Illumination (the end?)

I finally managed to finish this dream story.  The second half took me quite a bit longer, as I knew it would.  The ending (?) of this story was not entirely clear to me in my dream due to the fact that I woke up terrified at the part where the character (I?) came to full realization.  However, because I woke up, I was never able to truly understand what that realization was.  So, the ending on paper was a little tough.  That's why this is titled with a question mark, because I'm not entirely sure that is supposed to be the end of the story.  At any rate, I finished it, and that in itself is a big accomplishment for me as a writer!



 





nother day marked off in this dark and lonely place, and another day with no contact from the Hims.  There had been one change to my routine, however.  Three days ago, a dog, a golden retriever, showed up in my space.  I wasn’t sure where he had come from as there were no obvious exits or entrances.  Of course, there must be some way to come and go as evidenced by the attendants that sometimes worked the counter.  At first, I wasn’t sure what to think of the dog’s arrival.  Something about its presence felt wrong and contrived.  It was a friendly enough dog, and was always nearby; the epitome of a faithful companion.  Over time, I accepted its presence as another of the quirks of this enigma I lived in.  

A distant fluttering noise caught my attention.  The dog lifted its head and perked its ears to listen, but I knew immediately what it was.  With uncertain regularity a helicopter would fly in low as though the occupants were checking in on me.  I always watched it from the one window in the room.  It is strange to really even call it a window since there was no view to be seen from it except when the helicopter flew past.  The rest of the time, the space on the wall covered by the dark curtain was equally as dark. 

I moved to the window, the dog close on my heels and pushed the curtain slightly to the side to see out.  The darkness was pierced by the helicopter’s spot light.  As it came closer, the light grew brighter and hurt my eyes.  The spot light raked the darkness, but no formations were lit up.  My eyes searched for some sign of another building or person, or even a tree in the dark landscape, but as always there was nothing to be seen but the helicopter and its light. 

The helicopter’s tail swung around as it came close to the window, and then I saw something I had never seen before.  It could have been a light anomaly, but I instantly knew that could not be the explanation.  All the times I had watched the helicopter fly past, there had never been a new detail to notice, and the darkness around the helicopter seemed to swallow up any stray light beams.  What I saw was what I can only explain as a crack, but not a physical crack.  It was more like a digital crack in the tail of the helicopter, the edges shaped like little squares – pixels.  Before I could determine anymore, the helicopter had flown away, leaving the window in darkness once again.

I let the curtain fall back into place and turned to find the dog staring at me with something like a quizzical look, head cocked to the side.  Its appearance unnerved me, as though it were analyzing my reaction to the helicopter.  In its eyes, I could almost see a reflection of light, although the light sources in the room were dim and hidden, and I had never seen another reflection anywhere in the room.  It padded over to me and nuzzled my hand, looking for a pat, then walked past and headed toward the black hole room.  It stopped on the threshold of the room and looked back at me, tail wagging.  I had no desire to go near the room, not wanting to experience the strangling feeling I always got from it, but just as I determined to turn and walk back toward the counter, something in the blackness of the room made me stop and stare.  It was a pinprick of light. 

I was momentarily stunned by the tiny illumination.  One anomaly I could dismiss, but two – one right on the heels of the other – this was something unusual.  I stepped hesitantly toward the room.  The palpable humming coming from it tuned in to the beat of my heart.  Fear rose up in my chest and sat heavy in my stomach but I continued to move forward, determined to find out once and for all the mystery of this room.  Slowly, I crossed into the room and the stranglehold on my throat began.  My head swam, my breathing became labored, my limbs felt heavy.  Still I moved forward against the push.  The pinprick of light had grown and was now pulsing to the beat of my heart along with the incessant hum.  I continued pushing against whatever force in the room wanted me to back away.  My breathing was so cut off by the strangling feeling that I was choking for air, but I would not back down.   The light grew in size and I felt I could almost reach out and touch it.  I knew if I could just get a few steps closer I would have it.  My legs resisted, heavy as they were, but with all my effort I pushed my whole body forward as far as I could.  I could no longer breathe, and I felt my head swim and pricks of pain behind my eyes.   My body leaned forward as I tried in vain to reach for the light, my arm feeling as though it was held down by weights.  And then just as though someone had flipped a switch, the entire room was filled with blinding light and I fell forward, no longer tethered by the invisible force.  I felt myself falling into the light and there was nothing to catch my fall. 

