Dear Dear Diary
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
 
Story 3:

Somewhere behind her, a child was running, bare feet on packed dry red earth. She could hear his hard breathing as he neared, but she did not slow down or turn to face him.

"Anna! Anna!" he gasped, and he grabbed for her hand.

She held his, but still did not look down. Her other arm carried the heavy basket and she would have preferred to continue to carry it using both arms, but perhaps he was more important.

"Anna, you cannot go without a man! You know..."

"I wear the black veil. They will not question me. You know the law as well as me- I may go until you are of age. Then and only then must you or another escort me." Her face was patient. "If Varazadt finds you gone, you'll only have more chores to do."

"I don't care." He held on more tightly and matched his pace to hers, catching his breath. "I'd rather come with you anyway."

She looked down, finally, to see his impish grin. The corner of her mouth twitched, but she remained impassive. "You only use the law to your advantage, Tayir. Some day, that will bite you when you don't expect it."

"The city proper is always more interesting than watering the date trees or tending the wheat field."

Anna stopped cold. "If you truly believe that, I should make you turn right now and go right back to your lessons, which you apparently have not learned." She looked at him from under the veil that covered her hair completely and shaded her face. "Listen to me now and do not ever forget these words- without those trees or those fields there would not be a city. We would not have any money or food, and it would be far easier on all of us if I went to the city without a thread of fabric about my person. Without the fields and grove, you and I would be naked in the wolves. They are your future, and they will ensure a future for your children and your children's children, and beyond. Our father died for them. Some day, you may need to too." Satisfied that the boy had been shocked into silence for the moment, she adjusted the basket on her hip, and walked on.
 
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This rather schizophrenic blog was started as a fictional blog, written by a character of a story. I've since taken it over for writing personal stuff I don't mind sharing with anyone who cares. I am also writing thoughts about writing and stories that move me.


Other places I go:
Georg's Research
Help local kitties
I have relatives. Be afraid
Blessed is the One True Tami
Tata the Bodacious
Obligatory Yarn Harlot
It is impossible not to love Sandi Wiseheart once you've met her
The Tsarina
Holiday Yarns
Habetrot
I like the name Twiggi
Who to blame for my sock addiction
Maybe the cleverest blog title
Romancing the Yarn
Why I read Romancing the Yarn
Get an ab work out with laughter
My Kitty Obsession
Kittehs
You meet the nicest people playing video games
I'm such a fanboi
Rabbitch
One of my stalker targets
The other stalkee
I just love Josh (the cat)
Josh the Cat and friends
Pet politics
Pet Care
If I were a sheep, I'd be Delores
I live here now
Not Your Mama's Crafters
Make a Lily Pad


Anything not marked might be just me, Georg, posting as myself.

It's just this blog, okay? Some of it is story. Some of it is animals. Some of it is knitting. It's a blog.

For story #1, I do recommend starting from the beginning of this blog if you haven't read this before. Please start at the beginning.

I did mean it to be for http://www.nanowrimo.org - but I never got quite got it done under the wire.

CAST:
Jeannie is the author/main character.
Frank is her husband. Poor man.
Tony is musician/singer.
Angie is a teenager, who was Jeannie's best friend. Now currently dead.
Honestly, there is no connection between Jeannie and me and Frank and my husband.

Story #2
Frank and Ether. This will be much weirder than Frank and Jeannie. I like the name Frank. No one expects a Frank to lie.

Story #3
A desert story. Anna is the main character. Currently there is only her little brother and an old servant, and a mysterious redhead.

Story #4
The necro story. A young necromancer heads off to the Hated Ones to find her trousseau.

Story X
Reserving this for one-offs, poems, etc.


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Marriage is love.

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