The Morning Questions

Hola, everyone.  The morning has been a strange one, let me tell you.  I have some traveling and pampering to do today, so I was not only up at five-thirty to have coffee and think about what lay ahead, but I also started in on getting this post ready, because I need to be on the road in about–well, about ninety minutes right now, and before I can get ready and dress and put on my makeup, I have to bring over what was written last night and get it set up–

But then I start looking at the new scene I started the night before and I want to do things.

I ended the evening going about six hundred and fifty words into the scene, and I was good with that because I wasn’t really feeling the writing mood.  You may know how that goes:  it’s all blahs and stuff, and you sort of push yourself along to get the words out.  I figured I’d do a little polish this morning before bringing over the excerpts.

But as soon as my polishing was completed I’m sitting here looking at this scene and I’m thinking, “I can’t just leave it where I found it, can I?”  Nope, sure couldn’t.  So I started writing.  Not a lot–just two hundred and five words–but it added a bit more to the narrative.  Not to mention it lets me get a head start on tonight’s writing, because I fully expect to end this scene tonight after, well, after all the stuff I have planed for today.

Oh, and in putting in the extra two hundred words, I pushed the final count over one hundred and twenty-four thousand words, which means I could go over one hundred and twenty-five thousand tonight, and maybe be at one thirty by the time Labor Day weekend starts.  Which, if that happens, means I’m well into the next chapter and perhaps the next part.  Rockin’ good news.

But that’s in the future.  What’s happening in Bay #1 in Salem right now?  This:


(All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015 by Cassidy Frazee)

When Annie pulled back the privacy curtain and floated the levitated breakfast tray into Bay #1 Kerry was waiting, awake. She returned the smile he beamed her way. “I see you’re finally up.”

“Up is a relative term.” He glanced about his body, which was for the most part still frozen in place. “The casts are gone but I can’t move.”

“It’s the immobilization enchantment. I asked Nurse Gretchen about it, and she Coraline would take care of it when she came in after breakfast.” Annie elevated the head of the bed so Kerry was mostly sitting up and positioned the tray over his stomach. “In the meantime I’ll take care of you.”

“Well, thank you, Darling.” He examined the tray. “Princesses and tomatoes, fruit, yogurt, tomato juice.” Kerry closed his eyes for a second as he breathed in the aromas wafting off the tray. “Quite the breakfast. Won’t be long before you having me eating Bulgarian food all the time.”

“Why not? I do.” She unfolded a napkin and lay over Kerry’s chest. “Hasn’t hurt me once.”

“You have an advantage I don’t.”

“Do you remember the dream we had when I turned eleven, where you told me you couldn’t wait to try the same food I ate?” She picked up a princesse slice and held it so Kerry could take a bite. “Your wish came true.”

He swallowed before answering. “Yes, it did. That and a few others.” He enjoyed a couple of pineapple chunks before speaking again. “What time did you get up?”

“Normal time: about five-thirty.” She offered him a slice of tomato before giving him a sip of juice. “I spoke with Nurse Gretchen and went down to the kitchen to see about breakfast.”

“Did you see Coraline?”

“No. She was in about three: Emma woke up about that time and was apparently undergoing some sort of distress, so she came in to calm her down and help her get back to sleep.”

“I can imagine.”

It’s likely you do know what she experienced. Annie dabbed the napkin at the corner of Kerry’s mouth. She’s never found herself hurt like this, and you have, so you know the pain and disorientation of returning to consciousness in the middle of the night. At least you had someone in the bay to calm you—she had no one . . .


Now, I know what some of you are thinking:  “Why is Annie feeling sorry for that little bitch?”  It is true that given the right circumstances, Annie would rip out Emma’s lungs and stomp on them–that is a given because the Real Annie told me so herself.  But My Story Annie also ins’t a vindictive person, and she hasn’t exactly run down to the end of the ward where Emma has spend most of the day unconscious to screw with her IVs and rearrange her casts and yank out her catheter–no, she’s spent her time with Kerry and not really said anything mean or nasty.  Why would she?  After all, it’s not like Emma crashed him and walked away in slow motion, a smirk playing over her face while Kerry’s broom explodes in the background like they’re both in the next Die Hard movie.

