Source: Frustrated Writer. From the book, 'Kid Confidential: An Insider's Guide to Grown-Ups'. Published by Bloomsbury US. (Walker).
So the above image will give you a pretty good idea of my writing frustrations while trying to continue writing my YA paranormal romancy type novel "Bite Me!"
I have been working on it for about six months now and I have hit a major roadblock. I am about 35,000 words done, and I know exactly where I want the story to end up, who gets killed off, who falls in love with who, etc, etc. However, it is the inbetween stuff that I can't get around. It just feels dry and plain boring. And if there is anything I DON'T want my writing to be labelled as, it's boring.
I have been pulling my hair out, moping around and staring at the monitor in such a depressed manner that my poor husband has started wondering if I am going to be okay ever again.
Now, for those of you with an interest in Summer and the gang, DO NOT PANIC! I promise I will finish writing it. I have a plan for it, you see...The first 35,000 words is currently being edited by my amazing dad (who is an English teacher, and a self-published author himself...I plan on doing an interview on this blog with him in the very near future) and I am hoping to release it sometime in the new year (date TBA) as the first episode of Bite Me!
What I am hoping to achieve by releasing the book in episodic form is to just get it out there, get people interested in Summer and her friends. Also, if I have enough people nagging me for the second episode, I know I will be able to get on with writing it. I work much better with a deadline!
In the meantime, I am distracting myself by writing a new novel that is totally different to Bite Me! in every way possible. This particular novel I have had outlined and lying around for the last year and a half. It is one of the three books that I had started writing when my computer crashed and I lost everything. This one was the furthest along at about 40,000 words when I lost it. Needless to say I had no desire to try and rewrite it for a very long time. Losing so much of your own work in that manner is very disheartening. Even now, as I begin to rewrite it, I am sad because I know I can't recapture what I wrote exactly. Nevertheless, it is giving me a much needed break from my other writerly frustrations.
So, what is this new novel? I hear you ask (or maybe that's just in my head - I wouldn't discount my being a bit crazy o_0). It is a Christian Historical Romance (like I said, completely different to Bite Me!), set in Bonogin, QLD, Australia (which also happens to be where I live). Months of research and careful thought has gone into the planning of this book. In my next post I will share with you all the authors that influenced me to want to write one of these.
Here the first little bit of it to whet your appetite:
Faith Hills
By Susan M. Hocking
© December 2012
Chapter 1
February, 1888
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. The rhythmic sway and shudder of the steam train was gently coaxing Arabella Clarke into a light slumber. Heaven knew she needed the sleep. She had been on the run for close to a week and she had not had the peace of mind to allow herself to really rest. Even on board the steamship Rodondo, from Sydney to Brisbane, she had been unable to sleep. Not only was she still very much afraid for her safety, but the sea passage had been a rough one. She had always thought herself to have had a strong constitution, but even if she had been able to control her stomach from the constant pitching and rolling of the ship, the eleven other passengers squeezed into the tiny cabin with her did not, and she was anything if not sympathetic. Those six days, she had decided, had been hell on earth. Definitely not a trip she would like to endure again. Unless, of course, she was to stay in an upper-class cabin. She had spent most of the six days on board the Rodondo confined to her tiny bunk, which was probably only meant for a child, in a very cramped, putrid smelling cabin, trying to keep her stomach contents to herself. She could have paid for an upper-class cabin, but she had wanted to remain inconspicuous. A single young woman, without a chaperone, handing over large bills of money for slightly better accommodations would have drawn far too much attention. No, it was far better to suffer the seasickness and cramped living conditions than have George or one of his goons find her.
