The Second Second Breakfast Run

All the tails of misery and pain are out of the way, or at least as much as possible for now.  Now it’s back to the regularly scheduled events of the week, which are normally fairly boring and easy going.

That means it’s time to get back to editing and one of my favorite couple of scenes in the book.

The last two days were spent getting into the scene I titled Second Breakfast way back in April, 2014, pretty much as a way of venting some frustration.  This all happened during a discussion with someone close to me who started complaining that two scene earlier, when Kerry first met Ms. Rutherford for breakfast she decided to have something to eat as well, and  they began questioning whether or not she’d had breakfast with the other kids, and if so, how could she eat again so soon?  Personally I felt it was really kind of a ridiculous thing to hang on, but it ended up being forty minutes of back and forth before I finally said I’d change the scene.

(There was also a forty-five minute discussion over the used of the metric system versus the imperial system for measurements throughout the story–her argument was that Americans wouldn’t read the book because they didn’t understand the system, while my argument was that The Foundation couldn’t call themselves a “world wind organization” if they were using a measuring system used in only three countries in the world–and that argument I one simply because it’s my story.  Nener, nener, nener.)

But this is really the first scene where we hear the terms “Legacy” and “Normal” with a Big Freakin’ N, and if you’re playing attention you realize there’s something going on with this Ms. Rutherford woman, and that Annie isn’t quite like the other kids.  And this is the beginning of the first time Annie began making her play for The Kid From Cardiff, and a question was asked:

The following excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, 2015, by Cassidy Frazee)

“What are we gonna do if we go out?” All Kerry had with him was £50 he’d hidden away over the last couple of years: there wasn’t any way he could get around London on that amount. “How we suppose to get around or do anything?”

Annie patted the envelope with her left hand. “Ms. Rutherford left prepaid debit cards with £200 on them for each of us to use. No need to worry about money for the day.”

“Oh.” Kerry’s stared off to a far corner of the room as he seemed to consider Annie’s comment.

Seeing the indecision on Kerry’s face, Annie knew the time had come to push the forty-four percent odds towards her favor. She reached out and touched his left hand: Kerry’s head swiveled around to face her. “Would you like to do something? Would you like to go somewhere with me, Kerry?”


There’s the question we’ll hear some, oh, three hundred thousand words from now, but here it gets asked three times, and this is also the very first time we see her do something to Kerry she’s never done before:  she touches his hand in a non-handshaking way.  Of course this  makes Kerry nervous, because girls, and this leads to a discussion of why she’s asking Kerry, and why she’s not asking the other two students with them.  Because Annie is a little girl who knows what she wants, even this early in the story.

And we get this right near the end:


She realized she’d made Kerry a bit uncomfortable, but there was also the possibility that he was completely focused on her, and if she asked him that question again, there was a good chance his mind wouldn’t wander this time.  “Would you like to do something?  Would you like to go somewhere with me, Kerry?”  She leaned every so slightly towards him.  “I’d rather not spend all day in the hotel, but I’d also rather not wander about London by myself.  I’d like you to join me.”  She sifted in her chair, sitting back while never allowing her gaze to drift from him.  “Please?”


That Annie:  such a forceful eleven year old girl.  If one didn’t know any better, one could say she was about to lean in for a kiss, but we know she’d never do that in public.

So much more to go, and the PDAs are already starting.

So much more to go, and the near-PDAs are already starting.

As the next scene is well over five thousand words long it’s likely going to take me a couple of days to edit.  But that’s the one where we get to see them walking around London–

And we know what these kids are like when they are left together on their own.

The New Tradition

Chapter Thirty is a go, and more of a go than I’d imagined.  That’s due, in part, to a lot of re-figuring of this section that I’ll actually discuss more once I get to the end of this excerpt.  For now, let’s get into the morning, which isn’t going to be as long as the last we just visited–


(All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015, 2016 by Cassidy Frazee)

The overcast to the east was slightly lighter than the rest of the sky as Annie reached the Flight School only moments after the alarm on Kerry’s phone sounded, indicating the time as five-thirty. At a time when most students were sleeping in or just starting their Friday morning, Annie and her always-present chase pilot were getting ready for her biggest solo flight—

But first they needed to get through the pre-flight ritual.

