungrateful I was to be spared.

I drifted off into a restless sleep, dreaming of a beautiful child to carry on Arthur’s spirit.

PS: I also added a finished piece of writing for the first time in what seems like forever; check the ‘Recent Writing’. In addition, I changed up the banner- something I do far too often. Do you like it?


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