Just when Eb thought things couldn’t get any worse for her, it did. She stood with her back against the corridor wall watching as if a fly as the two nurses wheeled Hillary’s body from her room. The one person she’d gotten close to in that God-forsaken nursing home. The one person who made it feel like home, if Eb even had a home.
‘Is anyone coming for her?’ She couldn’t help but ask as the nurses went about the gruesome business. ‘I mean her family?’
The nurse shook her head. ‘We’ve informed but no one has confirmed yet.’
‘So what happens now? To her, I mean?’
‘Ebony. You shouldn’t be watching this.’ There was a note of deep concern.
‘She was all I knew…’ Both the nurses gave her such a pained look that Ebony couldn’t stand any longer without crying. ‘Excuse me.’
… to be continued….
Ebony and Frank: what would you do if you woke up in a nursing home with no memory of who you are and your story?
(Bear with me. I’m still writing this particular post but I’m struggling at the moment with a nasty flu and couldn’t keep going for tonight. Will try my best to add to it tmw. Hope you are enjoying Ebony and Frank. Looks like this is the start to my fourth novel or my 2nd spec feature. Haven’t decided yet.) :)
I tend to generally write a poem that fits a novel in writing, and this I usually do without realizing. Must be the fact that that story will subconsciously continue writing itself in my mind.
Carefree Steps is something I wrote and rewrote couple of days ago and it’s supposed to fit the new spec Ebony and Frank. But something doesn’t feel right or sound right. (The flu has muddled my brains!!)
Would love an opinion or two on this if any one is game. :)
Into the darkness
strays carefree steps,
the dying light
sleeps amongst the land of promises
by morrow, the light will bring everything
which by and large you passed
an age ago.
Ebony watched the nurse as if there was nothing more to do than watch the nurse. The middle-aged woman was doing her routine rounds. When she happened upon Eb’s way, she stood blocking the way. ‘Put me to work.’
‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘Put me to work. Give me something to do. Anything. Anything at all. I’ll even clean the bed pans.’
‘We haven’t got bed pans in years, love.’ The laughter echoed.
Ebony certainly didn’t think any of this was funny. ‘I’m going mad here, Shivone. Help me out.’
Shivone shook her head. ‘You know it’s against the policy to let our residents do our work, Eb. You know that.’ Shivone pushed past her. ‘I’ve told you that time and again.’
‘Please,’ Ebony held her by her arm. ‘I’m not a resident really, am I? I have all my senses.’ When Shivone gave her a look, Eb felt defeated. She clicked her tongue. ‘Oh, you know what I mean. At least I can move and hold a conversation!’
‘Oh, alright. Go see how you can help old lady Judd over there. She hasn’t been feeling terrific lately and no one comes to visit her anymore unless there is a problem. She is a little lonely.’
Ebony turned to see the 90 year old Hillary laying still as a statue on her bed. ‘Why don’t her people come?’ It wasn’t an accusing question. She just couldn’t mask her own longing for someone, anyone to visit her.
Shivone shrugged. ‘Too busy.’ She walked away, shaking her head as Eb pondered the short reply. ‘Everybody is too damn busy these days.’
Eb turned and walked her way to Hilllary’s bed. Hillary suffered bouts of dementia, and the only thing she seemed to ever really love doing was have a book read to her as she was almost clinically blind. The word on the vine was, Hillary once used to be a writer. That’s where her fortune was said to have been made. H.L.Judd. Ebony couldn’t recall if she ever read any of her books.
She grabbed the Hungry Caterpillar book from Hillary’s side table, settled herself down on the armchair and opened the book. ‘I’m going to read you a book, okay, Hillary?’
The woman looked at her with barely a smile, prompting Eb to think, at least you have days where you’re not lonely. ‘The Hungry Caterpillar…’ She began, fighting a knot in her throat from forming. She wasn’t going to do it, pity herself. Not here.
So silent, the night grows deep,
deeper still lays something, watching
the pinprick glistens, ever so slightly
hidden behind a slivered space of the wooden paneling,
waiting, biding, enticed as you slip so comfortably into sleep.
As the night grows deep, beyond the walls
With time, the night goes deep.
If you’re thinking about becoming an author, here are some raw in for and insights for you to be mindful of. (Ps. I love when I can hear the voice of the writer in what they write, and found that in this piece and thought I’d share.)
Originally posted on Nightwolf's Corner:
A few months ago (okay, six months ago), I posted a surprisingly popular piece about what not to do when querying, detailing all the things authors should avoid, as well as some of the things they shouldn’t (I posted a reprise of it last week too, in case you were wondering). But that only covered the initial part of the process, the actual act of querying. Today, I want to talk about things you, as an author, can do while you wait oh-so-patiently (yes, that was sarcasm, people) for those elusive responses. And in keeping with the tone of the previous post, there will probably be at least a tiny bit of snark, so be ready.
What To Do WHILE Querying
(aka How to Avoid the Finger-Drumming Lure of Bad Decisions)
Let’s face it, waiting sucks. It has always sucked. And it will continue to suck, because it’s waiting. And…
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As I sit here contemplating my own Author platform, here’s another writer’s thoughts on the same thing.
Originally posted on Kate Dancey:
So you’ve taken the first steps toward writing a novel. Me too! And might I add; holy carpel tunnel, what an undertaking. Aside from a novella pubbed with a small house, and a self pubbed short story, I’m new to the journey of writing longer bodies of work. And now that I’ve got a couple of novels closing in on completion, I’m revisiting the notion of blogging before the novel is finished. Why blog before you’re writing journey is finished? Let’s explore that idea, because if you, like me are already writing every night, you need a reason to take that next step, and write some more!
So, do you really need a blog or website? I’m tempted to answer, “HELL YES”, but that gets us nowhere. It is also a short answer for a long journey. Ask yourself two questions to determine if having a blog or…
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