Look forward to some odds and ends next month while I'm working on editing the audiobook of The Dreary House!
Which is also coincidentally how many views the blog has gotten this week :D No worries, not much going on. Almost didn't post. However, the revisions for Chance of Tragedies are complete. The story will see a few more edits in October before a Halloween release.
Look forward to some odds and ends next month while I'm working on editing the audiobook of The Dreary House!
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August has been keeping me busy:
-Laptop down. -Audio book delayed. (How about October?) -Chance of Tragedies has resumed progress. (Also to be finished in October.) Looking forward to a scary-good fall harvest with all this summer work. Thanks to everyone who checked out People! It was fun to do a multimedia project while I recorded the audio book. I was thinking about returning to it when I edit the audio book, which I'll pick back up in September. For now, Chance of Tragedies is moving right along. It is on track to finish up this revision step next week! This was one of my favorite chapters written for A Place to Stay. It served as the penultimate chapter until it had to be cut, replaced by default with the preceding chapter, 'The Free Room'. At the time, it was cut to keep the audience from getting plot-whiplash. I was early enough in the editing process that all the primary characters still have their thoughts intact, which was cut later. It is easy for me to see in hindsight why this chapter wouldn't have worked, now that the third story is nearly done. This is about as far as 'The Food Room' made it from A Place to Stay:
11. The Food Room Standing in the hallway, Lance sobbed. Just give me this, lights. I can’t do this. His head was spinning. He blinked, with a grating sensitivity as his eyes dragged stinging against his heavy eyelids. The blood on his arm was beginning to clot as he grasped it to pressurize the clown’s vicious bite. It’s going to be more painful for me to get this wound treated than the bite itself. Lance’s head spun more and more, dizzying with spent options. At last, he relented and sat against a wall to recover. The spongy carpet was soft enough to be almost comforting amidst ruined events. He stretched out his legs, still holding his injured arm. The elevator takes me back here. The stairs always take me back here. I need to find Anna, if I can. I have to find some way to wash and bandage this bite. How am I supposed get out of this? Do I just have to wait for morning? Please keep the lights on just a little longer. I can wait this out. I can make it out of this place. The lights kept glowing, fluorescent bulbs shielded with frosted glass all throughout the hallway. A time went by as Lance sat and paused to catch his breath. That bite was deep in my arm. The pain kept throbbing even as the shock wore off and it was easier to stay conscious. He got to his feet after resting. I’ll see if I can use the elevator again. Worst case, I’m back here. Or, worst case it falls and I die. Best case, I won’t have to deal with those lights or these rooms for a little longer. Examining the bite, Lance determined his wound was clotting. The side of his borrowed shirt was bloody. He peeled off the sleeve each time it stuck to his arm as he walked down the hallway, leaving the vicinity Paul’s body. The hallway went dark a moment before the lights again showed the way. Lance quickened his pace through the hall. His arm throbbed as he passed several doorways. It wasn’t the lights! It can’t be the lights. I just blinked. I could have dozed off. No, I blinked. I know I did. I just blinked! I’m… getting dizzy again. I’m okay. It’s just my vision. I have to get to the elevator. Lance’s vision went dark, and again returned to normal. His fingers went numb. Breathing became more difficult as he pressed closer to the elevator with each passing moment. Please, don’t let it be the lights. Maybe I’m just blinking. That’s it. I just keep blinking at the wrong time. Just keep the lights on a little longer for me. There was nowhere further to go and nothing else to see. Everything was perfect. Anna and Lance were having the perfect picnic on the perfect spring day. Neither of them were worried about school, nor work, nor kids, nor money. They sat on a thin blanket and each enjoyed one another’s company as they waited. Later, they returned to a perfect house. Nothing had ever gone wrong here. Everything was fine. Everything was safe. The couple’s perfect