Moving part 2 (or one of many parts to the ghost story)

* A continuation from here still quite rough and still needs some unifying editing. I will get there.*

“What do you mean? Does the house have a history”
“Well I wouldn't say that. I t seems that when people buy it they don’t stay long but it sits empty for a while before it goes on the market. I don’t know why but that is what people have been talking about.”
“People talk about that house?” for some reason my heart has picked up speed and I have a pit forming in my stomach. Could our wonderful house be a problem? A lemon that no-one knows what to do with.
“Ma’am Don’t worry it is nothing bad. Everyone says it is a wonderful house. People just get sick or get transfered out of state no-one wants to give it up.”
Although I feel my momentary panic abate. I have a sinking feeling in the back of my brain some thing about doors, cats, and mop buckets. I need to get this show on the road.
I am able to se this conversation aside and discount it as my excitement begins to build as I watch the moving truck fill. So I will be able to watch it empty and my belonging fill my house.
My house what a wonderful thing to be able to say.
209 words

Prompts (or the lack there of)

OK I was posting prompts and now I am not. I am enjoying keeping going on this story it may going slowly and jumping around a bit but I am feeling some sense of accomplishment. I have been writing the same creative piece for a total of 7 and of that five in a row. I have 2,671 words on one story! Not including the descriptive piece on The girl. I am please at my progress when I put it that way.

Any way let me share some of the inspirational prompts that I have seen (but not used) over on the "LJ group"

Quotes:
-A baby is born with a need to be loved - and never outgrows it. ~Frank Howard Clark 
-What unites us—the ultimate ground of our claim to equality—is our common ignorance of the central questions posed for us by the univers ~Paul Freund

Word prompts:
-trick, lovely, brook
-reserve, true, company
-pocked, acidic, wintry
-exult, pale, brassy

*Continuing on from yesterday...Sorry this is going slowly I am feeling a bit over focused on this part and need to find a way to the end with a good picture of the house*

Rolling down the window I ask, “When does the open house start?”
“As soon as you all walk in the front door, ma’am”
“Ok then” we walk up the front walk it’s stone like cobbles interspersed with brick step was shorter than it appeared and very unique. Although the house was at the bottom of a hill it sat on a slight rise that made the front walk and the driveway steep although this is masked by the lay out of the driveway and the yard.

It had not snowed much so the yellow brown grass poked through the light dusting of snow and ice. The walkway and steps clear of most ice and snow except that which has drifted into the crakes between the cobbles and bricks making them more crisp and clean in it appearance. One could only imagine that it would be softened by moss and other detritus during the rest of the year.

The front door was a warm rich brown stained wood with a thin arched beveled and pebbled glass window in the center of it. It was behind all glass Storm door. The had a look of being new. But the color and style was a little older and more classic that much of what we had seen. to the left of the door and partially hidden by the well manicured yew bushes in from of the large porch was the bay window. I squeezed my husbands hand. It was more than I had seen from the street. There were no window coverings and  I can see into the front room It is a very large space, and empty.

Waking in I hear and feel the hardness of the wood floor. It is the dark finished floor of my dreams. Some one has sought to protect it’s finish in the entrance way with a small door mat. My husband set our daughter down on the floor. She cocks her three year old head to the side and fixes the realtor with a quizzical gaze.
“Is there a good back yard?” she asks
“Why yes sweetie shall we go look? It has a jungle gym”.
She walks us through the down stair telling us that he house was 25 years old and had  only 3 owners. The current owner lived here for only a year before failing health meant she had to move to supported living apartment. The house has been empty for 2 years and on the market for 18 months.

417 words

The Begining...

 *Here is what I wrote yesterday. And yes there is an odd throw-away line at the end. But in case you didn't know I have a 200 words a day goal for November and my Mini-NaNoWriMo
This is kind of the start the first view of the house and yes way fluff with out substance*


January was not the best time to look to buy a house but we wanted to find one before out lease ended in four months.

Every Sunday was the same we would sit down and look through the paper for open houses. We had had one evening with a realtor who only showed us new houses that were too white inside to have any character. We wanted room and character we didn’t want new and shiny.

On this one Sunday we decided to just check out some neighborhood. see what was in them. We drove toward the schools. Thinking that we would see something there. Past the high-school we turned down a hill the lane was tree lined with a few houses along it with no sidewalks just big front yards. The variance between these house showed a lack of neighborhood plan and individuality. at the bottom of the hIll stood a colonial style house with abig bay window and a for sale sign. We stopped in the circle in front of it. and as we were deciding to get out and grab a flyer the realtor came out with a open house sign.

Was this some sort of fate.

