Thursday, October 3, 2013


Here is Interlude Number 6. 

If you are just catching up, see the CHAPTERS section to read the Prologue-Chapter 39 before proceeding to Interlude 6.

Also, check out some further character development in some excerpts from the second draft in the SAMPLES section. 

Otherwise, read from the word go :)  More coming soon :)


Matthew stood staring at the name ‘Joanna Livingston’ and the year ‘2001’ on the typed essay as the sounds of Paganini continued filling the room.
“Joanna Livingston…” he said aloud, “was that just you I saw?”
He turned his head to view a wall calendar that hung on a hook near the desk.  Beneath the picture of what looked to be a realm of faeries amidst an autumn forest scene was the month, November and the year, sure enough, was 2001.  There were some days marked off on the calendar and a few things scrolled in loopy handwriting in some of the dates’ boxes:
Practice room
Classical Composition Due
Jazz Composition Due
English lit paper due
Baroquian Practical
Calculus Test (god help me)
Matthew couldn’t help chuckling a little at Joanna’s apparent approach to Calculus.  He turned to her nightstand and noticed it cluttered with an alarm clock, a half-filled bottle of water, a coffee mug with the words September 11, 2001 Never Forget written on it, and a couple photos of Joanna with some friends who were dressed in a very similar style how she was.  Among those photos was a particular one of Joanna with another girl.  Judging from the photo, the two looked to be very good friends.  Matthew fixated on Joanna’s friend who had dark red hair, creamy pale skin and eyes as green as emeralds.  Next to the photos were more books.  Matthew noticed a very used copy of Wuthering Heights among the books.
One of Dorothy’s favorites, he thought.  I have to get home to my family…but first I need to figure out where I am.  And now I’m locked in this room…
Matthew looked around the room and saw the sink a few feet away from the filled shelves.  Why is this all so familiar?
As he thought, Paganini’s piece ended and in its place began a very lush, sensual romantic song with a story of loss.  The woman’s high voice sang of how a life with the one she loved can never be hers.  Matthew had never heard the song nor was he familiar with the style of music.  He looked back down at the copy of Wuthering Heights and then looked up to see two sketches hanging on the wall next to a poster that boasted something called Nine Inch Nails and a smaller one that said Black Tape for a Blue Girl and another one with someone named Marilyn Manson.  What Matthew saw on the sketches startled him.  They were sketches to two children.  Staring out from one of the sketches was a little girl Matthew recognized and her name, Willow, scrolled under the likeness confirmed it.
“How…can that be…?” Matthew wondered aloud.  Then a thought occurred to him.  She (Joanna?) has seen Willow!
The other sketch was of a boy.  A boy Matthew did not recognize but still felt as though he knew.  The name Everett was scrolled beneath the boy’s likeness.  The boy looked to be between seven and ten.  Unlike the charcoal sketch of Willow, the one of Everett was colored.  Everett had dark blond hair, blue-green eyes, and—even as a little boy—rather chiseled features.
As the song playing on the machine came to a crescendo, Matthew saw the boy Everett, in flesh and blood, walking with a dark-haired little girl who looked to be his age.  The image left as quickly as they came and were then replaced with an image of his nephew, Cletus, holding a sandy-haired girl with olive skin.  A girl he didn’t recognize.
Before Matthew was able to comprehend what he had just seen, his eyes went back to Joanna’s nightstand where he noticed something else.  A postcard with the oil painting likeness of James Livingston.  The one that hung in the library.
Matthew’s head shot up as the contents of Joanna’s room began to fade out until Matthew was standing in an empty, silent room.  Red light from a sunset filtered into the room.  There was a glint in the mirror above the sink and Matthew felt compelled to look out the window.  When he did, his heart nearly stopped.  He recognized the grounds spread out before him.
The Fleming Orphanage…I’m at the Fleming Orphanage…
Matthew turned as he heard the door open and in walked James Livingston holding a lantern.  That was when Matthew got a look at the numbers on the door.


No comments:

Post a Comment