Taverner Chronicles: Midwinter, Four

Millie nearly collapsed on her bed. It had been a long night. 

 

Memories came flooding into her mind; it was hard to sort through them. At first, she dwelt only on brief moments that were yet fresh in her thoughts... but then, everything began to fall into place.

The afternoon was spent in the pleasant company of Grandfather. They were left undisturbed by the household; giving them the time they needed to spend together. Millie was surprised to find that she neglected to ask any of the questions that had been burning in her mind; instead, she had contented herself by listening to all Grandfather had to say. Hours slipped by before they realized the time.

Their little heaven was disturbed by Dr. Rawlings, who came in to inform them that the dance was starting. Grandfather offered his arm to Millie and escorted her out of the room; however, she couldn't help but to hazard a backwards glance to see what became of the Doctor. Her cheeks burned when she saw that Gianna was on his arm.

That's where my pretty little vision started to go wrong, she thought, pulling the sheets over her head in recollection of what had happened next.

The ballroom was full of people, and after seeing it empty for so long, she found herself somewhat stunned. Never in her imaginings as a child did she think that the room would look so beautiful; nor did she ever hope to see more beautiful women or handsome men. All of sudden, she felt out of place and alone, making her cling to Grandfather all the more. But as he led her into the room, he introduced her to some of his friends- all older, all wanting to speak of dreadfully boring things like politics and money. Millie wished she were elsewhere, but where else could she go? She hardly knew anyone in the room, and she was suddenly too shy to do anything about it.

Things didn't get any better when she saw Dr. Rawlings dancing with Gianna. He caught Millie's eye and winked at her - actually winked, causing her to color and quickly look away. It didn't look like the night was going to improve, until a young man came up to Grandfather and asked to be introduced to her. With a twinkle in his eye, Grandfather gladly introduced the young man to her, giving the name 'Anthony Lang'. 

 

He was a good-looking fellow, blond with merry green eyes that danced when he asked her for the next waltz. Millie gladly accepted, hoping that Dr. Rawlings would notice. As she stepped out onto the dance floor with her new partner, she saw the Doctor at the punch table with Gianna. He had been laughing, but when he saw Millie and Anthony dancing, his face fell. 

 

Millie didn't really see what happened next, for she was trying to be intent on Anthony- she had thought that her attention to him would make Dr. Rawlings sorry. But somehow, Anthony got the idea that Millie was interested in him... far more interested than she had hoped to appear, for at the end of the dance, he boldly asked if he could write to her.

Her heart stopped cold. What could she say? That she lived at this address, but in the future? She decided that the best course of action was to accept, hoping that Grandfather wouldn't mind saving the letters for her. However, as soon as Anthony walked away to get some punch, another young man asked her for a dance.

As she was dancing with the newcomer, she saw something curious occur in the corner of her eye. Gianna had been standing contentedly watching the dancers in the corner when a young boy spilled his punch all over her dress. He was attempting to clean it up with some napkins, but the endeavor was doing nothing to improve Gianna's quick temper. Millie realized that she couldn't just stop dancing with the fellow, and nor could she speed the dance along to get to Gianna.

It was then that the absolute worst occurred. As she and the young man were dancing, they waltzed around the edge of the room, just where the loose board was. And just at the very moment Millie was putting her foot down, she jammed it into the loose board and twisted her ankle terribly. She let out a cry of pain and fell to the floor, covering her face in shame and embarrassment.

Nothing could have been worse.

Millie stifled a tear as she lay in bed, trying to forget that awful moment when the whole room had fallen still as she lay on the floor. And she remembered that in one terrible little instant, she thought that she would cry in frustration right there, right in front of everyone.

But she didn't.

She heard Grandfather close to her, and felt his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. He told her that they would take her into one of the bedrooms if they would let them carry her. She must have given her assent, for she felt someone gently pick her up and carry her out of the room. Much to her astonishment, she found that it was Dr. Rawlings.

After that, Grandfather showed them down a long hall into one of the rooms, away from the ballroom, away from all those staring people. There was a little settee in the room, where Dr. Rawlings carefully deposited her. As she sat, he wordlessly took off her slipper and felt her ankle. Much to her relief, it was merely sprained, but it meant the end of her dancing for the night. Once Grandfather was certain that Millie was all right, he left to return to his guests.

Millie turned over in bed, smiling as she remembered all Dr. Rawlings said to her. He didn't say much, but when he did speak, it seemed to her that he had carefully thought out his words and measured them even as he spoke. He was kind to her, unlike before, and made sure that she was comfortable and at ease. She wondered at the change; was it because she was hurt? Or was there something else that could have changed his demeanor towards her?

