THE END!!

It is over! Here is the end of the story! I finished with a 1300 word conclusion and The Forgotten Children is 15 039 words. I am quite proud of it. Sure, there are things wrong with it, but it's basically an interesting story. In December, I'll get into editing and polishing. Of course, the challenge now is to ensure that this blog doesn't become an anything book.. I'll do my best!

So, the final statistics. In November writing month, I wrote 15,039 words of The Forgotten Children, plus 7025 words for 2 contracted pieces of work. That's a grand total of 22 064 words for the month, or an average of 735 words per day. Not bad!

But enough of the stats. Here is "the end of the end!" Thanks for reading! (Oh and Emma - watch out for Peg...)
****
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The owl dived at Sixpence, who leapt out of the way, hissing and spitting. In the sudden silence, the children awoke from their trance. On seeing Hannah, Charlotte gave a cry of joy and raced towards her. The other children followed. Richard and Sarah grabbed their hands and pushed them one by one through the hole in the rock, which was already beginning to close.

Desperately, the stranger tried to grab the pipe, but his leg was bleeding and he limped painfully. Troy was faster. Sprinting to where the pipe lay, he picked it up with a cry of triumph.
“You will not control us anymore!” he yelled at the stranger. He ran towards the rock, confident that the injured man could not follow him. But just as he ran through the entrance, he heard a frantic cry.
“Troy! Help me! Please help me!”

Turning, Troy saw James. In the commotion, the young boy had tripped and was struggling to get to his feet. Troy began to run back towards him. With a screech, the owl flew in front of James, so close that Troy could feel the beating of its wings. The bird perched on the shoulders of the terrified James, who sobbed as the sharp talons dug into his flesh. Before Troy knew it, he was looking into the eyes of the bird. Immediately, he heard the voice of the stranger in his mind.

Leave him, said the voice. You have no time left. The rock is closing! Leave the boy with me. He is of no use in your village. He wants to stay here anyway.
Troy shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the hypnotizing voice. “He does not,” he said. “He wants to come back with us.”
James continued to sob. It was too late. He was trapped. “Save yourself, Troy,” he cried. “I do not matter.”
You see? The voice was insistent. He wants to stay.
With an almighty effort, Troy tore his eyes away from the bird. “No!” he yelled. He ran at the owl waving his arms, causing the to rise into the air once more. He grabbed James’ hand and together they took the last few steps towards the rock. With the rumbling loud in their eyes, they dived into the hole. Dimly, Troy was aware of an angry, almost inhuman howl behind them as the rock closed.


“Oh, thank God! They are all right!” Sarah was sobbing as Richard helped a shaken Troy and James to their feet. Troy looked over to see the rest of the group sitting on the ground nearby. The children, who looked dazed and confused, were being comforted by their relieved parents. Charlotte sat enveloped in her mother’s arms. On her lap sat Sixpence, who was purring loudly and looked quite proud of himself.

“Mama?” Charlotte said. “How did you.. When did you.. I don’t understand.”
“I will explain everything when we get home,” said Hannah. She looked around at the others. “I think we should all go home,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but I have no wish to stay on this mountainside any longer.”

Moments later, the group traipsed back along the twisting and turning path towards the village. No one but Sixpence noticed the mule that brayed as they passed by. Peg looked at Sixpence, who was travelling contentedly in Charlotte’s arms.
You found them then, Peg seemed to say and Sixpence miaowed in response.
The village lights blinked invitingly as the party made their way to their cottages and fell into an exhausted sleep.

***
“No! I won’t allow it!”
The next morning, Sarah was protesting loudly as a meeting of the village was held. Troy stood at the front of the group, the stranger’s pipe in his hand.
“But I have to, Mama,” he said. “It is only right. I will be perfectly safe.”
“No.” Sarah shook her head again. “We are fortunate that everyone survived,” she said. “Why on earth would you want to go back up the hillside and risk being taken again?”
“I won’t be taken,” said Troy. “I have the pipe and I resisted the owl. I will be quite safe. But if I don’t do this, we may be in danger again. Would you want other children to be taken in the future?”
“Of course not,” said Sarah, defeated.

Charlotte stepped forward to stand next to Troy.
“Troy is right,” she said. “The stranger spoke of a debt unpaid. He did rid the town of the rats. You all promised to pay him, but you didn’t. That’s why he took us. If he isn’t paid, the debt will remain and he might come back.”
“Besides,” said Troy. “I won’t go through the rock. I am just going to play the pipe so that the entrance is visible. Then I can throw the stranger’s fee through the opening. The rock will close again and the debt will be paid.”
“Then we can destroy the pipe, so that this never happens again,” added Charlotte. She looked around the group of adults, who were reluctantly nodding.

At last, Richard stepped forward. “Very well,” he said. “But I will go. It was my fault in the first place that the stranger was not paid. I will not put you all in danger again.”
“But I want to go,” said Troy.
“So do I,” said Charlotte.
“And I,” said James.
“We are part of this village,” said Troy. “Soon we will be adults ourselves. You can trust us with this task.”

Hannah stood up. “Our children have shown more wisdom than we did,” she said. “We should let them go. But we will be close by.”
“Let’s go now,” said James. “It is full daylight. The owl will be sleeping. It will be safer.”
“James is right,” said Troy. “Come on!”

A short while later, they were standing back in front of the rocks. Despite their bravado, all the children looked uneasy. Troy held the pipe to his lips. “Here we go,” he said. He began to play and the music filled the air. But in his hands, the melody sounded different. Instead of an intoxicating tune, the notes were gentle.
“You see?” whispered Hannah to Sarah. “Our children are making peace.” She smiled as Charlotte stepped forward, a heavy cloth bag in her hand. As the rock opened, she flung the bag through the hole.
“There!” she called. “Our debt is paid! Now you can leave us alone!”

The bag disappeared through the opening and Troy stopped playing. Everyone watched in silence as the gap in the rock closed.
Troy held the pipe out towards James. “Would you like to do the honours?” he asked.
James smiled. He placed the pipe on the ground in front of him and took a step back. He removed the small axe that he had slung over his shoulder and brought it down on the pipe, splintering the wood into many pieces.
“It is over!” called Troy. “Now let’s all go home.”
The cheers of the crown echoed around the mountainside.

***
It was night. A limping figure prowled the shadows, stopping to pick up a cloth bag from the foot of the tree. “Well well well…” he said softly. He spread out his cloak with a flourish and immediately a large owl swooped down from the sky, dropping a small bundle at the man’s feet.
The stranger picked up the pieces of wood and a smile spread slowly across his face.
“Well done, my night wanderer,” he said. Carefully, he opened the bag and dropped the pieces of wood inside.
“It is time we were on our way,” he said. He dropped his cloak and together they disappeared into the dark.

The Penultimate Story Post!

I am REALLY enjoying writing this ending. There are 781 words in this second last post. Tomorrow, all will be revealed and November writing month will end. Then, the editing of The Forgotten Children will begin. I am pleased with most of what I have come up with and look forward to the tightening/changing/polishing process that follows. Week 4 stats were:
Saturday - 310, Sunday - 555, Monday - 438, Tuesday - 551, Wednesday - 400, Thursday - 509, Friday - 853
Total: 3616 words Average: 517 per day.
With 1 more day left in November, I'll do a final stats report tomorrow. But here is the "middle of the end"!
*******
There was a deep rumbling as the doorway through the mountainside opened in front of Hannah’s astonished eyes. She looked across at Richard and Sarah, who stood transfixed, watching as the rock seemed to open as easily as the cracking of an egg. “Come on!” she said. “We have to go through!”
James was already halfway through the opening, his face glowing with joy. “I am coming!” he cried.
Feeling equally determined and frightened, Hannah and the others followed.

Relieved that his makeshift earplugs seemed to be working, Troy watched as the rock opened. He could see the stranger’s fingers caressing the wooden pipe, but could only faintly hear the mesmerizing notes it created. It must be enough, he thought. I can still think clearly. Taking a deep breath, he saw a figure emerging and saw James’ painful progress. Just a little further, he thought to himself. Then we will all help you. At that moment, he looked past the tree to the clearing beyond. At last! There were Charlotte and the others, walking towards him. Troy raised a hand to give the signal, but soon realized that something was wrong. Charlotte was walking slowly, leading Clara by the hand. Both were smiling, their eyes shining. Oh Charlotte, thought Troy. You didn’t remember about the music. Desperately, he tried to think of a solution. Should he just save himself? Should he race back through the rock and go to the village to get help? But by the time I get back, he thought, the rock will have closed again. What am I going to do?

“James!” It was Charlotte’s voice. “It is so wonderful to see you!”
Troy watched as Charlotte ran forward and hugged her young friend. He closed his eyes. It is hopeless, he thought.

“No!”
Another voice cut through the music. Stunned, Troy opened his eyes as he recognized the voice’s familiar tone. He turned his head back to the rock and saw his parents and Charlotte’s mother stumble through the opening. How had they made it through? “Mother! Father!” Without thinking, Troy ran from his hiding place and embraced them.

“Troy!” Sarah was sobbing. Her hands went to his face. “Are you injured? What has happened?” Even up close, her voice was muffled. Troy shrank back as she put out a hand to push aside the material covering his ears. “No, Mother,” he explained. “It’s blocking the music. Quickly! We have to get the others out before the rock closes again!” The three of them hurried towards the group of children.

“Charlotte?” Hannah was already walking towards her daughter. Charlotte looked at her, but the young girl’s eyes were vacant, as if she didn’t recognize Hannah. “Come on, Charlotte. It is time to go now.”
At this, Charlotte’s expression cleared and was replaced with a look so angry that Hannah took an involuntary step backwards.
“No!” said Charlotte, forcefully. “I will not leave here. I am a chosen one.”
Hannah gasped. “What are you talking about?” she said. “We have been searching for you every minute since we realized you and the others were missing. You must come home! You must all come home.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No,” she said again. “We are chosen. You are the ones who must leave. You must forget us.”
“How could we forget our children?” cried Hannah. “This is foolishness! You will come with me now!” She grabbed Charlotte’s arm, but the young girl shook off her grip.
“You cannot understand, Mrs Ross.” James was speaking now. He stepped forward, grasping Charlotte’s hand. “We all belong here. You do not. Go back. Forget us. It is all that you can do.”
Hannah staggered backwards. Sarah and Troy came to her, similar looks of despair on their faces. It did not matter what they tried. The other children would not move. “What can we do?” Hannah cried.

A movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn. The stranger appeared, still playing the pipe. His eyes narrowed. With the slightest movement of his arm, he signaled to a large owl that flew to perch on the edge of his cloak. The owl’s eyes locked with Hannah’s.
You see? Hannah gasped as a voice sounded in her head. This is what happens when promises to me are broken.
“YOU MONSTER!” Hannah tried to run towards the stranger. Horrified, she realized that she couldn’t move. Her feet seemed rooted to the spot.

Suddenly, a small furry shape scampered past her and launched itself at the stranger’s legs with an eerie yowl. Sixpence’s claws sank deep into the stranger’s flesh. With a cry he dropped the pipe and the music abruptly ceased.

The third last bit!

These 853 words came easily. It's actually getting a little bit exciting to write! So here is the beginning of the end, as it were!
**


The stranger swept past the group of seemingly sleeping children. He paid no attention to them, striding off down the pebbled path. As soon as he had gone, Charlotte and the others jumped to their feet. Charlotte put a comforting hand onto Sixpence’s back. The cat’s fur stood on end and his eyes were as wide as dinner plates. The deep growling noise still sounded in his throat.
“I know, I know,” said Charlotte, soothingly. “We are going, Sixpence. Don’t worry.” She signaled to the other children, who stood ready to follow her, already assembled in the two lines that they had planned. Clara stood next to Charlotte, holding onto the older girl’s skirts for comfort, as Charlotte’s hands were full carrying Sixpence’s squirming body.
“You must be quiet,” Charlotte whispered to Sixpence, “or we will be discovered.” Sixpence seemed to understand and the growling noise stopped, although his fur still stood on end and his eyes remained wide and wild. Walking as quietly as they could, the group followed in the direction of the stranger.
****
Did you think I had forgotten you?
James looked into the eyes of the owl that sat on the tree above him. He nodded.
I would never forget you, continued the voice. You are the most important of all of the chosen children.
“I am?” whispered James in amazement. “Why?”
Beside him, Hannah looked alarmed. “James, who are you talking to?” she asked. James paid her no attention. His eyes were fixed on the owl’s face. Suddenly, Hannah realized what was happening. “It’s the stranger, isn’t it?” she said. “He is talking to you!” Once again, James did not answer.
I was waiting to greet you, continued the voice that spoke to noone but James. You have had to endure much in your life so far. You have had to watch while others played? Your patience will be rewarded, James. When you enter my land, you will be the leader. Others will watch you. They will look to you for help. I had to prepare everything for your arrival. It wasn’t ready before. But it is now.

“When can I come in?” James’ eyes were shining with unshed tears. He couldn’t believe the kindness of the stranger’s voice.
As soon as you hear the music, came the reply. Come closer to the rock, James. Come forward now.

“Look!” said Hannah, to the others who had followed them up the hillside. James had stood and was limping slowly and painfully towards the largest rock in front of them.
“Why isn’t he listening to us?” asked Richard, as he and Sarah came to stand next to Hannah. “Is he bewitched or something?”
“I fear so,” said Hannah. “We will need to be ready. We cannot hear the voice, so we don’t know what he is being told. But if we want to get through that rock, we will need to be fast.” She turned and looked at the other adults, forming a huddle behind them. “I don’t think the rock will be open for long,” she said. “We won’t all fit through.”

Richard nodded and turned to the others. “The three of us will go in to rescue the children,” he said. “The rest of you will need to wait here.” He held up his hand to quiet the complaints that followed his announcement. “I know that you all want to come in,” he said. “But we need to move quickly. Would you want to lose the only chance we may have? Besides, if there is danger on the other side of the rock, we may need others to follow later. If we all go through at once, there will be noone to do that.”

Reluctantly, the rest of the group nodded and backed away. Richard, Sarah and Hannah took their place behind James. No one spoke. The tension flowed through the group. Everyone waited.

****

Troy’s stomach flipped as he recognized the tall shape coming towards him. The stranger! Troy pressed his body closer to the trunk. I must not be seen yet, he thought. Desperately, he scanned the horizon looking for Charlotte and the others. If only I can see them first, he thought. If I can make eye contact, I can remind them about the music!

The stranger came closer. He stopped only a few steps from the tree that Troy stood behind. Troy’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure that the stranger would hear it. But the man just stood there with a menacing smile on his face. From underneath his cloak, he pulled the wooden pipe. The stranger stood, stroking the rough wood. He was waiting too.

***
Charlotte and the others rounded the bend in the path and immediately Sixpence began to growl. The stranger was up ahead! Charlotte motioned to the others. They broke from their lines and assembled in a tight group with Charlotte in the lead. Her eyes looked for Troy. Where was he? He had to give the signal to run!

Suddenly, the stranger moved. He raised an object to his lips and began to play.

Hmmm. This is tricky!

I have to admit that I am trying to solve this mystery along with my characters. We are struggling a bit! But here are the 509 words we came up with.. It was Thursday 27th when we began!
********
Troy moved as quickly and as quietly as he could. I have to keep up, he told himself. I can’t let the owl get too far in front of me. As he half-walked, half-ran, he thought back over the plan that he had made with Charlotte. Deciding that the stranger would certainly notice if everyone had tried to escape at once, Troy had suggested that he follow the owl first and take up a hiding place. When the stranger left to meet the owl, Charlotte and the others would follow at a safe distance, so that everyone would be near the rock when it opened. At that point, they would all run through the entrance, back to the safety of their village. But the more Troy thought about it as he struggled to keep up with the owl, the more he began to realize that their plan was flawed. We were too desperate to get home, he thought. We didn’t think it through. The stranger won’t let us go that easily. What if the rock doesn’t open fast enough? What if the stranger hears Charlotte and the others following him? This is too dangerous! He was so deep in thought that he almost missed the owl’s descent. It flew down towards a tree with a broad branch. Its wings skimmed the top of the branch and it disappeared. It wouldn’t be long now.

Troy’s mind raced. If the owl was in position, the stranger would soon be on the move. Perhaps the owl was already looking at James, the stranger’s thoughts entering the young boy’s mind. Troy sighed. He remembered how good it had felt at first. He remembered feeling excited at the thought of being chosen and of the joyous sound of the music…

The music! Troy gasped. They had forgotten about the music! The music had made them forget their worries. It had bewitched them. As long as the music played, they had done the stranger’s bidding.

I have to block the noise of that pipe! Troy thought. I have to be able to think clearly! Frantically, he grabbed the sleeve of his shirt with both hands and yanked hard. He felt the stitches pull and he yanked again. This time there was a tearing sound. With one more hard pull, the remaining stitches pulled away and Troy was holding the soft cotton fabric. His hands trembled as he tore the fabric into smaller strips. First he tore two smaller pieces, which he rolled around his fingers, until they made a small ball. These he pushed into his ears. Then he wound the remaining strip of fabric around his head in a thick wad, before knotting the ends firmly. Troy clicked his fingers and was relieved to hear that the sound was much fainter than normal. I hope that’s enough, he thought. He took up his hiding place behind the tree with the thickest trunk. “Please Charlotte,” he whispered, watching back down the path he had travelled, “please remember about the music. You have to remember.”

Nearly there!

And it's down to the final four... Here are 400 more words. What's going to happen??? (I think I know now!)
***********
“What do you mean?” asked Charlotte.
“Look at what just happened,” said Troy. “Sixpence knew the stranger was coming before we did. You saw his reaction.”
“He did the same thing when he saw the owl at home,” said Charlotte, remembering. “He hissed at it and tried to chase it away.”
“That’s even better,” said Troy. “We all saw the owl first anyway. It would make sense that the stranger would send it out before him.”

Charlotte shivered.
“What’s the matter?” asked Troy. “Are you cold?”
“No,” said Charlotte. “I just realized – it’s really like we are being hunted, isn’t it? The owl went looking for its prey and led it back to the hunter. I don’t like the feeling that I was someone’s prey. And now we have to wait to see if James is the next to be captured.”
“No we don’t,” said Troy. “Let’s get everyone together. I’ve got an idea.”
******
Later in the afternoon, James gripped Hannah’s hand as they began their return trip up the hillside. “Now you mustn’t worry,” said Hannah. “You won’t be alone. Remember that. We will all be there, out of sight. As soon as the passageway opens, we will follow you through.”
James nodded. “I know,” he said. “Just…” he hesitated.
“Just what?” said Hannah.
“Just don’t forget it will take me a while to walk through. The entrance will probably close quickly again. You will have to run fast.”
Hannah squeezed his hand tightly. “It will be all right,” she said.
I hope so, thought James. Before he knew it, the rocks came into view.

******
Sixpence began to growl and seconds later, the owl left the tree and began circling above them. It circled twice and was gone.
“Right,” said Troy. “That was my signal.” He patted Sixpence and stood up. He smiled at Charlotte. “You and the others know what to do?” he said.
“Yes,” said Charlotte. “We will meet you there.” Just as Troy turned to go, she grabbed his hand.
“Be careful,” she said.
Troy squeezed her hand. “I will be,” he said. “See you soon.”
Charlotte and the other children watched as he disappeared down the path, his eye on the owl ahead.
As soon as he had gone, Clara scuttled over and snuggled close to Charlotte’s side.
“Don’t worry,” said Charlotte. “We’ll be going home soon.” I hope, she added silently.

No words of wisdom tonight, just 551 words!