house overlooked a perfect view of lush trees, tall mountains, and a nearby clear-as-glass lake. The sky was a perfected shade of blue and clouds were extra billowy. Anna and Lance sat looking in to each other’s eyes on a balcony before he became entranced by the reflection of the sun in his lover’s eyes. The moment seemed to continue, but he watched the light keep growing brighter and brighter and brighter and brighter and brighter and brighter. A semi-familiar bright white light above Lance had him blinking to adjust to the sudden absence of a long darkness. A bland, white ceiling overhead began taking up the rest of his sight. He blinked less often and got more comfortable in the light as his vision cleared. Able to feel most of his body, he wiggled his toes before making other small movements. My arm still hurts. I don’t feel dead. Unless nobody ever told me there’s not much of a difference? Lifting his head, Lance saw some off-white walls and a wide, brown counter with a sink. He was on a bed, and some extra weight on his arm told him he might be hooked up to something unseen. Clicking footsteps interrupted any closer inspection. There was murmuring outside, and Lance closed his eyes to catch more of the conversation. A voice outside took some time saying something dampened by the door. He lifted his head and strained, unable to discern anything over his own breath. A closer voice replied. “Ah, the patient is in this room, then?” Asked a woman in a wisdom-filled voice. The response was unclear from whoever the woman had been addressing. It had begun with a worried ‘yes,’ trailing off to something quieter as the two discussed further in hushed, muffled tones. “Oh. I’ll see him, then,” she concluded in a more audible voice after the lengthy conversation. The door opened and Lance opened his eyes. A woman with long, dark hair wearing a white lab coat stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. It protested with a squeak and a clang. The room was silent again as the woman looked over some papers. “Hello. My name is ah... Dr. Long,” Dr. Long stated as she approached his side. “Your school I.D. has indicated your name is ah… Lance Leery?” She set something down on the counter with a soft clack. “Yes, that’s right, Dr. Long,” replied Lance, lifting his head. He moved as if to sit up in the bed. Dr. Long’s hand moved to his shoulder, keeping him in place. “You still need to rest. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and I wouldn’t want you to faint again. We’re going to do everything we can for you, but I need to know what happened. Is the bed comfortable enough?” She finished the question and removed her hand, having completed her careful gesture. “Sure, thank you,” replied Lance as he shifted to face Dr. Long. With a hand, Dr. Long put a pair of gold-framed glasses on her face to get a better look at a paper in a plain folder she held in her other hand. She took some steps away from Lance and inquired, “Would you desire ah… juice? There’s food as well, but we find it’s best to start with fluids.” “What kind of juice do you have?” “Ah, yes. There’s apple or orange.” “Apple, please.” Dr. Long handed Lance a juice box with an apple on it and a straw prepared. He sipped from it while she unfolded an X-shaped table near the bed and set a tray of assorted food on it. “When you feel up to it, you may eat from this tray. I will be happy to assist you if you find it necessary. In the interim, I need to know the ah… last thing, or things, you remember?” Approaching the counter, Dr. Long opened a drawer. Lance set the juice box down on the tray with a weight close to empty. His head flopped to relax on the pillow. What’s the last thing I remember? What can I tell her? What would I say to anybody? She rummaged throughout the drawer with some noisy clanging and he responded as the bustle subsided once her attention returned. “A hallway in a hotel. Why do you––” “One moment,” Dr. Long spoke as she walked to Lance’s side again with a bandage. “Your arm, please.” Lance maneuvered to lay on his left side, facing Dr. Long. He observed his arm had been wrapped using an old, blood-crusted cloth. I don’t remember wrapping my arm. Did someone else do it for me? I don’t remember getting here, either. As he attempted again, she removed the hazardous waste and deposited it in a secure bin to replace it with the clean bandage. “Does the hotel mean anything to you? Do you know it?” “You need to wait, Mr. Leery. Please let me switch out your bandages.” “How did I get