Dusty Old Prose (I’m not really here)

Swiped from Charlie! Who got the idea from Michelle Rowen who is challenging blog-landia to share their dusty bits and bytes.

Feel free to join in and post your own……This is the original beginning for a book that was supposed to be a Blaze…then wasn’t and is now lying in a dusty heap on my computer. I can’t even begin to tell you how HARD it was not to edit…and how much I cringed  :lmao:

See below the cut

It had been a long day, even with early dismissal.  The kids were excited about getting out for Spring Break.  Not that he blamed them.  Any more than he could blame Mitzi for leaving him.  How cliché.  A dear John letter.  Except, of course his name wasn’t John.

Dear Dane,

I know you’ll understand when I say I’ve met someone.  Someone I feel I can be happy with.  Someone who wants a family—a real family.  By the time you get this, I’ll be on my way to Denver and Kenny.  I’m only taking my clothes, 5000.00 from savings and the computer—since you gave it to me. 

Please sign these as fast as possible and return to Mr. Bentley.  He’s waiting for them and will finalize the divorce so Kenny and I can be married as soon as possible.  He has my new address to send the papers to.  Don’t try to contact me.  It won’t do any good.

Kisses—

Mitzi

Dane slumped at the kitchen table, letter and divorce papers in hand, and ran shaking fingers through his thick blonde hair. 

At sixty, old Wilt Bentley was a bigger gossip than most of the women Dane knew.  If Wilt knew what’s going on with Dane’s wife, then the whole town did.  And probably knew more about it than he did to boot.  Sighing, Dane picked up the phone and dialed Wilt’s number.

“Bentley & Bentley,” the older man said.  There was only one Bentley.  Wilt’s son, Jerome, was doing drag in Vegas, much to his father’s chagrin.

“Wilt.  Dane Keller, here.”

“Afternoon Dane.  I suppose you got Mitzi’s papers.”  Dane swore the old man sounded like he was chuckling.  “Not much of a treat to come home to for Spring Break, hu?”

“No, it’s not.  Listen,” he began, determined to get this mess over with as fast as possible, “what do I do with these papers?”

Wilt might be a gossip but he knew his job.  Quickly, he explained the process to Dane.

“So, in six weeks, it’s over,” he mumbled.

“Yup, just sign them and bring them down.  I’ll take care of the rest and by Summer Vacation you’ll be a free man.”  This time there was no hiding the chuckle on the other end of the telephone.    

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

Dane hung up, grabbed a pen from a nearby kitchen drawer and quickly scanned the papers.  There were no hidden surprises.  Other than the one he’d discovered when he hit the door.  Mitzi and her trusty computer were gone. 

She’d begged for a computer for months, stating she was bored and needed something to do during the day.  His suggestions about job hunting had been ignored.  

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 24th, 2008 at 11:17 am and is filed under Amie's Posts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.

9 Naughty Responses to “Dusty Old Prose (I’m not really here)”

1. Amie Says:
   June 24th, 2008 at 11:36 am

   Can you say BACKSTORY boys and girls? I knew you could!

2. Marissa Scott Says:
   June 24th, 2008 at 12:52 pm

   I thought about sharing, but it’s way too embarrassing. Dude, totally passive tense, “she felt”, “he felt”, and MAJOR back story as well. I can’t post it and admit that that drivel is mine. I’m a wuss. Yes, I ADMIT IT!

3. Amie Says:
   June 24th, 2008 at 12:55 pm

   Weenie!!!!! LOL like I said it was SUPER-HARD not to edit. And trust me, I have MUCH WORSE

4. Shelli Says:
   June 24th, 2008 at 1:38 pm

   Share Marissa!!

   Too cool Amie, let me dig something out and then I’ll share!

5. Shelli Says:
   June 24th, 2008 at 1:47 pm

   Okay, here’s my attempt at a historical I wrote like 5 years ago when it was all I read. Some day… maybe I’ll pick it up again. Heh.

   New Castle, England
   (January 1861)

   “He is old! He is wrinkled! And he only takes me as a wife so that I might breed him children!” Anne Rawson sat atop her chestnut mare and glanced at her best friend; awaiting the words of sympathy that were sure to come.

   She was not disappointed. Rebecca’s face softened with sympathy. “Then it is exactly as we suspected. Oh, this is ridiculous, Anne! It’s the 1800’s, hardly the dark ages anymore. You should not be forced to marry anyone.”

   Anne pushed the thick, blonde braid of hair over her shoulder, and settled the rounded curves of her small body more comfortably on her horse. She glanced over at Rebecca again, her grey eyes flashing with rage.

   “I said nearly the same thing to my father,” Anne agreed. “He insisted that my marrying Mr. Richard’s is the only way out of my brother’s gambling debt.”

   “That is your brother’s problem, not ours,” Rebecca said firmly.

   “Ours? Fortunately you are not being forced to wed a perverse man who resembles Father
   Christmas,” Anne pointed out with a slight smile.

   “And possibly, neither are you.” Rebecca urged her horse closer to Anne’s and lowered her voice. “I have been forming a plan ever since you informed me of this distasteful, mandatory union.”

   “You have?” The despair and frustration that had settled on Anne, was suddenly lifted a bit as she glanced at her friend suspiciously. “What type of plan?”

   “My cousin Jacob has arrived from America recently. He is to escort another cousin of ours, Lissette, back to America when he returns on Sunday. She is very anguished over the prospect and is not going willingly.”

   “And what might that have to do with me, Becca?” Anne asked skeptically.

   Rebecca winked. “Everything. If you took her place.”

   Anne’s hope evaporated. The plan was impossible. Escaping to America seemed like heaven; it was something she’d always dreamed of. She sighed, absently stroking her horse’s mane. “You forget one important detail, Becca. This man would surely recognize that I am not his cousin.”

   “He won’t have the opportunity,” Rebecca murmured coyly and leaned forward. “Not if we do this right.”

6. Amie Says:
   June 24th, 2008 at 2:06 pm

   LOL Shell that’s pretty good!

7. Shelli Says:
   June 24th, 2008 at 3:13 pm

   Heh, historicals scare me. I’m afraid I’ll screw up the language and the facts! LOL.

8. Karen Says:
   June 24th, 2008 at 9:57 pm

   Oooh man most of my old stuff is on the desktop and it is sooo horrid. I have a lot of horrendous stuff in notebooks too. The notebooks are filled with “ly.” So many “ly” words it hurts the eyes and the head.

9. Amie Stuart Says:
   June 24th, 2008 at 10:20 pm

   LY is EVOL!!!! (most of the time)