Charlotte looked at Troy, her eyes shining. “Do you know what this means?” she said. “If Sixpence is here, he must have come from home. There must be a way back and he knows where it is.”
“That doesn’t help us,” said Troy. “He can hardly tell us how to get home, can he?”
“I suppose not,” admitted Charlotte. “But maybe Mother noticed that he is missing too and come looking for us both.”

“I thought you were convinced that noone would bother to look for us,” said Troy, with a grin.
Charlotte grinned back. “All right,” she said. “I admit that was foolish. Of course Mother would look for me. I don’t know why I believed otherwise.”
“It’s the stranger,” said Troy. “I told you he is just trying to control our thoughts.”
“I wonder how he manages to do it,” said Charlotte.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Troy. “I think he is at his most powerful when he is blowing his pipe. Perhaps if we could get the pipe away from him, we’d be able to escape.”
Charlotte nodded. “That sounds like a good idea,” she said, “but we wouldn’t know which way to –“
She stopped speaking, abruptly. Sixpence had started to make a warning sound in his throat. His fur stood up on end and his eyes grew wide and wild-looking.
“Ssh!” said Charlotte. “Someone must be coming.”

The stranger strode out of the trees towards the group of children. He didn’t seem to be looking at them though. He gazed vaguely over their heads, muttering to himself.
“It’s almost like he’s counting us,” whispered Troy. “He looks like he’s counting us to see if anyone is missing.”

The stranger smiled a menacing smile and muttered something to himself before striding back the way he came.
Charlotte motioned Clara to sit up and she turned and looked at the rest of the children, scanning the group for a familiar face.
“Oh no!” she said. “Someone IS missing.”
“Who?” asked Troy. “I thought all the children of the village were here.”
“All except James,” said Charlotte. “James is missing!” Picking Sixpence up in her arms, she got to her feet and started pacing up and down. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice until now,” she said. “I just assumed that he had come along with the rest of us.”

“He does move fairly slowly,” said Troy. “There mustn’t have been time for him to follow us.” He scuffed the dirt in front of him with his shoe. “I never thought I would envy James,” he said, “but I do. He is safe.”
“He wouldn’t like it, even if he is safe,” said Charlotte. “He always wanted to join in with whatever we were doing. I am sure he would have followed us here if he could.”
“Do you think the stranger was counting us?” asked Troy. “Do you think he has realized that James is missing?”
“I don’t know,” shrugged Charlotte. “Why?”
“Because,” said Troy. “If the stranger is going to try and get James, we can follow. Then we can rush through the rock and go home!”
“But how will we know when the stranger is going to prowl about?” said Charlotte.
Troy looked at Sixpence, thoughtfully. “Maybe Sixpence can help us after all,” he said.

The end is in sight..

This time next week, it will be December. Writing month will be officially over and the story of The Forgotten Children will be finished. I must admit, I'm still not entirely sure how it will all work itself out. I have a general idea, but it changes daily. Sometimes paragraphs seem to write themselves and I am pleasantly surprised by what the characters have decided to make happen! So I guess I will have to leave it up to them! Here are their next 438 words... :-)
****************
The children all huddled together. Some were frightened and crying; others looked angry. Two of the younger children just looked around them in a dazed sort of way, as if they expected to wake from their dream any minute. The youngest of them all, Clara, shyly pulled on the sleeve of Charlotte’s dress. Charlotte looked down at her and tried to smile.
“Hello, Clara,” she said. “Are you all right?”
Clara nodded, but snuggled closer to the older girl and laid her head on Charlotte’s shoulder. “I want to go home,” she said.
Charlotte patted the top of Clara’s head. “I know you do,” she whispered. “So do I.”
“When will we go home?”
Charlotte looked across at Troy, helplessly. “Soon,” she said. “Soon.” But as she spoke the words, she found herself thinking, Will we really go home? Will I ever see my mother again?

“It will be all right,” said Troy to the group of children around him. “We will get out of here.” They looked around warily, but both the stranger and the owl seemed to have disappeared. Even so, the children whispered.

“How will we get out?” asked Charlotte. “What if the stranger spoke the truth? What if our families have forgotten us?”
“Don’t be silly,” said Troy. “We haven’t been gone for that long. They would have noticed as soon as they awoke. By now, I am sure they will be working on a plan to come and rescue us.”

“Are you really sure?” said Charlotte. “What if it is as the stranger said? He was right about my mother refusing to believe me when I told her about the owl and the curse. If he was right about that, maybe he is right about us being the Forgotten Children too.”

Troy shook his head. “That is what he wants you to think,” he said.
“What do you mean?” asked Charlotte.
“Think about it,” said Troy. “Everything the stranger has done so far, he has been able to do because he has controlled our thoughts. He sent the owl and charmed us with his voice. Then he used his pipe to make us follow him. Now he is trying to control us again, by making us think that we have been forgotten. We can’t believe him. That’s what makes him so powerful.”
Charlotte nodded. “I suppose you are right,” she said.

A sudden noise behind them made them jump. A furry object raced towards Charlotte and landed squarely in her lap. Charlotte stifled a scream. She looked down and gasped with joy.
“Sixpence!” she said. “How on earth did you find us?

Catching up the week

I know it's been a week since I last blogged. I know that in my very first post I told the story of my anything books and how they were begun but never finished. I want to reassure you that this has not happened with this blog! I have continued to write every day and my job tonight is to update everything! "The Forgotten Children" have not been forgotten. In fact, there are now 10,200 words of story to read. On top of that, this week I wrote another manuscript for the New Zealand publishers and on Friday I posted my highest daily writing total so far - 3020 words! (I was brain dead by bedtime!)
Here are the stats for week 3 of the writing project.
Saturday - 1010
Sunday - 713
Monday - 397
Tuesday - 252
Wednesday - 208
Thursday -540
Friday - 3020
That's 6140 for the week, at an average of 877 words a day.

On Wednesday night, the radio had a program about journal keepers. They interviewed a woman who has kept a diary every day since 1933. I find that amazing! 75 years of words, now in a large collection of notebooks that she is going to pass on to her daughter. What gems those books must hold! Telling the story of the life of a woman from the age of 12 to the present day. It makes me all the more determined to try and write every day, even after Writing Month is over.

And so I have begun week 4, the final full writing week for the month. On Saturday I added 310 words and today I have another 555 words. Here are the "Forgotten Children" words to bring you up to date.
******************
Charlotte’s head hurt. In fact, her whole body ached. She felt bruised and exhausted- but why? Realising she had her eyes shut, she cautiously opened them. Immediately, she regretted her decision. A bright searing light above her caused her to gasp. She shut her eyes again and groaned. She was thirsty too. Her throat felt dry and parched. When was the last time she had had anything to eat or drink? Try as she might, Charlotte couldn’t remember. “Where am I?” she whispered.

“Charlotte?” A voice as hoarse as her own spoke nearby. “Are you all right?”
“Troy? Is that you?” Charlotte reached out her hand and felt it being gripped firmly.
“I’m here,” said Troy. “Turn around and look at me.”
Charlotte shook her head. “It’s too bright,” she said. “My head really aches.”

Seconds later, she felt a hand against her forehead, shielding her eyes from the glare.
“Is that better?” Troy was sitting next to her now and she leaned against him for comfort. She felt less alone knowing that he was there. Taking a breath, she opened her eyes and blinked.
“A little,” she said. “Thank you.” She looked around. “Where are we?”

Troy shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been trying to work out,” he said. “Nothing looks familiar at all.”
“Is everyone else here too?” asked Charlotte.
“I think so,” said Troy. “I heard crying when I woke up. But you were the first person I heard speaking.” He turned to her. “Are your eyes adjusted now?” he asked.
Charlotte nodded. “Thanks,” she said. Troy removed his hand from her forehead and they sat in silence for a few moments.

“What do you remember?” asked Troy at last.
“I remember hearing the music and feeling so happy,” said Charlotte. “I remember a voice telling me I was one of the Chosen Ones. I remember following the owl and then the man with the pipe. I remember we were going to receive our reward. I had thought we were going to a beautiful place.” She stood and looked around. The ground was hard and pebbly beneath her feet and the sky was streaked a dirty grey. There were no buildings nearby that she could see, only dense shrubs. Everything looked dry and wilting. “There is nothing beautiful about this.”

A sudden harsh voice spoke near them, causing Charlotte to jump.
“You are right,” said the voice. “But it is all you deserve.”

Troy leapt to his feet. “I know you,” he said. “You are the stranger who was in the village yesterday.”

Charlotte stared at them. Was this man really the one who had spoken to her so convincingly during the night? She waited for the stranger to say that Troy was wrong. When there was no answer except a cold stare, she realized that Troy spoke the truth. When she found her voice, she was surprised to hear the anger in it. The fear she had felt moments before had disappeared.

“You tricked us!” she said. “You said we were the Chosen Ones. You told us we would be rewarded. You charmed us with your music and spoke of a magical place that doesn’t exist. You LIED.”

The stranger smirked. “And what if I did?” he said. “Did not your precious Village Council lie to me too? I solved their problem. I removed the vermin that were making their lives a misery. But instead of paying me as they had promised, they insulted and accused me. Instead of thanking me, they chased me from the town.” His eyes narrowed. “Now they will live to regret their decision,” he said. “I have claimed my payment.”

“You can’t mean us!” said Troy in disbelief. “You have to let us go home.”

Slowly, the stranger turned to look at him. Troy felt a cold shiver run through his body as the stranger’s eyes met his own.
“No,” said the stranger coolly. “I don’t have to do anything of the sort.”

“What are you talking about?” said Charlotte. “What have we done to you? You called us the Chosen Ones. Why are you treating us this way?”
“Oh but you are the Chosen Ones,” said the stranger. “You were chosen to make your village suffer for the way they treated me.”

“Don’t worry, Charlotte.” Troy had regained some of his confidence and drew Charlotte closer. “Even if he won’t let us go, it won’t matter. Our families will come looking for us.”
“Will they?” The stranger gave a harsh laugh.

