Book One: Chapter One: Moving

Chapter 1: Moving

Amelia and Simon kicked a soccer ball back and forth in the empty living room. The large whale of a moving van had swallowed all their furniture the day before. Afterwards, they'd spent the greater part of the night cleaning every last inch of floor, wall and fixture of the now eerily empty house. Like Cinderella, they’d cleaned until they were so tired that even the hardwood floors were a comfortable resting spot.
But unlike Cinderella, the resident animals didn't speed the process with a song and dance. So now, tired, dirty, and hungry, everyone was in the foulest of moods.

“For the last time, stop kicking that ball...and get out of the house!” Mrs. Gooch yelled while waving a broom stick, perspiration dripping like raindrops from her furrowed brow (The air conditioning had been disconnected yesterday, adding to their misery heat and humidity). Ducking under the broom, the two children dashed for the door.

“No, wait!” Mrs. Gooch stopped them, “First, check your room one last time.”

“Oh Mom, we’ve checked it a gazillion times,” complained Amelia.

Mom's eyes locked on hers, "Check them once more,” she said, with stressed undertones.

Sensing correctly that now was not the time to argue, Amelia and Simon climbed the stairs to their old room. Old room? That sounded wrong. It was the only room they had ever known. Even as babies they had shared the room.

While ascending the stairs, Amelia's hand clanked against the stair rungs, like a pendulum it counted time, taking her mind backwards through countless childhood memories. Entering their attic room Amelia remembered how late one night, when she and Simon should have been sleeping, they had found their baby books. Under the covers of her bed, they'd searched the pages, laughing hysterically at the pictures of their naked baby bums.
Everyone always called them twins. They were the same height, both with straight blonde hair, penetrating blue eyes and skinny as sticks. Even their mother introduced them as her Irish twins. That's why they were shocked that night under the blanket covers.
The fact that their birthdays were a a couple weeks apart didn't seem to be a problem, they'd assumed Amelia had taken a little longer to be born. But on that night, to their horror, under the blanket covers, they learned this was not the case. Simon's December birthday and Amelia's January one were not the result of the same pregnancy, they were not twins, but rather nearly a year apart in age.  After extensive calculations for youngsters of their age, they had calculated that they were actually 11 months, 10 days, 9 hours, and approximate 87 minutes apart in age – Amelia being that much older.The minutes approximate because Amelia liked the number pattern and was tired of figuring at that point.
And except for those 11 months, 10 days, 9 hours and 78 minutes, they’d always shared this room. It was their handwriting on the wall, their spilled art projects staining the floor and dinks and bangs from their rough play marring the walls.

They noticed all these artifacts as they entered their room for the last time. With their furniture already en route across the country, it was easy to see that the only room they had ever known was completely empty.

“This shouldn’t take long,” Simon said.

 “I’ll check the bathroom, you check the closet,” Amelia directed.

Simon slid open the closet’s accordion doors and ran his hands along the white shelves from the bottom up. One, two, three...then on his toes he reached for four, “Amelia, I can’t reach the top shelf!”

Amelia exited the bathroom. “I’m sure it’s empty. Everything is empty!” she said coming closer. She was enough taller that she could reach the shelf…almost. She slid her hand half heartedly across the shelf’s front lip. As she did, her fingertips struck something, knocking it to the back of the shelf and out of reach.

“Darn it!” she said. “Get down and let me climb on your back.”

“Oh, you said a bad word, I’m telling mom,” Simon threatened.

“Darn it isn’t a bad word, it just sounds like one.” Amelia retorted, “Now, get down.”

Simon did as he was told, lowering himself to all fours, “It is a bad word and you shouldn’t say it.”

Amelia disregarded his chide, slipped off her flip flops and stepped onto Simon’s back. It was a bit wobbly. “Ewe, I can feel your spine,” she said, trying to balance. “Okay, now hold very still.” She grabbed the sides of the shelves for stability.

“Hurry, you’re really heavy!” Simon said, his arms shaking under the strain.

Now on her tip toes, Amelia’s long thin arm swept across the shelf; this time successfully cornering the elusive object. “Got it!” she said and stepped down, not a moment too soon, as Simon collapsed under the weight.

“What is it?” asked Simon looking up at Amelia. She slipped something on her finger and then showed it to him, as if showing off an engagement ring.  

“Oh wow, it’s your old fortune teller’s ring!” he exclaimed.

“I thought I flushed it down the toilet.” Amelia said, now admiring the ring herself. “Remember where we got it?”

How could he forget?

New Year - New Start

I've been "out of the mood" for writing.

I spend my days shooting people, (with vaccines) and my nights cooking, cleaning and helping with homework. The weekends are filled with mundane but necessary tasks, like grocery shopping. Sunday is all but taken with church and church assignments.

You would think I have nothing to write if life is so boring. But anyone with the ability to observe and synthesize can find beauty and inspiration in even the most mundane moments. So while I haven't been writing, I been collecting experiences which could prove to be just the glimmer I need to push me onto the next chapter.

Here's hoping the new year allows me that opportunity.

in the beginning...

its been a tough summer...

we left family and friends for my husband to pursue his dream job...which is dreamy in all respects besides financially (he hasn't received his full or even half his salary in 6 months).

as a nurse i thought finding a new job wouldn't be a problem, it hasn't been in any of our other 5 moves! but this year things are different...finding a job is tough. i can't tell you how many resumes i've sent out not to have single call back, except for this week, a group interview.

a group interview? i'd never heard of such a strategy. it turned out to be a strange and sadly contestant like experience. was i suppose to be thrilled to make it through the first round only to be told they don't have any jobs right now, but later this fall the hiring freeze will be lifted and they'll call me back then? was that stress of answering personal and interrogating questions in front of a dozen other candidates and three note taking nurse managers worth it?

then there's the writing. i've been writing children's stories for a few years, mostly for personal pleasure. i started sending some off for publication last spring. meanwhile, i began my biggest project to date, a chapter book for the middle age reader. the idea's been floating in my mind for a long while, but finding time between children and work to put in on paper has been more than difficult, especially for a writer who needs long stretches of time to develop her ideas.

rejection letters arrive and sap my desire to keep writing.

it's a five part series.

i'll chronicle my progress and setbacks here.

what i think i need is an editor, but my attempts to secure one have proven fruitless. i sent agent requests out in june. i have no connections and no significant publishing history, but i do have a story to tell...it deals with the environment and religion. did i just turn you off? i know that "r" word turns a lot of people off. why is that? my story doesn't preach, doesn't promote, rather it uses the rich symbolism and philosophy of several world religions to weave a fantastical epic journey.

so, I ask you to help me tell my story, be my editor, my coach, my critique, my cheerleader...as the story of The Earth Seed unfolds.