The Aftermath Letter: Final Troubles

Believe it or not, the scene with The Neverending Letter has ended.

You knew I'd show you just to prove this.

You knew I’d show you just to prove this.

As of right now this is the longest scene clocking in at almost fifty-four hundred words.  It also pushed the novel over twelve thousand words last night–not by much, but it’s there.  I surprised myself when I started writing last last night–it was after nine PM my time–and put in another seven hundred words, because I didn’t expect to go there after a long weekend of writing and working, and yesterday was my semi-annual trip to my doctor to get checked out.

Now all I have to do is get through the rest of the week.

Given that there isn’t that much of the letter left I’m gonna print it all now–if you can call this printing.  So lets finish it up so we can get on to some different feels…

 

(The following excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Three: C For Continuing, copyright 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)

There was a lot of shocked silence after that, but I needed them to know that they were wasting their time: I was going back to Salem and they couldn’t do anything to change that fact. It didn’t sit well with Mom ‘cause she’s this enormous control freak and for me to tell her she had no control spun her right out. And while Dad may have slightly been on my side, he probably didn’t care for me to be so assertive about what I told them.
That’s pretty much what this is all about: they don’t like that I did things without their knowledge and that I didn’t care after the fact. I think the idea that I’m a witch means little to them, but the idea that I hid this for almost two years drives them nuts.
‘Course I think the magic thing bothers them, too. I did some levitation and a bit of window shading and they looked at me like I was some strange kid out of a Stephen King novel; if I’d done transformation magic or sorcery instead they’d have thought I was demon. After breakfast Mom told me again not to do any magic around them and I said nothing, just went to my room which is where I almost always go anyway.
If they don’t want me doing magic, that’s cool: I can live with that. But they aren’t telling me where I’m going to school. I can put up with a lot of them crap, but they’re crazy if they think I’m blowing off Salem just because they don’t want me going there to learn more “witching stuff”, something my mom said during breakfast.
They just don’t get me.

 

If there is a single thought that can sum up the Kerry/Parents relationship, it’s that last:  “They just don’t get me.”  And now that they know their past “normal” kid is anything but, they’re probably getting him even less now.  It’s one thing when you think you can keep your kid under your thumb, but when you discover that you kid can now throw up black curtains and darken windows and shut doors without being near them and have balls of light suddenly appear, it probably has his mom wondering where she went wrong when it came to parenting.  Because if there’s also one thing the Malibeys don’t get, it’s themselves.

However, there’s something else:

 

The letter ended there about two-thirds of the way down the page, but one page remained, and this didn’t fill Annie with confidence she would find something good on that last page. She pulled out the last page and read:

It’s Sunday night and things are—well, not bad but not good, either. Dinner felt oppressive: no one wanted to talk, everyone just sat there and ate. I got a lot of dirty looks, mostly from my mom.
I get what’s happening: it’s the same silent treatment they throw at me whenever I’ve done something that’s pissed them off. I’m sorta used to it, but it gets old after a while and I wonder how long they’re gonna keep it up this time.
Oh, they weren’t completely silent: about half way through dinner Mom asked if “that girl who writes” is also a witch. I said yes, Annie’s a witch and a really great one, too. She must have seen something in my face ‘cause she gave me the strangest look for about five seconds after I spoke. You don’t know how hard I wanted to say “She’s my girlfriend, Mom, and I love her” just so I could watch her freak some more, but that isn’t how I want to introduce you to them.
You deserve a lot better than that.
ти си любовта на живота ми, ми един и само сродна душа.

Annie felt her emotions welling up as she reread the last line. Ti si lyubovta na zhivota mi, mi edin i samo srodna dusha: you are the love of my life, my one and only soulmate. Mama was right: puberty was making it far more difficult to hide her feelings, at least when it came to powerful emotions. And when it came to her feelings about Kerry, there were few emotion that came close in strength—

There was a knock at the door. Annie looked over her right shoulder. “Come in, Mama.”

 

So there is it:  “The Girl Who Writes” is also one of those Witchy Types, and a great one at that, though Louise has no idea just how great.  And just as puberty is messing with Annie’s ability to keep herself locked down as tight as she once was, Kerry feels he let something slip through his expression, and now Mama Malibey is probably wondering about this Annie the Witch and what sort of… spell she has over her son.  Well, I’m sure Kerry could probably pull up the likely hundreds of pictures he’s taken of them with his phone over the last couple of years and she’d probably get a good idea.

And since at the start of his C Levels he sort of let slip that they were given “the sex talk” together…  Ai, ay ay!  Louise probably started having flash forwards of Kerry bringing home a magical girl to introduce as a soon-to-be daughter-in-law, and that’s where someone with Louise’s level of “I need to be in control” tend to freak out even more, because now there’s another girl in their son’s life, and this one can probably fly a broom as well.

Oh, I can’t wait until these two meet.