“Of course they will,” said Charlotte. “Why would you ask that?”
“What cause have they given you to trust them this far?” said the stranger. “They broke their promise and ignored every warning that was given. You all saw my messenger, you heard the curse, but they told you not to be foolish, did they not?”

Charlotte felt faint. She remembered the conversation she had had with her mother the previous day. The stranger was right. How had he known?
“So you see,” the stranger continued. “I do not think you should rely on anyone coming to find you. They are interested only in themselves. He laughed menacingly. “The Forgotten Children,” he hissed and walked away.

“Quiet!” Richard Jamieson was standing at the front of the Council Chamber’s meeting room as Hannah, Sarah and James entered from the back. “We will never get anywhere if you all speak at once.”
Hannah and Sarah pushed their way through the crowd. “We have got something to say,” called Hannah. “We have found something that proves there is a way through the rocks to the other side!”
“What is it?” The attention of the crowd was immediate.
“Cat fur,” said Hannah.

There was a stunned silence.
“Cat fur?” asked Richard. “How does cat fur prove there is a way through those rocks? You have lost your mind, Hannah.”
“You don’t understand,” said Hannah. “The fur belongs to Charlotte’s cat, Sixpence. He must have followed the children. That means there is a way for us too. We just have to wait for the rock to open again.”
“And when is that going to happen?” asked Richard in frustration. “We have no way of knowing that.”

Sarah laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “He is right, Hannah,” she said. “We don’t know that. Nor do we know if Sixpence actually got through the rock. Maybe he just scraped his side on it. I know you want to see this as a good sign, but it’s not going to help us get the children back.”
Hannah turned to Sarah in despair. “Then what will?” she asked. Finally, her brave demeanour crumbled and she stared to cry.

“I can help.” James limped towards the front of the room. “At least, I think I can.” He turned to Hannah. “You and Charlotte have always been so nice to me, Mrs Ross,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about what has happened and I have an idea. If it works, we might be able to find out where they’ve gone and go and rescue them.”

Seated on a chair at the front of the group, James began to speak.
“I know I can’t move fast,” he said. “Most of the time, that really upsets me. I sit and watch the others play chasings through the village and wish I was able to run like they can. But I’ve had to get used to sitting and watching while others do the moving about. I guess I started to notice things. I didn’t realize that just sitting and watching could be useful. But I think it might be now.”

James looked at Troy’s father. “Mr Jamieson,” he said, “when the stranger took away all the rats from the village, did you notice where they went?”
Richard shook his head. “No,” he said. “I must admit I did not care where they went, as long as they left us alone.”

“They went to the river,” said James. “At least, most of them did. One of them was left behind. I saw it. It was eating the grain that my mother was going to use in the bread. It was sitting on the sacks at the back of our cottage. I tried to chase it away, but of course, I couldn’t move fast enough. So I had to watch. I thought at first, that it must be lucky. All of the other rats had drowned in the river, except it.”

“James,” said Hannah, stepping forward impatiently. “I don’t understand what this has to do with Charlotte and the others. We need to know what to do to find them.”

“ I saw what happened to the rat that was left,” continued James. “The owl came for it. I saw its shadow first, as it came towards us. It was late in the afternoon and the owl came swooping out of the sky and grapped the rat in its claws. Then it flew up to the top of the hillside and a man stepped out of the trees.”
“Was it the stranger?” said Hannah.
James nodded. “I think the stranger left the rat behind on purpose,” he said. “I think he left it for the owl to find.” He took a deep breath. “I think maybe I have been left behind on purpose too,” he said. “I think the owl might come back for me. I think that if I go back up to the hillside and wait there, maybe the owl will lead me to where the stranger is.”

The adults began nodding in agreement. “It is worth a try,” said Richard. “If we hide nearby, we can follow you through the opening in the rock. Then we’ll get our children back.”

Hannah squeezed James’ hand. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she said. “It could be dangerous.”
James looked at her and smiled shyly. “I’m sure,” he said.
“We will need to tell your mother,” said Hannah.
James frowned. “She won’t want me to go,” he said.
“I will come to the cottage with you,” said Hannah. “We will tell her together.” She stood and faced the group. “The owl returned at sunset,” she said. “We will have the day to prepare. But when the sun goes down, we must be ready.”
James felt his heart flutter in excitement. Maybe I can still be a chosen one after all, he thought.

A Sudden Realisation

As I was preparing to write a brief paragraph or two to meet my quota for Sunday evening, I had a sudden realisation. I needed to go back and make a fairly significant change to an earlier part of the story. Otherwise, the ending that I have partially planned would not work! So to those of you religiously reading this story, (Emma, this means you! And maybe you too, Charlotte, if I haven't confused you too much) you will need to take another look at the last paragraph on the entry of Wednesday 12th. You'll notice that it's different now! But here's a little bit more, another 718 words that continue on from Saturday's post. Tomorrow I am going to sit and do a brief plan for the rest of the month, to ensure that the story will be finished on the 30th. Of course, if I'd had a plan earlier, I wouldn't have had to go and correct Wednesday's entry! Note to self: writing by the seat of your pants is not always a good thing! At least have some form of safety net handy!
********

"Come on! Faster!" The men and women of the village were running as fast as they could up the hillside, towards the rocks that James had described. James himself was being piggybacked by one of the men. He understood why everyone wanted to go to the hillside. He knew that everyone was desperately hoping that they would find some trace of the other children; some clue that would tell where the children had gone and how they could get them back. But they won't find them, he thought. I am all that is left. Even as he thought those words, his heart skipped a beat. What would he do? The only child left in the whole village. How would he cope with the eyes of every parent on him forever more, looking at him as if to say, "Why were you spared, when my child was taken? You cannot even walk properly. What use will you be?" He hung his head. It was different when he had just been one of a crowd of children. It was easy to hide away at the back and not be noticed. A few people like Charlotte and her mother had tried to include him, but most didn't. He had gotten used to being overlooked. But now he would be obvious. He would be a permanent, painful reminder of what the town had lost. Tears began to fall down his face. He would have wiped them away, but could not, for fear of falling.

"Is this the place?" The people had stopped in front of the largest rock at the top of the hillside. James was lowered to the ground and he limped painfully towards it. He pressed his face into the cool rock and ran his hands over the surface. "Let me in, he whispered, so softly that noone heard. "Please let me in." But there was no response. He turned and faced the crowd. "Yes," he said. "This was the place."

Desperately, men and women clawed the edges of the rock, looking for any way of breaking through.
"What if we brought picks and axes?" said one of the men. "We could chisel a hole."
"How will that help?" said Hannah. "The children are not inside the rock."
"What do you mean?" said Richard. "That is where they disappeared."
"Didn't you listen to James' story?" asked Hannah. "He said that the voice promised a beautiful land, where he would be healed. If the stranger has truly taken our children, he has taken them someWHERE, not into someTHING. We need to find where they have gone. Forcing a hole into this hillside will not make any difference."

"Hannah is right!" Sarah came to stand by her friend. "We need to find the stranger. We need to convince him to return our children to us."
"But how will we do that?" asked Richard.
"The owl." James' voice was so soft that he was barely heard at first.
"What did you say, James?" Hannah was standing next to him now.
" The owl," said James again. "It was the owl that brought the stranger's voice. If we can lure the owl back here, maybe we can get a message to him somehow."

At that, there was a loud explosion of voices. Everyone was talking at once, keen to make their own ideas heard. At last, Richard held up his hand. "Enough!" he yelled. "Let us go back to the Council buildings. There we can make our plans. Our children will not be lost to us for long."

Everyone began their journey back down the hillside, Hannah and Sarah supporting James between them so he would not fall. As they left, they couldn't resist turning around for one last look.
"What is that at the base of the rock?" asked Sarah.
James peered closely. "It looks like fur of some sort," he said.
Hannah gasped. "You are right!" she said. "It looks like Sixpence's fur!" She looked at the others, her eyes shining brighter than they had been all morning. "Sixpence must have gotten through," she said. "That means there must be a way to reach the children. This is a good sign! Come on! We must not give up hope!"
Half walking, half running, the three of them followed the others back towards the village.

The halfway point..

Ah.... it was a tough week 2. But I managed to write every day and for that I am proud. It wasn't that I was horrendously busy - it was just tough going. But fortunately, I am stubborn! (OK, being stubborn isn't always a good thing, but in this case it is!) I have committed to writing every day of this month and I am going to! The other good thing about this week was that I went back to the old fashioned way of writing - I got out my notebook and wrote longhand. It was nice, putting actual pen to paper instead of fingers to keys. On Thursday, I wrote at a friend's house after the children my husband and I were babysitting had gone to bed (the eldest of whom is reading this story!) and we waited for our friend to get home. On Friday, I sat in my recliner in the lounge room with my notebook on my lap and a cricket game in the background. (And yes, I was frequently distracted by the cricket!) But on Saturday, I returned to the laptop. That's another thing about the computer age we live in - I type much faster than I write.

Anyway, for those who like statistics..
* Week 2 turned out to be much less prolific than week 1. I wrote a meagre 2680 words, at a daily average of just 382 words.
* As of the 15th (which it still was when I started typing this post!) I am halfway through November writing month.
* The 3rd week has started off more positively, with 1010 words.
* At the halfway point, I have written 10402 words. That's an average of 693 words a day. (I guess that's not bad. A year of 693 words a day would mean over a quarter of a million words by the year's end. Wow!)

So, here are the next instalments. This post incorporates Thursday's 252 words, Friday's 352 words and Saturday's 1010 words.

******
“Hannah! Are you in there?”
Charlotte’s mother sat bolt upright. The sun was streaming in through the window. How had she slept so late? She looked across to Charlotte’s mattress. It was empty. Why hadn’t Charlotte woken her?