Annie found it unusual to find an after-dinner email from Vicky indicating the time she needed to report to the Flight School, but more importantly how she wanted her breakfast prepared. She asked Kerry about this when they met a few minutes later before heading out for a relaxing evening in their tunnel hideout, but all he’d tell her was that he’d received an email as well, and that Vicky asked him not to say anything about what was going to happen in the morning. Try as she could short of quickly brewing a Draught of Submission, there wasn’t a thing Annie could do to make Kerry give up this secret.

Upon entering the Hanger Annie headed to the spiral staircase and proceeded to the second floor, as the email had instructed. She headed down the long corridor to the Flight Deck, but instead of entering that room she stopped before the last door on the right and knocked.

Vicky answered the knock, half-opening the door. “Ah, right on time.”

“Yes.” Annie put on her best smile. “Can we come in now?”

“Certainly.” Vicky stood aside allowing unobstructed access. “Nikh’nas.”


That last part is “Enter” in Hebrew, because Vicky being Jewish and all, and this is the first time we’ve actually heard her say anything in that language.  She’s proficient enough that she could hold a conversation with a native speaker, but that likely doesn’t happen much.

Also:  doesn’t Annie have feminine wiles she can use on Kerry to get him to tell her things?  After all, they did spend the evening in their “tunnel hideout”, as Annie calls it, and that means they were alone and Annie–well, she could have asked or cajoled or whatever, right?  She must be losing it.

So what is this ritual Annie must perform that is so important Kerry is willing to take the secret to his grave?


The moment she was inside Annie quickly scanned the room. There wasn’t much to see: a few chairs along the side walls, two projection screens on the far wall, a long table with two chairs facing them in front of the screens, a podium in the right-hand corner.

What drew her attention, however, was a second table in the middle of the room situated five meters from the other table, with two chairs set facing the far wall. Before each chair were two plates of food, a tall glass containing a beverage, silverware, and a napkin. While each of the smaller plates and the glasses were different, both of the larger plates contained the same thing: a steak and two eggs prepared sunny-side up, though the steak in the left-hand plate was much smaller than the one on the right.

Isis, wearing jeans and a sweater, stood on the other side of the middle table. The moment Vicky closed the door the security director motioned the couple forward. “Good morning.”

Annie stood behind the chair on the left, holding the back lightly in both hands. “Good morning.” She examined the plates of food. “I take it this is why we’re here so early?”

“It is indeed.” Isis spread here arms wide. “The traditional final solo breakfast of steak and eggs.” She chuckled. “Though you two are only the second to partake in this particular tradition.”

Kerry stood behind his chair examining the plate before him. “Oh?”

“Yes. I’ve only done this for one other student. It’s been a tradition elsewhere for fliers elsewhere, and I thought, what the hell? May as well do the same here.” She nodded towards the kids. “We know how you guys normally sit, so everything is laid out as expected.”


Steak and Eggs is the title of this scene, and I’d decided a long time ago–even before I began plotting this novel–that Annie was going to get this breakfast before heading out on her final solo flight.  There’s reasons for this, and they’re going to get brought up in the next scene, but for now–yeah, she’s getting steak for breakfast.

Now, about the changes:  I’ve said before that while I do a lot of plotting nothing is actually written in stone.  I mapped out all three of Annie’s solo flights, but after getting the first two out of the way, once I began re-examining the final one, I saw that it left me wanting.  So I set about changing it, and in doing so I had to change the time lines and a few other things–one of which was using a specialized web tool so I could figure out compass headings.

You can't see any of that stuff yet, but just wait.

You can’t see any of that stuff yet, but just wait.

Most of all, though, I changed the date.  Originally Annie’s solo flight was Saturday morning, 13 April, 2013, but as I wrote this scene, and as I remembered why this scene was developed in the first place, I realized that I was missing something incredibly important.  So the date was moved up to Friday, 12 April, and the reason for this is going to become painfully clear–

Though right now it’s probably clear only to me.

Hot and Cold Awakenings

I’m back on schedule, more or less.  Got home tired, almost feel asleep in my chair, and did my last Human recap, then I started on the story.  And it didn’t start out the way I expected . . .

