Not Forgotten

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I haven’t forgotten these characters. But I’m also trying to finish another draft of my next novel, work on a few commissioned art pieces, grade student papers, work on our house, spend time with my family, go to speed skate practice, and sleep.

I’ve cheated though. I’ve skipped ahead. When I finish my novel, I’m going to come back to this, map it out, and fill in all the gaps. My goal is to have something pieced together in a readable form by the time next year’s Story-a-Day comes around. We’ll see how that goes. At least, I don’t have to go to chemo anymore! Yay!

As always, thanks for reading.

Hannah and the old woman waited for Meredith to return. They sat together in the cramped space of the closet in the dark. Maybe not being able to see the old woman made Hannah bold.

“Do you have any children?” she asked. Hannah had come to the Asylum, after all, to find out about her grandmother. Possibly even meet her. Earlier the idea would have horrified her, but she was getting used to the old woman. Calling her a friend seemed unlikely, but she did feel a bond that was hard to explain.

“Nosy girl, you are,” the old woman replied. “Why would you care?”
Hannah could hear the frown in her voice. “There has to be some reason why we came across each other and have been sticking with each other,” she said. “There has to be some reason you’re still with me.”

The old woman didn’t reply. Hannah knew the old woman was there only because of the sound of her breathing and that there really was no where to move.

“Do you believe in horoscopes and fortune telling too?” the old woman asked.

“What?”

“You appear to ascribe happenstance to supernatural or mystical sources.”
In the dark of the closet of the Asylum, muffled sounds beyond the door, the supernatural felt immensely close. “Don’t you believe in the supernatural?”

“I believe in what I can do and what I can not do. The rest I leave to others.”

“But you could’ve taken off without me. But here we are together.”

“You’re welcome to leave any time,” the old woman said.

“I couldn’t just leave.” Hannah wrapped her arms around her knees and gripped her hands more tightly. “We’re a team.”

The old woman laughed and then coughed. “I’d love to hear the doctors discuss my suitability for a team. Have you never been taught how teams work, child?”

Hannah was glad the old woman couldn’t see her reddening face. “We have worked together.” It wasn’t that she believed in fate or serendipity, but she didn’t not believe in them either.

“We’ve managed not to die,” the old woman replied.

“Do you think dying is likely?”

“Dying is certain. It’s the timing that’s unknown.”

Hannah pushed images of the dead security guard and the dead patient away. Thinking about who they were wasn’t going to help her. “I don’t see what has to be certain about it.”

“Maybe you won’t die here. But you will die some day. You can’t deny that.”

“Well…no, but that’s kind of morbid to think about.” Hannah thought she saw a glint of the old woman’s eyes in the darkness. In her normal life she liked talking about death and dying, but now that it felt as if these things were close at hand, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say.

“Meredith will be back soon. And everything it going to be fine.”

“Right. If she doesn’t give us away.”

“She’s on our side now.”

“Is she?”

“Doesn’t she have to be?”

Silence again hung between them. “They won’t let her walk away from this either. As a traitor, she should be the most frightened.”

Hannah wasn’t sure about her feelings for Meredith, but she’d placed her trust in the nurse and perhaps the nurse had put trust in her as well.

But she didn’t want to think about Meredith now. There wasn’t anything she could do for her. Meredith would either succeed, or they were all in deep trouble.

Right now in the dark and waiting, she hoped that maybe the darkness would encourage the old woman to talk. “What happened to you here?” Hannah asked.

“This is a closet. Not a confessional.”

This time Hannah didn’t reply. She resisted the urge to fill the silence. Her dad once told her you had to give people time to answer rather than rush in to hear your own voice.

The old woman breathed in deeply. Hannah imagined she could feel her exhale.

“Maybe I was young once,” the old woman said. “Do you believe that? Youth is a fairy tale, don’t you know? Can’t you tell?”

Hannah sucked in her bottom lip to keep herself from talking. She didn’t move. Anything might quiet the old woman, and a moment like this would likely not happen again.

