Sorry, no time for introductions because I taught all day and my kids are driving me NUTSO right now. Just read the previous stuff, or read on, or just…oh, take some deep breaths and drink some cocoa like I clearly need to do.
Writing Music: Bruno Coulais (yes, again), Coraline
“Mister, I’m not—” Just getting those words out was nigh impossible for Chloe. The man practically picked her up and ran into the house, leaving Sumac and Chloe’s parents out in the snow.
“I told you she’d come, Sal, see?” And just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, the man released Chloe and left her spinning in the foyer while he vanished into a neighboring room.
“Hang on!” said an irritated voice behind a closed door on Chloe’s right.
Chloe held her book bundle tight. A cold, lofty spot, this foyer, with an old, hungry smell that pecked at Chloe’s nose. The wooden staircase before her was losing its varnish, not to mention its red carpet. It crooked to hug the fall wall halfway up before continuing to the second level lit by a single lamp.
No need to go there yet.
Chloe took a few steps to the left, where not-Sal had vanished. Sliding doors stood open enough for a fast body to slide through; for now, out of them came more warmth, and the sounds of a crackling fire. Pinned to the wooden doors were at least a dozen pictures of crows. The paper looked faded, the lines and coloring like a child’s.
The pictures continued onto the wood-paneled walls. The more Chloe’s eyes moved around the room, the more crows she saw: carved into the bannister. Statues on a narrow table beneath the climbing stairs. Feathers pinned behind glass with dates scrawled. Frames of wing bones outspread as if they fly on in death. A lit curio full of stuffed crows stood next to the closed door where the voice came from.
A toilet flushed, and the closed door opened to a beanpole of a white man–no, white wasn’t right. A speckled man, really, with messy red hair to match. “Sorry about the smell, Ang. You know how I am–” he paused, staring hard at Chloe. “Oh shit–I mean, crap–I mean, I’m not talking about the smell, in there—” he waved at the toilet behind him. “I mean, the old meat smell. You’re not Angela.” He bowed his head, so flushed his freckles were all but lost.
“She’s my mom.” She held out her hand and kept her chin up. “I’m Chloe.”
“Sal.” He held out his hand–took it back, glancing back at the toilet—
Chloe took it anyway and shook it just as her parents taught, quick and firm.
“That’s it.” Sumac stomped his way in and set the Watchman Family’s luggage next to the curio. “I’m not waiting for them. We may need a rescue operation for your mother, girl.” He hung his hat and coat upon a coatrack with a nest on top. “I’ll get the feed for the yard.”
Sal rolled his eyes. “You’re going to attract bears if you keep that up.”
“It’s your mother’s rule, not mine. Still…” Sumac scratched the last of the snow out of his hair. “Wouldn’t mind some bigger game than crows to wander our way.” With a wink to Chloe he vanished into—
“The kitchen.” Sal shuddered. “Wouldn’t make a sandwich in there right now, if I were you.”
“My stash of oatmeal pies might still be behind the egg collection.” Chloe’s mom, finally in the doorway, the tips of her boots just crossing the threshold. Chloe’s dad had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, his hand on hers, his eyes on Sal and Chloe and crows and stairs and everything all at once. Chloe watched him mouth Holy shit to himself while her mother took one last clean breath of wintry air.
“Thomas, this is the Crow’s Nest,” she said, and led him inside.”

Word Count: 616 Total Count: 3886
Here’s hoping I have a little more time to finish this family reunion tomorrow. x
Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

Oh yes! This is really shaping up to be something special! Huge congratulations on the quality work you’ve produced so far, Jean:))
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I’m so glad you dig this! I felt we needed that moment to get our bearings with the help of at least one of the “brothers” before we continue on. 😉
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You have an instinctive grasp of storytelling and how to go about it… Lovely job!
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You’re making me blush and go all squishy. xxxxx Hugs from Wisconsin to you! x
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Not too squishy, I hope. Don’t want to put you off your writing…
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Never with you, my friend. xxxxxx 🙂
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You must be so so tired yet you can write like this. I love that soundtrack. Hope tomorrow is better for you.
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Oh, tomorrow will be blech: subbing at one school and having to attend meetings for the university, and maybe parent the kids at some point. And write in a few sneaky moments 🙂 Hope you’re well, too!
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Hope the Weekend is better for you. Feels a bit like walking up stream in a flood.
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It really does. I get to meet up with a school friend for dinner, which’ll be great, but the weekend NEEDS me to get through the last of the garage storage so we can claim our basement back. Bo’s being nice about it, but I don’t like working in the chaos downstairs, and it’ll only make finding the Christmas decorations harder. So: clean I must!
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Thoroughly enjoying this.
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And it’s a joy to write, too 🙂
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That’s obvious.
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OOH…. Getting nicely scary….
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Thanks! I think we’ve all been inside a house like this as a kid…albeit without a crow obsession. xxxxxx
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Indeed, x
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