“Hannah!” The voice came again, urgent and scared.
Awake now, Hannah recognised the voice. It was Sarah, Troy’s mother. “Yes, Sarah, I am here,” she called. “Wait one moment.” Quickly she dressed and pushed open the cottage door. Sarah was standing there, the distress plain on her face. Hannah rushed over to her. “What is it?” she said. “What is wrong?”

Sarah threw her arms around Hannah’s neck and began to sob. “It’s the children,” she said. “They’re gone.”
A cold knot tightened in the pit of Hannah’s stomach. “What do you mean they’re gone?” she said. “Where have they gone?”
Sarah began crying harder. “He took them,” she sobbed.
“Who did?” said Hannah.
“The stranger. The rat catcher. He came in the night and stole away our children. He has carried out his curse.”

Hannah lost her patience. “Oh for Heaven’s sake, Sarah,” she said. “Not you too. I cannot believe you have been swayed by that silly gossip. The town is not cursed and the children are not stolen. They have probably just gone somewhere to play.”

“You are wrong.” Sarah stood defiantly, shaking her head. “They are gone. He has taken them.”
“How can you be so sure?” asked Hannah.
“Because,” said Sarah, “Without knowing it, he left one child behind.”

The two women hurried towards the Town Square. On the way, Sarah explained what she knew. As her friend spoke, the knot in Hannah’s stomach tightened even further. Could the rumours of a cursed town have been true after all?

“You remember young James Murphy,” said Sarah.
“Of course,” said Hannah. “My Charlotte helped him carry some buckets of water the other week. He was struggling under the weight with that leg of his.” At the mention of her daughter’s name, Hannah’s heart skipped a beat. Where had Charlotte gone?

Sarah grimaced. “James may yet come to thank the horse that threw him off and made him lame,” she said.
“What do you mean?” asked Hannah.
“By all accounts, he couldn’t keep up with the others,” said Sarah. “Everyone is meeting at the Square to hear his story. Come on.”

The crowd in the Square continued to grow. As Hannah and Sarah joined it, Hannah realised with a start the absence of any children. No children chased each other in and out of the market stalls, noone was arguing or calling out names. There was no laughter, no noise. There were no children. None, that is, save the small blue eyed boy who stood in the centre of all the adults, shaking with fear. On one side of him stood the Mayor, Troy’s father. The other Councillors stood on the other side, trying unsuccessfully to stop the crowd from surging towards the frightened youngster.

Sarah pushed through the crowd and knelt down in front of James, grabbing his hand.
“What happened, James?” she asked, her eyes searching his. “Where have they gone?”
“Calm yourself Sarah, you are frightening the boy.” Richard, Troy’s father stepped forward, took her by the arm and led her to one side of the crowd.

“How can you be so unfeeling?” said Sarah. “Our child has disappeared! Don’t you want to know what has happened to him?”
“Of course I do,” replied Richard. “But surely you can see the boy is terrified? If we frighten him further, he might not be able to tell us anything at all.”

James stood in the centre of the Square his heart pounding. Everyone was looking at him. What was he going to say? How could he explain what had happened? He barely knew what had happened himself. He looked from one worried face to the next. He knew that they wanted him to tell them where all the other children had gone. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know. He scanned the throng of faces, looking for one that would comfort him. His own mother was lying down back in their cottage. When he had returned, she had been so relieved to discover that he was safe, she had fainted on the spot. The doctor had been called for and he had ordered that she rest. Then the Mayor had arrived. Before he knew it, James had been swept out of his cottage and led towards the Square. On the way, he had heard the sobbing of the other parents in the village. At that point, he had realised that he was alone. All of the other children had gone.
“James. It will be all right. Please, just tell us what you know.”

James looked in the direction of the voice. He recognised Charlotte’s mother and tried to smile. He liked Charlotte and her mother. Both of them had always kind to him. They didn’t shake their heads in pity whenever they saw him, like so many others did. They were his friends.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t know what to say,” he said. His voice shook as he spoke.
“Did you go with the others?” asked Hannah.
James nodded. “Yes,” he said. “At first I did.”
“Where did you go?”
James frowned. “It is difficult to explain,” he said.
“Please try,” said Hannah.

“It happened last night,” said James. “I was asleep and a noise woke me up. I felt drawn to the window and when I opened the shutter, there was an owl sitting on the fencepost.”

At once, voices in the crowd began to yell. “You see?” said one.
“What did I tell you? I saw the owl too!” said another.
“It only appeared after that wretched ratcatcher!” said a third.

“Please!” Hannah raised her voice. “Let the boy speak!” She tried to smile at James. He looked so frightened. Is Charlotte just as frightened, she wondered. At the thought of her daughter, afraid and alone, Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. “Go on, James,” she said.

“When I looked into the owl’s eyes I could hear a man’s voice,” said James. “But he wasn’t speaking out loud. It was in my mind. The voice told me that I was one of the Chosen Ones and I was going to receive my reward. He was going to lead me to a special place. Then the music started. It was so beautiful. It felt like it was inside me, lifting me up. I felt happier than I have felt in such a long time. I never wanted it to end. So I followed the voice and the music. When I got outside, the owl led the way down a path. It was hard to keep up, but I managed at first. After a while, the owl stopped in a clearing and I saw all the other children. They were just as happy and excited as I was. But then the owl started to fly again and everyone followed. I tried to keep up, but my leg was still tired. I couldn’t move as fast as the others. I wasn’t worried at first, because I was sure they would wait for me. At the very top of the hill, I could see a man playing a pipe. I knew that he was the one making the beautiful music.”

“The rat catcher!” Murmurs and whispers echoed through the crowd. Hannah stood in disbelief. So it was true. He had stolen the children after all.

“Suddenly the music stopped and I realised I was too far behind,” continued James. “I tried to speed up, but by the time I reached the entrance, they had all gone.”

“Where was the entrance?” said Hannah.

“From where I was standing, it looked like everyone just walked through one of the rocks,” said James. “I called out, but no one heard me.” He started to cry. “Why did they have to leave me behind?” he said. “I was a Chosen One too. I wanted to be healed again. The voice said I would be. I would have been able to run and play again. Everything would have been so wonderful. But then they disappeared. No one cared that I couldn’t keep up. It isn’t fair.”

Hannah stepped forward and gathered the young boy to her. “Ssh,” she said, stroking his head. “It will be all right.” But even as she said the words, she knew that she didn’t believe them. How could things possibly be all right? How would they ever get the children back?

The men of the village were huddled together. “There must be a cave up there,” said Richard. “We will all go and face the stranger together. We will demand he return our children.”
“Too bad you didn’t think of that before, Jamieson,” said one of the men, angrily. “If you had paid that rat catcher when he asked, this would not have happened. It is your fault.”
“That is not fair!” said Richard, at once. “We all agreed that he did not deserve to be paid. It was not my decision alone.”

“This is not helping,” said Hannah, looking at them sternly. “We need to get our children back, not squabble amongst ourselves.” She looked down at James, who still had his face buried in her skirts. Gently, she put a finger under his chin and raised his face to look back at her. “James,” she said, “Did the voice tell you how long you would visit the place he spoke of?”
James looked confused. “He did not speak of us coming back,” he said.

Another late night writing session, followed by an early morning posting. This week is certainly the week of slow, painstaking entries... But I'm making my way through and writing every day. Here are another 539 words!

******

Welcome. The voice echoed in the mind of every child in the clearing. To an outsider, it might have looked as if some sort of bizarre school lesson was going on. The children sat cross legged on the ground, their eyes fixed on the owl in the centre tree. No one moved, no one spoke, but each child listened intently, a joyful smile on his or her face.

You are the chosen ones, said the voice. I have been waiting for the right time to lead you to your reward and at last the time has come.
Show us what the reward is, thought Charlotte. Please show us!
The owl turned its head slowly, until it seemed to be looking at Charlotte alone.
You are about to enter the most wonderful land, said the voice. It is a land of plenty, where every dream and wish is yours for the taking. No one is ever ill there, nor do they suffer from too little to eat. There is no need for anyone to work. Your days of labour are over. You may spend your days entirely as you wish. You will never know sadness again, for all painful memories will be taken away.

Charlotte breathed a deep sigh. It sounds so wonderful, she thought.
Come. The children scrambled to their feet, looking at one another in delight. The owl took to the sky again and the music grew in intensity. Everyone linked arms and followed the short distance through the clearing. On the other side of the clearing was a large rocky hillside.
Charlotte turned to Troy. “I didn’t realize we were travelling up so high,” she said. “We must have left the village far behind.”

All at once a figure appeared in front of the hillside. He wore a long cloak and his face was hidden inside its cowl. A pipe was raised to his lips. Charlotte smiled. At last she could see the creator of the beautiful music. The stranger turned his back to the children and faced the rocks. He piped a series of quick notes and a crack began to appear. As the stranger played, the crack widened, until at last it was wide enough to fit through. At that, he turned back to face the children. He bowed low, as if to invite them inside. The owl flew through the gap first, followed by the children, jostling each other in their eagerness to reach the land they had been promised. When all the children had passed through the gap, the stranger pushed back the cowl and took the pipe from his lips. Smiling an eerie smile, he walked through the gap, which had already begun to thin.

As the crack in the hillside began to close, a black cat sprang into view. By the time it reached the spot through which the children and then the stranger had walked, the crack was half its original size. The cat ran up and down the side of the hillside, but there was no sign of any other entrance. Realising that this was his only chance, Sixpence launched himself at the rock. He had to get through before Charlotte and the others were lost to him forever!

The Spirit was Willing...

I heard from the New Zealand people today. They are happy with the story I wrote for them, so my days spent "forgetting" about the Forgotten Children was at least worth it!

Now I am just too sleepy to keep pushing through tonight! I have a feeling that if I keep trying, my nose will end up hitting the keyboard when I doze off. I had wanted to make up for lost time last night, but I just can't write any longer.. I have another 517 words to add and the story is now over the 5 and a half thousand word mark. It still is shaping up that Week 2 will be a slower week, wordwise.

Here is the next bit..