When he left the room in search of a servant to bring her bedclothes, Millie couldn't help but to wish she could go back to the dance. Perhaps he would have asked her if she hadn't twisted her ankle... but then, she realized that was the only reason for his kindness towards her. Sighing, she tried to stand, but fell back on the settee in a hopeless reassignment.

But then, an even greater surprise came to her that night. Instead of the maid she was expecting, a beautifully dressed woman came into the room with a night gown over her arm. Millie somehow knew her, though she hadn't been introduced. She was stunned to find that the woman was her Grandmother. She was so consoling; she spoke soothingly to Millie as she helped her undress, helping her into the bed and explaining that she wouldn't be able to travel back until the guests had all left the ballroom. Millie didn't mind being told that she would be awakened in the middle of the night to be sent back; in fact, she was too happy to be in bed to think any different about it.

After she was lying comfortably, Grandmother had a tray of chamomile tea brought in, which she served to Millie herself. She stayed for a while after that, talking to her about little things that didn't matter much, but Millie realized that it was a great think for her to be even speaking to her.

Millie sighed. It had been a long night. Many things had gone wrong, but in the end, she was glad she had gone to the ball.

Book Vs. Movie

All you movie lovers... just zip it.

Moral Monday

  Today, we have a few marriage dont's that I thought you all would enjoy!

1. Don't sell yourself for money or position. 
2. Don't throw yourself away; remember marriage is not for a day. 
3. Don't fail to seek the advice of your parents. 
4. Don't marry to please a third party. 
5. Don't marry to spite anyone. 
6. Don't marry because someone else is seeking the same person. 
7. Don't marry to get rid of anyone.
8. Don't marry merely from the impulse of love. 
9. Don't marry without love.
10. Don't marry simply because you have promised to do so. 
11. Don't fail to consider the effects of heredity on your children. 
12. Don't marry suddenly. 
13. Don't fail to consider the grade of the one you are to marry. 
14. Don't marry downward. (1916)

  Isn't that interesting? I mean, a few of them may sound quaint and old-fashioned (take #14 for example), but most of them are still sound advice for us today. I think we should heed this week's Moral Monday, there's much for thought in this one!

Why I Write Love Stories

  Questions always enter my mind whenever I begin a new story. Where will this tale take me? What uncharted quarters of my imagination will awaken and become an indispensable part of me? Will the part of the veil of my mind's eye be lifted, and another tale, hitherto unknown, be told?

  Of course, the question is never whether or not the story will be about love. Of course it will be; stories are always about some kind of love; selfish love, undying love, puppy love- the human mind will always and ever write on this subject, for like its Benevolent and All-Knowing Creator, true love is infinite. There will never be an end to it. So do not laugh when you find that all my stories are about love; love is not only our human story, but a Divine One as well. We were created for love, through love, with the sole end of loving. Hence it is that I take up my pen to write about love.


  There. Those little paragraphs are my defense of writing about love.

Tolkien Reading Day, March 25th!

Don't know about you... but I'm doin' it! 

I'll be reading Roverandom to celebrate one of my most favorite authors! How about you? 

Taverner Chronicles: Midwinter, Three

Millie sped up the staircase with the full intention of returning to the ballroom. She didn't know why she was running, in fact, she was starting to wish that she hadn't. The idea that had once seemed the proper course of action suddenly appeared silly and ridiculous.

Just as she reached the top, however, a voice from behind stopped her dead in her tracks.

'Miss Taverner!'

Doctor Rawlings. She turned to face him- he was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking earnestly up at her.

'Was my playing all that bad?' he continued.

Millie stammered to find the right words. Her position, while ridiculous before, was steadily growing more ludicrous by the minute.

'No... no, in fact, it was quite beautiful. I was... enjoying it.'

She hoped that would be sufficient to answer any other questions. But no, she was wrong.

'Then why did you run away?'

Millie felt a lump in her throat. There weren't many avenues out of this one.

'Well... I... thought I had to go.'

The Doctor nodded, waiting for her to continue. She prayed he wouldn't continue... but he did.

'But you don't now, is that it?'

Millie was stumped. He had her, through and through. And had she known him better, she would have seen the playful look behind his seemingly-stern face, realizing that he was enjoying every single minute of it. Fortunately for her, however, Gianna came running out onto the banister just when Millie couldn't think of anything to say.

'Oh Millie, where were you? Andrew and I were looking for you all over.'

Millie flashed her a look before she could get any further. Gianna suddenly realized what she had been about to say, and quickly tried to change the subject. She frantically looked around the room for something -anything- to divert the topic, and when her eyes rested on the Doctor, she looked to her older sister for an introduction.

