As always, it's hard to judge my work, which considering where I am at in this stage, I should not be judging it at all. Nonetheless I find myself wondering about the flow and economy of the writing. Many scenes seem to run a little fat, with many of them bouncing back and forth geographically, making for seemingly unnecessary scene changes. Many feeling too repetitive and drawn out. I'm not going to let myself worry about it now. I'm still on a mission to get this sucker drafted out in the next couple of months (especially if I can secure some time away from work--which is looking more imminent).
That's about all the juice I have right now. Here are the latest pages:
Pleased with the discovery she twists and pulls the bottom all the way out, and suddenly she is blind, the lamp gone, the room gone, everything pure intense white. She screams, still feeling the lamp in her hands, fingers fumbling instinctively, desperately somehow managing to clamp the it closed and everything turns black.
Panting with panicked breath, she puts her hands to feel her eyes, to feel if they are still there and not burnt out of their sockets. She is blind. She has to be, but as she presses against her lids, she sees shooting stars from the pressure. Slowly her eyes open and she sees the dim light of the downstairs hall.
The hall?!?
She looks all around her. She is not on her bed, not in her room. She is sitting on the cold wood floor of the downstairs hall. She hears a sound, a door opening and another light shines in her face.
“What’s going on out here! Maddie? Is that you?”
Her hands leap to the lamp, again thinking on their own, yank it behind her out of sight.
Loomis rushes from his room, pulling his robe around him, flashlight waving frantically in his hand. “What was that light? Did you see it? It was bright, I mean like white. What in the world just happened?”
Maddie shrugs, not wanting to speak or move. She’s shivering in the cold of the hall.
Loomis runs his light along the ceiling. “Could be electrical. Thought it was maybe a fire or explosion, but then it just went away. I think I need to call the fire department. Make sure it’s not something that’s going to happen again.”
“Don’t!” The word just leaps to her mouth. He looks at her, his expression slowly changing in the flashlight’s harsh shadows, as though he just now noticed how odd her sitting there really is.
“I-I did it. I just turned on the hall lights for a minute.”
“You turned on the lights?” He looks overhead, as though trying to makes sense of her explanation, then he looks back at her, holding the light in her face.
“Wait a minute, Maddie. What are you doing down here? Why aren’t you in your room? How did you—“
She jumps in before the questions get too big to answer. “I got scared. I was alone in my room and my door opened, I-I don’t think it was closed all the way, and I just got scared. I didn’t want to stay there alone.”
“Why come all the way down here? Why not go to Elba’s or Jane’s rooms? You’re practically next to them.”
“I, uh, didn’t want to go to them.”
Her story is weakening already. Her hands tighten around the lamp.
He lowers the light then points it at her again.
“What’s behind your back Maddie?”
Maddie lowers her head. She doesn’t know what it is. Not after all. Maybe it is better to turn it in, tell them about the dog, get it all over with. She closes her eyes and brings the lamp around, holding it up for Loomis to see. He walks up to her but he doesn’t take it from her.
“All right, all right. C’mon. Let’s get you back to your room before anyone else wakes up.”
She opens here eyes, seeing her hands as empty as the air around them. And yet she is holding it, feels its’ weight hanging from the unseen handle in her hand. Loomis turns off the flashlight and offers her a hand up that she awkwardly takes, keeping the burden in her other hand as distant from him as possible. She keeps it behind her back as he escorts her back to her room, just in case it decides to reappear again.
They walk back quietly, not saying a word so as not to awaken anyone else. Which is fine, because her mind is so preoccupied by the lamp she would have nothing to say. What in the world was this thing. It obviously had been how the old man had gotten around, how he pushed her through the wall. But why had he left it with her. Was this the thing he had told her about? Was this what he wanted to give her? She clutched it more tightly in her hands, anxious to be alone with it again.
When they get back to her room, they stop at her closed door.
“I thought you said your door was open.”
“It must have closed. Maybe a draft, from the vent.”
“Uh-huh. It’s amazing how many times doors or windows just seem to blow themselves open around you Maddie. Don’t you ever find that strange?”
