Here I am again.

Friday, 3 December 2010

Well, I missed a day.  It figures.  I've always been crap at keeping a journal. 

I've done a little looking and it seems I need to add a copyright to anything and everything I write here to protect it.  I really want to add a bit of my work here.  Both so I can get feedback and hopefully find a reader or two. 

I still want to do a bit of research before posting much, but I wanted to share a piece from a project I'm working on.  I've started a collection of my favourite lines that I've written.  The idea is to print them up pretty and post them around my study for inspiration.

Here's one of my favorite passages from BTW:

'Carter watched as the sun shifted across the sky preparing to set. Soon it would be time to go inside and get ready for bed. She knew that as soon as the lights went out, boys would climb through the windows of Catherine Hall and tiptoe into rooms. Girls would try to breathe softly and muffle cries of pain and ecstasy alike as they broke the rules of dorm life and morality. The halls would grow damp with musk and humidity seeping under doors of rooms where candles, hearts, and bodies burned.

In the nights to come girls would live with the consequences of their actions. Some would gather in the community bathroom to giggle and recount in detail the joys of love found. Some would starve themselves in the dining hall at dinner and cry into their pillows late at night for love lost. Some would pull the sheets up around their necks and shiver with the fever of love denied that the school nurse will misdiagnose as a summer cold.

As the end of summer drew nearer, the scent of roses both wilted in vases and growing on the trellis vines would smother the residents of Catherine Hall. Those girls with even the slightest allergies would fall ill, popping Sudafed, and refusing to leave their rooms for at least three days. As the heat of the season subsided, so will the love affairs that blazed on muggy nights in the light of the moon.

Carter would not invite anyone into her bed this or any other night. She would toss and turn in sheets damp with sweat and anguish. She would dream of strong arms to encircle her and hands soiled with earth. Carter would dream of Matt from the coffeehouse and the boys in her classes would never again measure up.'

Copyright 2010 Christy Kate McKenzie

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