First Christmas story for Cathy who wanted to see a little Ashwood sibling interaction.
December 2002
“On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me seven Leaud’s swimming, six Gregin’s growling, five silver bolts, four caged Zizks ….,” Viola sang as she pushed the door open with her hip.
“I’m going to kill Duke for teaching you that song.”
Viola stopped abruptly. The plastic shopping bags hanging from her wrists slapped her thighs. She grinned merrily at Sebastian before finishing the song. “Three days rotation, two Preas prancing, and a detachable box magazine for my FN Five-Seven.”
“You don’t even like guns, Vi,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the dresser.
“No, I don’t like to fire guns. I have nothing against them on principle. I can appreciate the shininess.” Viola dumped the bags at her feet and jerked her head towards the parking lot. “C’mon. There’s more in the car.”
“More?” Sebastian’s jaw dropped. He stepped over the small pile of bags and followed his sister to the trunk of his new SUV. Though he preferred driving cars over trucks and SUVs, the vehicle gave them more room during the long trips and the four-wheel drive was handy.
He gasped when he saw the bags piled up in the rear of the SUV. “Sheesh, Vi, what’d you do? Buy out the entire store?”
“Nope.” She pulled a long box free, stood it on end, and shoved it at his chest. “But I gave it my best shot.”
“No kidding.”
It took them four trips to clear out the rear of the SUV. Sebastian lined the bags up along the wall and the edge of the bed so there was a clear path to the bathroom. He tried to peek into one of the bags only to have his hands slapped away by a Santa-hat wearing Viola.
“Where’s the grouch?” she asked, nudging the bag under the bed with her foot.
“Olivia’s doing laundry like you asked her to.” Though he'd agreed that a little cheer was in order, he hadn’t enjoyed listening to Olivia’s ten-minute rant on irresponsible sisters and improperly opened ketchup packets.
“You should join her.”
Sebastian snorted. It was a well-known fact that he and laundry didn’t mix. Left to his own devices, he’d once turned an entire load of white clothes a garish shade of purple. Olivia had exempted him from all future laundry duties but had made him wear the purple shirts and socks as punishment.
“It wasn’t really a suggestion, Bas. Go keep Olivia company.” When he made no sign of moving off the bed, Viola sighed. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared out the open curtains at the parking lot. Snow dusted the cars and the walkways. “Look, I know I’ve been a real Scrooge the past couple of Christmases, but I want to make up for it this year.”
“It’s not necessary, kiddo.”
Viola shrugged. She knew it wasn’t necessary; Olivia and Bas understood her reasons for being anti-Christmas the prior years. She needed to get out of her funk, though, and she worked better alone. “I brought my rock and roll Christmas CD.”
Sebastian grabbed his coat off the back of a chair. He pecked her cheek on his way to the door. “I think I’ll take Livy a cup of coffee.” The door slammed shut behind him.
“Works every time.”
While singing along with The Kinks and George Thorogood, Viola transformed the bland hotel room into a bright, festive holiday-spirit-palooza. She hastily wrapped the small presents she’d purchased for her siblings and placed them underneath the fiber optic tree along with the gifts she’d picked up weeks earlier. She hung long strands of metallic garland across top of the burgundy curtains, stuck blue snowflake decals to the bathroom mirror, and set cinnamon-scented flameless candles on every available horizontal surface. Stuffed reindeer, snowmen, and Santa Clauses covered the two queen-sized beds.
When she heard footsteps outside the door, she poured apple juice into plastic cups and stuck a cinnamon stick into each cup. She thrust a glass into Olivia’s hands as soon as the door opened.
“Merry, merry Christmas, Livy-liv-liv!”
Olivia glanced over her shoulder at Sebastian, pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow. “Look, it’s a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Crack.”
Showing posts with label alicia ashwood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alicia ashwood. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
September 2009
This is what happens when I watch too much television on Halloween.
September 2009
Duke heard Viola’s laughter before he reached the front door. The knot he’d had in his stomach the entire drive home eased. They’d fought over his decision to take her off rotation, and he hadn’t looked forward to coming home to a battle zone.
