To See the Almost Invisible Girl

The mind has been crazy of late, and by “crazy”, I mean I’ve been on a bit of a roller coaster.  The day wasn’t bad, but my emotions were all over the place, and at one point I thought I might have to hop on the phone and call the hot line that I keep in my contacts.  Which one?  That one.  The one you don’t ever want to go to.

It never got to that because I started writing.  I don’t want to say I was saved by writing, but it was doing a damn good job on me.  And I picked up right where I left off, with Jessica commanding her class, discussing with her eager young mind their assignment, and what they were using for their spell:


(All excerpts, this page, from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

She pointed at several of the work cubicles as she walked past. “Today you’re going to attempt to transform the air as I did and render the items in the container you have have in a similar state.” She reached into one cubical and picked up a plexiglass box that contained three white mice. “The assignment is to turn each of these creatures invisible. I will considering anyone turning one invisible a minor success, while rendering all three invisible will make me look upon you with great admiration.”

She lifted the box over her head and turned from left to right slowly. “Though I know some of you are fearful of loosing control of your spell and killing your test subjects, but you needn’t worry. There are not real mice: they are simulacra, or simulated animals. They look like real mice: they move, they breath, they see and hear, they even bite if you give them the chance. You’ll encounter these in many of our tests, as you will encounter homunculi in your self defense class. Fitz, Adric, and Ramona cook these up for us, so we can work on our magic without fear of killing an animal—or another human.

“It is possible to destroy these simulacra, but their aren’t going to suffer, nor will they end up a bloody mess on your work counter. When a simulacrum is destroyed, it dissolves into a gray film that’s easy to wipe away—” She handed the container back to the student. “Though that film will tell me all I need to know about your efforts to perform the spell.”


Homunculi:  keep those in mind.  You’ll see them in the next chapter.  As for the mice simulacra–I wouldn’t worry about them too much.

"Do I look like a simulation to you, lady?"

“Do I look like a simulation to you, lady?”

Have some cheese before you dissolve away into nothing.

It was a good run at the scene, with the worlds flowing out effortlessly.  The night before was horrible, but that was due to distractions.  This time is was me and my kids and their story, nothing else.  Not even the bad thoughts I’d had earlier.  They were no longer seen, just like this:


There was a soft gasp from his left; Kerry recognized the voice as Annie’s. “Did you see that?” He turned to his left—

Annie was there, only she now looked like Patchwork Annie. She was visible in parts: a little of the upright right side of her head, some of her lower left arm and part of the hand, some of her waist, a little of both thighs. And even these parts that were visible didn’t come across as solid—Kerry imagined trying to see her through translucent glass painted to look like the classroom. She’s tried making herself invisible, like the professor showed us. He giggled as he reached out and touched her unseen right arm. “You are there.” He gave it a light squeeze. “This is really good.”


That Annie:  she only shows these things to one person.  Kerry tends to do the same thing, though . . .

If it hadn’t been that I was watching Fargo last night–which was a scary and heartbreaking episode–I’d have finished the scene.  I’ll do that tonight, then start the last scene of the chapter, which is going to extremely heartwarming, and then it’s on to the next chapter, which is not only going to be fun, but it’s going to change the path my kids are walking.

They be rollin', haters be hatin'.

They be rollin’, haters be hatin’.

Twelve hundred words last night.  Not a bad total for something you weren’t suppose to see.