Arabella shivered at the thought of George. She would go anywhere to get away from that horrible man. The way he had compromised her, forced himself on her, ripping her innocence away from her. He had ruined any chance of a happy life that she may have had with another man. And now she was forced to run and hide, like a fugitive, and it hadn’t even been her fault. Why God? Why did you let him do this to me? She mentally screamed, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could to stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks. No answer. I don’t even know why I am bothering to ask you God. You never answer me. You never answered my father when Mother died. Father was right. You never help when I need you. You weren’t there when George attacked me, and you’re not here now. I give up. Her father had always told her that she was the only person that she could ever count on. No-one else would ever be up to the job. She needed to rely on her strength alone. But was her own strength going to be enough to carry the tremendous burden weighing on her shoulders?
 Sad to say, I have not been doing a lot of writing recently. I have, however, been kept rather busy editing with one new client and one potential client. So all is good on the editing front.
It is also school holidays here in Queensland (well, for my kidlets it is anyway) and it is a lovely hot summer. So we have been going here a lot ----------------------->
And you know what?
I think this was exaclty what I needed in order to get back into the writing groove.
The reason I have not been doing the regular three sentence thursdays is because I had nothing to share with you.
However, I am happy to report that I bashed out another one and a half thousand words last night, and I am back in the writing groove!
So without further ado, here is Three Sentence Thursday:
I slowly stand up, still not taking my eyes from Jude’s until I am at my full height. Then in one swift movement I turn around and punch Elias as hard as I can square in the cheek. The connection is an audible crack and it sends Elias reeling backwards.
Hopefully we can get to the beach a lot more, because that seems to be where my muse has been residing all this time.
As my title states, I have not been doing much writing of late. Sure, I've managed a couple hundred words here and there, but I just have not had the time, or energy for that matter, to sit down and just write. I am hoping this trend is going to end sooner rather than later.
However, do not despair! I have written enough new stuff to provide you with a tantalizing Three Sentence Thursday (as you can tell, I don't even have much time to blog, except for this little segment...I am going to have to rectify this no time situation quickly or I stand the chance of being dubbed 'boring,' and 'predictable,' and I definitely do not want that).
I must also apologise for the lack of imagery lately, I haven't been trawling for pictures lately due to my lack of time. I will jump on that and rectify this problem before my next post. I promise!
So here it is, my three sentences from my WIP novel Bite Me!
“Please Summer, just promise me,” he whispers, pleading with his eyes. Not the puppy dog eyes he used on me earlier, but eyes full of seriousness and concern.
“Okay Jude, I promise,” I lie straight to his beautiful face, and I hate myself for it.
And with that, I will sign off.
I have some time to find, chase and capture.
Cheers
You see what I did there??? Haha, of course you did.
As per usual, Three Sentence Thursday is late.
I could give you the excuses that I got called for work, that I had a late meeting the night before that and that I was absolutely exhausted when I got home again.
All that is true, but it is also true that I simply forgot...again.
And I know you don't want my excuses, you just want the goods.
So here are my three sentences from my WIP novel Bite Me!
Enjoy!
That same static current that I felt at the swimming hole yesterday when I thought someone had been watching us fills the air making the hair on my arms stand to attention. It is much stronger than yesterday and there is a malodorous odour hanging around in the air. "Can you smell that Jude? It smells like iron, like..."
Oh yes I did!
CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!
Sorry, I just couldn't help myself. Besides, if I gave you any more it would be four sentences instead of three, and we can't just go and destroy the sanctity of Three Sentence Thursday by adding a fourth sentence...sacrilege!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my sometimes day job.
Would you believe it? I actually remembered that today is Thursday.
Sure, it may be Thursday night here in Australia, but it is still Thursday.
And you all know what that means...
yup, that's right, it's...
THREE SENTENCE THURSDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So here it is, my three sentences from my WIP novel Bite Me!
Tiny points of light dot the ceiling of the cave by the hundred, like constellations of stars on a clear night out in the countryside. They are so close I could touch them. I reach my hand up to gently touch one of the little sparkles, but Jude grabs my wrist before I can touch it.
And there you have them.
I hope you are all enjoying Three Sentence Thursdays. It is really huge for me to share any of my WIP with anyone, so I hope you all feel really special. If you like what you are seeing, please leave a comment (I need all the encouragement I can get...no, really).