'Oh, um, Gianna... this is Dr. Rawlings.'

Gianna grinned at him.

'Millie has said a lot about you.'

There was a brilliant flash that lit up the Doctor's brown eyes wonderfully as he turned from Gianna to Millie.

'Oh really now! That's something. Well, Miss Gianna, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.'

Millie felt her cheeks grow hot. Leave it to a little sister to make things go from bad to worse! She feverishly searched her mind for some way to escape from the situation.

'Come on, Gianna, I just remembered- we're wanted in.. in the upstairs library.'

With that, she grabbed Gianna's hand and marched away from the Doctor with a determined look on her face. Had she remained, she would have been mortified by the look on the Doctor's face, which wore an expression of restrained mirth. As soon as they were out of earshot, Gianna stopped and indignantly demanded to know the reason for Millie's swift withdrawal.

'Because... he was...' Millie flustered, trying to think of a reason, 'He was being awfully rude. Didn't you see?'

'I thought he was rather funny.' replied Gianna, much to her sister's annoyance.

Millie quickly changed the topic before she was embarrassed any further.

'Where is Andrew?'

'Looking for you, like I was. Come on, Grandfather wanted to spend the day with us.'

Gianna led Millie down to the Study, where they found Grandfather and Andrew talking by the fireside. Both stood when the girls entered.

Grandfather gave both of them hugs, then bade them sit by the fire.

'As I explained to Andrew earlier, I am not one to welcome guests. My wife does that... she is much better at socializing than I ever hope to be. Hence the reason for my hiding out in this study. Ha! Study! It ought to be called my den, for I am being a bear, am I not?'

Millie grinned. She knew how much her Grandfather detested guests in the present, and was amused to see that it was a trait he had carried throughout his life.

'When will be able to see Grandmother?' she asked.

'You can see her now, but at the risk of associating with high class gossips.'

'Does she... know about us?' Andrew said.

Grandfather's face grew serious.

'Of course she does- any person married into the Taverner Family must know of its secrets. But children... I must warn you, for she does not exactly take kindly to our secret. She has never traveled to the past, and she tries to avoid seeing those from the future. It is... not your fault.'

There was silence. None of the children had expected this; they had just assumed that everything in the past would go smoothly and easily. Millie felt terribly about it. She rose and motioned for her siblings to do the same.

'We didn't realize that she felt that way. We're going now.'

Grandfather looked shocked. He leapt to his feet and grabbed Millie's arm before she could take any further action.

'No, please do not go! I, for one, want you here.'

Millie, seeing the urgency in his eyes, realized that she had been rash.

'Sorry... I just thought...'

'That is quite all right. Please, do sit down again. I had a lovely afternoon planned for us.'

An Almost-Encounter with an Almost-Prince-in-Disguise

Lately, I’ve been wanting to write something, but I haven’t figured out what exactly. But it has to be something. Anything. I’m getting desperate. There are so many ideas to be conceived, inspirations to be had! Yet they all seem to avoid me. It’s Pascal’s fault, really. For the past few months of my life, he has deserted me. Yes, it’s true. He’s left me alone in the desolate waste of
my tired imagination…

And here I am, at a point in time when I need his sporadic inspirations more than ever. I need him to relieve me from the stress of the day—and he’s not there. Or, rather, he’s there, but he’s not being very nice. He teases me with the shadow of an inspiration and then takes it away before I can turn it into anything.

For example. (This is where the Almost-Encounter comes in.) The other morning, I was taking an early walk along a little-traveled portion of our road. I was minding my own business … when
an expensive car pulled out of a drive way up ahead. It was a neighbor (an unknown neighbor, at that). I waved cordially, as we are all wont to do when we pass neighbors on the street. However, much to my surprise, as the car drove past me, I did not see a normal, everyday sort of human being in the driver’s seat. No, indeed. I saw a very gruff looking man with a shaggy beard and thick brown hair that came down to his shoulders. His beard and his hair were so thick and
bushy that I barely got a glimpse of his face. To put it simply, he had an overall unkempt look. And when I waved, he seemed very reluctant to return the gesture.

The first thing that came to mind was Marlene’s story, The Closed Gate, a modern interpretation
of The Beauty and the Beast. (Not kidding, Charlie—it’s the first thing I thought of.) Here was this mysterious, scruffy looking man who I had never seen before. His house was very drawn back from the road, on a part of the road that is very little traveled anyway. He looked grumpy and untidy. Granted, there were no closed gates or stone walls or castle turrets … but, hey.
We’re talking about the real world. I was enthralled and I couldn’t believe what I had just seen. The thought came to me (clearly from Pascal), “Could he be a … real-life Beast???”