********
Charlotte felt exhilarated. Although the owl flew swiftly, she had no trouble keeping up with it. Her soul sang with the beauty of the music. It made her feel alive and excited. She noticed that they were not keeping to the usual path that led to the centre of the town. Instead, the owl flew deep into areas bordered by thick trees. Willingly, she followed, but could not understand why they were traveling in the direction they were. Soon enough, her curiosity got the better of her. It would have been much easier to follow the path in front of my home, she thought. Our village is large and it will take many hours if we travel this way.

The music stopped momentarily. You must not question, said the voice, sharply. For the first time, it had lost some of its honey sweetness. You only need to follow. The music resumed, louder and more insistent than before.

Just for a moment, Charlotte had felt as if a fog was lifting from in front of her eyes. She glanced around her, confused. Where was she? What has happening? But just as quickly, the uneasy feeling had gone. She resumed her journey, following in the owl’s footsteps.

Soon, the treelined path widened into a more open clearing. The moonlight made a shadowy pattern of leaves on the ground in front of her. It reminded Charlotte of something, but she wasn’t sure what. She was concentrating so hard on the dappled pattern, that at first she missed the sound of another familiar voice.

“Charlotte!” Troy rushed towards her, gripping her hand tightly. “Is it not wonderful?” he said. “We are the Chosen Ones!”
“You are too?” Charlotte smiled.
“Yes,” said Troy. “And to think I worried we were going to be cursed. What a fool I was! But now I understand! It has all been explained to me. There was never any curse. We are going to be rewarded!”
“Do you know what the rewards are yet?” asked Charlotte.
“No,” said Troy. “We have to wait until all the others have been collected.”
“How many others do you think there are?” said Charlotte. “And how long do you think we will have to wait?

Not long. The voice was distinct. Not long at all.
Charlotte and Troy spoke simultaneously. “Did you hear that?” each asked, smiling as they realized that the other had heard the same message.

At that, there was the sound of running. Dozens and dozens of footsteps were echoing around the clearing. Far away at first, the footsteps grew louder and louder, until Charlotte and Troy were surrounded by all the other children of the town. Some as young as four still wiped the sleep from their eyes, while others were a similar age to Charlotte and Troy. No matter their age, each children wore the same expression of excitement and pride.

The owl flew to land on the branch of the nearest tree. Without stopping to think, the children all sat down in the clearing, looking up at the bird who regarded them all solemnly.

Best laid plans

Ah dear... So much for the 1700 or so words I had hoped to write today. Unexpected visitors meant that my writing was severely curtailed tonight. I have only a meagre 205 words to offer. It is a strange little scene and one that I am not sure will remain in the final version of this story. But it does contain a cameo appearance by a character that was specifically requested by the one follower of this blog. So Emma, this is for you!
*******
Sixpence travelled as fast as his legs would carry him. Where had Charlotte gone? And how had she disappeared so quickly? His eyes darted this way and that, listening all the time for the beating of the owl’s wings or the rapturous laughter of the young girl.

Despite the lateness of the hour, all the animals were alert. Only they seemed able to grasp the danger that the town was in. Horses stamped and whinnied, steam from their nostrils rising in the night air. Cows mooed mournfully. And still the humans of the town slept on.

As Sixpence passed by the last farm, a mule known as Peg stepped into the moonlight. She hawed and tossed her head, indicating a path to the right. Go that way, she seemed to say. The trees grew densely there – a perfect place to escape being seen. With a swish of his tail as thanks, Sixpence trotted down the path in pursuit of his young friend.

Above on the hillside, the stranger watched as a lone cat came closer. Follow if you wish, he thought. You are only condemning yourself to the same fate. He began another tune – and waited for his prey to be delivered to him.

Returning to the Forgotten Children!

Yesterday's writing total was 746 words, followed by a triumphant emailing of the finished New Zealand manuscript! No doubt there will be some editing required in the days to come, but the first draft is done.

So now I can return to my "story in a month"! Today's entry of The Forgotten Children is 815 words. Since today is the 9th, I am going to try and get as close as I can to a 10 000 word total in 10 days. That will mean writing in excess of 1700 words tomorrow - on a day when I have my "regular job" to go to! So, I guess it's a mini challenge... I'll see what I can do! But in the meantime, here's today's offering..
****
The moon was high in the night sky and the town was silent. The man paced up and down, sweeping his cape behind him as he counted down the moments until he could take his revenge. A sudden rustling sound in the branches above him made him look up. “Well, my night wanderer,” he said. “It is time.”

The owl blinked at him, its eyes luminous. It ruffled its feathers, as if stretching its wings in readiness. When the man held out his arm, it flew to perch on the edge of his cloak.
“You know what to do,” said the man, softly. “I will wait for your return. Then we will be gone.”

With an answering screech, the bird flew high into the sky. The man watched it circle once above his head, before flying towards the village. He took the pipe from within his cloak and stroked it lovingly. “You have work to do too, my friend,” he whispered. His voice was eager, almost menacing. “Now we will take what payment was owed to us.”

Charlotte… Charlotte….
Charlotte stirred. She opened her eyes and immediately, her breath caught in her throat. The voice was back.
No, she said to herself. I will not listen.
Come to me, Charlotte, the voice repeated. It is time for us to leave.

Despite herself, Charlotte sat up and pushed aside the bedclothes. Almost as if she were sleepwalking, she made her way over to the window and pushed open the shutter, already knowing what she would see there. The owl sat on the fencepost, blinking at her. Their eyes locked.

Why can’t I stop this? Charlotte thought. I do not want to be here. I do not want to listen. I have done nothing wrong.
Why should you think you have done anything wrong? said the voice. You are to be rewarded. You and the others. Come with me and you shall see.

What others? asked Charlotte, dimly wondering how she could be having a conversation without uttering a word.
You are one of the chosen ones, said the voice in reply. That is why you can hear me. I can hear your thoughts too. You must not be afraid. Glorious things await you all. You will see.

Desperately, Charlotte tried to resist. She knew that the voice could not belong to the owl. It was a man’s voice. What was happening? Was it the voice of the stranger that Troy had spoken of?
I know who you are, she said. You are the ratcatcher. You are trying to curse this town. I will not believe you!

At this, she heard a chuckle: a musical, mesmerizing sound.
You are not cursed, Charlotte, the voice said again. I told you. You are one of the chosen. I have only come to lead the chosen ones to their reward. Don’t you wish to know the wonderous things that await you once you come with me?
Suddenly, the room was filled with music. Beautiful notes seemed to sweep around Charlotte, catching her up in a blanket of sound. She closed her eyes in rapture, recognising the tune as the one that she and Troy had heard earlier that day. Her fears evaporated and she smiled. She wanted nothing more than to hear the melody over and over again. She felt light and relaxed and totally at peace. How could she have worried so?

Yes, she said. Tell me! What will I see? What will the chosen ones be given?
Good girl, said the voice. Come outside and follow me. We have to collect the others. Then you will all see the rewards together.

Charlotte nodded. I am coming, she said. Without another thought, she turned from the window and moved quietly to the door that led outside. The music still flowed through her mind. She felt excited and proud. She was a chosen one!

Outside, she moved to stand directly in front of the owl. At that moment, a black cat leapt in front of her path, miaowing urgently. It wove in and out of her legs, as if vying with the owl for her attention. Its fur was standing on end and it hissed at the owl, its eyes wide.

Smiling, Charlotte bent down towards the cat. “What are you doing, Sixpence?” she whispered. “You must not be rude to my new friend.” She stroked the cat’s fur. “This is an exciting time,” she said. “You will see. I am a chosen one, Sixpence. I must go and receive my reward.”

Again, the cat miaowed and hissed. But Charlotte would not be deterred. As the owl rose into the darkness, she followed. “Do not fret, Sixpence,” she called softly. “I will be back soon.”

Sixpence watched as she and the owl disappeared into the night. Then he let out a long, mournful cry and followed her into the darkness.

Procrastination Struck Instead!

I don't know what happened today, but procrastination set in big time! That often seems to happen when I know I have a full day free for writing. Instead of making the most of it and being as prolific as I can, I waste time. I think "I've got the whole day. I'll just do this first..." And that first. And the other first... And then before I know it, it's night!

Still, I added another 662 words to the New Zealand story today. Now I'm doing the organisational stuff for that text - dividing it into chapters and getting the word count correct for each page. It will be finished either tomorrow or Sunday. Of course, it COULD have been finished today.. Sigh!

And so week one of November Writing month ends. My total for the week is 6712, an average of 959 words per day. I wonder what my week two average will be?

I broke 2000 words today!

Hooray! Today I crossed the 2000 word mark. Unfortunately, not one of those words was written for 'The Forgotten Children'. Instead, I was writing a narrative for an educational publisher. It has to be 3350 words, or thereabouts, so I certainly broke the back of it today. With a bit of luck, I should be able to finish it tomorrow and get back to my Forgotten Children over the weekend!

The aim of this month was to write every day and I have nearly made it to the end of the first week. Here is my tally so far:
Day One - 1008 words
Day Two - 711 words
Day Three - 1055 words
Day Four - 568 words
Dave Five - 683 words
Today - 2025 words

That's a total of 6050 words, at an average of 1008 words a day. Just imagine if I could sustain this amount of writing. How much more prolific would I be?! And so the question remains - what stops me from being this disciplined the other 11 months of the year?

Inspiration Struck at 11.50pm!

It is after midnight now, but after a few hours of thinking, I managed to write a little scene to bridge the gap between what I have already written to this point and where I want the action to go. I started it on November 5th, but am posting it early on the 6th! It's another short entry of nearly 700 words, but I am reasonably happy with it. Incidentally, after this post, "Forgotten Children" might need to take a break for a couple of days, while I write some material for an educational publisher in New Zealand. I will try to add a paragraph or two to this story too - but New Zealand are paying me, so they take precedence! In the meantime, here is the next scene...
***************
Back at her family’s cottage, Charlotte threw herself into her daily chores. It was comforting somehow to complete the mundane tasks that she performed every day. It made her life seem normal again. The regular routine forced her to concentrate on something other than the strange happenings of the past day or two and her fear as to what might be yet to come. But by the time the sun began to set later that afternoon, she felt her heartbeat quicken once more. She moved restlessly around the cottage, wiping her sweaty hands on the front of her shift.

