A: I need the music loud and big tonight!

D: How about some panpipes? I have a lovely set somewhere over–

A: No, D – not any of your bard-y fireside music. I need big – it needs to be heard over a body of water – music.

D: Ah, pipes, then?

A: And drums.

D: Um, A. . . are we going to war?

A: War? Silly Druid, wars are for politicians. No, we are celebrating. You and TC are in charge of the music and probably the singing too, since I can’t carry a tune.

D: What are we celebrating – and what are you bringing to this hootenanny?

A: Me, of course!

D: Now you’re just being obscure.

A: Says the Druid. First, I’m bringing me to the hootenanny, and possibly potato chips and dip. Second, my word count for Camp NaNoWriMo has been validated.

D: How many words?

53,728

D: And the book?

A: Congratulate me first.

D: . . .That’s stupendous, A. Way to go.

A: With sincerity, and possibly enthusiasm, if you can manage it.

D: I never doubted you for a moment, A.

A: That’s better. The book is well on its way. They’re in 1745, they’re realizing that perhaps they were sent there for a reason, and Bonnie Prince Charlie is about to call the clans. All in all, good times. Word vomit, but good times.

D: I’m proud of you A.

A: Thanks, D. Me too!

D: Okay, that was nice. Get back to work, woman.

A: What about my hootenanny?

D: Don’t you watch TV? That always ends with crazy masks and zombies.

A: Right. How could I forget? No more Netflix for you, D.

A’s Telling the Tale Tonight, Baby!

The Creative Writing Challenge continues at the Community Storyboard. Today’s prompt: Pick an object in your room, and write a story. I have sleep (or lack thereof) on the brain with “Bed Head.” For the best story that popped up at the Community Storyboard, check out Ionia’s, “Polly wants a what?” Hands down my favorite of the day.

Also, huge congratulations are in order to Charles and Briana – thank *you* for letting us be a part of your respective book promotions. It was a lot of fun. Wishing you both a ridiculous amount of success!

Finally, here’s a little something from Part 3 of The Book, i.e. something I salvaged from the word vomit:

Silence.

It beat at her. Tiny movements bombarded her. Breathing hurt her ears, so complete was the absence of noise.

Maureen opened her eyes, slowly acknowledging that this was no dream – no nightmare to be avoided by deeper dreaming.

Nothing met her gaze. The darkness absolute. Her shriek rose from deep within her gut.

“Sean!”