here?” “You really need to wait, Lance.” There was a measure of silence between the two as Dr. Long completed several painful and productive procedures in a fluid motion, cleaning the wound. “Please, can’t you just tell me what happened? Are my friends okay?” Inquired Lance, remaining still. A sting lingered among sharp pain as Dr. Long began wrapping the bandage. “Your... friends? Oh, I don’t think you understand. You’re somewhat the ah, victim, in this case.” “Victim?” “Ah, it would appear so,” Dr. Long replied. She finished wrapping the bandage. “That should do for now. Oh, you’re injured, so––” “I know I’m hurt, or injured, or whatever. We were looking for my girlfriend, Anna, when my friend Trina was….” “Was what?” “Never mind. The––” “Never mind?” “Yeah, never mind, okay? So, the four of us––” “Ah, four of you?” “Yes. My friend Paul––” “Oh, oh. I was hoping you would bring him up, actually.” “Why?” Asked Lance while staring at a buttered muffin. His stomach growled. “May I have the muffin? That one, just there,” he motioned. “This one? It’s ah... plain.” “That’s fine.” Dr. Long handed Lance the muffin, taking a few crackers from the tray for herself. She ate one as he took a bite out of the muffin and for a moment neither of them spoke. As they kept eating, she began again between bites. “We’re under the impression that whatever ah... friends you may have arrived with might have been performing some sort of prank, or ah... maybe it was a kind of hazing, perhaps?” “What? That’s ridiculous. We were just going on a road trip––” “I was hoping you might clarify things.” “Yeah? Well, maybe you should just stop interrupting and jumping to conclusions. What does any of this have to do with Paul, anyway? How do you know him if you don’t even know what friends I was here with in the first place?” Lance fumed, setting aside his unfinished muffin. “Oh, who said––” “You said, ‘whatever friends.’ I’m no detective, but you’re not the police. How do you know so much? What’s going on?” Lance finished, taking the unfinished muffin for another bite. “Paul Jones is the head of a fraternity at your college. You mentioned his name, and I assumed he was one and the ah… same. They approximated he might have something to do with it, since no one else heard from him this weekend.” That can’t be right, we hadn’t even been gone for a full weekend. “Shouldn’t you pass off the detective work to the police?” Countered Lance, preoccupied with the muffin. “Oh, in a small area like this? The police have oh, three missing people they’re trying to find right now. They trust my ah… professional opinion. So far, police have one lead. Who do you posit ah... is the main suspect?” There was something about Dr. Long’s emotionless face that made Lance’s skin chill as she finished speaking, staring straight at him. Lance’s cheeks slumped as he finished the muffin. He suppressed a cough to avoid inhaling the leftover bits before asking, “Didn’t you say I was the victim? You don’t mean––” “Oh, let us not get ahead of ourselves, now,” Dr. Long cautioned. “If you’ll ah, recall, I previously said ‘somewhat,’ didn’t I?” Her attention returned to the folder again to thumb through some papers as she skimmed them. “This can’t be right. I’ll be back.” Before Lance could react, she had shut the door behind her. How do I get out? What if I can’t get out? I’m not sure if I can get up. My head is… swimmy. Spinning? What if this is all that’s ever real for me? What if I can’t get out? Or what if there is no out, and this is where I’ve been the whole time? Straining some to lift his head again, Lance’s heart rate hastened as he noticed some dried, red splotches on the bed sheets in places he was unharmed. The fresh bandaging had cleaned up any blood on his own arm. His eyes were drawn to similar marks spattered at the bottom of the door on the other side of the room. Dried… blood. I have to get out. I might not be the tidiest guy in the world, but… I wouldn’t invent something like this. I feel... drunked? Drugged. Maybe it’s this kind of… pain... pain medication? Or something? How am I supposed to get out of a place I don’t remember getting to in the first place? There’s nothing here I can use as a weapon... the food tray seems like it would be… it would be a poor substitute anyway. Was the… food… poisoned? She ate some, too. There has to be a way I can get out out. Taking deep breaths, Lance shut his eyes. Unless there’s some sort of a secret passage here, I doubt I can really… go anywhere. I’m still so hungry... so hungry…. Lance willed his hands to move. Meeting no resistance, he rolled to his side. The cabinets, counters, table, tray and food had all vanished; the door remained. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be eating whatever she’s feeding me. I’m imprisoned within here. Aren’t I? This can’t be right. I’m still hungry. I’m the one who knows what happened to me. I’m the only one remaining who knows what happened that’s still... I mean, I was there. Wasn’t I? The door is my only way out. The doorknob twisted with a click and the door opened. Lance rolled flat onto his back, re-positioning himself. Entering the room, Dr. Long let the door shut behind her as it made the same squeaky, clangy protest. She looked at him. “Ah…” While Dr. Long stared at Lance with her mouth still open and said nothing more, he broke the silence. “What?” “Ah... all the information, Mr. Leery, is correct.” “Well, okay, fine. What have I done, then?” “There’s really no––” Dr. Long stopped. “No what?” Dr. Long hesitated an instant more before replying. “I was thinking out loud. Oh, I’m so very sorry.” “What were you going to say?” Pressed Lance. “There’s really no remorse.” “Oh,” said Lance. “You should feel remorseful, shouldn’t you? At least ah… a little bit? About how all the people except you that went on your little oh, vacation, was it? They’re all dead, I mean,” Dr. Long snapped with a sharp, scolding gaze. Lance continued breathing steady. I’ll find Anna and she will be just fine. I might still be able to free Trina if I can get back. And Paul…. Another wave of dizziness washed over him as his heart pumped faster. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. “I’m sorry. I’ll ah… keep my thoughts to myself, of course. Here, eat this,” Dr. Long suggested as she handed Lance a small piece of angel cake. It looked extra soft. I’m so hungry. That looks so good... so delicious. It can’t be poisonous for me. Lance eyed the cake for an extended moment before accepting it. He bit in to the soft texture and chewed with apprehension as Dr. Long continued speaking. "You were found abandoned and passed out on the third floor of the old hotel at the edge of town near Paul’s body. As a college official informed us, one of the ladies you travelled with belonged to a sorority that assigned her to dating you in order to make it easier for her friends to use you during their ah… weekend road trip. The other girl, the one dating your friend, planned it with her frat-president boyfriend as a prank, or hazing, or game, or something. We aren’t sure just yet." “That isn’t… true,” remarked Lance, swallowing his food. He nibbled at small pieces as he awaited Dr. Long’s informed reply. How can I be hungry if none of this is real? “Oh, the truth is so much more often stranger than fiction, Lance,” stated Dr. Long, her voice absent of variation. “If that isn’t what happened, then ah... tell me, what was it that did happen, ah… Lance?” Lance’s eyes glossed over while looking at the ceiling of the hospital room. His heart pounded harder. Beads of sweat had formed along his forehead, dripping into his hair. Dr. Long gave him a cold stare and loomed over his glossy ceiling view as she waited for his response. “I… I would never do that.” “Oh, what would you ah... do? Is this something I’m really dealing with, or not? “I don’t know,” enunciated Lance. “Ah, you know what I bet you’d do? I bet you would have killed Paul to take his girlfriend once they started their prank. Maybe you’d kill his girlfriend, too. You could see through the ploy of a woman. Oh, no, you’d take Trina first, and you’d––” “Stop. I wouldn’t. That’s not me.” “Tell me then, ah, who are you?” Lance tasted a rush of salt in his mouth as his stomach queased. It isn’t the truth. This isn’t really real for me. How am I like this if none of this is real? None of this is my reality. It just isn’t the truth. “I’m not like that. It just isn’t true.” “Oh, I’m afraid it is, ah, Lance. You might even believe it by the time we get done." “W-what do you mean?” Dr. Long was looking down at some papers. “Ah, if you knew how much I wish I could talk to your parents about you.” My parents? “They don’t… even have anything to do with this.” Am I... dazed? I’m almost like I’m… sedated. “As you know, I can’t contact your ah... dad. Oh, as for your mom… I treated her, after what she did to your stepdad. She’s not really fit to see you, nor will you ah… find her here.” “Leave them out of this. Especially leave her out of this.” “I see you realized the matter is ah... somewhat