And to make you feel extra special I have also posted here one of my favourite songs to write to. It is my failsafe writer's block unblocking song...
Jack Johnson's Banana Pancakes.
Enjoy!
As you all know, I live in the Land Downunder and I'm proud of it. Also, this statement above is almost totally true! Two days ago, our loyal doggie, Lula, found a nice big snake in our backyard. Okay, so it was a carpet python, not really venomous in comparison to other species we have here, but a snake none-the-less. The first one for the snake season to be found on our property (which is an acre in total). In saying this, we have lived on our current property for 3.5 years now and this is only the 4th snake we have come across. The first was an ENORMOUS carpet python - but it was dead when we found it (and stinky to high heaven!). The other two were small red-bellied black snakes. These are venomous and could kill a child, and possibly a small adult (nasty!). And now this 2 metre python (which I really hope has moved on of it's own volition).
The very next day I dropped my kids at school and daycare. Miss 7 came home after school and told us that she had spotted a light brown, BIG snake on the steps at school - most likely a King Brown, one of the most deadly snakes on the continent. Needless to say it was dealt with swiftly, though maybe not cleanly, with a shovel to the head. So when we say that there are thousands of animals down here that can kill you, we really mean it!
Onto the next topic, which is Three Sentence Thursday, yes I know, I did it again. Sorry. So without further ado, here are my three sentences from my WIP novel Bite Me!
“Jude, I haven’t trusted anyone in a very long time, why should I trust you?” My eyes are still closed and my feet won’t budge. For some reason, I want desperately to trust him but I’m just not so sure that I should.
Other than that, I have not done very much writing in the last couple of weeks at all, what with school starting back and kid's dentist appointments, and me hitting the gym again to get my bikini bod ready for a Gold Coast Summer (can anyone say sunlover???). And let me tell you, at my current age (which is almost 29 for the third time), it takes a lot more work than it used to to get into shape. The school holidays threw me right off track and I pretty much am having to start all over again. Plus, I have just started editing another short story for one of my favourite clients, Donovan Sotam. This one is so funny, but I'm not going to give any of it away. You'll just have to read it yourself to see what I mean.
Now, I am going to go and stare at my WIP and see if I can magically make some more words appear on the blank pages. Wish me luck :)
I know, I know. I've only just started doing Three Sentence Thursday, and I already forgot to do the post for it. Go figure. The kids are on school holidays and all my days have merged. I am never sure which day it actually is. All I can be sure about is when it's night and when it's day (you know, the whole dark and light thing, kinda helps).
Plus, I used up all my bandwidth and couldn't get online for a few days. That's my excuse and I'm sticking with it.
So, I guess you want those three sentences then, seeing as they are already late and all. You don't want to listen to (read?) my rambling on about it. You just want it. Okay. fine then. Here it is, from my WIP novel Bite Me! (which is almost at 30,000 words now. YAY!)...
“A girl after my own heart,” he says, his eyes sliding shut and placing one hand on his chest, right over his heart. His amazing lips tip up at the corners into a wide grin of pure satisfaction. “Finally,” he adds in a whisper.
 I'm currently writing my first novel. (Well, the first one that's going to get finished. I had three on the go, all at different stages, when my laptop crashed and I lost EVERYTHING! Yes, I know, I'm an idiot for not backing up. Don't worry, now I'm paranoid and I back-up my work every so many words to a zillion different places. I've learned my lesson.)
The working title for which is "Bite Me!"
Though, I am thinking of some other titles that might be better. I just didn't want to have to say, when people ask what my WIP is called, "I don't know." It's much easier to give a working title that kind of gives people an idea of what the book could possibly be about than having to explain myself in actual words.
