First, I just thought I would let everyone know that, my CHRISTmas poems, may or may not continue… I’m debating on whether to do them once a week, only a few times a week or give them up altogether. We had a few sudden and unexpected changes coming, and I don’t know where and when I’ll have the time for them so often. I am thinking about putting one up on Saturday… Maybe reviewing the week?
Anyway… back to why I am crazy…
Right now I am supposed to be focusing on writing 24 Days Before Christmas. The goal was supposed to be, that it was finished by the end of the year. You know what instead? I have this song by Gabriel Hudelson playing in my head: The Other Side of Midnight.
Why is that not good? I really like the song but… with that song, I see a story… a story that is begging me to write it down… I even started it, when I joined Perry’s Scribble Fest a week and a half ago. I thought I could leave it alone after that. Instead, while I’m trying to focus on Deputy Trent’s dilemma and two families caroling in the cold, I keep wandering off to a dark forest, following a man racing through the trees. What to do, what to do?? I think this will be a short story, but you just never know when I get writing. I really ought to finish 24 Days Before Christmas too!
So… if 24 Days Before Christmas gets neglected, it will be because I’m off writing a completely different story, that isn’t even remotely related to my current project! :p
I better go do some writing now… I’ll leave you all with the story that began this post:
Leonard raced past the tree, colliding with a prickly bush.The sounds of shouting men and barking dogs pounded in his ears. Pushing himself up from his knees he began running again. He simply had to make it.
He turned on the light on his wristwatch. He had ten minutes. Ten minutes before the borders closed. Ten minutes to get through the forest.
The thoughts of his family flooded Leonard’s mind. His beloved wife, Agatha. Peter, his eldest son, Millicent, James, Annie and the baby,who he hadn’t met yet. The little one had been born, after he had parted with his family. He imagined the child’s face. She would have dark eyes like her mother, as well as her beautiful blond hair. Perhaps she had his own nose, and a few of his expressions.
The man grimaced as he scraped his leg on a low protruding tree branch, but he chose to ignore it and run on. The dogs were howling now.Did that mean anything important? He looked at his watch; eight minutes.
He simply had to run faster! He pushed on. His heart pounded, the thuds in his chest causing a dull pain against his overtaxed lungs. How much longer could he run? Could he make it to the border? The thought of his family, left alone without him, grieving his loss, uncertain of his fate, sped him on. He had to make it!
His thoughts began to wander again. His mother was with his family. His dear mother. He and his family were all she had left. His father was gone, as well as his brother. Poor, dear mother, in these her latter years, so near alone.
He pulled up his watch again. Six minutes. Was he sure he was going in the right direction? What if he had swerved. No. Dark as it was,he was certain that he was still going North. He had to be. The border was to the North – he had to make it! How much farther was it?
A raindrop splashed against his cheek. Rain would cool him down, but would serve to make his path more difficult if it came down in torrents. He began to pray. The rain came down harder, drowning out the voices of the dogs and the men. How close were they, anyway? He wasn’t a very good judge when it was quiet, now with the pouring water, he was even more bewildered as to their distance.