Originally this scene, titled Tied at One, was supposed to take place in the afternoon, after lunch and before racing started.  24 November, 2012, is the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend in the US, otherwise why would the scene before happen on Black Friday?  But, you know, books aren’t written in stone, at least not any more, so you can change things around as they suit you.  And the way I started seeing this scene play out, I felt it was more of a breakfast scene than something after lunch.  More of a “Kerry is awake but crabby” scene, which is something started in the first couple of paragraphs.

With that in mind I started, and right away I knew where I was going . . .


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

“So what it is we’re having for breakfast?” Walking towards the Great Hall Kerry tried to keep his mind off the fact that right now, at seven in the morning, it was as warm as it was going to get. It was eight Celsius at the moment, and by race time it was going to be about a degree cooler and a whole lot windier. It didn’t help that he’d been sore throughout most of the Friday Midnight Madness, due to having flown over eight hundred kilometers during the Black Friday Scavenger Flight, and that he hadn’t slept well.

Now he was trying to remember the name of the dish she’d planed for them this morning, and failing miserably . . .

“It’s mekitsa.” Annie looped her arm through Kerry’s and hugged it tight to her body. “It’s deep fried dough made with eggs, flour, and yogurt. We’ll have ours with feta cheese, since we both like that.”

“Uh, huh. And this drink—?”

“Ayran. It’s cold yogurt mixed with salt.” She scrunched her shouldered as she thought of the culinary treats. “The last time I had a breakfast like this was the morning I left for Berlin.”

“Why haven’t you had it since?”

“It’s a bit different than princesses or banitsa, and I was concerned you might not enjoy this.”

Kerry pressed against Annie as they walked, smiling for the first time. “How long have I known you?”

She looked upward as if she were deep in thought. “All my life.”

“Mine, too. Have I ever not wanted to try something you’ve recommended?”

This time Annie did consider the question. “Hum . . . no. Everything I’ve ever recommended you’ve not only tried, but liked.”

He nodded. “Which reminds me, I’d love some teshko—”

“Teleshko vareno.” She began laughing at Kerry’s mispronunciation of the Bulgarian beef soup. “I know: it’s going to be chilly today, and a few bowls of that will be perfect. Maybe a large one at dinner—” She snuggled closer and kissed his check. “—another during the Midnight Madness. I can ask Una if they can start a pot this afternoon.”

“Just the think to take off the creeping winter chill.” He waved open the heavy West Entrance door. “After you, Darling.”

“Thank you, my love.” She giggled as she walked through the open passage. Ever since their garden discussion after the Samhain Dance, Kerry had taken to calling her “Sweetie” less and “Darling” more. She loved both sobriquets, but darling touched her more. He’s saying it to be cute, but— She waited for Kerry to join her inside the West Transept as the heavy door swung shut behind him. I can also hear his affection buried inside the word. It means so much to hear him express his love this way

“What are you thinking?” He swooped up behind her and cradled her in his arms.

She leaned back into him, thankful they were standing near one of the walls. “That you’re becoming as Bulgarian as me. You’re learning the language, your love our food—”

“Love certain girls from there.” He hugged her tight and kissed her.

Annie chuckled. “You most certainly do.” She slipped out of his grasp. “Come, my love—” She pulled him towards the Rotunda. “Breakfast awaits.”


Yes, the way to a boy’s heart–if you haven’t already gotten it–is to feed him Bulgarian cuisine.  It’s a good thing Annie’s Bulgarian, huh?  And what are these dishes?

First mekitsa.  It’s like Annie said:  it’s deep fried dough made with eggs, flour, and yogurt.  You put a rising agent in the dough, and as it rises you pluck off balls of it, flatten, and throw it in a fryer.  Then you serve it with jam or feta cheese, and you can even use a little powdered sugar on them as well.

Just like this.  Yummy.

Just like this. Yummy.

Ayran is also like Annie said:  a cold yogurt drink made by mixing it with water.  Some say it’s really nothing more than diluted yogurt, but it’s supposed to be cooling and refreshing.   It’s hugely popular in Turkey, but you can find it in Bulgaria as well.

You can see Annie chugging this down while sitting on the deck of her lake house.

You can see Annie chugging this down while sitting on the deck of her lake house.