To make it even more mysterious, when he finally lifted up his hand to wave at me, he had a wedding ring on—which meant that he’d already found Beauty … but the spell causing his ugliness hadn’t been broken. (!!!) Not that that would make any difference to Beauty, of course, because his ugliness would never deter her from loving him. Nevertheless, this sighting of a
real-life Beast was captivating. Positively intriguing. What mysteries lay behind this man? What was his history? How came he to live on our road? Where was he going? Most importantly—how could this encounter be turned into a story?

This morning I saw the snazzy car again with its mysterious driver … only this time, the mysterious driver turned out to be not so mysterious. All traces of shaggy beard and gruff nature were gone. He was about middle-age, and he smiled and waved cheerfully to me. And although I do not distinctly remember a suit, a cup of coffee, or any other weekday artifacts, I remember being absolutely positive of the fact … that this man was on his way to work. Just an ordinary man on his way to work.

How … unexciting.

“Anti-climactical” is the term that comes to mind. And here I thought the man was good story
material. I ask you. Pascal somehow convinced me that I had seen a real-life prince-in-disguise-under-a-spell and teased me with the idea that an incredible story was at my fingertips … but
no, it was just a normal guy. In an expensive car. On a lonely road.

Pascal, what have I done to deserve such injustice? Come back to me soon … and stop teasing.

Blog Spotlight: Veni, Scripsit, Vici!

  Drumroll, someone? Please? Okay, well, we'll have to do without that for now. Ladies and germs, please welcome...

Veni, Scripsit, Vici!

 Monica B. is an aspiring young authoress (hey, like Ally n' me!) and has entered the blogosphere! She has taken part in competitions like Summer of Stories, NaNoWriMo, and the latest will be next month's Script Frenzy. She has also written a book called Beautiful Mistake as well as several short stories. Hop on over to her blog for more details about this fantasticly brave and adventurous authoress!

And yes. We know each other in the real world. 

Proof: 

The funny looking chap is not looking at us. So there.

 ...so now you know.

Dosima: The Entarus Book Cover

I was fooling around with Gimp for the last day and a half, and I finally came up with this:

I did the image in Gimp, then transferred it to Picnik (oh, so sad it's going to close in a month!) for the titles. 

What think ye? I mean, of course most of you haven't even read the book yet, but I just want to know, is it a good cover? Or a lamo homemade one?

Explanation

Okay, here is the explanation I promised with yesterday's post...

 You know how much I love watching you work,  

but I've got my country's 500th anniversary to plan, 

my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder 

and Guilder to frame for it; 

 I'm swamped. 

  Yup, I was swamped for the last two weeks. Like, really swamped... so last week, when I *thought* it was over, I figured I'd make up for it by forcing two chapters out for TC to make up for it. 

Let's face it, I failed. Miserably. 

  So, I won't be doing two this week... just one. My disappointed fans, look at it this way: March has five almost full weeks this year, so it's not like you're missing much. Besides, your Dr. Rawlings drooling can be put on hold, right? 

 Right?

Moral Monday

"If the individual be a timid damsel, do not frighten her; for this will drive away every vestige of lurking affection, and turn her faculties against you; but be gentle and soothing and offer her all the protection in your power, casuing her to feel safe under your wing, and she will hover under it, and love you devoutly for the care you bestow upon her."

(1864) 

I kid you not, the above is exactly how I found the sentence. CHECK OUT THAT RUN-ON SENTENCE. 

Ooh yez. 

Oh, and stayed tuned tomorrow for a modest explanation of why there was only ONE episode of the Taverner Chronicles last week instead of the promised two. 

Taverner Chronicles: Midwinter, Two

The first of the promised two chapters for this week. 

 

Cold February finally gave way to March as the Taverner siblings awaited the Ball. It was a curious thing, having to wait for something that had already occurred, but all were excited. When Father discovered that they were going back, he gave them a long lecture on the etiquette of the past, how and how not to act, and how things were when he was a boy. Millie tried to absorb as much of it as possible, but gave it up as a hopeless cause when he started to discuss the virtues of Miss Post's 'glorious work'. She just hoped that she would quickly acquire the required manners.

The children had made an agreement not to travel until the day of the ball; it would be far better off and more fair to all if they did so. But Millie couldn't help wandering aimlessly into the ballroom; she tried to envision herself in a ball gown, sashaying down a long line of people on Dr. Rawling's arm... she couldn't stop thinking of him. However, her dreams of dancing with him were crushed when Mother absently remarked that she remembered the Doctor as not being one for a dance. She did, on the other hand, give Millie some hope- at least he would be attending.

