writingwiththedoorclosed

[writingwiththedoorclosed]

The Hike

She turns her head, the blond hair falling down her back mirroring the rustling of the trees in the wind around her. The smell of pine reaches her nose, refreshing with the crunch of needles and leaves under her feet. Rocks and pebbles slide under the sturdy tread of her boots. She’s wearing a backpack that seems to get heaver the longer she goes. It’s dark, and the quiet of night hovers like a blanket over the forest as she walks. Her legs burn with the constant tread uphill, ever up, up, up to the sunrise at the top of the mountain. She’s been hiking for hours now, her throat dry, her nostrils burning with the chilliness of the air. Only the smell of pine and snow, the relentless peace of the forest keep her going. She’s both relaxed and energized, exhausted but determined, this hike so far an experience she’s unwilling, as yet, to give up. Around her, there’s no hint of the world, no indication that only a couple miles away are highways, trucks, industry, smoke, and the consistent rush hour of those who continue to work but in reality accomplish little. 

She’s on the hunt for something more. Her arm stings as a branch whips by, and it occurs to her she probably should have worn a long-sleeved shirt. Her pants are light, sturdy, a light brown that blends well with the forest around her. Her boots are tough, but well-used. She’s an old pro, her hands callused from the rocks she’s held, her arms muscular, her legs used to the constant, grueling pace of a continuous uphill climb. But she continues to strive for the top. 

Close by, creeping into her ear, comes the sound of rushing water, and as she rounds a corner, it comes into view. The waterfall is almost mystical, mist curling up from the pool, hitting the white moonlight in a burst of color. It tickles her lips, her nose, brushing her cheeks with a refreshing caress. She stops and takes it in for a moment, the pure naturalness of it, loving the way the water flows over the rocks in a white stream. It calls to her, and she yearns to dive in just for a moment, but time ticks by and the dome awaits. The waterfall is directly ahead of her, and as she makes her way around it the water and mist combine to an almost impenetrable wall of white. She emerges, wet and cold, wiping the back of her hand across her nose, taking a drink of her water, and continues, slinging her green backpack over her shoulders. It’s the refresher she needs to continue further. 

She’s totally surrounded by forest, completely alone and four miles into a ten mile journey. The sounds, the smells, the restlessness of the forest at night. It’s like nothing she’s ever experienced. She feels powerful, invincible as her thighs burn, as her breath comes hot and fast into her mouth, her lungs. 

And then eyes appear, staring at her out of the darkness. She stops, staring back at them, not noticing the two other sets of eyes behind and to her side. The forest watches her. A hint of a smell - is it blood, or dirt? - reaches her, and she can barely make out the outline of a furry head behind those watchful eyes. A movement behind her - she whirls, taking a step back, her hair flung out behind her in a golden wave so unlike the browns and greens of the world around her. 

Bears. They are bears. They don’t approach, but they watch. She begins to sing, loud and strong, her voice sounding out of place in the quiet business of the night. Her boots stomp on twigs, breaking branches, stirring up the forest floor into something unrecognizable. 

The inevitability of this destruction occurs to her, even as she continues to render it true. The bears watch, but don’t follow. They seem to know more than she does. They’ve been here before. 

She continues to sing, but after a while the quiet gets to her again and she’s silent. A break in the trees, and the moon stares down at her, white and merciless in the evening. The clear sky shows stars beyond reckoning, and she gasps as she looks up at them. Something inside of her stirs. She closes her eyes. Breathing In. Breathing Out. Once. Twice. Three times. It’s the power of this place, so wild and yet so incredibly full of peace. 

Keep moving. A fox skitters to her right. Her arms glow in the darkness, the smooth tan becoming almost translucent in the spotty light. The trees obscure the moon again, and she’s lost in the forest. The feeling of her pants against her leg, her feet moving up and down, in and out of her boots, the tightness of them around her ankles, the toughness of them on the rocks. She’s perfectly aware of every movement of her body. Her stomach as it expands and contracts with her breath, the bounce of her breasts as she steps, the swing of her arms. She hasn’t experienced this level of fullness, of the total awareness of herself, this total presence in this moment. No thoughts cross her mind, nothing to distract. What is there to think about other than this place, this time? 

Hours pass. The dark becomes darker, the dark before the rising of the sun. And suddenly she emerges from the forest, facing an almost vertical wall of stone. She stops, looks down. The forest floor has given way to a clearing of dirt, leaves and stone. She can’t see the moon, or the stars. The sky has become foggy with the first, slight, grey light of dawn. She sits, her back against the wall, and regards the forest, letting her water bottle fall between her legs as she breathes out what felt like a long-held breath. 

A bite, a quick prick, on her arm. She awakens, not realizing she had fallen asleep, and realizes she is covered with mosquitoes. Big ones, too. Their wings flutter and their suckers make ready to puncture her again. She screams and jerks away, and they rise up like a cloud and move away. 