I've only shared my writing with a couple of other people, but I have decided, with the help of the lovely Paige Nolley, that I am going to start doing Three Sentence Thursdays. Now, I know that some authors do Six Sentence Sundays, but I've only just gotten brave enough to share any of it at all. Six sentences at a time just seems rather overwhelming to me. Three sentences is far more manageable without having to sit in front of the computer hyperventilating into a brown paper bag every time I click publish.
The other thing I just know people are going to say is (especially those on the other side of the world from me), "but it's not Thursday yet." Well, actually, here in Australia it is. So I'll be doing Three Sentence Thursdays in Australian time (just smile and embrace the crazy, okay).
So without further ado, here are my first three sentences to kick off Three Sentence Thursday:
"Before I can contradict myself (it’s amazing how something like going back to high school can make you doubt yourself) I march up the steps to the admin building and - SMACK – walk straight into the glass doors. I stumble backwards, trying to keep my balance as I ricochet off the thick glass, my ears ringing from the impact. Laughter erupts behind me and my cheeks blaze red hot."
Just a side note: I will randomly pick three sentences from my WIP each Thursday. They will not be in any kind of chronological order.
And with that, I'm going to sign off. I have a full morning of fun to be had with my daughters and my mum, before I drop them off for a holiday sleepover with their other grandparents. Contrary to popular belief, writers actually do lead lives away from the computer. The exciting thing is, I may even have a whole afternoon to myself to spend writing.
This short story was inspired by the image and music clip that follow it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
(Hint: listen to the clip as you read, it helps set the atmosphere of the story)
The nightmare of Her Dreams
by Susan Hocking
(copyright 2012)
It didn’t seem to matter in which direction she ran, the maze would just spit Victoria out in the exact same spot every few minutes. She felt like she was running in slow motion, not getting anywhere fast, just like in a bad dream. Except this bad dream was a very real nightmare. How had she not seen this coming? How had she not realised what her fiancé was until after the wedding, when he became her husband, and it was already too late? She felt so stupid, so helpless. She had loved him with all her heart and it had blinded her to the truth. She had to get away. Where she would go, she didn’t know. Just away from this place, away from her new husband and the awful truth about him.
She looked up. Grey cumulus clouds were building against the fading blue of the late afternoon sky. Already, she could pick out the pinky-purple hues of the approaching dusk. She was running out of time. She didn’t want to think about what the darkness of night might bring. If she did, she might have been too terrified to move. She picked up her pace, hoping and praying that this corridor of green would be the one that would lead her to the outside, to safety. There it was, the end of the corridor. She stumbled over the edge of her dress as she broached the gap in the green and landed hard on her knees on the uncompromising gravel. She steeled herself for a brief second, sucking in a lungful of air and trying not to think of the pain in her knees, then she lifted her head. Only to see the same damned statue fountain she had seen at least five times before.
Victoria choked back the tears that threatened to spill. If she started to cry now she would never get out of this horrible place. She had to stay strong. There had to be a way out, didn’t there? She picked herself up off the gravel, dusting her once white wedding dress off. Although, she needn’t have bothered as it was now dirty and torn in several places. She looked around for a different entrance back into the maze from the ones she had taken before, sent up a quick prayer, and started running again, the tall, green walls of the maze swallowing her up.
She wished there was a way to see over the walls, but they were just too tall, easily twice her height. She felt trapped, closed in with nowhere to hide. Not that hiding was an option. Not with her voluminous, white wedding dress on. The layers upon layers of, what was once pure white, satin and flowing georgette was like a frothing sea, swishing rhythmically around her legs as she ran down the evergreen hallways of the maze, the train dragging behind her along the dirty white gravel path. Even over the tall, leafy walls she could see the imposing balconies and turrets of the castle that was supposed to have been her new home. The castle which she had once dreamed of living in, of running as the Countess de Bouillion. Now, when she thought of what was inside that castle, all the dreadful secrets it no doubt held, her stomach roiled in disgust and horror.