Both she and Gianna had spent a long time laboring over the clothing in the trunk, deciding which dress was most appropriate for the dance. Mother came and helped with that; she had fond memories of dressing for such events herself, and was able to give the girls advice on what was (and wasn't) fashionable.

Millie walked to and from her long work hours with a light step now. The preparations, excitement, even the secrecy had given her 'rut' of a life new color and dimension. She sang over her work, smiled amiably at everyone, and was somehow able to bear the previously unbearable with a new-found patience. It was all rosy again, just as it was before things got awfully hard with money.

Finally, the day itself arrived. The children awoke bright and early and went straight to the ballroom. They decided that they would travel in the morning, giving them time to safely arrive without any guests seeing them in the ballroom. They found their mother already waiting in the room.

'Children, I wanted to give one final warning before you went back. Do not under any circumstances give anyone the impression that you are from another time. If you do... the effects may be catastrophic. Just remember to be cautious in the past, and nothing remiss will occur in the present.'

The children looked at each other, curiously pondering the words she spoke to them. She smiled at them, realizing their dismay.

'But above all... enjoy yourselves. There aren't too many people in the world who are capable of having such experiences as you!'

As she embraced her children, Mother whispered into Millie's ear,

'Don't forget to come back now, dear.'

Millie was about to object, but the look in her mother's eyes prevented her from saying anything. Then, she left the room. As the door shut, Gianna and Andrew quickly opened the trunk and pulled out the things they were going to wear. They then dashed down to the closets and shut the curtains, leaving Millie alone with her thoughts. Half of her wanted to rush after her siblings, but.... even after all the expectancy, she somehow wanted to stay.

What was wrong with her? The chance of a lifetime... and she was hesitating.

She picked up the dress and fingered it. It was a lovely silk satin gown, in a beautiful rose blush color that suited her complexion wonderfully. Here she was, with more clothing then she ever had in her life, with a chance to go to parties and balls nearly all the time...

...and she was hesitating.

Millie sighed and started walking towards the closets. But she only got halfway there; her mind started to rebel again. It was unnatural- they were able to visit the past! Besides, there was a terrible foreboding that had been growing in her mind for the last few days, brought on by the warnings of her mother and the cautious nature of her heart. She couldn't exactly explain it- it was something evading her thoughts, something that always stayed in the back of her mind. Whenever she tried to pinpoint it, she would become hopelessly frustrated trying to nail it down, so she always left the issue unresolved. But now, the fear came to a head. It was still vague in her mind, but instead of a quiet something that lingered on the borders of her imagination, it cried out to her as she neared the closet.

She hesitated.

And would have turned around, had she not the courage to stand strong and persevere. For some reason, the thought of Dr. Rawlings made her want to return to the past... a thought that made her strong.

She pushed the curtain aside and entered the tiny room, leaving all doubts behind.

When Millie entered the ballroom again, she was wearing the blush rose gown. The room was deliciously warm, and thankfully empty. She breathed a sigh of relief and hurried out of the room.

Where on earth did Andrew and Gianna get to? No doubt exploring the house with Grandfather somewhere, she thought as she walked slowly through the halls.

The house was all activity in preparations for the ball. Servants rushed in and out of rooms, readying bedrooms for the guests that were to arrive that night. Millie was glad, however, that she and her siblings had decided to travel in the morning- it gave them time to visit with Grandfather before people started to come. She went to the top of the staircase, trying to figure out what had become of her siblings.

But then, she froze. The most beautiful music was coming from one of the rooms downstairs. She was seized with a desire to find out just who was playing, so she started down the stairs. But under the spell of the music, she found it hard to move quickly; in fact, she was afraid to make a sound, lest the music should stop. She made her way towards the music room and found the door ajar. Peering in, she saw a man playing on the piano. His back was turned to her, so she couldn't tell who it was.

But whoever he was... the song was beautiful. She stood for untold minutes just listening; the song calmed her mind and soothed her doubting spirits. It was like standing in a rain shower and spring air; like a long walk on a fall day. However, it was unlike anything she'd ever heard before... it wasn't Debaussy, though it did sound like him.

Then, much to her surprise... the man concluded the piece and got up. When he turned around, she was shocked to see that it was Dr. Rawlings. He saw her, but she gave him no time to say anything, for she ran away from the room as quickly as possible.

To anywhere, just away.

Moral Monday + Apology

First, our moral recollection for the week...

'Dance with grace and modesty; neither affect to make a parade of your knowledge; refrain from great leaps and ridiculous jumps which would attract the attention of all towards you.'

(1841) 

 Ooh. Ouch. Gonna have to work on that one. 