“Hey there,” she greeted as soon as he stepped through the front door. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming home.”
The sight of her struck him dumb. Dressed in one of his old sweatshirts, cotton shorts, and her hair sticking up in all directions, she’d never been more beautiful. A wide smile lit up her face, her eyes glistened with tears, and she was so damn glowy it made his heart ache.
“Tobias?” Concerned by his silence, she struggled to sit upright in the chair. Before her sock-covered feet could hit the floor, Finn, Pip, and Griff were at her side. She rolled her eyes. Why was it that every male she knew was in overprotective mode?
“Yeah, sweetness?”
“Did you hit your head? Do I need to call Abelardo or Bert?” She should have gone with him no matter how much he bitched about it. Luke Trayhorne, his temporary partner, was a good Tracker, but Luke didn’t know Duke the way she did. He couldn’t anticipate Duke’s moves or see past his bravado.
Duke shook himself out of his stupor and smiled reassuringly at her. “I’m fine, sugar. Just awestruck by my lovely wife.”
“What’d you do?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did you hit my car? Did you offend someone at Burkeholt? I swear, between you and foot-in-his-mouth Bas, I spend half my time apologizing for stupid humans.”
Duke crossed the room to drop a kiss on the top of her head. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled the minty aroma of her conditioner. “I love you, Viola.”
“Okay, seriously, what did you do?”
“Absolutely nothing.” He rocked back on his heels and dangled a white plastic bag in front of her. “I did stop and pick up some trail mix for you, though. The kind with the blueberries and yogurt-covered raisins.”
“Gimme! Gimme!” As soon as the bag was in her lap, she tore open the top and stuffed a handful of the nut and berry mix into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel’s.
Duke chuckled. “You’re not going to touch another raisin again when this is over, are you?”
“Pr’bly not,” she said while chewing her snack.
Still chuckling, he unlaced and kicked off his boots then turned towards the television. His brow furrowed. He understood her food cravings and the hormones that turned her into a nuclear bomb waiting to go off, but this was a new one. “You hate this show, Vi.”
“I know.”
“I’m just saying because last time I left the t.v. on one these shows and accidentally hid the remote, you lectured me for two hours on how crappy their methods were and how they should be arrested for presenting faked evidence.” He crossed his arms over his chest and arched an eyebrow. “That was after you punished me by making me watch a mini-marathon and pointing out all the errors.”
“I know.”
“So why in the hell are you watching Ghost Grabbers?”
“Move out of the way, son. You’re not transparent,” Paul Duke interrupted gruffly.
Duke spun around, eyes falling on his father. How had he missed that? He stepped out of the way of the television. He was doubly confused. Viola was watching a show she loathed with his father? It was like coming home to find them watching soap operas.
“Sit and have some trail mix, Tobias. The pizza’s on the way.” She grudgingly poured a bit of her treat into Duke’s hands. She shook her head frantically when he started to sit on the couch. “No! Not there. It’s occupied.”
Duke glanced down. He didn’t see anyone on the couch. His father was in the other recliner. The Wfsals and Finn were on the floor near Viola’s feet. He moved to the loveseat only to have her claim it was occupied as well. Growling in frustration, he lifted her off her chair, sat in her warm spot, and settled her on his lap.
“My leg’s going to be numb when I get up to answer the door.”
“I hope, for your sake, that wasn’t a dig about my weight.”
“Of course it wasn’t, sweetness.” Duke reached into her trail mix bag and stole a handful. “Want to tell me what’s going on? We’re having a ghostie viewing party?”
“Yes!” She kissed his cheek happily. “The Ghost Grabbers - ” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Wannabe know-it-alls pissed her off. “Are at Walker Hotel in Richmond. The hotel’s listed with Spirited Stays.”
“Jerome’s going to be on t.v.,” Paul said. “He bowls with me. My whole team’s here. Jerome said he left a message for me.”
Duke leaned back in the chair, tightened his grip on Viola’s waist. His life was, without a doubt, absolutely crazy. He spent the evening chasing down creatures from other dimensions and watched television with spirits while his sorta-demonic wife ate a food she normally hated. He wouldn’t trade a second of any of it.
