Sunday, March 13, 2011

Mystery Mondays Part 1

I posted last week that I was writing a little story and that I would share a bit of it with you. I'm going out on a limb here, as I've never written anything before, and I'm a little nervous sharing my possible ineptitudes (okay, probable ineptitudes) with my virtual friends and an entire world full of strangers, but here goes! I am going to publish a few paragraphs each week of my new story. It is a survivor story, tentatively titled, "Hidden". I'm in the early stages: I've written a bit (about 35 pages or so), know all the plot and where the characters are going to go and what they'll do, but I am still editing and re-editing the little bit that I've got done, and adding more here and there. There is MUCH more to do, I know, before I can call it even remotely done. Probably weeks and months to go. Still, I'd love to know what you think so far! Here are the first few paragraphs from chapter 1. I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and the foggy maple photo above is one I took last year, I just didn't know what to put at the top of this post and thought it looked suitably mysterious :)
Please note that all of this writing is copyright Meghann Gervais 2011.


They say God only tests those he loves, and that you can’t truly know how strong you are until you’ve faces the fires of trials.
God, I wish you didn’t love me so much. I wish you’d never even looked in my general direction.

It all started, as the clichés go, so innocently. After years of saving, then more years of having hectic jobs that swallowed all of our spare time, my boyfriend and I were finally going on a vacation together. Not just any vacation, a luxury, five diamond, two-thousand dollars-per-day bliss fest. Ten days and nine nights of work-free time for us to unwind and spend some serious happy hours together in the British Virgin Islands.

“Stop worrying, the dog will be fine.” Grey sees me squinting out the car window and knows my thoughts without asking. He always does. He attributes this to the fact that his parents are poets. He says his upbringing made him hyper-aware and sensitive of everything. I tell him my face has always been an open book and all anyone has to do is look at me to know all of my brain’s inner workings.

“It’s a new kennel. She’s never been there before and she pines when I’m not around. What if she doesn’t eat? Ten days is a long time not to eat.” I know I baby my dog. I work from home as a web designer, how could I not baby my dog? Grey thinks I’m nuts.

“She will be fine; we’re paying almost as much for her as we would for a person in a hotel.” Grey takes his eyes off the road to stare at me in a mock-severe glare, “The vacation begins now. No more stress. Just you, me, and a few of those scraps of fabric I saw in your suitcase.” The glare turns into one of his devilish smiles, his grey eyes crinkling just a bit. For poets, I thought, his parents weren’t exactly original with the whole baby-naming thing. His eyes had been grey almost from birth, so his name was Grey. Genius.

“If all we’re wearing are my bikinis, you’re going to get some pretty odd looks – and I don’t think they’re your size, anyway.” I can’t help but grin, though I am disappointed - the bitty bikinis were supposed to be a secret. I’d worked out like a slave getting into shape for this trip, and when I’d gone vacation-clothing shopping and seen these bikinis in the store I’d blushed to my toes. I hadn’t worn a bathing suit in public for a long time. I’d had to pre-tan for weeks just to not glow in the dark. These weren’t just bikinis – wear them anywhere by the beach and I would probably get arrested, but this was a long time in coming. I wanted Grey’s eyes to bug out of his head when he saw me in them.

“Oh, I always get funny looks, but I think I’ll be going naked most of the time anyway,” another of his devilish smiles flashes. “Our house is supposed to be private after all. I can’t be getting tan lines on this perfect skin.”

“Perfectly pasty, you’re almost as white as I was!”

“Almost, but not quite; you still take the cake for that one. Don’t roll your eyes at me; be mad at your Irish-Canadian ancestors. They’re the ones you have to blame for your glow-worm effect, babe!” The easy banter relaxes me, as he knows it will. We arrive at the airport with time to kill, and after checking our luggage I say I’m going to look at some books at the nearby airport store.

Okay, so I gave you a page, but I didn't want to skimp on you, it will get VERY interesting soon, I promise :)
Hope this brightens up your Monday a bit, be sure to check back next Monday for a new paragraph or two (or three)!
Arwen is snoring, but I know she wants to say hi, so I am going to say Hi for her.
and Arwen, the Snoring Wonder Dog

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