“Once upon a time there was a girl they called Zeenia. Her parents adored her, of course. Adored her more than good sense allowed, and so no one prepared this child for the real world because why bother when everyone thinks you’re a princess? A princess must never sully herself with the real world. Never mind that she will grow old one day. No one ever thinks of this. Do you?”

“What?” Hannah asked, surprised the old woman seemed to expect a real answer. “I guess I never thought about it.” Cinderella old? Sleeping Beauty? Snow White with gray in her hair and crow’s feet at her eyes?

“They think about it here,” the old woman said. “Here in the Asylum they think about it. They think about everything and plan accordingly.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Nobody wants an aging princess with a mind she knows how to use.”

“Were you a princess?” Hannah hoped her voice sounded as if she believed what she was hearing. Where did princesses still exist? “Are you from another country?”

“I’m from another plane of existence.”

Hannah stayed silent. Her questions weren’t getting her anywhere. Maybe the old woman needed to be locked up in the Asylum. Maybe all the patients were truly sick and she had this all wrong.

The old woman snorted. “I wore beautiful dresses once upon a time, my dear, but I tired of their weight. I complained to my husband, my prince, and he showed me that jewels and brocade are so heavy when wet that they’ll drag you down to the bottom of the sea.”

Hannah tried to make sense of what the old woman said. Sitting in the dark for so long was affecting her senses. She lost track of time and wondered if she were dreaming.

“But I was saved, if that’s what this life is called. Saved.”

The door startled them both. The room beyond the pantry was a paler darkness and they could just make out Meredith’s shape. “Hurry,” she said. “Your lives depend on it.”

I have not given up.

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I have not given up on my story. Even though I missed the end of Story-a-Day May, I’m going to keep working on this. It was hard though, getting back into the plot. I haven’t written an outline or taken notes, so I get stuck. I know only a fraction more than you do about what is going to happen next. When I try to outline, the desire just to tell the story gets the better of me.

Also, I’ve got notes back from a reader on my second novel. I’ve got to go through those. Then the publisher looks at the what-I’d-like-to-think-is-final draft and makes more notes. Then the publisher works on the formatting and the cover. Then it will be published. Eventually. It is not a fast process.

I’m trying to get more of my art out in the world too. In spite of a few shows and festivals, I’m woefully naive about the art world. Certainly, I know more than I used to, but how to make a go of it still eludes me.

And I’ve got an idea for other stories. You know those ridiculous boxes that a person can stand in while money is blown around by a large fan and the person tries desperately to catch as many dollar bills as possible in the allotted amount of time? I feel like my brain is like that.

Anyway, here is the next installment of the story. Thanks for reading!

*

Tommy forgot the way he’d come from the Asylum. He took several turns and suspected the roads were purposefully taking him in the wrong direction. That was crazy, of course.

He gave up on finding the back entrance headed to the entrance everyone in town knew, the front gates. Hannah’s father had said nothing since they pulled away from his house. Tommy wasn’t sure if he should make small talk, but he’d been taught to let the adults take the lead in a conversation. Silence felt right for the situation anyway.

What met them at the Asylum gates surprised them both. A crowd of people stood at the gates staring out. Tommy stopped the truck, the headlights shining through iron bars and over the crowd. Many of them were in pajamas.

“My Hannah responsible for this?” her father asked staring through the windshield back at the patients.

“I don’t rightfully know, sir,” Tommy said. “But you know, Han. She does what she thinks is right.”

Mr. Wygant sighed. “It’s a lovely day, my boy, when what she thinks is right and what actually is right align.”

“But she’s smart.” Tommy didn’t take his eyes away from the crowd. They didn’t appear concerned or interested in the arrival of the truck. They didn’t even blink in the glare of the truck’s headlights.

“I just wish she were smart enough to stay out of trouble.” He didn’t stop watching the crowd either. In the crowd were boys and girls, adults and children, the healthy looking and a few with oxygen tanks and canes.

“Ain’t nobody that smart all the time, sir,” Tommy replied.

Hannah’s father let out a hint of a laugh. “You ready?” he asked.

“Ready for what?” Tommy gave Mr. Wygant a quick look. He figured he knew what the man meant, but he hoped otherwise.