This last dish mentioned, teleshko vareno.  It’s a beef soup that’s done up either in a pressure cooker or cooked slow for a long time, because the meat used is usually a shank, and you have to cook the hell out of it to get it nice and tender.  By cooking it for hours in a large pot you get all the right spices into the meat and the good smells throughout the house, and it’ll be nice and flavorful, just like with ox tail soup, which I’ve had and love.

Just the sort of thing you'd want on a chilly, windy day.

Just the sort of thing you’d want on a chilly, windy day.

One could say that the reason Annie’s getting Kerry accustomed to all this Bulgarian cuisine is because it’s what she knows, and what she’ll probably cook.  And if she’s going to cook this for him, it means Annie’s thinking long range–

Like, oh, a hundred years down the road.

But there’s gotta be more to this scene than Bulgarian delicacies, yeah?  Well, of course there is–

And it’s about to change tonight.

Dragon Attacks and Breakfast Meetings

It’s not a good morning up here in Casa Burg.  Last night was electrolysis, and it didn’t go well.  It went badly.  Actually it went sort of horribly as I sorta lost it after ninety minute and had a five minutes combination panic and crying attack.  I couldn’t go on at that point, and the nice woman who shoots electricity into my face did what she could to comfort me.  Even so, I spent about half the trip home crying, and I never really felt up the rest of the night.

So remember, people:  being hormonal + emotionally raw for a few weeks + having electricity shot into your face + hearing the wrong song played at the wrong time, which is what really set me off = Massive Crying Jag.  It was one of the hardest things I’ve went through.  And I’m going back again next Wednesday, because I love having the most sensitive part of my face feeling like it’s on fire.

Dramatic recreation of how I felt.  No actual dragons used in the real thing.

Dramatic recreation of how I felt. No actual dragons were used in the real thing.

And even through all that, I wrote.  One thousand and nine words wrote, and that’s an exact count.  I would have stopped short of that count, but I had to finish up something least I be reminded that I left a particular scene hanging.  I wouldn’t want to do that.

It’s the first day of school at Salem, Reacquaintance Day as the returning students call that, and we know who’s back for seconds.  A few days ago we saw Annie getting ready, wearing her flats and a skirt because it was going to be hot.  But where is Kerry?  And how does he look?  Well . . .


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

“Good morning, Sweetie.”

Kerry jumped up from the sofa in the Mezzanine Commons and met her at the stairs. Annie couldn’t keep her grin from showing the second she saw him, because, just like her, she was dressed in a way she’d never seen before. Yes, he had on his tennis shoes and a tee shirt—this one had some kind of stone angel screaming at an unseen person—but he was also wearing shorts. They weren’t very short—like her skirt, they reached to just above his knees—but it was seeing Kerry’s legs like this

Kerry in long shorts.  Just imagine that . . .


She bounced up to him. “How are you, my love?” She gave him a quick kiss. “I’m surprised you’re here before me.”

“Ah, I was up early.” He stepped onto the stairs and walked to the ground floor with Annie to his left. “I guess I was too excited to sleep in late.”

“Even after getting to bed late?” Annie glanced out from eyes hooded by her brow as she gave Kerry a slight grin.

“Even with not getting to bed until after one.” He took her hand as they reached the ground floor and they began walking across the commons towards one of the tower exits. “Then again, that’s like normal sleep time for the Midnight Madness, right?”

“Yes.” She opened the inner tower door, and did the same when they reached the entrance to the outside. “And we were also up late every night in Berlin—”

“Getting accustomed to the times here.” Kerry breathed in the warm morning air saturating the Pentagram Garden. The sun was warm, the sky clear, the wind brisk. “So unlike last year.”

“I know.” Annie remembered there first day walking to the Dining Hall, the weather cool and cloudy. But nothing like the night before when I was professing my life while he kept me warm. “Come on, let’s get to breakfast.” She tightened her grip upon her love’s hand. “You know what I want—”


Yes, what does Annie want besides more face sucking time with here Soul Mate?  I think she wants food . . .


Things were set up as before: the A Levels were set up in the front of the hall, at assigned tables, while the remainder of the students sat at tables behind them. The food was laid out along the west wall buffet-style: today was a day for obfuscation, so no one would find their breakfast appearing before them. However . . .