“I’m starting to.”
He fishes the keys from his robe pocket and opens the door.
Just then she remembers the dog. “Wait!”
Loomis pushes the door open and just looks at her. “Wait for what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there’s someone in there.”
He flicks on the light and the room goes bright. There’s no sign of the dog, and though her taped together drawings still cover the vent they are leaning to one side, it still hides the open duct behind. She’s not sure if she is more relieved or more worried.
“Nothing to be afraid about pickle. It’s funny, you never seemed afraid of the dark before. Or being alone for that matter.” He looks at her suspiciously. “Is there anything going on kiddo you want to talk about that you didn’t want to talk to the counselors about.”
She shakes her head no, while looking around the room anxiously.
“I don’t mind hanging around if you want to talk a little.”
“Thanks Loomis. But I’m okay now. You can go.”
She nudges him back towards the door.
“If you want I’m happy stay a little while until you fall sleep, like when you first came here.”
“No. Really. I’m okay. I’d like to be alone now. Good night.”
“Good night Maddie.”
“Good night Loomis.”
No sooner is the door closed than she is at the vent, peering behind the artwork to find it empty. She whispers after the dog and is tempted to crawl after him when she hears a noise behind her and turns to see the dog’s snout sticking out from under her bed.
She rushes over, relieved, as the dog inches out on its belly, its tail thumping the bed frame.
“There you are!” she whispers, dropping to her knees and grabbing him by the fur in a big hug that surprises even her. “Thought I lost you. Look at this she says, holding up her empty hand holding the lamp that couldn’t be seen. “Can you believe it?” She stares at the empty space incredulously as the dog yawns.
She slides up onto her bed, the dog bounding up with her, curling up at her outstretched feet.
She takes a long, deep breath, feels along the bottom of the lamp and slowly, carefully twists and pulls and the lamp is visible in her hands again.
“Amazing!” She looks at it more carefully, tilting it, looking at it from every angle, cinches the bottom open a tiny faction more, revealing once again a dim glow. She thinks she understands how it works. The outer case encloses the light. Opening it too far lets out so much light that it somehow moves one through things like walls and floors. Closing it all the way makes it entirely invisible. It is so impossible, yet as she slowly eases the bottom closed once more, it makes a kind of sense to her.
She turns the lamp around in her hands, examining the faceted panels that make up the outer cover. There are four large central panels with six smaller panels above and below, each one slightly different in shape and size, some she now notices, attached with tiny hinges, latches or screws, each section etched with their own unique symbols.
She slides her finger over one of the larger panels, over a small circle, moving it as she does so, the circle rotating slightly, opening a small pinhole that emits from it a small beam, much like her flashlight. She rotates the small disk back and forth, widening narrowing the tiny opening, watching the beam widen and narrow in front of her eyes. Careful not to let it shine in her eyes this time, she turns the lamp and shines the beam on the dresser across from the bed and stares in amazement at what she sees.
Within the perfectly round circle of light, is a perfectly round hole in the dresser, as though the light had somehow punched a hole in the wood, revealing all of her clothes folded neatly inside. It takes her a minute to make sense of what she is seeing, and then she turns the light, watching the light glide across the wall, and the hole with it, revealing everything within it, the bedroom on the other side, dark except for the light spilling in from her room, shapes of furniture, and a bed against the far wall farthest from her, and within, at the edge of the light, she can make out the slightest form of someone asleep under the covers.
She turns the light more, watching the peephole continue the other wall, revealing the dark hall outside. She holds it out over the bed, tilting the light onto the floor, and sees through the hole the downstairs hall where she had found herself only moments before. She tilts the lamp in the opposite direction, letting the light shine on the ceiling, glimpsing the undersides of furniture in the bedroom above her.