  Now, for the apology: 

I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING LAST WEEK'S CHAPTER OF THE TAVERNER CHRONICLES. Really! I feel like such a heel. I had a 'ohcrap' moment this morning when I realized my atrocious crime.  

To make up for it? 

I shall post two extra-long segments this week. 

Really.

 

The Taverner Mansion

  I scoped the internet at the beginning of January to get a basic idea of what the mansion looks like. I was thinking something like this...

 Rather like something you'd see in a Jane Austen adaptation, but it suits nicely. Not too big, and not too small. What about everyone else? Did you think it should be bigger, like Manderly from Rebecca? 

Thoughts, suggestions, and even picture links would be quite helpful. It's difficult sometimes for me to visualize my settings. Charlie would also be very appreciative. 

*smirk* 

Promo for The Taverner Chronicles

What if you lived more in the past than in the present?

...did you notice that Charlie is featured in this one?

(Just thought you'd enjoy my Gimp adventure from yesterday. I've a lot to learn, though, so that's why it looks terrible)

Moral Monday

"One should always endeavor to make true friends with a rejected suitor." 

 (1838) 

And I say: 

"Easier said than done, bub!" 

 

 

The Taverner Chronicles: Midwinter, One

Millie pulled the curtains aside. There she was, in her own time, for her brother and sister were standing over the trunk full of clothing. Millie shivered as the warmth left her cheeks and hands, realizing that it was again cold. Very cold. Andrew looked at her with a puzzled expression.

'Millie, weren't you going to try that dress on? I mean, you were hardly in there a few minutes.'

Millie smiled.

'I have... a lot to tell you.'

And she told them. She explained every detail, everything that had happened- including the parts about Dr. Rawlings, excepting, of course, the rather embarrassing moments. When she had finished, they looked at her in disbelief. It was unlike their sister, their Millie, to come off with such rambling fantasies... but all was made clear when she cracked the seal on the note from Grandfather. It read:

To Millie's siblings-

Do not doubt what your sister tells you. All is true- you have but to put the clothing on and you will be in the past. I do not yet know you in the past, nor do I know if I am alive to know you in the present. But know this; you'll get a stiff talking to if you don't come back to the past to meet me!

Dated this February 27^th, 1893. Signed, your Grandfather T.

Andrew and Gianna looked at one another, then back at the letter. They inspected the broken seal, the fresh-smelling ink, and the paper itself. Both wanted to believe them... but both knew that what Millie said was impossible. Millie noticed the incredulous looks on their faces, and shook her head.

'The only way you're going to believe is if you go there yourself. Look, just put these things on... and you'll be there. I don't know how, in fact, I still don't believe it myself. But please... just do it.'

Andrew took a deep sigh, then draped the suit he had been eying over his arm.

'If I come out and hear you laughing, I will never forgive you.' he said, marching off into one of the closets. Gianna put her hand gently on Millie's arm.

'Are you fibbing, or is it really true?'

Millie smiled and hugged her sister tightly.

'Yes, it is really true. Trust me! We'll wait for Andrew to come back, and you'll see.'

There was a few moments of silence. All was still in the room, and the sisters felt the air grow colder. Outside, the sun fell deeper into the sky, casting even more gray shadows into the near-empty ballroom. Looking around her, Millie strangely felt at home, despite the icy, motionlessness gloom. The bright and fantastical vision all at once faded in her mind's eye, and her practical mind began to doubt it. Was it really just a fancy of her mind? Was she just telling her siblings a fantasy of her imagination?

But all uncertainty vanished when Andrew nearly toppled out of the closet. His eyes were wide open, and his face looked a little ashy.

'Andrew? Did you...?' Gianna faltered, but the only answer she got from her brother was a vague nod.

'It's... really there! I really went back!' he cried, causing Millie's heart to fill with joy. She had been right; and moreover, her brother had been there.

'Did you see Grandfather?' she asked.

Andrew nodded, then went to Gianna and took her hand.

'What's more, he wants to see you, Gianna. In fact, he wants us all to be there! He and Grandmother are holding a ball on Saturday, and they want us to come.'

Gianna looked incredulous.

'Somehow I get the feeling you two are trying to pull the wool over my eyes... and if I go in there and wait to travel to the past, you'll scare the wits out of me!'

Millie rolled her eyes, and Andrew stamped his foot.

'How much will it take to get you to believe us?' Andrew cried, but Millie interjected before he could go on.

'Don't worry, Andrew- she'll believe us. That is, when we go on Saturday.'

Gianna was about to loudly complain, but was silenced when their mother came into the room.

'Did you...?' she started, trailing off when she saw the various emotional states her children were in.

