The Writing Files: Breaktime!

We interrupt our regularly scheduled program with this important announcement: for the next three weeks, until Halloween, I am calling off the writing files. My book requires what little creativity I have and so I will instead be working diligently on that to meet a deadline.

For now, I shall interest you all on Mondays and Wednesdays with my “critique sessions.” I hope you enjoy this small piece:

The mirror faded.

I sighed and began to wander through the different rooms. The library was too quiet, so I moved on. The room of colors was brightly lit, but it seemed pointless to remain there. When I came to the empty room, I noticed Beast in the doorway.


He smiled wanly.

“I’m finished with the mirror,” I said.

He nodded. “I hope what you saw satisfied you.”

My hand lingered on the doorknob.

“Yes…” My voice trailed off.

He crooked his head inquisitively. “What is it that you miss, Betta?”

I shrugged.  “I miss the rain.”

He gave me a surprised look. “You miss bad weather?”

I smiled down at the ground. “When we lived at the beach, I loved getting wet. The stormy weather was wonderful.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the middle of the room. “Now I get to show you what this room’s good for.”

He clapped his throat and suddenly thunder crackled. I looked up to see a large storm cloud forming on the ceiling. As I watched, it spread to encase the entire room. Then the rain started. There was a drop once, then twice. With another loud “boom,” the room erupted with water. The rain fell quickly and I laughed with shock as the cold water hit me. Next to me, the beast was also wet. He frowned and shook his silver fur out. I spun in the drops, remembering the times that Ella, Faith, and I had done so. I wondered if it was harvest by now. The rare summer showers might have already fallen.

I turned to Beast.

“Is that all this room does?” I asked.

He glared at me and clapped his hands again. Immediately, the water that had begun to fall turned to soft, white flakes. The snow dotted my eyelashes and brushed past my cheeks. Beast was shivering, now covered in frozen drops. I laughed and scooping up a handful of fresh snow, threw it at him. He turned, an angry expression on his face. I backed up uncertainly.

“What was that for?”

I looked at him with confusion. “Haven’t you ever had a snowball fight?”

He gazed down at the sparkling balls of ice. “No, I haven’t.”

I watched him bend down and form a ball slowly, as if unsure what to do with it. He then stood up and threw it at me. I yelped in shock as powdery whiteness slid down my neck. I grinned back devilishly and threw one back at him. Beast’s eyes sparkled with fun and he began to barricade himself behind a thick wall, throwing snowballs at me as I danced around the room avoiding him. At last I caught him and managed to toss a snowball at him, the pitch putting me off balance and spinning me onto the floor. Beast slipped on the wet ice and slid to a stop in front of me. As I lay on the snow, breathing hard from the fall, I realized that Beast was laughing. The infectious sound caused me to burst into laughter as well. For a few moments we just sat there, our chests heaving with laughter and our arms cold from the snow.

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