The sound has stopped the rustling of the forest ahead of her. It’s too quiet. It’s time to go - the light has already begun to spill over the horizon. Still grey - there’s still time. She gathers up her hair into a knot on top of her head. The tightness of the bun pulling from her neck is refreshing, her hair soft and silken, a welcome reminder of who she is. 

She breathes in, clearing the remnants of sleep from her mind, her nose, her eyes. The wall has cables leading up, up, up and out of sight. She grabs hold, and is suddenly taken back to her world with the feel of the metal in her hands. It’s a steel cable, braided and grooves in the wall to guide her feet. She’s not the first person to come this way. Nevertheless, she grabs hold, hoisting herself up with the crunch of her abs, the power still in her legs even after all this way. 

The wind starts to push at her from above, from behind, tossing flyaway hairs into her face, but it doesn’t distract her. Her eyes are focused on the line in front of her, the demarcation point between the ground and sky. Her arms scream with the effort of pulling her up, the stone gritty under her hands, the dust of it entering her nose, making her sneeze. A groove crumbles under her foot, and she catches herself, daring a glance down. The tops of the trees seem to crowd in behind her, urging her upward, daring her to come back through. They seem drained of all color in the half-light of the dawn. She looks ahead, at the stone, and keeps moving. 

One more. Two more. Three more. It’s a harrowing experience, until she begins to hear the birds calling out. Their cries are tentative at first, but the combined power of them soon becomes a song, and she forgets the pain, forgets the fear, and climbs. Her lips spread in a smile, glorying in the work that’s gotten her this far, the glory of the birds urging her on, ever upwards. 

She loses track of time. Suddenly, her hand reaching upward lands on a post, and she looks up in surprise. It’s the top. She heaves herself over the side, and is on top of the dome, spread-eagled on the ground, nothing above her but the sky, nothing below her but forgotten fears and a restless forest of mysteries and magic. She feels completely apart from this place. 

But the sun breaks over the horizon, turning her world into gold, pink, purple, and the glorious song of the birds reaches a crescendo as the wind rustles through the trees. Her breath comes hard and every part of her aches, but her fingers dig into the stone, clutching it with a desperate intensity that mirrors hope.  There’s nothing for her to see but the sky, nowhere for her to be, and nothing for her to hear but the song of the forest. She closes her eyes, the light golden behind her eyelids, and laughs. 

[writingwiththedoorclosed]

Some other ideas

Quick basic outlines: 

- Girl hiking vignette - just a girl hiking and description of everything she sees/does/smells/feels. Take from Amber’s story about hiking Yosemite - bears, mosquitoes, waterfall, up cables, up hill, late at night. All the feels. An exercise in description. 

- The random Hufflepuff at Hogwarts (Initials F. M. - I had his name but I can’t remember it. Fellonius McFuddle?) who is living the whole time Harry Potter is at Hogwarts but is dealing with his own shit and basically stays out of all the Voldemort stuff. So what is he dealing with the whole time? He comes from totally the opposite situation as Harry - good family, all wizards, all running their own wizarding businesses outside of the Ministry of Magic (bc there HAS to be something else to do in the wizarding world). His best friends are a Ravenclaw and another Hufflepuff. What do they do the whole time? Basically just react to the events in Harry Potter.....maybe we follow the books pretty closely and just see how they react, how they generally live their lives at Hogwarts and how they learn magic and shit. This could probably be fanfiction. 

- Social media fantasy.... I don’t know anything about this one. How do you have a fantasy novel set in modern times and play out on social media? Are the faeries trying to take over the world? Are the vampires the rock stars? That seems very classist. Is it just Facebook or Twitter? Or the dark web/reddit or other obscure forums? Is she a human that finds an underground world? What’s the central conflict or thing? Gotta think about this a bit more. 

- Kids growing up story: Dad tells his kids this story about a made-up world that combines everything he read as a child, and their lives progress in parallel ways to that story. Interspersed with the story to give it an innocent feel with their real-world problems growing up. I’m not sure how this will end or play out though. Has to do with the relationships between them and how they deal with various life stages/events. They encounter some obstacles - overcoming self-consciousness, fear, dealing with love lost, figuring out identities. How does it end? Maybe one of them gets married? Very “This is us” esque. 

Some ideas for the moment. Will try to spin them all out and see what happens. 

[writingwiththedoorclosed]

Jack & Diane Outline V2

How to be scary without being violent? This is the question...I am going to try outlining this story before I write it again. 

Beginning: pregnancy scene - Diane gives birth to Little Nell. 

- What was the verbal abuse? 

    Are you cheating? Not good enough...you’re wrong about everything. Sharing only factual information, insulting and then saying he’s too childish, making a big deal out of nothing, too insecure. Hurtful jokes. Blaming - preventing her from getting a promotion because the partner isn’t supportive enough, or ruining her reputation because of a case that fell through, or sleeping with someone?  Judging and criticizing. Undermining things he says or does, at work and/or at home. Threats (not physical harm). Yelling, ordering/demanding. Forgets/disregards dates. If he goes, she’s going to kill herself, or kill him. 