“Victoria,” a faraway, sing-song voice called after her. The voice had a dream-like quality to it, but Victoria knew all too well that this was not a dream. She knew that the man behind the voice was more of a nightmare than any dream she had ever dreamt. “Victoria, my Darling. Why do you run from me?” The voice carried over the maze walls, rustling the leaves as it floated down to her ears. She could barely hear it over the pounding of her own heart. “Don’t you want to be the Queen of my castle? The Queen of my heart?”
“No!” Victoria screamed. “I do not want to be your Queen!” She had stopped running and had tilted her head back to look up at the sky. The light was almost gone now. She wanted to cry.
“But my Darling, why then did you marry me, if not to become my Queen?” The sing-song voice was closer now, louder, piercing straight through Victoria’s heart. Her fear was palpable and she was sure that he could smell it. She wondered if he was enjoying her fear, feasting on it like the monster she now knew that he was. Oh, how could she have been so blind? The gravel crunched under her feet as she started running yet again. “Come, my Darling. Come to me and let me truly make you my bride, my wife, my Queen.” Never! She would never give herself up willingly to him. She would run for as long as she had breath. Victoria threw herself through the opening in the living maze wall. Please, oh please let it be the exit.
“No,” she moaned. “No, no, no!” This could not be happening. She was back at the statue fountain. She was running out of options, she was running out of light, she was running out of time.
“Ah, there’s my good girl, my beautiful bride.” Victoria gasped and whipped around, her legs tangling in the dress she had worn to wed the man of her dreams. She had never imagined he would turn out to be the man nightmares were made of. He was standing casually in one of the entryways, holding a blazing torch in one hand. “It’s getting late, my Dearest. Don’t you think it’s time to stop playing this silly little game and come back to the castle with me?” Victoria started backing away as her husband took a step towards her. She didn’t get far, however, as she backed into a maze wall.
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” she spat. She was trying to maintain an air of confidence, but she knew she wasn’t fooling him. He knew she was terrified.
“Well, I’d rather not leave you to die here in this maze. You’ll never get out of it without me, Darling,” he said with a small half-smile. “Come with me, be my Queen and we can live happily ever after. Isn’t that what you wanted? For us to be together forever? I do believe I remember you sharing that sentiment with me many times in the past.”
Yes, well,” she gulped back the pain that arose from hearing her own words thrown back into her face. “That’s what you say when you’re in lov –“
“That is right, my darling Victoria,” he purred, “You do love me, you married me. So why the childish games?”
“Yes, I do – I mean, I did love you,” she stuttered. “Before I knew the truth. You lied to me, you tricked me. It was all just a game to you.” Hot tears pricked at her eyes as they started to track down her cheeks, smearing her mascara as they went. She felt as if her heart had splintered apart, leaving nothing but a gaping hole in her chest.
“Oh my Darling, it was always more than just a game.” He had stepped close now, his body a mere hand span from hers. He ran a finger down the side of her face ever so gently, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention. His touch used to send tingles down her spine for a completely different reason, before she knew the truth. She really had loved him with her whole being. Now they were shivers of pure terror. “I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you, my dearest Victoria. I always knew you would make the perfect Queen for me.” He caught one of her tears on the tip of his finger and looked at it with a hunger in his eyes. Then he placed his finger between his full lips and sucked on it. He brought his violet eyes back to her own ocean-blue ones, pulling her against his muscular torso with one arm around her waist. He could feel the tremble that coursed through her body.
“Why Curtis? Why did you have to choose me?” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed in defeat. There was not going to be any escape. She resigned herself to her fate as Curtis de Bouillion lowered his mouth to her slim neck, placing his lips over her main artery. He kissed her softly, the touch of his lips feather soft on her skin.
“Because you are the only one for me. You have always been, and always will be the only one I will ever want. Forever,” he whispered, and he plunged his razor-sharp fangs into her delicate neck.
In order to get past my latest bout of writers block I decided to try writing a short story. I've never written one before, but I have edited a few and read many, so I thought I would give it a go. I jumped on twitter and asked the twitterverse what they thought I should write about.