difficult. I’ll give you a moment.” Especially not my mom. And sometimes, especially not my dad. Or what my mom did after he died. Then, what she did to her new husband back while I was still in high school…. What about my friends? Trina… saved me from a clown, but I can’t lead with that. I lost Anna. Paul just invited us all on this road trip, that’s it. Nothing he ever said to me before was unusual… nothing. Where did Anna go? I hope she’s okay. I just have to... remember exactly what I did. “Dr. Long?” “Ah... yes, Lance?” “What’s wrong with me? I’m… not feeling all that well.” There was a sigh from Dr. Long. “I’ll have to let the police and judge decide, if it ah… comes to that. As for your arm, it’s infected. We’ll have to operate. I need my, ah, tools, so I’ll be right back.” Lance’s heart relaxed. It slowed to a normal rate as he watched Dr. Long leave the room. He took several slow, deep breaths. I’m imprisoned here! No, it’s just like I’m in some sort of dream. I’m not imprisoned. But this isn’t my dream, either. It can’t be my reality, can it? It can’t be. No one else here can get me out of this. Only… only I can get me out. Gentle euphoria passed from Lance’s head toward some sort of improvement. He sat up with care and confirmed there were no obstacles to keep him attached to the bed. He swung his legs over the side, sitting up the rest of the way. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to. I just have to get out of here before Dr. Long comes back. I’m not helpless. Not yet. With ease, Lance rose to his feet. He staggered a few steps and caught himself against a wall until his head quelled its spinning. One step after another, he walked to the door. I need to get out of here. I have to know what happened at that hotel. I have to know. As much as I don’t want it to, it has to exist. On the other hand, I could just get the operation on my arm and see what the authorities want to do with me. I… I’d have to be crazy. I have to check the edge of town. “I am not helpless,” whispered Lance. Lance slipped out of the room without another sound. He looked ahead for an exit with his vision still hazy until realizing he had been studying a wall. Turning to his left, a reception desk was unoccupied and littered with papers. Turning to his right, a short hallway ended with two closed doors labelled “EMERGENCY” in red letters. I’m not crazy. There’s… no one. Not even any staff. This doesn’t feel real to me. Isn’t that the kind of thing I would say if I was crazy? Right toward the emergency doors will probably just take me... deeper into this place. If I want to get out, I’ll have to go to my left, passed the reception desk. With no one else around, Lance started off to his left. He approached the desk. Another hallway ahead of it ran to his left and right. I have to get out of here. If I turned back, my room would have been on my right... but now it’s my left. Probably takes me deeper into the hospital, with more rooms. The bare wall that fascinated me is now on my right, no other rooms on that side. I hope I can find the way out. Passing the vacant reception desk and rows of lonesome waiting chairs, Lance went right. Rounding the corner, he saw two metal doors at the end of a plain hallway. He walked with caution toward them. Do I really want to know? “Code walker, code walker,” a voice announced over the hospital’s speaker system. “Dr. Long responding,” Dr. Long’s far-off reply came from near the room he had fled. “Code walker confirmed. Now in process.” Lance took steps post-haste toward the two plain, metal doors. When he was close, a square button stood out to him. He reached the doors and pressed the button. It answered with the light of a dull fluorescent glow. I’ll take an elevator, then. “Lance Leery!” Dr. Long yelled, waving a saw in her hand as she ran toward him. “Stop right there!” Hurry up! ”Hurry up,” whispered Lance. “Hurry up!” Dr. Long came ever closer. She was halfway down the hall when the elevator opened its doors to a closet-sized box. “Lance! You can’t go! I see you’re afraid! You can’t even tell what’s real anymore! You’re still a patient, though! A victim, don’t you remember?! MY VICTIM!” Please don’t have a power failure while I’m escaping. Lance darted inside the elevator. He hit a button to close the doors over and over again with one hand while selecting the first floor with his free hand. Dr. Long lunged at the doors as they shut, metal striking metal. The elevator descended. |
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