A woman in a blue jumpsuit approached them. “Annie; Kerry. So nice to see you again.”

“Good morning, Una. Nice to see you again, Una.” Annie turned and gave the head of the kitchen, Una Grandinm, a huge smile.

Kerry placed his hand in front of him and laced his fingers together. “How you doing, Una?”

“Doing well, Kerry.” She indicated the buffet table to their left. “You’ll find everything you need today laid out—”

“Is it still possible to get special orders?” Annie was almost bouncing up and down on her toes.

Una tapped her finger against the corner of her mouth. “What would you like?”

“Printsessi: two, please.”

“I should have known.” Una turned to Kerry. “Would you like to order something as well?”

He glanced at Annie. “I’d like two printsessi as well, please.”

“Ah—” A wide grin appeared across Una’s face. “Developing a taste for Bulgarian fare, are we?”

“Well, you never know—” Kerry slid his arm around Annie’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “I might be eating it a lot in the future.”


The dish Annie and Kerry are talking about are the second one on this list, with their favorite Midnight Madness dish, banitsas, right below that.  They go over to the table they were at the day before–a couple of rows behind where they sat the year before–and comment on their situation:


Annie saw about half the instructors were already seated at the tables flanking the podium. “I’m excited.”

Kerry stopped lightly drumming his fingers against the edge of the table. “I am, too.” He leaned in towards Annie. “Now I know why all the kids from last year were looking at us so strangely.”

“Because they knew we were completely unaware of what was coming.”

“Well—” He touched Annie’s right arm. “At least one did.”

She shook her head. “My parents told me nothing about the school. While I knew what it was like to live in a magical environment, I was just as unaware of what was coming here as you.”

“And now we’re the experts—”

“Hello, Kerry.”


Now who is interrupting the excitement these two are feeling?  Any guesses?  Any?


Emma stood at the other side of the table, rocking back and forth on her heels as her eyes darted from Kerry to Annie and back. “How, how you doing?”

“I’m okay.” He smiled as he sat up slowly, keeping his eyes focused on his American friend. “We didn’t see you yesterday.”

“Yeah—” Emma looked towards Annie, who’d remained silent. “How you doing, Annie?”

“I’m well, Emma.” Annie let her head tilt slightly to the right. “Where were you yesterday?”

“Spent most of the time in the coven tower.” Emma leaned against the back of a chair, but made no move yet to sit. “They didn’t let us, um, you know—” She lowered her voice. “Adjust on the plane.” She looked behind her, then continued speaking in a normal tone. “So we had to do that when we got here. Ended up sleeping until almost eighteen, and ended up sitting with Nadine and a few others.” She let her voice drop again, as if sharing a secret. “I didn’t see you there.”

“We ate earlier—” Kerry smiled at Annie. “Then we went for a walk to the Observatory before going back to the tower.”

“We wanted to get inside before the A Levels were place.” Annie’s grin almost matched the conspiratorial tone Emma was effecting. “We came back on his Espinoza.”

“Ah.” Emma understood that Annie didn’t want to say out loud that they flew back on Kerry’s broom.

Yeah, keep that info to yourselves if you can.  At least Annie is being a good, um, host–


“No: these.” She picked up a fork, then remembered their guest. “Would you like to join us, Emma? I’m sure the kitchen can make you a plate.”

“Um—” She stepped back from the table, shaking her head. “I’m gonna go sit with some of the girls from the cover.” Emma caught herself before walking away and addressed Kerry. “Are you going down to the Flight School in the afternoon? Nadine said Professor Salomon will let us try out the Class 2’s”

“I don’t know.” Kerry hadn’t figured out his afternoon yet, because he didn’t know what Annie and he would do after breakfast. “I might: it just depends.”

“Oh, okay.” Emma nodded a couple of times. “I’ll catch you guys later.” She hurried off across the room, sitting with a group of girls about four rows over.


Like Emma wants to sit there all uncomfortable and stuff while they eat strange food from somewhere in Eastern Europe, though Emma did her best to entice Kerry away with talk of new flying equipment.  Honey, his girlfriend can buy him one if it wants to try it out–come to think of it, so could he . . .