Thank you to Paige Nolley (@paigenolley on twitter) for the suggestion.
"Zombies, a spork and a small child."
I hope you enjoy my first ever short story. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.
(Remember, don't be nasty. Constructive criticsm only please)
Tactical Manouevres
By Susan Hocking
(copyright 2012) Four year old Amber was sitting in her booster seat at the dining room table, her lunch set in front of her. Her mother was in the kitchen washing the dishes and humming quietly to herself. Amber sat there watching her mother, not eating. She wasn’t particularly interested in her lunch. She wasn’t a fan of tinned spaghettios. Especially not lukewarm tinned spaghettios. Her mother never heated the little mushy rings in sauce long enough. Amber thought she would have preferred them cold if she had to eat them at all. She slumped in her chair and stared at the offending excuse for food swilling around in her pink princess bowl. She knew that if she ate enough of the slush she would be able to see a picture of her favourite princess, Snow White, in the bottom of the bowl.
“Amber, eat up Sweetie. As soon as you’re done with your spaghettios it’s time for you nap,” her mother said, not even looking up from her dishes. The humming started up again and Amber was once again left to her lunch. She decided she didn’t want to take a nap. She thought she was too old for day sleeps now, but her mother always forced her to have them. She didn’t know why she decided to do it exactly, but the one day she had pretended to fall asleep. After a little while she had snuck out of her bedroom and found her mother snoring on the couch, the T.V. on in the background. She’d looked at what was on and decided that it wasn’t any wonder her mother had fallen asleep. Cartoons were far more interesting than that woman dressed in a black bathrobe, yelling at people and slamming a hammer on her desk.
She picked up her little spork (a spoon-shaped fork perfect for scooping and stabbing at the same time), complete with a Snow White handle that was ergonomically designed for little hands, and readied herself to spoon some of the slush into her mouth. She scooped, watching the red sauce dripping through the tines of the spork and splashing back into the bowl. How was she supposed to eat all of her lunch if the sauce didn’t stay on the spork? She let the utensil drop back into the bowl and it sploshed droplets of the sauce onto her mother’s white table cloth. Oops! She slid the bowl over the stain and peeked back at her mother to make sure she had not seen her little accident. Her mother was still humming, head down scrubbing a frying pan. Amber thought of another stall tactic that worked every time.
“Mama, I’m thirsty,” she whined. She didn’t get off her chair because she knew she would have to go straight to bed if she did so. “Mama, I neeeeeed a drink,” she tried again.
“What do you say Amber?” her mother scolded from the kitchen sink.
“I’m thirsty, I need a drink,” replied the little girl. She knew exactly what her mother wanted her to say, but she really didn’t feel like saying it. She was testing the boundaries today.
“I’m not getting you a drink until you say the magic word,” her mother prompted, giving Amber the sideways evil mother’s eye.
“Please?” Amber replied.
“Please what?” asked her mother. Oh, so she wanted more than just the magic word after-all.
“Please, Mama, can I have a drink? I’m thirsty,” said Amber with a little sigh. Her mother could be so tiresome sometimes, but she played along anyway. Anything to stall naptime.
“Please, Mama, may I have a drink,” corrected her mother. “Yes, you may have a drink Sweetie.” Her mother rummaged through the cupboard and pulled out a pink, plastic cup with Snow White on it, and filled it with water from the tap. She started to walk around the kitchen bench to give it to Amber when,
“No Mama! I don’t want water, I want juice!” demanded the little girl. She shook her head vigorously, which made her tight, blonde ringlets dance around her pretty little face. Well it would have been pretty of it wasn’t scrunched up in a frown.
“We don’t say want Sweetie, you know that. Ask nicely.” Her mother leaned up against the kitchen bench and waited. This was exactly what amber was hoping for. Although, she was getting legitimately thirsty now, and she hadn’t even started eating her spaghettios yet.
“Please Mama, may I have some juice? I don’t like water,” she said, adding a little extra sweetness to her already high-pitched voice. Her mother dumped the water down the drain and refilled the cup with juice.