She turns the lamp around and around, peeking into, through, every nook and cranny in her room until her arm and neck tire from holding the lamp and at last she lets it drop to her bed, the light falling at rest on the locked nightstand next to her bed, and there within, where she has never set eyes, is a book. It is so close, and it seems only natural she should try, she reaches over and puts her hand through the illuminated hole in the nightstand as casually as had it been open, and pulls the book out. It’s a heavy Bible that she holds up in the light and tilts its facing angle so that the pages within various depths illuminate and appear as clear as had she opened the book to those very pages. She eases the book into the same opening she pulled it from then rotates the small pinhole closed once more. The nightstand appears solid again and when she reaches out to touch it once more she hits solid wood. The drawer is still locked.
She turns the lantern around, looking at more closely, scrutinizer even more details than she had noticed before, as though the longer and harder she looked at it, the more it came into focus. She tinkers with another panel, this one having a square frame, with tiny hinges on one side. She runs her finger along it, finds a small lip, and pulls. A soft radiance spills out as the inset section of the panel rotates out like a small door. Behind it is a piece of glass on a hinged metal rod. She rotates the lantern, trying to shine the light on the nightstand to see if it has the same affect, but the glow is too soft and unfocused and appears to have no affect at all.
The dog kicks lightly at her feet. She forgot he was even there, it’s paws are twitching, chasing something in a dream, and Maddie yawns herself. But she is too excited to sleep. She doesn’t know how late it is, how long she has been toying with the lamp. She barely remembers the days’ troubles as though the lamp reset everything. She eases down under her covers, sliding deeper into her pillow. She props the lamp up on the nightstand where she can look at it without having to hold it any more. Here arms are tired and her hands are cold.
Without realizing it her eyes droop and she almost drops off, when she notices something, the light from the open panel flickering softly. She perks up, reaches out and touches the exposed glass panel, causing it to pivot slightly on its hinge. It feels loose, so she pushes against it and the rod pivots out swinging the whole piece of glass a couple of inches out of it’s enclosure, revealing behind it yet another piece of glass, this one as polished and reflective as a mirror.
Astounded, she noticing a blurry image flickering on the mirror, like a tiny television screen. As she continues adjusting the position of the outstretched lens, the moving image gradaully comes into focus projected onto the wall.
There, projected large on the wall only feet in front of her, is the image of the old blind man sitting tied to a chair, the two large men from the car standing ominously over him.
The old man! Even the dog bounds awake, somehow detecting him also. As Maddie adjusts the glass, angling it left and right the view likewise swings around, revealing different angles of the room as though she were controlling a remote-controlled camera. Though the room is dark, the movie taken obviously at night, she can see them lit by a single overhead light. Behind the figures is a wide dark window though which she can just make out an unusual shape, almost like the spine of a giant skeleton. She thinks movie could have been taken anytime until she focuses on the clock on the wall not far from one of the men, and realizes that what she is seeing is happening now, that clock set to the same time as hers.
She reaches out to touch the wall, not sure what to expect, but it is still solid to the touch. She doesn’t bother to question how one light shines through objects while another projects images. The only question she has is how she is going to save the old man now that she has a way to help him.
Her heart is racing and the dog whimpers softly, licking her hand. She pets it’s soft golden fur, as much to reassure herself as it. They’ve been through a lot the last two days. But somehow she is going to fix the situation for both of them. She doesn’t know how yet, but she will. She has to. She is so preoccupied with the thought, that as she lies back down, watching the image play out on the wall she isn’t even aware when she falls asleep.
The knocking at the door awakes her with a jump, her hands flailing out for the lamp, knocking it off the nightstand as a key slides into the doorknob. Maddie drops to the floor, just pushing the lamp under the bed as the door opens.
“Oh good, you’re up finally.”
Director Elba’s steps into the room and Maddie freezes on the spot, on her knees by the side of the bed. She closes her eyes, afraid she’s finally been caught in the act.
“Did you sleep okay hon? You’ve overslept by almost two hours. They are about to close the breakfast table. Want to come down and get something to eat?”
Something wet and cold touches her hand and she opens her eyes to see the dogs nose nuzzling her from under the bed, just out of sight of the Director. She takes a deep breath, putting one hand on the dogs muzzle to keep him from inching out any further.
“No, that’s okay Auntie. I think I’m going to skip breakfast this morning. I’m not feeling too well. I’m going to stay in bed this morning if that’s okay.”
