Right Now...

• I'm eating a yummy gummy treat. Those after Halloween sales are super and I don't feel guilty for eating them because they are fruit snacks. Best of both worlds: Fruit and probably lotsa sugar.
• It's crazy cold out (just wait for the REAL winter) and windy and rainy and blegh. I don't want to have to wear a coat (even though the one I have is cutie pa-tootie).
• I'm trying to remember the do's and don'ts from my Cello lesson that just ended about 5 minutes ago. DO hold the bow correcty. Relax. DON'T hold the bow like and English woman drinking her tea (get that pinky down).
• I love my hubby because he got my watch battery replaced and left my now-ticking watch on the car steering wheel to surprise me. Aw.
• I wish I could think of something slightly more entertaining about which to fill you (and avoiding ending my senctences in a preposition - which sounds weird).
• I'm waiting for my ICL prof to get back to me on my latest story. I hope she thinks this one is actually publishable.
• I'm going to add the story to my post. It's called The Hidden Staircase Revealed. I had to describe a place from my childhood and I took the not-so-traveled road.

The Hidden Staircase Revealed


The air feels thick and heavy in the darkness that surrounds me. My eyes cannot adjust soon enough. The sound of skittering mice keeps my body from freezing – I cannot let the surprise of this new clue dumbfound me for long. The musty smell that has been boarded up for what seems years finally begins to creep up into my nostrils. The staircase above me is only a blur of dust, but what is behind is of no consequence. I need to investigate the newness ahead. I need to know the truth. I am greeted by one the most undesirable creatures; eight-legged and quick. The high-pitch that releases from my vocal chords echoes throughout the dark chamber before me. I can hear my heart beat loudly in the still, empty silence. I walk on – my heels slowly counting out the rhythm of my quest. Clunk, Ka-clunk, Ka-clunk. I reach out to touch the wall for balance and am repulsed by the slimy wetness that clings to it’s earthy surface. The stench of time enters my sinuses, then my stomach. I try to distract myself from becoming sick. Thoughts of victory over this mystery soon override this unpleasant experience.

I hear a voice. It crescendos lightly from faint to jolting in a matter of moments. “I’m telling on you!” The young girl’s voice, shaking in anger and disappointment, justifies her case. “It’s not your doll! It doesn’t belong to you! It’s my doll! Why did you do it?”

The musty air became breathable again and the darkness was swallowed by the overhead light. I hear a scream chased by sobs and whimpers. “Mom! Moooom!” Thump, thump, thump. Little determined feet dash up the stairs and the door slams, leaving the wall that faces me jittery from the activity.

The maternal mumble that floats through the vent over me is followed by silence again. And the dark, dank corridor I was investigating returns as a dream uninterrupted. I lift my flashlight higher. Searching, seeking for any evidence. My head still aches from the fall. A fall well worth it – this secret passageway may lead me to an explanation of the strange goings-on of the past.

Twists and turns accompany the pathway at angles no engineer could duplicate. The fear that was replaced with surprise now returns full-force. Are there really ghosts in here? Will I find the culprit and my father, too? My questions seem as jaunting as the pathway of the secret passage itself. The silence is my only answer.

Then, amidst the earthy smell that has now become my only companion, I notice a lingering scent – a delicious aroma. My sleuthing senses are perked up. I identify the new fragrance as pork chops – with garlic, and gravy, too. The glands in my jaw begin to tingle. A new voice joins in this jumble of sensory menagerie. “Sarah!” The voice sounds faint at first. It is a man’s voice. It startles me. How can they know my name? Could I have found my father? A door opens at the end of my secret hallway and light again interferes my investigation. “Sarah!” the voice repeated - louder this time and more familiar. “It’s time for dinner. Get your nose out of that book and come upstairs!”