No, she damn near killed herself in the process because she was stupid.  And while there are a lot of things Annie might beat her ass over, Emma getting hoisted by her own petard isn’t one of them, even if she did put Kerry in the hospital at the same time.  All you Elsas can take her advice and let it go, ’cause Annie knows when to go dark witch on someone, and this isn’t the time.

That out of the way, Annie’s thinking about something else entirely . . .


She didn’t want to dwell on Emma waking up in the middle of the night—there was another night event she wanted to discuss and learn more. “You were dreaming last night.”

“Yeah, I was.”

She was surprised to see him nod. “You remember?”

“I remember I was dreaming . . .” For a moment his face took on a dreamy, far-away expression. “That’s about all, though.”

If he remembers dreaming, maybe he knows more and I can learn something— “Do you remember any of the dream?”

“I was speaking with someone—”

“I could tell: it sounded like you were speaking with another person.”

“Wait—” He appeared surprised. “You could hear me?”

“It was like we were back on the flight from Berlin and coming out of adjustment.” She offered him another bite of princesse so he couldn’t remark right away. “Though this time you didn’t mention my name.”

What?” Kerry tried to sit up, but the immobilization enchantment held him in place. “I talked about you the last time?”

“You didn’t mention my name, but it was obvious you were talking to someone about me.” She moved the tray to one side and slid up onto the bed, careful not to bump into Kerry’s arm. She offered him a sip of tomato juice. “Were you speaking with that girl again? The one you mentioned the last time?”

He took three sips and waited about five seconds after swallowing before nodding slowly. “Yes, I was.”


Oh, that girl again?  The term “that girl” gets tossed around a lot here, and it’s a phrase I like to use when someone–usually Annie–is talking about someone who isn’t worthy of being mentioned by name.  At least Annie remembered what was said in Kerry’s dream–

Done with a little help from split-screen writing, mind you.

Done with a little help from split-screen writing, mind you.

But there’s another reason why this dream maven is called “that girl”, and it’s really quite simple:


The right corner of Annie’s mouth curled upward. “Who is she?”

“She’s . . .” He closed his eyes and opened them in a slow motion blink. “I don’t know.”

“Really?” Annie keep her face impassive while holding the fork with a speared strawberry only centimeters from his lips. “She’s a complete stranger? You haven’t met her before? She hasn’t told you her name?”

He took the strawberry and chewed it slowly, taking his time to answer. “No.”

“I see.” Annie smiled to show she wasn’t up. “Another dream mystery.”

“I don’t mean it to be that way.” He lay back, resting his head against the pillow. “It’s like I can see myself speaking with her, but everything is so . . .” He nodded his head from side-to-side. “Fuzzy.”

Should I tell him what I heard? Annie was unsure if mentioning what she’d heard would trigger his memory, but she quickly put that thought aside. This isn’t like the mental block he had with our dreams; déjà vu isn’t involved here. “It sounded as if she were bothering you.”

Kerry did his best to shrug. “She probably was.”

Annie’s expression changed quickly. “Why do you say that?”

“Because she’s just . . . annoying.” He ate another pineapple chunk offered and followed it with a sip of tomato juice. “It’s like she wants to bother me just to bother me. And I don’t know why.”


There’s a moment here where Annie is really pressing for information, and Kerry isn’t forthcoming.  It does seem as if Annie’s more concerned with a dream girl than the real one a few ward bays over, but that’s the way Annie becomes at times.  She’s curious about why he’s talking in his sleep, and she wants to know more–

And . . . maybe she’ll find out.  After I’m through with pampering.