“Well, I think we both know Hannah isn’t going to be waltzing through that gate on her own. We’re going to have to go in. We’re going to have to deal that crowd.”

“Maybe I could drive the truck through the gates, sir. Smash right through. They’d all take off runnin’ and we’d be in.”

Mr. Wygant frowned.

Tommy cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir. I wouldn’t. I’m just a little afraid of all those people. They don’t look right.”

“Imagine how we must look to them. No, my boy. You and me, we’re going to walk up to that gate and talk them like decent folks.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll tell them what we’re going to do and let them move out of the way.” Mr. Wygant put his hand on his door handle.

“Sir,” Tommy said. “What do you think they’ll do when the gate’s open?”

“I suspect some of them will end back where they started, and a fair few will act free. But we don’t need to worry ourselves about that now. We’re here for Hannah.”

The teenager and the father sat in the cab another minute in silence watching the unmoving crowd. Finally, the boy spoke. “I’m ready when you are, sir.”

Mr. Wygant sat up straighter. “Remember,” he said. “I’m doing this for Hannah.” And with that he opened his door.

Day 25 of Story-a-Day May.

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Trying to understand my characters. Almost to the end of Story-a-Day May! Woo!

Thank you for reading.

*

Tommy’s inability to make a decision grew the closer into town he drove. Going home seemed a bad idea. His parents would call the police. They’d never liked Hannah, and this would confirm their suspicions that she was a wholly unsuitable girl.

He took turn after turn driving to where he hadn’t consciously decided to go, Hannah’s house. The sight of Hannah’s dad standing in the driveway took Tommy by surprise.

Tommy parked in the street in front of the house. He rolled down the window. “Mr. Wygant,” he called.

Hannah’s dad titled his head to the side. “Tommy?”

“Hannah home?” Tommy asked.

“Isn’t Hannah with you?”

Tommy frowned. “She ain’t with me, Mr. Wygant. That’s why I’m asking.”

Gerald Wygant shuffled over to the truck. “Why are you driving this truck thing?”

“I think Hannah’s in trouble?”

“That’s why you’re driving a truck?” Mr. Wygant touched the truck door.

Tommy always found Hannah’s dad frustrating, but he was brought up to be polite to anyone older no matter what. “Sir. If you get in the truck, I’ll take you where Hannah probably is.”

“I thought you drove that Chevy pick-up.”

“Yes, sir. I borrowed this. All right?”

Mr. Wygant nodded, and he walked around the front of the truck through the glare of the headlights to the passenger side door. He pulled himself into the truck. “You look like you’ve got blood on your face,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Tommy replied. “I got myself into something of a scuffle.”

“Is Hannah all right?” He buckled his seatbelt.

“I hope so, sir. I really do. But that’s why I’ve come to you, sir. I thought a proper grown up was necessary.”

Mr. Wygant looked alarmed. “She’s not in jail?”

“No, no, no,” Tommy said, pulling the truck back into the road. “Hannah’s too smart to end up jail, sir.”

“What’s she done?” He fussed with the folds of his bathrobe. “I’m in my pajamas, you know.”

Tommy stumbled over what to say. “It don’t matter none about what you’re wearing.” He wasn’t sure that was true, but he hadn’t paid attention to what Hannah’s father was wearing.

They were nice pajamas, and the robe was monogramed. Her father didn’t look half bad. “Hannah…” He trailed off. He didn’t want to get Hannah into more trouble, but he saw no way around it. “Hannah went to the Asylum. I don’t think she’s come back out yet.”

Mr. Wygant’s head snapped up. “What’s she done? Say that again?”

“She’s gone into the Asylum, sir.”

“Why in blue blazes has she done that?”

Tommy saw no reason why the truth would be helpful. “Just curiosity. You know how she is, sir. She’s always wanting to know things.”

Mr. Wygant opened his mouth the say something, but ended up saying nothing. He stared out the windshield. “I’ve warned her. I’ve warned her a hundred times not to go the Asylum. Why does she never listen to me?”