In that moment, memories came flashing back too quickly for me assimilate.  They were little beams of light illuminating the darkened corners of my mind.  I could see a house, a family, a farm, horses and an old tractor.  Then I saw another bright light in a darkened sky and felt myself immobile, heard myself crying.  After that there were strange eyes looking at me; two pairs.  Hands moved over my body but I couldn’t move.  I cried but no noise came from my mouth.  One pair of eyes gazed at me with…sympathy?  The other eyes only seemed knowing.  How I could gather such emotions from only eyes confused me.  Finally, there was only darkness and quiet.  I opened my eyes to find myself sitting just outside the doorway of the black hole room.  The dog lay nearby, head resting on his feet. 

I looked around me at the only room I thought I had ever known.  It had an appearance of normalcy and rhythm, but contrived and wooden, as though such things were foreign to the creators of the mirage.  I searched my mind for memories, and found that they had been returned to me.  The light in the room had given them back.  As my mind brushed tentative fingers over still new memories of the past, realization struck.  In this artificial environment I was nothing more than a test subject, a lab rat. 

My chest constricted, a sob escaped my lips and I whispered “I know who he is.”  No one was there to hear me.  I said a little louder “I know who he is!” becoming frantic now as I realized my situation and how desperate it was. 

I scrambled to my feet, my eyes searching the darkened room for anyone to listen.  I ran around the room, searching the walls for an exit, feeling more trapped by the minute.  The words forced themselves even louder from my throat “I KNOW WHO HE IS!!” 

Then I turned and saw the dog still sitting quietly by the black hole room and his eyes were lights that grew brighter by the moment, illuminated I knew by the truth that had finally been shown to me.  His eyes grew brighter just as the light in the room had, and I was swallowed up in them, screaming.  I had finally found my escape. 

Illumination (The beginning)

This story came to me in a dream last night.  It was a terrifying dream, and one that I woke up from feeling scared and out of place.  My skin literally prickled from fear when I woke up.  As I laid there in the dark reassuring myself it was only a dream, I started to think back over it and couldn't believe how much like a story it had been.  It was, in fact, a great sci-fi type story.  As I lay there drifting in and out of sleep and bits of the dream came back to me, I even had a title occur to me - Illumination.  While this story won't be nearly as scary on paper as it was to me in my dream, I've decided to go ahead and write it out; capture it as best I can, despite the fact that I've never written science fiction and never even really enjoyed reading it.  This is only part of the story, but this part came very quickly to me.  Rarely do my fingers fly over the keyboard as they did for this story!  This part of the story is much more clear to me, so I'm saving the second half for tomorrow or later this week so I can have time to think out what the details were.  More to come soon...

 






 t was dark and heavy in the room.  I could feel it even as I approached it.  The room seemed like a black hole where no light or object or feeling could escape if it got too close.  I stepped across the threshold and felt the tightness around my throat begin.  Pressure behind my eyes and in my head gave me the impression that I was deep under water.  Two more steps in the door and I could no longer breathe.  The tightness around my neck and in my head was suffocating.  No air could escape my throat to scream or make any sound at all.  The sound in my ears deadened and I felt more than heard a strange humming throughout my whole body.  My limbs were heavy and it took all my effort to move further into the room as though I were a magnet being repelled by the matching pole of another giant magnet.  Finally I could take no more.  The strangling feeling around my throat and pressure in my head forced me to back out of the room.  Sound returned to my ears, my limbs could move again and I was able to breathe freely once more. 

Sighing heavily, I hugged my arms around my chest to comfort myself and turned from the black hole room.  The room had always drawn me to it, and created fear in me at the same time.  Haunting memories in bits and pieces would sometimes return to me of spending time in that room with someone else.  But those memories were so fleeting that I could never fully grasp the images. 