'Mother, why did you keep that secret from us?' Millie said, but was surprised at the tone of her own voice. It sounded forlorn and sad, even though she felt entirely the opposite.

Mother smiled, and shut the door behind her.

'This is a secret that we've kept in our family for many generations- a secret which I could not entrust to you until I was certain that you would be able to contain it.'

Gianna's eyes opened wide.

'Do you mean... do you mean it's true? That they really did see Grandfather and stuff?'

Andrew cuffed her on the elbow and exclaimed, 'Of course we did, you silly! Would we fib? Honestly.'

Gianna's hot temper flared up, but her mother's voice kept her from saying anything.

'Children, this is important. You must never, never utter a word of this to a single soul, unless under extreme circumstances. Do you understand?'

She looked so stern, so solemn. One by one, the children again swore to secrecy, promising that no one outside of the family would ever hear of it.

'All right then. Put those clothes away, we have to get dinner ready for your father.'

They carefully folded the clothing back into the trunk and left the room. Millie was the last to exit, and gave a long, final look at the room before closing the door. When she turned to start down the hallway, she found her mother waiting for her.

'Did you meet the Doctor?'

'Mother? You mean Doctor Rawlings...?'

She nodded, and smiled amicably. As she spoke, she took her daughter's arm and walked down the hall with her.

'Do you know, the first time I went back there, he was one of the first people I met! Oh, Millie, I'm so glad you finally know. I've been wanting to talk about it with you for a long time... you'll never guess how many times I almost blurted it out to you!'

Millie smiled, and kissed her mother on the cheek.

'Well, now we can talk of it as much as we like! Perhaps we can go back together sometime...'

Mother sighed and shook her head.

'I'm sorry dear, but I promised myself that I would never go back. No, I've had enough of it.'

Millie was surprised at the sudden change in her Mother. One moment, she was gushing happily about a fantastical adventure, the next almost condemning it.

'Why ever not?'

The two stopped walking, and Mother looked deeply into her daughter's eyes.

'When you start living more in the past then you do in present, you'll come to understand why, Millie. Never let that happen to you... it will tear you apart, just as it nearly broke my heart.'

Millie was perplexed. She didn't quite understand her mother, but made a silent promise to follow her advice.

A Window into Pascal's Mind ...

This was a story I started for one of Marlene's writing contests last summer. Needless to say ... I never finished it. BUT, just in case you have absolutely nothing better to do, here is the most intelligible part of my efforts for you to read.



It had been a perfect day. Ricky had played Aborigines and had spied on the cat to his heart’s content. To his little four year old mind, little else seemed to surpass the joys of playing Aborigines and spying on the cat.

Yes, it had indeed been a lovely day--until, unfortunately, Ricky was not satisfied with simply spying on the cat and decided to sneak up on and spear the poor animal with Daddy’s cane as well. The cat hissed and ran off, but this did not scare the savage Aborigine. Ricky set off after the cat. All over the third floor they went, down two flights of stairs, until they arrived in the kitchen. The cat lost no time in escaping outside through the cat flap, but this proposed a difficulty for his Aborigine pursuer. Ricky could get no more of himself through the cat flap than his right foot. Ricky scowled. He was sure that real Aborigines didn’t have to deal with hissing cats and undersized cat flaps. And that had been the beginning of the end of the lovely day.

Ricky was thus sprawled on the floor contemplating how an Aborigine would get his foot out of a cat flap when he spied--oh, wonder of wonders--a freshly baked batch of chocolate chip cookies lying on the table. What are the chances of a four year old boy chasing a cat all over the house only to get his foot stuck in a cat flap and to discover cookies, warm and unguarded, on the table? Be assured, such chances are slim. Ricky wiggled out of the cat flap.

Lunch seemed like ages ago--and chasing a cat was hard work. But should he wait until after dinner to sample the delectable treats? Ricky pondered this. No, leaving the cookies for later was unthinkable. Besides, Ricky’s brothers and sisters would devour the cookies as soon as they came home from school, and Ricky wouldn’t be able to have any. Ricky pondered this a bit longer. Finally, Ricky’s conscience told him that an Aborigine would never turn down cookies after a wild cat chase.

Needless to say, one after another, the warm treats disappeared from the tray. Before he had time to think of any good Aborigine phrase related to his situation, Ricky had consumed one, two, three cookies. Did he stop there? Gracious, no--this was too good of an opportunity. What chocolate-y goodness! Ricky wolfed down numbers four. What joy to have a tray of cookies all to oneself! Down went number five. And in his happiness, Ricky soon forgot that he was a savage Aborigine who chased hissing cats. He only knew that he was a very satisfied little boy. Oh, yes, he was very satisfied indeed. In fact, as he took a bite out of the sixth cookie, he was so satisfied that he suddenly decided he felt a bit--just a bit--woozy.