“Look! There he is!” Viola pointed at a blur on the edge of the screen. “He’s waving.”
Duke squinted but couldn’t make out a distinct shape. Fortunately, Viola kept her scathing commentary to a minimum. He bit back a laugh as the ghost experts mistook a moth for an orb and the creaking of a door for spirit communication. It wasn’t until the Ghost Grabbers did their evidence review that they heard Jerome’s message.
One of the Grabbers, a hippy-ish twentysomething girl, had asked if the presence she felt in the room had anything to say. The digital recorder had picked up a very clear, male voice. Viola and Paul burst out laughing when the Ghost Grabbers made notes to research the names the spirit mentioned. They’d never make the right connection.
Duke turned quizzical eyes on his wife. “Did he just say, ‘Paul, tell Viola she owes me twenty bucks?’”
September 2009
Duke heard Viola’s laughter before he reached the front door. The knot he’d had in his stomach the entire drive home eased. They’d fought over his decision to take her off rotation, and he hadn’t looked forward to coming home to a battle zone.
“Hey there,” she greeted as soon as he stepped through the front door. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming home.”
The sight of her struck him dumb. Dressed in one of his old sweatshirts, cotton shorts, and her hair sticking up in all directions, she’d never been more beautiful. A wide smile lit up her face, her eyes glistened with tears, and she was so damn glowy it made his heart ache.
“Tobias?” Concerned by his silence, she struggled to sit upright in the chair. Before her sock-covered feet could hit the floor, Finn, Pip, and Griff were at her side. She rolled her eyes. Why was it that every male she knew was in overprotective mode?
“Yeah, sweetness?”
“Did you hit your head? Do I need to call Abelardo or Bert?” She should have gone with him no matter how much he bitched about it. Luke Trayhorne, his temporary partner, was a good Tracker, but Luke didn’t know Duke the way she did. He couldn’t anticipate Duke’s moves or see past his bravado.
Duke shook himself out of his stupor and smiled reassuringly at her. “I’m fine, sugar. Just awestruck by my lovely wife.”
“What’d you do?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did you hit my car? Did you offend someone at Burkeholt? I swear, between you and foot-in-his-mouth Bas, I spend half my time apologizing for stupid humans.”
Duke crossed the room to drop a kiss on the top of her head. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled the minty aroma of her conditioner. “I love you, Viola.”
“Okay, seriously, what did you do?”
“Absolutely nothing.” He rocked back on his heels and dangled a white plastic bag in front of her. “I did stop and pick up some trail mix for you, though. The kind with the blueberries and yogurt-covered raisins.”
“Gimme! Gimme!” As soon as the bag was in her lap, she tore open the top and stuffed a handful of the nut and berry mix into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel’s.
Duke chuckled. “You’re not going to touch another raisin again when this is over, are you?”
“Pr’bly not,” she said while chewing her snack.
Still chuckling, he unlaced and kicked off his boots then turned towards the television. His brow furrowed. He understood her food cravings and the hormones that turned her into a nuclear bomb waiting to go off, but this was a new one. “You hate this show, Vi.”
“I know.”
“I’m just saying because last time I left the t.v. on one these shows and accidentally hid the remote, you lectured me for two hours on how crappy their methods were and how they should be arrested for presenting faked evidence.” He crossed his arms over his chest and arched an eyebrow. “That was after you punished me by making me watch a mini-marathon and pointing out all the errors.”
“I know.”
“So why in the hell are you watching Ghost Grabbers?”
“Move out of the way, son. You’re not transparent,” Paul Duke interrupted gruffly.
Duke spun around, eyes falling on his father. How had he missed that? He stepped out of the way of the television. He was doubly confused. Viola was watching a show she loathed with his father? It was like coming home to find them watching soap operas.
“Sit and have some trail mix, Tobias. The pizza’s on the way.” She grudgingly poured a bit of her treat into Duke’s hands. She shook her head frantically when he started to sit on the couch. “No! Not there. It’s occupied.”