Walking away from the pulsing darkness of the room I moved into a larger, more open room, dimly lit.  Darkness seemed to be everywhere in this strange place I lived, but it was all I’d ever known.  Or at least that’s what it seemed like.  An attendant stood behind a counter on the far side of the cave-like, domed room.  She busied herself cleaning the surface and putting dishes away.  This attendant was one of many that worked the counter.  I knew them all well, and yet did not know them at the same time.  Memories pushed at the back of my eyes, straining to be seen.  At once I knew there had been more to my life than this, but almost instantly the push of recollection ceased.  Frustrated, I frowned and moved to sit at the counter.  The attendant turned to me and smiled. 

“I saved some sandwiches for you if you’re hungry.” 

“Thanks,” I replied. 

She stopped her cleaning and turned to face me fully.  “He’ll call today, I’m sure of it.” 

I attempted a smile and met her eyes with a look of hope and despair all mixed together.  Just then, the phone at the far end of the counter began ringing.  The attendant smiled at me and crossed to retrieve the phone.  Without answering it, she passed it to me. 

“Hello?” I waited for the familiar voice on the other end of the line that I hoped to hear.  Yet, I couldn’t picture any face to go with the voice and that troubling thought made my brow crease. 

“I know you were hoping for a different call, but I wanted to let you know that he said to tell you not to worry and that he will call soon.”  The despair in my chest rose until it swelled in a mighty tidal wave over the hope that remained.  This voice was not the one I had wanted to hear. 

“You said that last time.  He said he would call soon.”  I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, not sure why I was so disappointed when I wasn’t even certain who it was that I hoped to hear from. 

It had always been like this.  There had always been two callers:  Him #1 and Him #2.  Without knowing who he was, Him #1 felt like a father to me, albeit an absent one.  Him #2 on the other hand was much more.  He was my everything, and yet I knew him not at all.  The calls from the Hims were the only things to sustain me in this dark and lonely place. 

“I know.”  Him #1’s voice soothed from the telephone receiver.  “I promise.  He will call next time.  He’s been busy and knows it must be hard for you.” 

Something like a choked laugh escaped my throat.  For a moment I felt as though I were back in the black hole room.  “I don’t think he knows anything about me at all.”  My voice dripped like poison darts that I hoped would reach all the way across the line and pierce the heart of the unknown man who spoke to me.  The disappointment of another missed call was almost more than I could take in this dark and suffocating place.  Blinking back tears, I let my eyes roam the room.  The walls were blank and dark, just like my mind. 

“Of course he knows you.  He knows you better than anyone.”  Him #1 soothed.  “Be patient.”  And with that the line went dead just like the last sparkle of hope in my chest. 

Numbly, I replaced the phone to its cradle.  Turning back to the counter, all I found was a sandwich.  The attendant had left, leaving me alone again.

Trudy

I decided it was time to introduce some more characters to see how they would work into the story.  Here, we get a glimpse of Trudy, Savannah's soon to be friend.  We are also introduced to Eileen and "The Brat Pack" who enjoy bullying both Savannah and Trudy.  Trudy is the target in this scene and we get to see how Trudy deals with it.

ead bent low over the math assignment on her desk, Savannah looked up through the brown curtain of her bangs to steal a glance at the new girl.  Well, she technically wasn’t new anymore since she’d moved to the school a month ago.  The girl, Trudy, sat at her desk with a concentrated expression as her pencil hovered just over her math paper.  Her long blonde hair draped over her shoulders and her straight bangs hung just to the middle of her green eyes.  Blowing the bangs out of her eyes, Trudy appeared to attack the next math problem with her pencil, jabbing and scraping the lead over the paper, the concentrated look on her face getting even deeper and creasing her brow.  Breathing out a huge sigh, Trudy flipped the pencil over in her fist and began furiously erasing then quickly began writing again without even wiping away the bits of used eraser. 

Savannah looked back down at her own math paper and saw rows of neat numbers, each problem carefully numerated and the answers circled with heavy pencil mark.  Math had always been Savannah’s favorite subject, mostly because it was easy for her.  She liked the way that numbers didn’t surprise you.  They were so predictable with their patterns and formulas.  It didn’t matter which way you wrote 4 + 4, the answer would always be 8, and that certainty was comfortable.  Savannah glanced up through her bangs again at Trudy who had taken to chewing the end of her pencil as she looked down unblinking at her math paper, as if winning a staring contest with it would reveal the answers she needed. 

