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.
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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.