“Charlotte?”
Charlotte jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice.
“Charlotte, what is the matter? You are jumping at shadows today.” The impatience of the morning was long forgotten and her mother now looked at Charlotte with genuine concern.

Charlotte shook her head. “It is nothing, Mama,” she said.
“You are lying to me, my girl. Are you not?” said her mother.“It is a sin to tell a lie.”
“Yes, Mama.” The answer came as a whisper. Charlotte hung her head and her eyes welled up with tears.
Seeing this, her mother took her hand and led her over to the wooden table. She sat down opposite her daughter, but did not let go of her hand. “Now tell me what is troubling you,” she said again.

The words came out in a rush. Barely pausing to draw breath, Charlotte told her mother about her encounter with the owl and the story of the strange ratcatcher that Troy had mentioned. She spoke of the supposed curse on the village and the music that she and Troy had heard on their way home.

When she had finished, Charlotte’s mother thought for a moment before replying. She moved her chair closer to Charlotte’s and gently pulled Charlotte towards her, until the girl’s head was resting on her shoulder. She reached up and stroked her daughter’s hair as she spoke.

“There has been a lot of unrest in the past day,” she began. “It is no wonder that you are feeling unsettled. But I believe that you have been affected by the superstitions and fears of the other people of the town. Troy was foolish to share such a silly story with you.”
“But the ratcatcher – “ said Charlotte.
“Is just a man who traded on the unhappiness of others. He is a trickster, a charlatan. I am glad that Troy’s father and the other members of the Council refused to pay him. So they should.”

“But everything has gone wrong since the ratcatcher left.” Charlotte was not convinced and persisted with her argument. “And what about the owl? It spoke to me, Mama. I knew I should look away from it, but I could not.”
“It was only a dream,” said her mother. “You did not really see the owl, I am sure of it.”
“No Mama, others saw the owl too,” said Charlotte. “I was not the only one.”
“Owls in this part of the world are perfectly common,” said her mother. “We have seen them before this.” She sighed. “It seems as if too many people in the village have been spooked by this ratcatcher and suddenly they believe themselves cursed.” Gently, she lifted Charlotte’s head from her shoulder and forced her daughter to look at her. “Listen to me,” she said. “Perhaps the screech of an owl cut into your dreams and caused you to imagine the whole encounter. The ratcatcher has gone and will not be back. You are safe and will continue to be safe. I do not want you to waste another minute on this nonsense. ” She stood up from the table. “Come on,” she said. “I need you to help me with supper.”

Charlotte did as her mother asked, but all through the rest of the evening, she worried. When at last she got into bed, she was sure she would not get a wink of sleep. What if Mama is wrong, she thought. How will I resist the owl if it comes for me again?

It was hard going today..

Hmmm. I found it hard to further the story today. I'm worried it's getting a little bogged down and as a result I've only added just over 500 words. I'm trying to build towards the first big dramatic event and hope that the writing in the next couple of days will be easier. But here is today's entry, for what it's worth!
***********
The man was waiting. Camouflaged within the trees at the top of the hillside, he stood looking up into the sky. He smiled when he saw the bird appear in the distance, swooping and dipping its wings. Just as the owl came close enough to make out the markings of its feathers, it disappeared suddenly from view, heading towards a spot at the foot of the hill. Moments later it was back, a small creature caught in its talons.

The man chuckled. His laugh had the same deep, liquid honey tone. “I see you found the one I left for you, my beauty,” he said.
The owl landed on the branches of the tree above and placed the stunned rat next to it, before swallowing it in one mouthful. He looked down at the man, as if to say “I have earned this feed.”
Somehow, the man seemed to understand perfectly. “You deserve a good meal,” he said. “You have done well. Rest now, for our task is just beginning. When the moon rises this evening, we will be ready.”

As if in answer, the owl puffed up its feathers and closed its eyes. By contrast, the man moved restlessly through the trees. He was impatient to be gone. “All in good time,” he muttered to himself. “Once I collect what I have chosen, I will leave this town and never return.” His eyes darkened as he recalled once more the deception of the town from the day before.

From this vantage point, the man could see the entire village. He saw the simple cottages, laid out side by side. He glanced darkly towards the square and the stone buildings of the Town Council beyond. The sun was high in the sky now and the people of the town were going about their daily business. Women moved swiftly towards village markets, selecting fruit and vegetables and putting them into baskets. Men thatched roofs and tended their farms, while closer to town, others sold wares from wooden carts. Amongst all this activity, younger children played and laughed. They chased each other in and out of buildings in the square, until they were scolded by angry parents. Meanwhile older children worked at tasks of their own.

As he watched, the man noticed two children in particular. They were walking side by side, the boy supporting the girl by the arm. In his other hand, a bucket sloshed water over the edge, but the boy didn’t seem to notice.

The man withdrew a pipe from within the folds of his cloak and fingered it thoughtfully. He put the pipe to his lips and blew a few notes…

Troy and Charlotte stopped suddenly. “Did you hear that?” said Troy.
“Yes,” said Charlotte. At once she felt lighter and happier, her fears of owls and curses immediately forgotten. “Where did it come from?”
“I don’t know,” said Troy. “But it is the most enchanting sound.”
Charlotte frowned in concentration. “It seems familiar somehow,” she said.

Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the music stopped. The two friends looked at each other, disappointed. But their disappointment soon gave way to wariness.
“Something strange is happening here,” said Troy and in unspoken agreement, they quickened their pace along the road.
From his vantage point, the man had watched the whole exchange and smiled to himself. “Yes,” he said, “that will work very well indeed.”

The Main Characters speak...

I wrote a lot of dialogue in today's entry, which has come in at a little over 1000 words. After 3 days, my November writing total stands at 2774. That's not bad!! At this rate, The Forgotten Children should be a decent enough length at the end of the month.
Anyway, here is the next instalment.
*****************
Charlotte stifled a yawn as the two friends walked back along the dirt track towards the cottages.
“Why are you so tired?” said Troy. “Did you stay awake all night?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No,” she said. “At least, I think I slept soundly. But it took me forever to wake this morning. I was exhausted, even though I slept well past sunrise.” She took a breath and looked across at her friend. “Promise that you will not laugh at me,” she began.
“I promise,” said Troy at once. “Is something the matter?”
“That’s just it,” said Charlotte. “I am not sure. I feel as if something happened to me last night. I have been trying all morning to remember what it was, but the memory will not come.”
“Perhaps you just had a bad dream,” suggested Troy.
Charlotte shrugged. “I suppose so,” she said, but even as she spoke the words, she knew she didn’t feel convinced by that explanation.

Shaking off her sense of unrest, she turned to smile at Troy. “I can carry that bucket myself, you know,” she said. “I do it every morning.”
“I know,” said Troy. “I just thought I would give you a break, especially since you are so tired.”
“Thanks,” said Charlotte. The two walked in companionable silence for a few moments. Suddenly Charlotte remembered Troy’s earlier excitement. “Oh, tell me!” she said. “Why are people saying that our town is cursed?”

“I thought you would never ask,” said Troy, his enthusiasm returning immediately. “They are saying that it is all the fault of that stranger who took away the vermin.”
Charlotte frowned. “I don’t remember any stranger,” she said. “I haven’t seen anyone different in the town.”
“But surely you must have noticed that the vermin around here have suddenly disappeared?” said Troy.
“Actually, I hadn’t until just now,” said Charlotte. “Of course! Lately the rats have been so bad that they were running everywhere. We lost some bags of grain and I’ve even had to check our water bucket each morning, in case it wasn’t empty.”

“It has been the same all over the village,” said Troy. “I am surprised you didn’t hear Mother the other morning. An entire family of rats had made their way into our cottage and were scurrying across the floor into the pantry when she awoke. Anyway, yesterday a strange man appeared in the square. He was tall with a coat that was all the colours of the rainbow. His eyes were dark and bright and they looked at everyone in turn. Finally, he marched up to Father and announced that he could rid the town of all the rats.”

“Oh, I wish I could have seen that,” said Charlotte, “but there was so much to do at home. What did your father say?”
“He said yes, of course,” answered Troy. “He has been worried for weeks now about how to get rid of the rats. ‘A Mayor should be able to solve the problems of a town’ he says. He asked the other members of the Town Council as well, but they all agreed immediately. They even agreed to pay him more than any rat catcher has ever been paid before.”

“How did he manage to get rid of all the rats?” said Charlotte.
“That was the best part of all,” said Troy. “From his pack he pulled out a long pipe and began to play. At first, everyone thought that he was a fraud, as none of us could hear a thing. But all of a sudden, the very earth started to shake and rats appeared from everywhere. They were climbing all over each other, trying to reach the rat catcher and his pipe. So he began to move towards the river and before we knew it, all the rats had followed him into the water and drowned.”

“That is amazing,” said Charlotte. “No wonder he commanded a high price. How much was he paid?”
At that, Troy looked embarrassed. “Well… nothing,” he admitted.
Charlotte stopped walking. “Nothing?” she repeated. “But I thought you said everyone agreed to pay him higher than ever before?”

“They did,” said Troy. “But afterwards they started talking amongst themselves. They started to think that since nobody knew him and he did look awfully strange, that maybe he was a magician who had charmed the rats here in the first place. And if that was true, then they owed him nothing for taking away the trouble he had caused in the first place. So they told him they were not going to pay.”
“And he was not happy?” guessed Charlotte.
“He was not,” said Troy. “He stormed out of the village, but vowed that he would make them regret their decision.” Troy stopped walking and looked around him before continuing, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“And then, this morning, there was an owl,” he said. “It was sitting outside our window, staring in at us. When I came into the square, I discovered that our cottage was not the only cottage it had visited. Others had seen it too. And as you know, an owl is an ill omen. That was when the rumour started. Since the owl appeared when the stranger left, he must have cursed us.” He paused dramatically, finally focusing on his friend’s face. Charlotte had gone white. “Charlotte?” he said, concerned. He put down the bucket and took her by the arm. “Are you all right?”