So, a couple of thousand words over a couple of days, and the novel stands at just under thirty-seven thousand words:

Considering everything I've been though this last weekend, not too bad.

Considering everything I’ve been though this last weekend, not too bad.

I should finish this tonight, and maybe get my kids on the Road to Memory.  What will they find there?

Well, someone who’ll probably read their tea leaves . . .

In the Tree of Dreams

Blessed Samhain, Happy Halloween, and a wonderful Día de Muertos.  All of these come together in my story, as most of your know, with events of 1 November now being known around my Salem school as the Day of the Dead Attack.  Not to mention that two years ago today, I came out here on my blog.  So 31 October is a good day for me, if for no other reason that one day I’ll go out dressed as a witch.  Though some say I do that now.

But back to the story.  We know Annie’s mom was up at 5:21 waiting to have breakfast with her daughter in her sitting room–and think about that.  Annie has a sitting room off her bedroom.  Why?  To entertain guests, of course.  You don’t think she’s letting them into her bedroom, do you?  How uncouth of you!  The fact that her father walked into her bedroom uninvited when she was preparing to leave for school–I was told that was probably the bravest thing he ever did.  On any other day she’d have probably bitten his head off.

What does Mama and Daughter talk about?  School for one, but, you know, there’s something else on Annie’s mother’s mind . . .


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

Annie’s pause was enough to give Pavlina cause to consider her next question. “And how did you get into the class?”

“It was due to the assignment we did for the Botany and Earth Sciences class.” Annie spoke between bites. “We decided we would make charcoal, so we gathered wood and went over to the Spells Center and worked a series of advanced spells to complete the assignment.” She gave her mother a slight smile. “I performed Ice Encasement and Cold Fire—”

Pavlina appeared almost shocked. “You did Cold Fire?”

“Yes, I did.”


“I read about it in a book.” Annie’s smile turned coy. “I have access to the Black Vault.”

Her mother’s shock turned to surprise. “How did you manage that?”

“Oh . . .” Annie took her time chewing her food. “The Sorcery instructor and I came to an understanding.”

Pavlina recognized that her daughter wasn’t going to offer any more information than what she wanted to give. She’ll tell me about how she made it into the Black Vault in her own good time. She decided to make further inquiries into another line of questioning . . . “When you mention this project, you said ‘we’.” She tapped the rim of her tea cup. “Who else were you working with?”

“With my covenmate.” Annie suspected that her mother knew who her covenmate was, but she wasn’t about to just blurt out names.

“And how many are there on your floor?”

“Just the two of us.”

“I see. Is your ‘covenmate’ in Advanced Spells with you?” She pulled her robe in around her body. “Or is it another A Level?”

“No, it’s my covenmate.”

“So they were using advanced spells as well with you.”

“Yes, they were.” I’m not about to say he.

Her mother played along. “And what spells did they perform?”

“Pattern Transformation and a time spell.”

“Really.” Pavlina pushed her empty tea cup aside. “They used a time spell?”

“Come to find out they know a lot about how time works.” Annie pushed the pronoun a bit much just to drive her mother a little mad. She’s so eager to hear me say his name . . .


Annie is playing with her mother.  She knows that Mama knows who she’s talking about, she just wants to hear the name, and Annie won’t give her the satisfaction until she asks.  Which she does . . .


Pavlina had indeed reached the point where she wasn’t willing to dig anymore. She stared across the sitting room table for a few second before speaking. “How is he?”

“Are you asking about my covenmate?” Annie hid her smile behind her raised tea cup.

“You know damn well whom I’m asking about.” She tapped her index finger against the table’s edge. “Your Ginger Hair Boy.”

Annie set down her tea cup. Her mother wanted to talk about him, so they’d talk. “Kerry is fine, Mama.”

“Just fine?” Pavlina chuckled. “I would imagine he’s more than fine.” She poured more water into her cup and let the tea seep. “Is he what you expected in real life?”

“No, he isn’t, Mama.” Annie waited to see if her mother’s face fell, but she was too wise for those tricks. “He’s much better.”

She examined Annie closely. Though her daughter didn’t suspect, Pavlina had become adapt at determining her daughter’s mood and feelings just by watching her body language. She works so hard keeping her feelings away from her face, but if you know what to look for, you can see her emotions in the way she holds herself. “But he’s not perfect—is he?”