- Physical abuse 

  Throwing dishes at him, slapping him or hitting or kicking in bed. Pushing him/shoving him. Threatening physical harm. 

Cut out the whole thing about how they met. Just little snippets of it during their conversations. The case where they met, or how attracted to her he is/etc. .... maybe she is a stay at home mom, not an agent? 

What is the scary incident that prompts him to leave? Throws a hair dryer at him while he’s in the shower? Almost shoots him? 

Middle: He leaves, she begins stalking - appearing at friend’s house at night, calling his office during the day, initiating new cases where he is the prosecuting attorney though he never started them, sending emails to his boss about him harassing her? Picking up their daughter from school when she’s not supposed to? Having her friends tell him how terrible he is on her behalf? 

He gets a restraining order, maybe he Baker Acts her? She is held in a mental institution for a week and then released, and she comes back to the house. He goes home after dropping Nell off at the birthday party. She takes a bath and puts on one of his bathrobes, then comes downstairs to where he is making dinner. 

End: What happens???? What do they do? 

She just wants to make him understand that he is to blame for everything bad that’s happened to her. She’s not trying to make him pay for it; she just wants validation. 

++++ 

Maybe they’re just both vampires and they make another vampire they call Little Nell, and Jack and Nell have all sorts of adventures and then Diane goes crazy after stalking them, gets arrested by humans, kills a guard on her way out and ends up killing herself by jumping into fire at the end after setting a bunch of her vampire buddies into a trap for Nell and Jack who they end up talking down. There we go. For some reason it’s much easier to write about vampires than about real people. 

[writingwiththedoorclosed]

Jack & Diane

[writingwiththedoorclosed]

This was a weird dream

I dreamed about a telepathic wizard lord named Thomas Humphrey. All I remember is walking into a dark room, I think it was made of stone. There was water dripping off the walls and a staircase in the middle that went straight up to and through the ceiling, but it was too dark - I couldn’t see where it led. All I knew was there was this wizard dude circling the staircase, watching me. He had been kidnapping girls - had he? I can’t remember. I thought he was teaching them something, maybe brainwashing them, but again, I don’t know. I thought about JD and how helpful he had been getting me to this point. There was no one else who could confront Thomas, no one else who was equipped to defy him. 

He said things to me, and they resonated, but I couldn’t recall them now if I wanted to. I felt a weird sense of attraction to him, something alluring, drawing me to him while at the same time making me back away. I was so scared. I heard the water dripping down the walls - were we under a river? Who knows. 

Thomas, as it turns out, was a telepathic wizard/lord thing. Like a cross between Lord Voldemort and a telepathic hydra I read about in one of my favorite books as a child. Probably because I think Lord Voldemort is sexy, and I definitely thought the hydra was pretty cool. I don’t remember much about how Thomas looked, just his name and these things about him, and the fact that he was so much of something. I don’t know what or why. He was bad. Evil, I guess I should say, though in my dream I was convinced he started out good and was driven to bad through some horrible, unknown circumstance. Maybe there was more to him, but what do I know - this was just a dream. 

We had some kind of discussion. There was some kind of villain monologue - “join me, and together we’ll conquer the world” sort of thing. I refused, because I had to in that situation, but part of me wondered, and that’s the part that let him in. He invaded my mind. I’ve felt nothing like it before or since. Total pain, like nothing I’ve ever experienced, but also total pleasure, and yes, I do mean every pleasure in the sexual sense. He was so damn hot. I hate it when villains are hot. 

Anyway, we had some kind of epic battle, and I don’t think I won - I think I was dragged out of there after fainting by JD, and all I have here in my notes about JD is that he’s the fat kid who was in love with me. 

But Thomas stayed with me, in my head. In my dream, he followed me for days. He influenced my thoughts, he held me frozen in the middle of a marketplace. Sometimes he would seize me up like that, just to prove his power, and there was nothing I could do to resist. I couldn’t convince myself I wanted to resist, actually. It was a constant battle between good and evil in my head. Did the core of me truly desire to be with him? Or did I want to enforce the side of good and be surrounded by people who were perfectly nice, but who didn’t truly understand me, who could never know me like Thomas new me? 

The whole time this took place, I was dressed in a white nightgown, down to my knees with lace edges at the hem and sleeves. My hair was long, down to my breasts, and straight and thin. I remember being barefoot in that room, with no weapons and nothing else with which to defend myself, even though i knew I was going in there for a fight. 

Maybe that’s why he stayed with me. But then I woke up. 

I’m writing this here because I”m trying to get into the habit of writing. It’s impossible to think I could come up with a fully fledged story, but I want to try, and honestly my brain seems to do a lot of the work for me. I have dreams like this all the time. My goal is to write them down in as much detail as possible, every day, so I don’t lose them and to see if they all somehow fit together into a larger picture. I have so many ideas! But I’m writing for myself, which is why I called this blog “writing with the door closed.” You’re welcome to read it, and I’ll certainly be happy if you do, but don’t expect it to be good, or even worthy of your time. 

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy my weird dream escapades, as well as all the other random thoughts that I probably will write here at some point.