nanowrimo – 3

Date: Thursday, September 25, 2003
Music: (haven’t decided yet)
Location: Mom’s attic
Entry:

I couldn’t see, but I could hear Grandpa and Mick talking. Mick wanted to talk to me. Grandpa told him to sit down. By now I had reached the front door and had my hand on the antique glass knob. Mick won, for once, and came out into the hall. “Don’t touch me,” I said. I turned the doorknob.

I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, waving his hands in front of him.

For some reason, the gesture made me think of someone frantic to adjust the water in a shower. Maybe the mind does bizarre things when a person is afraid.

I watched Daddy and Grandpa go back into the living room as Mick shoved us out the door and onto the porch and sat us down on the top step. “I want to go home,” I said, grumpy. But who wouldn’t be grumpy about any of this? I can’t imagine anybody jumping up to celebrate at the news. ‘Whoohoo, I’m a vampire!’ And tossing around glitter and confetti. No. I looked at my uncle from the corners of my eyes. “If I find out you all are pulling some kind of joke–”

Mick raised a hand to cut me off. “Nobody’s joking.”

“Yeah, right.” From where I sat, my elbows leaned on my knees, the chipped gravel in the sweep looked more interesting than it had been since I was three.

“Why would any of us joke around about something like this? I mean, I know Dad likes to play tricks, but not with this kind of stuff.”

As much as I wanted to not believe him, Mick was right. Daddy and Steve joke around, too, but not about serious stuff. Okay, usually not about serious stuff. I’ve heard Mom yell at both of them, together and apart, for not being serious enough sometimes. And yes, Mom yells. She doesn’t raise her voice. She yells. I’m told she gets her temper from Grandpa. Still, I didn’t want to give in to all of this that easy. “So if all of this is real,” I said, “how come you and Chloë and Devon know all about it, and you’re all younger than me?”

“You’ll have to have that argument with my sister.”

“You leave Mom out of this!” I snapped.

“I can’t!” Mick snapped back. “She’s as much a part of this as everyone else.”

Not knowing what else to do, I hauled back and punched his shoulder. Before Mick could react, Daddy and Grandpa ran out to separate us. Mick and Daddy went back inside, and Grandpa said he and I should take a walk.

disclaimer: poetry and fiction snippet content are my own original content. unauthorized reproduction of any post content, without prior written permission, is in direct violation of applicable copyright laws.

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Author: Mari Adkins

Appalachian gothic fiction writer - my works reflect a love of literature flavored by the darkness and magic residing in these ancient mountains. In my spare time, I'm a Simmer, I tumbl, I journal, but I always have a very strange sense of humor. I have lived away from the mountains and lived deep in the mountains. I currently live in Central Kentucky with my lifepartner and his cat. The mountains, their culture, their superstitions, their particular magics, will always be in my blood.