Hey Y'all

I really want to start writing in this thing again. I am thankful for my seven loyal followers. I find myself wanting to finish both the muse and the heist. The newest one is still going somewhere in my head and I am not sure. Would anyone be interested in me finishing either of those?
Comment and let me know what you think. :)

Time in a bottle

The first thing that I’d like to do is to save everyday…

The summertime is my favorite. The days are so lazy and all I want to do is lay in bed. Every morning I wake up and listen. Maybe this is the day that daddy will come home, so I can’t lay in bed all day I have to get up and get ready for him to walk through the door.

I start the beautiful day with a bath. Momma leaves for work every morning at six. She comes in and kisses me goodbye and tells me that she will see me later for my coca-cola. I lay there for exactly thirty minutes listening closely to the porch.

Daddy worked nights. He would come home from work each morning in the summertime exactly thirty minutes after momma would leave. I would hear his boots climbing the stairs, but I would pretend to still be asleep. He would come in and call out to me. He would call out and tell me he to get up because he was coming to get me. I would bury my head way down in the covers, and sometimes put the pillow over my head.

He would walk down the hall real loud to warn me he was coming. The giggles would start way down inside of me. By the time he made it across the room to my bed I would be giggling so loud, but trying to be still. He would pull back the covers and tickle me until I thought I was going to pee in my pants. Then I would get up and head to the bathroom and he would run the water for me to take my bath. So that is how I start my day every day, except now there are no footsteps, no deep gruff voice calling out to me, and no giggling, only a bath.

The Muse

Wendell felt groggy as he began to wash up. His head was pounding, and he felt very different. He knew where he was and what he was doing, but he wasn't sure how he had ended up on the floor of the living room. He remembered coming in from the fields quickly before a storm, but that was it.

As he finished washing up he could smell Cecilia's fried chicken in throughout the house. He loved her fried chicken. It must be a special occasion because she only made it on Sunday's and special occasions. It wasn't Sunday was it? How long had he been out cold on the floor? He could feel the anxiety rising up in his chest. This was an unfamiliar feeling to him. Why was he anxious? This was the house that he had lived in his whole life, and yet something was different. Something was very different.

"Wendell, lunch is ready," called Cecilia.

"I'm on my way." he called back down the hall.

What was he going to do? Would she notice that things were different? Was it something that could be noticed? Wendell's head began to spin again. When he first woke up his head was spinning, his whole body hurt, and he was disoriented. He recognized the living room, but it was somehow different.

Something caught his eye. He turned to catch a glimpse of what was there and it was gone. Strange.

As Wendell walked out of the bathroom he almost ran right into Cecilia in the hallway.

"Are you coming? It's getting cold?"

"Yeah right now."

Time in a bottle

If I could save time in a bottle…

That’s the song that was playing on the radio when my daddy left one night to get some milk for the morning. Ever since that day I decided that I would save every bottle until he came home. When I started I thought he would only be gone for a day or two, maybe a week, but now I have over four hundred bottles lined up in my room.

I make it a point to have a bottle of real coca-cola every day. I walk to the same store daddy was supposed to get milk from and put in my fifty cents and get a litle glass bottle of coke from the machine outside.

I made another decision that night, I would never drink another glass of milk until my daddy came home. Momma buys a gallon of milk each week. She gives me a glass every morning with my breakfast and one at night with supper, but I never touch it. Momma says I need milk to make my bones strong and that my teeth are gonna rot out, but I just tell her that only when daddy comes home will I drink a glass of milk again.

I am sure of most things. I don’t have lots of questions, but I have always wondered one thing. What does time look like when it is being saved in a bottle, and how do I know I am doing it right?

New one...

I can't seem to finish anything I start writing...
I am going to finish the Muse...this is what I have decided:
Monday I will post to The Muse
Thursday I will post to the new one

I hope this helps me stay focused on finishing and also keeps some variety in my life...I get so bored with stories I begin. I think this is why I can't finish the book I started SOOOOO long ago....Enjoy!

Anyone still reading...

Anyone still reading either one of my blogs?

This is the question that has been burning in my mind for quite some time. I would totally understand if I had lost all my readers. I am beginning a new short story that I plan on publishing the first post for today or tomorrow. I need to update everyone on our family blog too, things have been a whirlwind for the past three months. If you are still reading please come back later today or tomorrow and see what you think of my new story.

The Muse

After about an hour the boys finally showed up at Cecilia's door. There were three of them and they were big boys. Just right for moving Wendell. She was so grateful to them for their help that she offered to send them home with the cake that she had made that morning. They told her they were headed into town so they would stop by later and pick it up.

After the boys left Cecelia tried to make Wendell comfortable. She took off his shoes and tried to decide if she should undress him. She had never seen Wendell without his clothes. He always bathed while she was in her room sleeping or doing something in the kitchen. She found herself feeling very self-conscious.

She decided that he was not going to be out much longer so she did not need to undress him. He would wake up in time to play the piano for her while she read. She was going to miss his help with the laundry though.

Cecelia decided to get started on rewashing the sheets that she had washed earlier that morning. The dust had settled and the sun was blazing so hopefully they would dry quickly.

As she worked she tried to occupy her mind with the mundane chores of the day. After she finished the laundry she really needed to make lunch for her and Wendell. Oh Wendell, surely he would be up by lunch time right?

She hung the clothes on the line for the second time that day and decided to go and check on Wendell. She had decided to make his favorite lunch instead of sandwiches. She felt so bad about him falling. It was her fault after all. She should have picked up those pieces of glass. She looked down at her hand as she thought of picking up the glass. Picking up small things was just so hard with only four fingers. She tried not to dwell on her problems. No reason to dwell, right?

She opened the front door and started to walk back to Wendell's room and heard his heavy footfall. Thank goodness, he was alive, and awake.

"Wendell, where are you?" Cecilia called.

"Cece, I am in the back of the house. I will be up there in a minute."

Cecilia walked into the kitchen and began cutting up the chicken she had been saving for the dinner on Sunday. She decided to fry it up for lunch. Wendell loved fried chicken. She also found a few potatoes and decided to make a potato salad instead of mashed because Wendell loved her potato salad so much. She had some beans left over from the night before and put those on the stove to heat them up as well. Wendell would be so pleased.