Duke glanced down. He didn’t see anyone on the couch. His father was in the other recliner. The Wfsals and Finn were on the floor near Viola’s feet. He moved to the loveseat only to have her claim it was occupied as well. Growling in frustration, he lifted her off her chair, sat in her warm spot, and settled her on his lap.
“My leg’s going to be numb when I get up to answer the door.”
“I hope, for your sake, that wasn’t a dig about my weight.”
“Of course it wasn’t, sweetness.” Duke reached into her trail mix bag and stole a handful. “Want to tell me what’s going on? We’re having a ghostie viewing party?”
“Yes!” She kissed his cheek happily. “The Ghost Grabbers - ” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Wannabe know-it-alls pissed her off. “Are at Walker Hotel in Richmond. The hotel’s listed with Spirited Stays.”
“Jerome’s going to be on t.v.,” Paul said. “He bowls with me. My whole team’s here. Jerome said he left a message for me.”
Duke leaned back in the chair, tightened his grip on Viola’s waist. His life was, without a doubt, absolutely crazy. He spent the evening chasing down creatures from other dimensions and watched television with spirits while his sorta-demonic wife ate a food she normally hated. He wouldn’t trade a second of any of it.
“Look! There he is!” Viola pointed at a blur on the edge of the screen. “He’s waving.”
Duke squinted but couldn’t make out a distinct shape. Fortunately, Viola kept her scathing commentary to a minimum. He bit back a laugh as the ghost experts mistook a moth for an orb and the creaking of a door for spirit communication. It wasn’t until the Ghost Grabbers did their evidence review that they heard Jerome’s message.
One of the Grabbers, a hippy-ish twentysomething girl, had asked if the presence she felt in the room had anything to say. The digital recorder had picked up a very clear, male voice. Viola and Paul burst out laughing when the Ghost Grabbers made notes to research the names the spirit mentioned. They’d never make the right connection.
Duke turned quizzical eyes on his wife. “Did he just say, ‘Paul, tell Viola she owes me twenty bucks?’”
Monday, October 18, 2010
Taking Requests
Because I don't have enough to do with work, finishing up TCC, my WotD challenge, a side project, and it being football season, I'm taking requests for any short (like the last two) "backstories" for the Ashwood series. Give me a time period or something you'd like to see and I'll try to work a little magic.
I just need a little push to get the last few chapters done, and I think burying myself in the 'verse might help with that!
Thanks!
I just need a little push to get the last few chapters done, and I think burying myself in the 'verse might help with that!
Thanks!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
WotD 10/17/10 -- January 1975 (Gerard, Alicia, Hattie, Warwick Burke)
Word of the Day Challenge – 10/17/10
Word: Fulsome: adj;
1. Offensive to the taste or sensibilities.
2. Insincere or excessively lavish; especially, offensive from excess of praise.
Timeline: January 1975 (Gerard, Alicia, Hattie, Warwick Burke)
“Gerard, darling, could you come here, please?”
At his aunt’s call, Gerard set down his book and ambled into the foyer. Sharp hazel eyes studied the girl standing between his father and Hattie. With long blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and an attractive figure she should have been pretty. The drab skirt, matronly blouse, and pearls around her slim neck reminded him too much of his mother for him to consider her worthy of a second glance.
“Darling, this is Alicia Ashwood. Her family has quite the reputation in the Network, and she is a very gifted seer.” Hattie curved an arm around Alicia’s shoulder and thrust her toward Gerard. “She was president of her school’s Future Homemakers of America club. She’s top of her class at Texas Woman’s University. Can you believe a pretty, smart girl like Alicia has been right under our noses this entire time?”
Gerard arched an eyebrow. His blunt aunt wasn’t one for fulsome flattery. A quick glance at Alicia’s flushed cheeks had him frowning. He’d foolishly hoped she’d see past Hattie’s glowing praise and put an end to the matchmaking.
“She’s everything we’ve been looking for, son,” Warwick added, eyes bright with glee. “Everything.”