Charlotte shook her head. “The owl,” she said, softly. “An owl came to me last night too. I have just remembered. It was the middle of the night and I saw it from my window.”
“I’m sure it was just a coincidence,” said Troy, concerned at the effect his story had had. You fool, he said to himself. Look at how you have frightened her. “ Come on, let’s get you home.”

But Charlotte shook off his arm. “No, you don’t understand!” she said. “It spoke to me! I could hear it in my mind. It said I belonged to it. It said it was coming for me.” She turned to Troy, her eyes wide. “If this town is cursed, then I must be too!” she said. “But why? I never even saw the stranger! Troy, what am I going to do?”

I began this on 2nd November, I swear!

At the end of a busy weekend, I sat down to do my second instalment of "November Writing" at 11.45pm... I have, however, completed some other writing today, with the writing of a newsletter for our local theatre group. But it wasn't fiction and certainly not about any forgotten children! So here is the next part of my story. This bit is shorter at around 700 words. But, since it is now 12.45am on November 3rd, I thought I should post it and go to bed. My theory is that the next instalment will be longer as a result. I guess we'll see... I am already surprised by the way the story is beginning to tell itself. By just sitting down and starting to type, the story takes itself off on unplanned tangents - which are fun so far. I wonder what else it has planned for itself?!
***********
The hours passed. In her dream, Charlotte was suddenly cold. A fierce, biting cold that bit through her skin. Something was standing over her and she cowered, withdrawing from its menacing shadow.

“Charlotte? Charlotte!”
The something was speaking and she struggled to hear. Gradually, her dream began to fade and as she awoke, Charlotte realised that the icy cold had been caused by the loss of her blanket. The menacing shadow was her mother, now standing over her, blanket in hand.

“CHARLOTTE! Do you plan to sleep the day away, you lazy girl?” her mother said. “The sun has been up for a full hour and you have work to do. Get up this instant!” With that, she flung the blanket onto the floor and stalked away.

“Sorry, Mama.” Charlotte called after her mother’s retreating form. She sat up immediately, still groggy. Why was she so tired? She tried to remember the events of the previous night. Something had happened to her, she knew – but what was it? Try as she might, she couldn’t bring the details of the encounter into her mind. The memory of it lay frustratingly out of reach, hidden somewhere in the back of her mind.

She dressed as quickly as she could, pulling her woollen shift over her head and plaiting her long brown hair so that it hung in a thick, shining coil down her back. Having just passed her thirteenth birthday, Charlotte would soon be considered a woman and it would not be long before she would be expected to take on the responsibilities of a household. This was a prospect that terrified her. When her chores were done, she wanted still to be playing games and climbing trees, not turning her attention to cooking or sewing. She had already overheard her parents whispering about suitable husbands when they thought she was asleep at night and her heart had sank. She did not feel ready for womanhood, nor for the attention of the young men of the village. If any of them approached her, she would blush crimson and avert her blue eyes from their increasingly intense gaze. Why could she not stay a child forever? Her mind still swirled with a thousand thoughts as Charlotte staggered out into the sunlight to begin her day’s chores.

“Charlotte! Have you heard? They say the town has been cursed!”
Charlotte had reached the centre of town and was filling her bucket with water from the well when Troy came running over to join her. He was the one young man with whom she was not awkward, probably because they had grown up together. Their families’ cottages lay side by side and they saw each other every day. Troy was as good as a brother – indeed, they fought as hard as other brothers and sisters did. But they were fiercely loyal to each other too and many scuffles had broken out between them and the other children of the village when one had come to the defence of the other. In the past year, Troy had grown tall and lanky and he now towered over Charlotte. His blonde hair flopped into his face and he pushed it out of his blue eyes impatiently.

“What are you talking about?” Her bucket full to the brim with water, Charlotte turned around carefully so as not to spill the precious cargo. “Who says the town is cursed?”
“Everyone!” answered Troy. “Did you not hear of the stranger who came to the town yesterday?”
Charlotte shook her head. “There was so much work to do yesterday I barely left the cottage,” she said. “What stranger? Why was he here? Where did he come from? Is it he who has cursed us? Why would he do that?”

Troy held up his hand, laughing. “Enough!” he said. “How do you expect me to answer you when all you do is ask question after question?”
Charlotte grinned. “I am sorry,” she said. “But you said the town was cursed! Naturally, I am going to have questions. Did you expect me to say nothing?”
“Of course not,” said Troy. “Come on.” He took the bucket from her hand. “I’ll walk back with you,” he said. “Along the way, I’ll tell you what I know.”

The Forgotten Children Part 1

Right! Here we go! It has been an interesting day so far, spent brainstorming pieces of a story called "The Forgotten Children" that I hope will be written during this month. As promised, I will post each daily entry onto this blog and will certainly welcome any comments anyone wishes to make. I began this morning, by asking myself:  "Who are the children? Why are they forgotten?" The idea that kept coming back to me over and over again was linked to the story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin, so I spent an hour or so doing some research on its legend before I began. I have no idea whether my story will remain linked to the Piper, but you may seem some similarities, at least in the beginning.

*****************

It was night. The silence enveloped the town like a blanket. All the doors were shut, all the lamps dimmed. Nothing stirred, except for a few stray cats who were wandering the deserted streets looking for scraps of food. Asleep in their beds, dreaming deeply of pleasant things to come, the people were oblivious to the tragedy that was about to befall them. No one could have suspected that their lives were about to change. It was already too late. They could not stop it, even if they knew. Nothing would ever be the same again. For on the hillside above, he waited.



Emerging from his hiding place, the man stood and stretched his long limbs. How long had he been sitting there, hidden amongst the trees? He wasn’t sure. Time had ceased to have any real meaning, ever since the angry mist had descended and clouded his reason. How dare they, he thought. They broke their promise to me. Without my help, they would surely have perished. I was the only one who agreed to save them, but once I had, they turned their backs. Suddenly they wanted rid of me, as if I were nothing but a nuisance, a reminder of the debt they owed me but refused to pay. But pay they will, in a way that they least expect and will forever regret.



There was a rustling behind him. An owl hooted above his head and he turned to regard it, looking up into the branches of the nearest tree. The bird looked back at him, its eyes illuminated in the moonlight. The man smiled grimly in the darkness and his own eyes flashed. “Welcome, night wanderer,” he said, softly. “I have been waiting for you. Have you found our prey?” His voice sounded almost musical - deep and mesmerising. The owl blinked solemnly, as if captivated by the noise. But then the man held out his arm and the owl flew to him, landing on the edge of his outstretched cloak. With a menacing chuckle and a flourish like a magician performing a magic trick, the man seemed to disappear within the trees. The owl took to the skies, its haunting screech breaking the silence. It too, was on the prowl. It was beginning…



Charlotte sat up in bed. What had awakened her? She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, in an attempt to clear her mind from the grogginess of sleep. Was someone there?

“Hello?” she whispered, but no one replied. Yet somehow, she knew she was not alone.

“Is there anyone there?” she asked again. Still, there was no reply.

The moonlight peeped through the wooden shutters of her bedroom window. Shafts of light made faint patterned lines on the floor. But as Charlotte stared at them, a shadow disturbed their pattern. She frowned. There was something there. But what?



She pushed aside the woollen blanket and placed her bare feet onto the floor. Shivering in the sudden cold night air, she pulled the blanket from her small bed and wrapped herself up in it. Quietly, she moved towards the window, avoiding the beams of light that still lay reflected on the floor. The shadow was still there and she did not wish to disturb it.



She became aware of a dull thumping sound. It seemed to be getting louder and faster. As she reached the window sill, she realised what it was – the beating of her own heart.

Foolish girl, she said to herself. Making such a fuss over nothing.

If that is true, said another voice in her mind, then what are you doing out of bed, jumping at shadows on the floor?

Unsure of which voice to pay attention to, Charlotte put out her hand and pushed open the shutter.



Moonlight streamed into the room. Charlotte looked out into the night and stifled a scream. There, on the fencepost opposite her window sat a large owl. It gazed intently at her and Charlotte remembered a warning that her grandmother had given her. “To see an owl is a sign of death or destruction,” the old woman had said. “Owls are symbols of demons and ghosts. You must never look them in the eye.”



Charlotte knew that she needed to look away, close the window and to return to bed. But on trying, she discovered that she could not move. Her eyes were locked with those of the owl. She was trapped. Who are you? she asked. Why are you here? What do you want with me?



And then the answer came. A voice, deep and rich, like liquid honey, flowed into her thoughts. You are mine, it said. You will come to me. When I call for you, you will come.



But who are you? Charlotte asked again. She realised she was no longer afraid. The owl’s eyes seemed to be warming her from the inside out and she dropped the blanket to the floor.



You will know soon enough, said the voice. By the next moon’s light, I will return for you.



There was a sudden hiss and a black cat leapt onto the fencepost. It advanced towards the owl, its fur standing on end and its own green eyes flashing in warning. The owl blinked and abruptly, the connection was broken. Charlotte shook her head, as with a screech, the owl took to the sky once more. The cat padded back along the fencepost and jumped down, disappearing into the dark.



Charlotte stood for a moment longer at the window, gazing out at the night. What had happened? She felt strange. Had she been sleepwalking? Why was she out of bed? And what was her blanket doing on the floor? She bent down and picked it up. Turning back to the window, she pulled the shutter closed, after one final glance out into the blackness. There was nothing there. She walked back over to her bed and lay down, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She closed her eyes and was instantly asleep.