Tommy considered Mr. Wygant, and he weighed his words carefully. “All due respect, sir, and I really ain’t meaning to offend you in any way. But have you ever told Hannah anything useful?”

Mr. Wygant’s eyes widened. “Tommy Adams. I’m her father.”

Tommy kept his eyes on the road. There was no traffic, and most of the town’s lights flashed yellow. He was making good time back to the Asylum and his stomach was in knots. “I know that, sir. I do. And you’re darn good dad. You put food on the table and you never raise a finger to your family. Why, I think you’re the nicest dad I know. But your daughter is smarter than the two of us combined, and when you don’t answer her questions, she figures out how to find out for herself. No disrespect meant, sir.”

“She’s gone to find out about my mother, hasn’t she?”

“I reckon she has, sir. It burns in her, wanting to know. I don’t claim to understand it, but she isn’t going to have no peace until she knows.”

Mr. Wygant nodded. “I tell you what, Tommy. If we find my Hannah safe and sound, I promise you that I’ll tell her everything she wants to know. All right?”

Tommy nodded. Silently he prayed that they weren’t too late.

Day 24. (Or Why Is This Month Lasting So Long?)

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Yesterday I couldn’t think of anything. I”m working on a major art project and getting ready for a trip and generally distracted.

I’m trying to have a career of making things (stories and art) and I still don’t know how to pull that off.

Anyway, I wrote something for day 24. Thank goodness this month is almost over! Thanks for reading.

*

Hannah’s father couldn’t sleep. He wandered through the house in dark unsure what to do. He wasn’t used to sleeplessness.

Television didn’t interest him at that hour. The book he’d been reading failed to hold his attention. He walked in circles around the living room. A school photo of his daughter caught his eye. She worried him every day.

Children always looked sweet and innocent in their sleep. He stared down the hallway. He’d like to see Hannah as his little girl again. Maybe if he peeked in on her, he’d remember how she used to be.

Stepping quietly, he made his way down the hall. Her bedroom door opened without a sound. He stood in the doorway and tried to see his daughter sleeping in her childhood bed. But it was too dark.

He stepped into the room. He squinted. It almost seemed as if the bed were empty, but that couldn’t be right. He stepped closer, wishing he could turn on a light. He’d be embarrassed though if she found him checking in on her.

It really did seem as if her bed were empty. He strained to listen. The room was quiet. Quiet as if no one else were in the room. He leaned forward and closed his eyes expecting to hear her breathing.

Nothing.

He walked over to the bed not ready to believe the bed was vacant. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out. He felt the blanket and the sheet. He felt the flat emptiness of the bed. “Hannah?”

He waited. “Hannah?” he said louder this time.

He turned on the bedside lamp. His daughter was gone.

His mind raced to understand. She was a teen. He’d snuck too as a teen. But where would she go? She had no boyfriend. He frowned. He thought she didn’t have a boyfriend, but of course she could be keeping some rogue a secret. His stomach twisted. How often did she sneak out for a secret life? What did she get up to? He didn’t like his thoughts.

He hurried out of the room. He could tell his wife, but he thought the better of it. He grabbed his car keys. He find his child on his own. He knew where his search should start.

Day 22

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Still here! Next week, I’ll be without a computer for a few days! Egads! I’ll write on paper, but I won’t be posting. But that’s not until next week. In the meantime, I managed something for today.

Thank you for reading!

*

Everyone in town said a flock of blackbirds from the east brought bad dreams to everyone and misfortune to a chosen one.

Hannah loved to watch the blackbirds though. Breaking her parents and her community’s rules, she would climb a tree as high as she could and look for swooping dark cloud of birds. Weeks could pass before she’d see them, sometimes in the distance and sometimes surprisingly close.

If she were caught up in the tree with her father’s binoculars, her mother would rage. “Why do like to invite trouble?” her mother would shout. “Do we not provide you with enough problems?”

One night at dinner, when Hannah was fourteen, she asked her mother, “Which is worse: looking for blackbirds or climbing trees?”

Her mother slammed down her fork. “They both cause broken bones and bad luck. That’s what matters.”

“But how can birds break bones?” Hannah asked.