Annie considered ignoring the question, but not that it was asked her mother would return to it until answered—maybe not today or tomorrow, but it would come up again before the Yule Holiday was over, and she’d make certain that Annie would answer. “He can’t remember our dreams together.”

“Which ones?”

“All of them.” Annie spoke of the incidents of déjà vu, of the time he almost remembered the time he read to her—though she didn’t mention where she’d heard this, or what happened after. “All the times we spent together, he doesn’t remember a thing.”

“And this all stems from what happened over the summer?”

“I’m not certain—” Annie shook her head. “I can’t clearly remember what happened over the summer to stop us dreaming together.”


And this is the first time where it’s stated that even Annie doesn’t quite remember what happened that night that they shared their final dream.  Dreams, they be crazy, I tell you.  Particuarly with these two.  And Mama knows a little something about this stuff, but even she’s puzzled.


Her daughter’s situation puzzled Pavlina. She knew something of lucid dreaming, and she understood that two or more people could share a dream, but as she’d heard more of Annie’s dreams with her “Ginger Hair Boy”, the more she’d become convinced they were doing far more than lucid dreaming: it was almost as they they’d spent their time dreamwalking. And one doesn’t dreamwalk without having extensive knowledge of how the astral realm interacted with the dream realm—something Annie hasn’t learned, and Kerry wasn’t aware even existed. “Have you spoke with anyone at school about this?”

“Yes: Professor Arrakis, our Seer, and Nurse Coraline, our medical officer.” She considered taking another printsessi, then decided if she was going to enjoy her mother’s cooking, there was no better time to start. “Professor Arrakis told me she’d never heard of anything like our dreams—”

“That could be true. I’ve looked and found nothing relating to your situation.”

“Hum.” Annie picked at her dish, then took a huge bite and took her time chewing it to a pulp. “Maybe we’re special.”

“I already know you are.” Pavlina understood her daughter’s frustration. She’d experienced these dreams all her life—though far more frequently in the last few years—and in the weeks after her last dream despondent and petulant to the point where she was ready to throw her future away and pursue a path that would have wasted her now-obvious talents. If I hadn’t had that vision of Kerry entering the Salem grounds, Annie might be completely miserable now. “I’ll keep looking on my end; maybe the people at school will find something in the meantime.”

Annie nodded slowly. “Thank you, Mama.”


And now we hear of dreamwalking, which is something that doesn’t come up much again, but if I ever do a second novel, there is an important moment where dreamwalking answers a mystery.  And relating to something that Annie told Professor Arrakis, her mother was the one that saw Kerry entering the school grounds, and after that vision she checked with her friends in The Foundation, discovered that, yes, a Kerry Malibey was on the list to attend SIGIL this year, and Mama passed that information along to her daughter.  The rest is–well, not history, but a rather long story.

Oh, and someone else in the family found out the name of the Ginger Hair Boy:


“You’re welcome.” She decided to alter the subject of the conversation slightly. “Your father knows his name.”

“What?” Annie looked as if someone had yelled at her. “Since when?”

“Since about a month ago.”


“He asked. One day we were out on the back porch and he asked, ‘Annie and you know the name of this boy—why can’t I know it as well?’ And when I thought about it—” Pavlina shrugged. “I saw no reason why he shouldn’t.”

“So you told him?”

“Annie, he’s your father. He has as much right to know about Kerry as I.” She slowly tapped her fingers on the table. “At least he didn’t discover his name like I did . . .”

Annie found it impossible not to wince. “Mama.”

That always was a sore point with her. “Have you told Kerry about your book.”

The young girl shot her mother a withering stare. “No, Mama.”

“Better saved for a future moment, eh?” Before Annie could answer Pavlina cocked her head to one said. “I hear your father moving about the kitchen.” She sat back and gave her daughter a concerned look. “I suppose we should join him before he decides to come up and join us.”


Wait, what?  How did Mama learn Kerry’s name?  It doesn’t sound as if Annie told her, and however it came about, it’s not something which pleases Annie.  Will we find out how it happened?  Yes, in Act Three.  Just give me another sixty thousand words to get there, okay?