Word: Fulsome: adj;
1. Offensive to the taste or sensibilities.
2. Insincere or excessively lavish; especially, offensive from excess of praise.
Timeline: January 1975 (Gerard, Alicia, Hattie, Warwick Burke)
“Gerard, darling, could you come here, please?”
At his aunt’s call, Gerard set down his book and ambled into the foyer. Sharp hazel eyes studied the girl standing between his father and Hattie. With long blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and an attractive figure she should have been pretty. The drab skirt, matronly blouse, and pearls around her slim neck reminded him too much of his mother for him to consider her worthy of a second glance.
“Darling, this is Alicia Ashwood. Her family has quite the reputation in the Network, and she is a very gifted seer.” Hattie curved an arm around Alicia’s shoulder and thrust her toward Gerard. “She was president of her school’s Future Homemakers of America club. She’s top of her class at Texas Woman’s University. Can you believe a pretty, smart girl like Alicia has been right under our noses this entire time?”
Gerard arched an eyebrow. His blunt aunt wasn’t one for fulsome flattery. A quick glance at Alicia’s flushed cheeks had him frowning. He’d foolishly hoped she’d see past Hattie’s glowing praise and put an end to the matchmaking.
“She’s everything we’ve been looking for, son,” Warwick added, eyes bright with glee. “Everything.”
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
WotD 10/12/10 Spring 2000 (Sebastian)
Word of the Day Challenge 10/12/10
Word: Retrograde: adj;
1. Having a backward motion or direction; retiring or retreating.
2. Inverse or reversed, as order.
3. Exhibiting degeneration or deterioration.
Timeline: Spring 2000 (Sebastian)
“I’m afraid there has been some retrograde progress in your mother’s condition.”
Sebastian nodded sharply at Dr. Barnes, his eyes on the woman on the other side of the plexiglass window. It was obvious that his mother was getting worse. After only a small improvement thanks to new medication, she was back to slapping food out of people’s hands and claiming she’d been betrayed by a demon.
He and his sisters had known for years that their mother had an unhealthy dependency on their father and a history of mental illness. According to their late grandmother, Alicia Ashwood had always been a little… delicate. The true depth of her sickness, however, had been masked by Gerard’s constant presence. With him gone, she’d dived head-first into insanity.
“We’ll keep her for seventy-two hours and monitor her behavior. Afterwards we can discuss whether or not she should receive inpatient treatment. I know this is hard, but it’s for the best. She hasn’t harmed anyone yet, but the potential for a violent outburst does exist.”
Sebastian shivered. He’d seen the way Alicia looked at Viola sometimes. There was no doubt in his mind that his mother would go for her first. “I understand.”
Word: Retrograde: adj;
1. Having a backward motion or direction; retiring or retreating.
2. Inverse or reversed, as order.
3. Exhibiting degeneration or deterioration.
Timeline: Spring 2000 (Sebastian)
“I’m afraid there has been some retrograde progress in your mother’s condition.”
Sebastian nodded sharply at Dr. Barnes, his eyes on the woman on the other side of the plexiglass window. It was obvious that his mother was getting worse. After only a small improvement thanks to new medication, she was back to slapping food out of people’s hands and claiming she’d been betrayed by a demon.
He and his sisters had known for years that their mother had an unhealthy dependency on their father and a history of mental illness. According to their late grandmother, Alicia Ashwood had always been a little… delicate. The true depth of her sickness, however, had been masked by Gerard’s constant presence. With him gone, she’d dived head-first into insanity.
“We’ll keep her for seventy-two hours and monitor her behavior. Afterwards we can discuss whether or not she should receive inpatient treatment. I know this is hard, but it’s for the best. She hasn’t harmed anyone yet, but the potential for a violent outburst does exist.”
Sebastian shivered. He’d seen the way Alicia looked at Viola sometimes. There was no doubt in his mind that his mother would go for her first. “I understand.”