Her father focused on his food. His pasta seemed quite interesting to him at the moment.

“Hannah Clare,” her mother replied. “Why must you always ruin dinner with nonsensical questions?”

“But—”

Her mother pointed at her father. “His side of the family I blame for this. Curiosity pollutes the entire bloodline.” She dropped her hand to the table and turned to stare out the dining room window. “You don’t have to feed your curiosity. You don’t.”

Hannah knew she should keep quiet, but the same impulse that drove her to the treetops threw words out of her mouth. “I’d rather feed it than drown it like you do.”

The slap Hannah got ended the conversation. It did nothing to end Hannah’s fascination with the rumors about the birds.

Day 21 with a headache

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I’m distracted, but I forced myself to write something. Can’t wait to go back and fix the mess I’m making!

Oh. And this scene references a scene from last year.

Thanks for reading.

*

Hannah wondered what she had gotten herself into. That moment a couple hours earlier when she’d been standing on the Asylum wall seemed so long ago.

She then remembered the boy on the roof. He’d slipped from her mind. A boy had been on the roof and seemed to disappear. What had happened to him?

“Hey,” Hannah called out. She hated not knowing the old woman’s name. “Um, hey.”

The old woman turned around. “Yes?”

“Can’t you give me a name? I don’t want to say hey you.”

“Make up a name then. What’s your real question?” The old woman waited expectantly.

“I saw a boy on the roof earlier. When I first got in. Do you know anything about him?”

Meredith stopped walking and looked back at them.

The old woman sighed. “The birds.”

“The birds?”

“They take the children when they can. They get them out.” The old woman started walking again. “Hurry up now. We don’t have time to talk about birds and their children.”

They were outside the building now, walking across the grass. Hannah looked up at the night sky. “I don’t understand.”

“I mean walk faster.”

“No. I meant about the birds.”

The old woman shook her head. “Don’t worry. Chances are good you’ll understand before the night is over.”

Day Twenty! Another Day!

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I’m also working on an art project that I’m very excited about. And a magazine project for a friend that is also fun. But I will keep writing! Because what else do I want to do? Not much.

Thanks again for reading.

*

Tommy woke, scared of the darkness and weight over him. He kicked and swung out his arms. But his arms struck the sides of his confined space. He jerked, and hit his head on the floor.

The flailing of his arms pulled the blanket away from his face. He was looking at the roof of a truck. It made no sense. He sat up. He hurt. His chest felt as if it had been kicked.

He rubbed his eyes and remembered that he had been kicked in the chest. He’d been kicked all over.

What was he doing in the back of a truck? The guards? Were they taking him somewhere? The fear in his gut swelled. They were going to take him somewhere and dump him. Bury him alive. His family would never know what had happened to him.

Using the back of the front seat as leverage, he pulled himself further up. The truck door hung open. Tommy looked out into the dark. He looked around the inside of the cab. Why would they leave him with the door open? Did they think he was dead?

Tommy climbed into the front seat. No one was anywhere to be seen. He sat in the driver’s seat. He put both arms across the steering wheel and leaned forward to look up through the windshield at the night sky.

The stars gleamed sharply. His head ached. He sat back and took in his surroundings. The keys dangled in the ignition, and Tommy wasn’t sure if he should be happy or alarmed. He could leave. He could drive home.

But it made no sense that security guards would leave a truck unattended with the door open, the headlights on, and the keys for the taking.

Cautiously, he closed the truck door. He waited a second, until he was sure nothing was going to happen. He turned the key.

The truck came to life. Hannah finally came to mind, and Nate. Maybe he should try to find them. He shook his head. He couldn’t do anything without help. All this was Hannah’s idea anyway. He had no interest in the Asylum. What was the point in learning secrets? As the gash over his left eye proved, knowing secrets brought only trouble.

Tommy put the truck into gear. Leaving Hannah wasn’t really an option. He’d help her, but he couldn’t do it alone. The truck rolled forward. The headlights revealed a dark wide stain in the dirt road. He took no note of it. Nor did he give any thought to the wide-open gate as he drove away from the Asylum determined to find help.