We are now finished with Pamporovo, and the next scene jumps ahead two days to Kerry waking up in her grandparent’s home in Marrionwood, CA.  And this brings up an interesting point:  someone asked if Annie’s tree and Kerry’s were one and the same.  The answer is no, they’re not.  Annie’s is back home in Pamporovo, and Kerry’s was near his old home in Sleepy Hollow, CA, which is a real place not far from Marrionwood, which is where he is presently located in the story.  If you want to see his tree, well . . .

If you're going to Sleepy Hollow . . .

If you’re going to Sleepy Hollow . . .

For my story, Kerry lived on Van Winkle D., in the house above the road and right at the edge of the right frame.  His tree was on Dutch Valley Ln, and would be in the grove just to the left of the last house below the lane on the left center of the picture.  Not that far for a six year old to walk, right?

And what does the area where he lived look like?

Since you wanted to know . . .

Since you wanted to know . . .

As you see, Sleepy Hollow is in the lower right hand of the picture, and Marrionwood is at the right edge of the center of the picture, just above Lucas Valley Rd.  All of these names are legit, and were in place long before a certain film maker moved into the area.  And speaking of that guy . . . follow Lucas Valley Rd all the way to the upper left and you’ll see, at the edge of the frame, a small road going upward.  Those houses in the upper left hand corner?  Skywalker Ranch, aka, the place where Kerry’s parent’s former boss lives.

And last but not least, where is Annie?  Well . . .

How do you say, "Right there" in Bulgarian?

How do you say, “Right there” in Bulgarian?

If you follow Highway 854 to the left out of Pamprovo, all the way over on the left you’ll see a valley leading upward.  In the “Y” of the valley is where Annie’s parents live, where she lives, where her lake house is, and where, close by, her tree is located.  None of that can be seen, but is it because I just made all of that up?  Or is it because The Foundation is keeping me from showing you?

Hum . . . wondering, wondering.

Printsessi and Yoghurt at the Line

Had to hunt around a little for the tunes I wanted, but finally settled on video of The Wall Live, performed in Chicago by Roger Waters, and The Joshua Tree by U2.

I have finally reached that magical place where the official finish line for NaNo is in sight.  I am less than a thousand word from fifty, and I have the end in sight.  Well, this end at least.  There’s another to reach this weekend, and then I gotta finish this novel.  But that’s all to come.  Right now I have the fifty goal to reach, and then the rest is just puttin’ down the words as they come.

You may not have guessed it by the title of the post, but my kids are finally, finally at breakfast in the Great Hall.  Nearly all the students are there, there’s a big buffet table of breakfast foods from all over the world present–but, yeah, my main female character, she’s just gotta ask for her printsessi and yoghurt, and if it means someone’s gotta cook it up for her, then they best get into the kitchen and fire up the stove, ’cause there’s a girl out here and she’s hungry!

It was funny writing this part because now I’m starting to get into the day-to-day, and certain things will be said, certain truths will come out.  There was only a couple of hours for me to write last night, because it was necessary to go out and do some running about, but I got it, and even spent twenty minutes after watching the damnedest thing on American Horror Story to get the story up over eighteen hundred words, and closer to the finish.

What I have for writing tonight is the headmistress comes in and lays a little smackdown on the new students, after which they head out and see the campus.  Then it’s back to real life to get some things going.  I’m going to travel tomorrow and a small amount of packing is required.  As strange as I am, I’m already thinking about where I’ll stop so I can eat and get my blogging done, but I did that on the way out to The Burg, so why not do that on the way back to The Real World?  It’s all about getting the wordage down, right?

That means I will find the time to write tomorrow night.  I might not need to do close to two thousand words, but now that the novel is on, and there’s no stopping.  I’ve made my goals–and, yes, I do want to publish this sucker.  That’s the idea with my writing:  it all get published at some point.  Even the bad stuff–which is probably most of it.

This NaNo hasn’t seemed as bad as that others, probably because I’m not churning out words to finish something in a month.  I’ve planed for this moment as much as I’ve planed the story, and when you stick to this kind of plan, it’s not that bad.  Sure, it may not be spontaneous–

But it gets it done.

Daily word count:  1,815.  Total word count:  49,048.