Thursday, October 7, 2010
WotD 10/7/10 - December 1998 (Gerard, Viola)
Word of the Day Challenge 10/7/10
Word: Mana: noun;
1. A generalized, supernatural force or power, which may be concentrated in objects or persons.
2. An ancient kingdom in Iran, in Kurdistan.
Timeline: December 1998 (Gerard, Viola)
Under the guise of filling in a hole in the backyard, Gerard Ashwood made his tribute to Elrachaim. Through the breach in the veil separating his world from Wylan, he felt his master’s presence. Warm energy flooded his veins as the tribute was accepted.
He nearly dropped the small clay pot when the energy flow spiked unexpectedly. He glanced down at his tribute. It was the same one he’d been leaving for years. There was no reason for Elrachaim to be unusually pleased.
“What’cha doing, Daddy?”
Gerard craned his neck to grin over his shoulder at his youngest child. Dressed in jeans and the sweater Olivia had given her that morning, Viola was ready for their father-daughter birthday dinner. She bounced on her toes excitedly, a matching grin spread across her face.
“Filling in this hole so no one breaks an ankle. Give me a minute, my violet.”
He waited until he heard the backdoor slam closed to turn back to the breach. The energy slipping through the tear crackled angrily at being denied proximity to Viola’s mana. Gerard couldn’t blame Elrachaim for being upset; his daughter held an extraordinary amount of power.
“Patience, my lord. Just one more year.”
Word: Mana: noun;
1. A generalized, supernatural force or power, which may be concentrated in objects or persons.
2. An ancient kingdom in Iran, in Kurdistan.
Timeline: December 1998 (Gerard, Viola)
Under the guise of filling in a hole in the backyard, Gerard Ashwood made his tribute to Elrachaim. Through the breach in the veil separating his world from Wylan, he felt his master’s presence. Warm energy flooded his veins as the tribute was accepted.
He nearly dropped the small clay pot when the energy flow spiked unexpectedly. He glanced down at his tribute. It was the same one he’d been leaving for years. There was no reason for Elrachaim to be unusually pleased.
“What’cha doing, Daddy?”
Gerard craned his neck to grin over his shoulder at his youngest child. Dressed in jeans and the sweater Olivia had given her that morning, Viola was ready for their father-daughter birthday dinner. She bounced on her toes excitedly, a matching grin spread across her face.
“Filling in this hole so no one breaks an ankle. Give me a minute, my violet.”
He waited until he heard the backdoor slam closed to turn back to the breach. The energy slipping through the tear crackled angrily at being denied proximity to Viola’s mana. Gerard couldn’t blame Elrachaim for being upset; his daughter held an extraordinary amount of power.
“Patience, my lord. Just one more year.”
Monday, October 4, 2010
WotD 10/4/10: Summer 1998 (S, D, O, V)
Word of the Day Challenge – 10/4/10
Word: nympholepsy: noun;
1. A frenzy of emotion, as for something unattainable
2. An ecstasy supposed by the ancients to be inspired by nymphs
Timeframe: Summer 1998 (Sebastian, Duke, Olivia, Viola)
“It’s hot.”
“And really humid. Are we ever going to get there?”
Duke gritted his teeth and silently counted to twenty. He’d reached his limit when it came listening to the Ashwood sisters’ nonstop complaints. Viola didn’t like how hot it was, and Olivia had done nothing but whine about what the humidity had done to her hair and makeup.
“I think whoever told you there were demons down here was lying,” Viola groaned, unscrewing the cap from her water bottle and taking a long sip.
Sebastian smiled tightly at Duke over Viola’s head. It was absolutely the last time he volunteered to babysit his sisters while his parents went out for dinner. He stopped abruptly as his ears picked up a faint noise. “Do y’all hear music?”
Olivia clutched Viola’s hand as they followed the boys towards the high-pitched, lively music. Through the branches of a low bush she could see massive, blue-scaled demons moving in a sort of nympholepsy around a small fire. She’d never seen the demons before, but they appeared to be… naked?
“Damn it!” Duke swore under his breath as he slapped his hand over Viola’s eyes. “I forgot it was the Feast of Stragni.”