The girl sitting just in front of Trudy turned around, took one look at Trudy’s paper and smirked.  Eileen’s shiny black hair hung in perfect waves down to her shoulders, a hint of eye shadow on her eyes and gloss on her lips gave her the appearance of being older than the 12 she was.  She pointed one pink tipped fingernail at Trudy’s paper.

“Here’s your problem,” she said in a voice loud enough for everyone in the nearby seats to hear.  “You forgot to ROUND the numbers before you multiplied them.” 

The word round rolled out of her mouth and hung in the air like the echo of a fireworks shell after it explodes.  Muffled laughter broke out nearby and Eileen settled her face into a self-satisfied smile.  She looked from side to side to acknowledge the laughter coming from her friends Jonetta, Shelley and Lisa, better known as “The Brat Pack” by Savannah. 

Encouraged, Eileen continued her lecture.  “Of course, we learned how to do that over a month ago, but you weren’t here then.  I guess your last school never taught you that?” 

Trudy’s cheeks bloomed pink, but from embarrassment or anger Savannah wasn’t sure.  “Oh sure, they taught us that,” Trudy said, eyes narrowed at Eileen.  “They also taught us how to be respectful, which it seems your teacher hasn’t gotten to yet.”  Savannah recognized a slight drawl in her voice; the kind that you get after spending just enough time in a southern state to pick up the habit. 

Eileen’s glossy lips turned down in a little frown.  “Well, I was only trying to help,” she muttered and quickly turned back around to her own work.  Savannah couldn’t hear Trudy’s mumbled response as she returned to chewing on the end of her pencil and staring down the math problems on her page.

Savannah #2

Here is another installment of Savannah.  Right now I'm trying to explore her character and figure out who she is - really get to know her.  The more I know her, the more I will be able to set up a believable plot around her.  It seems strange to do an exercise like this.  After all, shouldn't I be able to just develop the character however I want?  Yes and no.  I'm learning that as I write about Savannah, there are certain things that I write that seem plausible and believable for her, and certain things that just don't really fit her.  So, this little scene is my attempt to get to know Savannah better.  The scene is somewhat depressing.  I didn't intend it to be that way but that's how it came out.  I don't want Savannah to be a dark and morose character, but I think this scene shows a gloomy side of her because she's going through some hard things.  Maybe soon I'll have a scene that shows her lighter side.  This scene also gives some clues into potential problems that could be developed.  Feel free to leave comments about any impressions you have, good or bad.

iary,

It’s day number 116 here.  Thanks to Mrs. Hale teaching us percents I now know that means I’m only 16% through this move.  Of course, that’s if we end up staying here two years.  Nothing much to report today.  Eileen and the Brat Pack seem to have lost interest in me.  Probably because they are bothering the new girl Trudy now.  That’s just fine with me.  At least they’re leaving me alone, and that means I can go back to being invisible Me.  Just waiting for the next move to hurry up and get here.  Only 614 days to go…

Savannah looked at the three little dots left hanging at the end of her last sentence.  She found out from Mrs. Hale that those three dots have a name – ellipsis.  She liked how the dots seemed to hang in space, just waiting for the next words to get there.  Kind of like how she had to wait.  But how nice to be a patient ellipsis on a page of words instead of an impatient 5^th grader watching the time stretch out in an endless road ahead of you.  Or maybe more like a never ending circle, or better yet, an ellipse. 

Sometimes Savannah thought of time like it was laid out on a giant oval race track with January 1^st the starting line and each month connected to the next in a curve of 12 blocks that shaped the oval path.  The black and white checkered line at December 31^st marked the finish line of the year.  But unlike the Nascar races her dad watched on TV where the first driver across the line celebrated by burning out and driving to Victory Lane where they thanked their sponsors and fans, there was no Victory Lane in time.  No matter how many times you crossed the finish line at the end of the year, there was always a new starting line the very next day and little reason to celebrate.  The ellipse of time left you hanging a lot like the ellipsis at the end of a sentence.  But at least those three little dots made you feel like there was hope, like something better was coming to finish the sentence.  Savannah knew she was like that ellipsis, just waiting for something better to come along and finish her.    