Ricky rubbed his tummy and looked forlornly at the half eaten cookie in his hand. He looked at the cat, who had come back through the cat flap when Ricky had ceased to emit Aborigine noises. Ricky looked down at his stomach which seemed surprisingly larger than it had been earlier that afternoon. He looked at the cookie tray: only six cookies left. Then he voiced the only thought that could find a way through his muddled brain.

“Whoops.”

The cat, unconcerned, sat down and began washing his front paw. Ricky clutched his tummy, which was hurting more every minute, and frowned at the cat’s obvious lack of feeling. “If you had played Aborigines with me, Darnay, I wouldn’t have eaten all those cookies.” Darnay continued to wash his paw, but it made Ricky feel better to blame the whole ordeal on somebody else.

Ricky shook his head again. It was getting harder to think because of the pain in his stomach. But, pain or no, Ricky knew what would happen as soon as the rest of the family realized what he’d done. All his brothers and sisters would be angry and--worst of all--Mother and Daddy would take away dessert privileges from Ricky for a long time. And that would be the very end of what had been a lovely day. Ricky groaned and clutched his middle. What was a four year old boy to do?

Then, suddenly, it came to him. Ricky strategically placed the half-eaten cookie underneath the washcloths in the drawer and slid the cookie tray onto the floor next to the icebox. Maybe hiding the evidence would save him. What next? After a moment of reflection, Ricky decided that he would go up to his room and try to think what an Aborigine would do if his tummy hurt from eating too many cookies. This seemed like a good idea. So up Ricky went to await his fate.

Meanwhile, the rest of the household was beginning to arrive after the day’s activities. In the kitchen, Mother was banging pots and cupboard doors while trying to make dinner and unload groceries at the same time. She was too busy to notice the suspicious looking cookie tray next to the icebox.

The outside kitchen door opened. “Here, Madame, I thought you might chop some of these for dinner.” This was Lucius, the manservant. He dropped an armload of beans on the table. “Fresh picked from the garden.”

“Thank you, Lucius, that would be fine. Hmm …” Mother paused for a moment. “I think we’ll make bean casserole. Yes, that will do.” She went back to banging her pots. “Has Ricky behaved for you, Lucius, while I was at the grocer’s?”

“Yes, Madame. He was so quiet I hardly knew he was here.”

Mother looked up quickly. A quiet Ricky boded no good.

“He was playing Aborigines upstairs,” Lucius assured her. “And spying on Darnay.”

“Oh, that’s fine, then. Here, Lucius, mix these ingredients together, please.” Mother thrust a casserole recipe at Lucius and forgot all about Ricky.

Some minutes later, the house was echoing with the after-school sounds of the other children.

“I got an A on my spelling, Mother!”

“I’m hungry. When’s dinner?”

“Lucius, what’s economics? Teacher tried to explain it, but I can’t remember.”

“Hey, that’s my pencil, Nora! Why is it in your bag?”

“It’s mine. I got it for my birthday.”

The children were making an incredible amount of noise, but Mother was too busy with dinner to be able to keep them quiet. After all, it was getting late and Daddy would be home shortly, looking for his warm evening meal. Lucius was little help in restoring the silence, being only a manservant, and he tried very hard to remain focused on mixing the ingredients for the casserole. Evidently, there was so much going on that no one noticed Ricky’s absence or the cookie tray on the floor next to the icebox.

Finally, Mother could not take the noise anymore and shooed the children into the dining room. And if there hadn’t been enough commotion before, a tempest broke out between two of the children about whose turn it was to set the table or if Lucius, being the manservant, should be the one to set the table. Mother took a deep breath and prepared to go into the fray with her spatula. Thankfully, Daddy came in just at that moment and Mother implored him to quell the storm before she lost her mind.

Lucius finished mixing the casserole ingredients as quickly as possible and made a daring escape to the hallway. He cocked his head towards the dining room door. Daddy was effectively settling the dispute and dictating what tasks were to be completed by whom. Lucius took a deep breath and relished the tranquility. His conscience took advantage of this tranquility, too, because Lucius suddenly had the thought that maybe it would be best to check on Ricky now. It had been some time since the little boy had been seen. Lucius tried to think what an Aborigine Cat Spy would sound like in hiding and set off in search of Ricky.



... and then Pascal ran out of ideas. So, though not a complete story, this is a little peek into Pascal's mind. Try not to get too scared--this is only his second post. Give him a chance? ;)