“There you go, now eat and drink up, you need a nap.” Amber didn’t think she did, but obviously her mother did. She wondered what would happen if she refused to have one. She glared at her bowl. This just wasn’t going to do. She needed a new strategy.
“Feed me please Mama,” she said as she turned big, brown puppy-dog eyes on her mother. “The sauce won’t stay on my spork.” She dipped the spork back in and scooped up the sauce, which promptly ran back through the tines again. With a huff her mother plopped down in the chair next to her and started spooning the horrid stuff into Amber’s mouth. Amber grimaced. The lunch was now cold, and it was slimy. She decided she was wrong about preferring this stuff cold over lukewarm. She wondered if her mother would enjoy eating the stuff herself. She didn’t think so. Eventually Amber could see Snow White peeking back at her from the bottom of the bowl, though she was still half hidden behind globules of sauce. “I’m full Mama,” she said. She thought if she ate one more disgusting bite she would vomit the whole lot back up into the bowl. Wouldn’t her mother be pleased with her then?
“Alright then. Drink your juice quickly. You need to go to bed.” Her mother’s tone was slightly impatient and she was looking at the microwave clock in the kitchen anxiously. What was the rush? It’s not as if she had anything important to do. If Amber was asleep, well, what else was there for her mother to do? Amber slurped her juice down and watched her mother from the corner of her eye. Her mother was tapping her fingers on the table impatiently. Amber finished her drink and placed the cup carefully on the table top. “Finally,” her mother mumbled to herself. “Time for bed young lady.” She didn’t give Amber a chance to get up off the chair as she lifted the little girl into her arms.
“But Mama, I don’t want to go to bed. I’m not tired.” Amber wriggled. She knew if she wriggled enough her mother wouldn’t be able to hold her and would put her down, giving her the chance to stall further.
“Oh yes you are tired. It is naptime and there is no use arguing with me. You are going to bed.” Her mother held firm, no matter how much the little girl squirmed. Amber’s mother carried her all the way to her bedroom door.
“No Mama,” Amber started to whimper. “I don’t want to go to bed.” A small crocodile tear slid down her plump, pink cheek. Tears normally worked for just about everything.
“Oh Sweetie. Why not? It will be good to have a nap.” Her mother squeezed her close and wiped away the lone tear.
“Because…because…” Amber had to think quickly if she was going to get her way. She could feel the power she held over her mother slipping. She needed something good, something brilliant. She let another tear slip out. “Because I’m afraid of the…of the…zombies.”
“The zombies? Do you even know what a zombie is?” her mother was incredulous. Did Amber push it too far? She had no idea what a zombie was, but she had heard some of the older boys at her daycare centre talking about them yesterday. From the way they were acting she thought zombies must be awfully scary. So she gave her head a little nod, her ringlets bobbing up and down with it. She put on her saddest, most scared expression she could muster and hoped for the best. “Okay. Then you can come and nap on the couch next to me. I’ll keep the zombies away,” her mother said with a knowing smile. Her strategy had worked. Amber could hardly believe it. Zombies for the win!
As Amber lay on the couch with her head in her mother’s lap, her mother stroking her soft curls, she wondered if she could pull it off again tomorrow. She could barely believe that she had finally managed to pull one over on her mother. The gentle stroking felt so lovely that she decided to close her eyes, just for a minute.
“I’m not sleeping Mama, I’m just resting my eyes for a little bit,” she said through a yawn. Before long, Amber was fast asleep, her breathing evened out and her body grew heavy. Her mother looked down at her little face and smirked to herself.
“You tried so hard, little one. You really gave it a good go didn’t you?” she whispered, so as not to wake her peaceful daughter. “But you should always know; when it comes down to it, in the end, I always win,” and she picked up the T.V. remote, turned the box on and flicked over to her favourite daytime T.V. show; Judge Judy.
|
RSS Feed