The Director walks up to where Maddie is still kneeling, her heart now pounding, and puts the back of her hand to Maddie’ brow.
“Hmm, you feel warm. You may have a fever there. Why don’t I take you to Nurse Mary’s? You’ve probably been cooped up in this room for too long. It’s so stuffy in here I think you can use some fresh air.”
She starts looking around and Maddie notices the papers over the open duct are not only listing to one side, but they are billowing slightly from the passage of air behind them.
“That’s okay Auntie!” Maddie says trying to distract her, climbing back up on her bed. “I just want to sleep a little longer then I’ll come out for lunch. I’m just tired, really. I didn’t sleep too well last night.”
“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry this last week has been so difficult for you. It really don’t want this process to worry you so much. I don’t want you to think we are forcing this on you. Would it help if we slowed things down a little bit. Give you time to process it a little more. It’s hard enough that you are growing into a young woman, besides having to worry about becoming part of a new family.”
She combs her fingers through Maddies' hair, something she has not done since Maddie was a kid and before she was the Director. Maddie didn’t realize how much she missed it until now. The gesture sinks into her and she suddenly feels the weight of all the thoughts spinning around her mind, and all the happening and all the consequences of the last week. She doesn’t know what to say, but she suddenly feels the need to talk. To just be heard.
“I—I don’t know what to do anymore, Auntie.”
The director sits down on the bed next to her, her fingers still combing Maddies’ short hair. “You don’t know what to do about what?”
“Anything. I’m just trying to do what’s right, but I just keep getting in trouble.”
Auntie Elba lowers her hands to her lap, looking into them.
“That’s a tough one Maddie. It’s something we all wrestle with as we grow, and I don’t know that the answer ever becomes completely solved. We all have rules we have to live by, other peoples’ rules that are already figured out for us. But then we also have our own rules, the ones that are important to us. As we become adults it’s our job the figure out not only what our own personal rules are, the morals we choose to live by, but also figure out get those rules to agree with the all others around us.”
She looks down at Maddie, a softness in her expression Maddie hasn’t seen before. “One of the things that makes you so very special Maddie is that you are way ahead of the curve in that you already know yourself, what’s important to you. Now the trick is to figure out how follow your rules without violating every other rule in the world around you. Do you understand?”
Maddie thinks before nodding, then looks up to face Auntie Elba. “But what if I can’t? What if I have to choose one over the other?”
“Well, pickle, those are the choices that define us as individuals. You have to make the choice and decide which rule is more important. But,” she says ruffling Maddie’s hair, “You also have to accept the consequences, whichever way you choose. Sometimes it means you get sent to a room. Other times,” she shrugs and stands, “It means having to live with regret. And regret is something that can follow you wherever you go. You’re a good girl Maddie. I guess as long as you have good intentions, you should listen to your heart as much as you can. Now, you sure I can’t interest you in some breakfast before I head back to my office?”
Maddie smiles, shaking her head no.
“Then lets get you back in bed.”
Maddie slides in as Auntie Elba holds the cover open for her, and tucks her in. For the first time Maddie notices how comfortable the bed is, how soft the bedding and pillow are. As the director bends over to kiss her on the forehead, Maddie grabs her in a hug and holds her tight. When she is finally alone the room, Elba heading back upstairs to her office, Maddie is no longer thinking about the dog or the lamp or old man. She is not thinking about getting in trouble or what she is going to do now. She just lies back in her bed, sinking into the warm comfort and lets the tear roll down her cheek. Then she feels the rumbling in her stomach.
“I’m hungry.” She says aloud, and the dog woofs in agreement below her.
She manages to get to the breakfast table before the food is put away until lunch. She convincesthe cook to let her take food back to her room. A lot of food. She brings back toast and eggs for herself, bacon and sausage for the dog, who happily gulps it straight out of the Styrofoam container. She has extra wrapped food wrapped in tin foil that she packs into her backpack now that she knows what she has to do.
keep moving. you are on the right track. it works-so do not stop!
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