201 words

Moving part 1 (or one of many parts to the ghost story)

* OK here is another part to the story one with a bit of the zinger but not too much other action*

The morning is chilly for March. We have turned down the heat in the apartment to prepare for the mover to come and get our belongings for the short trek to our house.
I am perched on the arm of the couch holding an old mug full of hot tea trying to inhale the steam to warm me. My husband has taken out daughter to daycare for the morning. She didn’t want to go. But we have promised that as soon as the moving truck is at the house we will go get her. But for now I am waiting for them to arrive, alone. I breathe in the steam in soak up the quiet.
Surrounded by boxes. I cannot get comfortable or relax. Not that I really want to. I feel the pressure of time right now. I wan to leave this small crowded apartment. The packed and stacked boxes make the feeling more urgent and tight. The time although slowly moves my mug slowly cools and empties. I start to consider what I can stuff into my own car to start the move without needing to wait longer.
I slump back into the box behind me and sight loudly to break the silence.
“Hello, Ma’am” questions a voice, starling me. It has come from from the other side of the boxes I have slumped against on the couch. I sit up and peer over the box. A large burly man with a hand truck is standing in the open door way.
“Ummm Hi?” I enquire back.
“I’m Rick I’m from the Ver River Moving Company. You husband let me in. He said he was going down to the storage area. to get the bikes. I take it you were tired of waiting. I didn’t think we were late. My crew is outside.”
“Oh, No your not it is just the anticipation” I reply feeling the blush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks, “Ok, everything is labeled. Let me know If you have any questions. You can use the patio door if that will help.”
“So you bought ‘The House at the Bottom of the Hill’?” he says conversationally. “I was wondering is anyone would buy that place again.”


370 words!

Describing the girl

*I am not completely happy with this as a stand alone or as a part of the bigger piece as it stands but it helps I hope maybe it will become part of the story in the end in fragment here and there*


She stands in the middle of everything on the play ground, her hands on her hips head cocked to onside. She is watching it all, soaking it up, and considering her options. She will choose what she can do. Her chubby cheeks and bright blue eyes show more thought than your average three-and-a-half-year-old.

Her wispy hair pokes out from the hack of her pink fleece hat in a soft outward light brown curl. Bangs barely poke out of the front. The hat fastens under her chin. She is wearing a nubby dark bLue and Green fleece coat and pink boots the day is warm and dry enough though to skip the snow pants so you can see her white and Blue striped leggings and her blue and white striped dress.

A huge smile crosses her face and she runs for the two boys on the sleek wooden play structure. She swiftly climbs up and joins her friends chatting away with ease.

Quite time in the classroom she is sitting at a table with a book slowly examining each page as she quietly flips through it. Under her chair her legs are swinging indication that much more than one can guess. Unlike her class mates she enjoys this book time and often does this while thy nap. This often lead to time spent with her teacher

She can write and spell he name. She has a natural curiosity that has her examining things longer than most preschoolers. Despite this curiosity she would rather explore and learn something for her self than ask a lot of questions of others. She is a reserved but happy child.

Her favorite friends are her parents she would rather be with them than any one else but has very little separation anxiety. She trusts that they will always come back. Only very new situations unnerve her. She loves to laugh and make her parents laugh.

Her quick mind is aided by the uncluttered nature of minds her age. She is quick to notice things and pick up on a mood. She understands the concepts of real and imaginary she know that Sesame Street is not real and that these are only actors and puppets. No-one ever told her she figured it out instinctively.

383 words

Part 2 (Day 1 MiniNaNo)

This is continued from here.

The light of the day has dwindled into a pale evening. As we drive up the hill away from our newly purchased house the fine streaks of daylight in their oranges red and purples begin to embrace the sky. The moon is just visible in the grey sky. A full moon. My husband incline his head toward me.
“You know there was a couple times that I could have sworn the cats were already in the house today.” he says
“What do you mean”
“Well I’d see a tail, or something, disappearing around the corner but when the mop bucket tipped over I could have sworn I even heard cats scampering away.”
“Really?” Although I had some of the same feelings I don’t admit it. “Well, I bet you are just so used to cats being around that your brain is playing tricks on you. Seeing and hearing what you expect.”

We laugh about this and pull into the small parking lot to pick up our daughter. Her sweet 3-year-old face lights up to get both Mommy and Daddy picking her up.
“Do I have a backyard now Daddy?” She asks as she jumps up into his arms.
“Yes and we will go see it in the morning sweetie now we need to go back to our old place and get ready for the movers to come and get our stuff in the morning.”

Our apartment feels small and crowded especially after the large empty house. It is warmer and still feels firmly of home. Tonight is for packing and Pizza very little left to do.

The alarm goes off with extra urgency and very loudly. I open my eyes to see it’s face blurred barley 2 inches from the end of my nose. I takes me a moment to realize that I am sleeping on the mattress on the floor as everything else is stacked boxed and dismantled. the small box that the clock sits on is almost the same height as the mattress and I have curled up very close to the edge. I often try and get as close to the alarm clock as I can when the next morning is full of exiting promises. I slap the button on top of the clock giving the

My mind races through the day a head the movers are coming. We have so much to do. I can hear my husband still breathing the long relaxed breaths of sleep. The temptation to let him rest and stay in bed for the next hour rises in me but with the excitement of getting our belonging ensconced in out new home triumphs and I sit up putting my feet on the floor.

I feel the stiffness that has settled in from yesterday’s hard work. My right hand hurts the most. between washing down everything down and the signing of my name what felt like several hundred times. I massage my right hand relieving some of its ache but adding to the ache of the left. As I switch I marvel at how relieving pain can cause pain else where.

520 words

More here.

Comments and questions very welcome!