Word: nympholepsy: noun;
1. A frenzy of emotion, as for something unattainable
2. An ecstasy supposed by the ancients to be inspired by nymphs
Timeframe: Summer 1998 (Sebastian, Duke, Olivia, Viola)
“It’s hot.”
“And really humid. Are we ever going to get there?”
Duke gritted his teeth and silently counted to twenty. He’d reached his limit when it came listening to the Ashwood sisters’ nonstop complaints. Viola didn’t like how hot it was, and Olivia had done nothing but whine about what the humidity had done to her hair and makeup.
“I think whoever told you there were demons down here was lying,” Viola groaned, unscrewing the cap from her water bottle and taking a long sip.
Sebastian smiled tightly at Duke over Viola’s head. It was absolutely the last time he volunteered to babysit his sisters while his parents went out for dinner. He stopped abruptly as his ears picked up a faint noise. “Do y’all hear music?”
Olivia clutched Viola’s hand as they followed the boys towards the high-pitched, lively music. Through the branches of a low bush she could see massive, blue-scaled demons moving in a sort of nympholepsy around a small fire. She’d never seen the demons before, but they appeared to be… naked?
“Damn it!” Duke swore under his breath as he slapped his hand over Viola’s eyes. “I forgot it was the Feast of Stragni.”
Sunday, October 3, 2010
WotD - 10/3/10 - (December 2000, Viola, Olivia, Alicia)
Word of the Day Challenge – October 3, 2010
Word: Fossick: verb;
1. To search for any object by which to make gain.
2. Mining. To undermine another's digging; search for waste gold in relinquished workings, washing places, etc.
3. To hunt; seek; ferret out.
Timeline: December 1999 (Viola, Alicia, Olivia)
Olivia paused inside the doorway of the kitchen. Her jaw dropped in surprise. Rather than with the punching bag in the garage or upstairs blasting music loud enough to burst eardrums, Viola was seated at the kitchen table surrounded by books and legal pads. She affectionately ruffled her sister’s short hair as she made her way to the stove and her mother.
“Vi’s doing her homework?” Olivia queried softly, inhaling the fragrant aroma of her mother’s marinara sauce.
Alicia’s lips pursed. She stirred the sauce faster than necessary. “She claims she has no homework. Somehow she got a hold of the reports from the Trackers who retrieved Mark Cahill’s body.”
Olivia’s heart sank. Bert and Toby Duke had sent the best Trackers in the region after the missing Cahill and Gerard Ashwood. She had no doubt several Trackers had already analyzed the reports and photographs. Stating that, however, wouldn’t keep Viola from fossicking over every photo and typed word until her eyes bled.
“Do you think we should stop her?”
Alicia shook her head. Her blue eyes were frosty as she stared at her busy youngest child. “Let her do whatever she wants. It’ll keep her out of my hair.”
Word: Fossick: verb;
1. To search for any object by which to make gain.
2. Mining. To undermine another's digging; search for waste gold in relinquished workings, washing places, etc.
3. To hunt; seek; ferret out.
Timeline: December 1999 (Viola, Alicia, Olivia)
Olivia paused inside the doorway of the kitchen. Her jaw dropped in surprise. Rather than with the punching bag in the garage or upstairs blasting music loud enough to burst eardrums, Viola was seated at the kitchen table surrounded by books and legal pads. She affectionately ruffled her sister’s short hair as she made her way to the stove and her mother.
“Vi’s doing her homework?” Olivia queried softly, inhaling the fragrant aroma of her mother’s marinara sauce.
Alicia’s lips pursed. She stirred the sauce faster than necessary. “She claims she has no homework. Somehow she got a hold of the reports from the Trackers who retrieved Mark Cahill’s body.”
Olivia’s heart sank. Bert and Toby Duke had sent the best Trackers in the region after the missing Cahill and Gerard Ashwood. She had no doubt several Trackers had already analyzed the reports and photographs. Stating that, however, wouldn’t keep Viola from fossicking over every photo and typed word until her eyes bled.
“Do you think we should stop her?”
Alicia shook her head. Her blue eyes were frosty as she stared at her busy youngest child. “Let her do whatever she wants. It’ll keep her out of my hair.”
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