Savannah

I'm finally back!  With my masters degree finished, it's time to focus on my writing again.  In fact, I've reinstated a writing course I had to give up a few years ago to devote time to my masters.  The course consisted of ten assignments, the tenth assignment being the one where you submit a publishable piece of work.  This could be a book or an article.  Of course I decided on the book!  The only assignment I didn't finish was the tenth, so I'm now in the process of figuring out how to come back to fiction writing for kids after three inactive years and write a book?!  My first task was to check out a bunch of middle grader chapter books from the library similar to the theme I am looking at writing about.  I've read most of those books in just the last few days and have got a feeling for what I like and what I don't like.  Wow, it's hard to believe some of those books were considered worthy of publishing!  Anyway, I've been putting off the inevitable of sitting down and writing SOMETHING because I just wasn't sure where to start.  Web of ideas?  Outline?  Character details?  I finally decided to focus on the main character as I remember something from my writing course about starting there and developing the story around the character.  So, here is my first attempt at developing a character for my story.  I'm not going to give too many details yet about my story idea as it's still percolating, so I will let the reader fill in the blanks for now.  In fact, if the reader has any suggestions I would love to hear them!  One thing I want to make clear is that while this character sounds similar to my own daughter, it is NOT intended to be my daughter at all.  I've always been of the "write what you know" camp and it's just easier for me to use the character traits of someone close to me to develop a character for a story.  However, this is fiction, so any similarities are coincidence.

avannah sat on her bed, legs crossed and bent over her math book.  Her Jack Skellington sweatshirt was too big for her slight frame and hung loosely off her shoulders.  The white skeleton face of Jack on the front was cracked in many places because of all the washings the sweatshirt had been through.  The black of the sweatshirt faded to a dull hue.  Still, she loved how the sweatshirt fit, like a snug security blanket that she could almost hide in.  The same could be said of her long bangs that hung down past her eyes.  Ragged brown edges that hadn’t been trimmed in a while often covered her large doe eyes, dark brown and fringed with long black lashes.  Both her bangs and her clothes suited her just fine, allowing her to feel hidden.  Not that she was really a wall flower.  She just chose to keep to herself, watching the world pass through a brown fringed curtain. 

Savannah decided it was easier this way, to be unnoticeable.  She had learned after three moves that observation was better than action.  After all, what had action ever gotten her before but sadness at leaving friends and unfinished dreams?  There was the junior choir she’d had to give up for the last move, leaving before she could sing her solo at the spring concert.  The move before that it had been a Girl Scout troop left before she could complete the bridging ceremony to Junior Girl Scouts.  And before that it was a ballet career cut short.  Okay, maybe there had never been a career in the works, but after leaving her first ballet teacher she never enjoyed ballet as much.  Besides, Savannah rationalized that it was better to sit passively on the sidelines when you moved every couple years.  Two years was just enough time to make good friends and get too involved, and that made moves even harder. 

Now, a year into this most recent move, Savannah had stuck to her guns, not joining in any activities and mostly staying to herself.  Of course, it was hard to make friends of girls when you dressed more like a boy.  Savannah looked up from her math book and glanced at the Tony Hawk shoes she wore, remembering the day her mother had bought them for her.

“Are you sure you want these shoes?” her mom had asked.  “They’re boy shoes you know?”

“I don’t care,” Savannah had responded, “I like them.” 

Her mother had looked at her uncertainly.  “Aren’t you worried the girls will make fun of you if you wear these?” she asked.

“No,” Savannah replied simply.  And in reality she was not worried.  It didn’t bother her that some girls might think it was funny that she wore boy’s shoes. 

In the end, her mother had relented and bought her the shoes, and Savannah had worn them every day since, along with her Jack Skellington sweatshirt, much to her mother’s disapproval. 

“You have a closet full of nice clothes that your grandparents and aunts sent you for your birthday.  Why don’t you wear some of those instead?” her mother always asked.

“I do!”  Savannah insisted.  She did wear many of the shirts she had received as gifts.  It’s just that they were always covered by the Jack Skellington sweatshirt.  Anyway, Savannah didn’t like most of the things her grandparents and aunts had sent her:  shirts with flowers and frills, and little skirts and button up pastel sweaters.  It was like her family back home still thought of her as the six year old that had left five years ago.