The Winter Moon (revised beginning)

After last week's meeting, I gave some serious thinking to making a total overhaul of the beginning of my book. I've known for a while that my old beginning was bland and cold, and after last week's comments, I decided that it was time to scrap it and start the beginning over again. What was the first two paragraphs became over 4 pages of long-hand. I hope you guys like this new beginning as much as I do.

It had happened again last night. He had been studying a new text, and thought it might hold the cure. The only thing it held though was a fresh round of anger, flames, and grief.

He sat with slumped shoulders in front of the keyboard, his hands gracefully grazing the ivory and ebony keys. The music was the only sound that broke through the silence around him.

The tables had recently held many scattered, yet organized open books of various shapes and sizes. Now they laid overturned and their books thrown across the room in disarray. Many of them were charred along the edges.

The man was not paying attention to the melody he was playing. His ebony hair hung in his dark blue eyes, and behind those eyes lay a dissonance of emotion. He suddenly slammed his hands against the keys and stood, taking deep, dramatic sighs. He stared at the wreckage around him; and it was all his fault. It reaffirmed the choice he made years ago to isolate himself in this cave, away from the rest of the world where the only person he could hurt was himself.

The man was conflicted with frustration, hopelessness, and loneliness. Why couldn't he find a cure? Why, even though he always tried and tried, couldn't he figure out how to control it? What was the point, anyway? So he could go to people who already hated him and would never accept him?

He knew the reason. It was the pointless hope that, maybe, just maybe, if he could control his problem, perhaps someone, just one even, could bring him out of the dark loneliness that consumed him. He had been alone for so long. All he wanted was someone that would love him. A friend that would care for him when the rest of the world despised him. But no one could care for him in his current condition.

His breathing had fallen to calm waves compared to the tsunami it had been before. He looked around and began to reassemble the room, setting the tables and chairs back on their feet and fixing the books back to their places on the tables and shelves. He disposed of the burned parchment that littered the floor as well.

Following this, he walked out of the grotto and through the familiar tunnels leading to the outside. He stepped out into the night air, which granted a thrill of cold air into his lungs. The chill attacked his face, invigorating his senses. He looked up into the starry sky, which was so clear and magnificent that it allowed one to see every star and galaxy.

The moon was best of all. It was large and clear, the color of milk. It would soon be full. He had read of how the moon offered its own kind of celestial magic, and that it was the most potent on the solstice.

As his eyes scanned the sky, his eyes landed on the brightest star in the sky. The man had studied astrology and could name every star in the heavens. As a child, his mother would tell him that a wish made on the brightest star would result in miracles. Although the man new better, that miracles only existed for some, he wished anyways. He wished for love. He wished to the thing all human beings wish for, deep down inside. For he truly was, deep down inside, just as human as you or I.

A world away I sat beside my window, looking up into the same sky. I sat on the end of my bed, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and my guitar sitting in my lap. I was endeavoring to write a new song, but there was no inspiration inside of me. I tucked a lock of red curly hair behind my ear and began to play around with a few chords.

I was stuck. I found no voice inside of me that gave me words to write. I found nothing around me to write about. I found myself not only unable to find words, but unable to get out of the slump of life I was in.

A knock at my door preceded my mother's entrance to my room. Her short brown hair was wet from a fresh shower, and lay untidily against her head. "Hey hon, I was just checking in to say good night." she said pleasantly.

"Alright, I'll get to bed soon." I told her.

"Are you working on a new song?" she asked.

"Trying to," I replied with a grimace.

"Can I help?"

"I don't think so. I can't find a muse tonight." I explained.

"Why not?"

"I just can't find anything... interesting in my life to write about!" I exclaimed.

She stood quietly for a moment, and then said, "Scoot over," I did so to make room for her on the bed beside me. Her hazel eyes matched to my own blue-grey ones. "What do you think is not interesting about your life?"

I pondered for a moment, and then said, "Everything! I get up, I got to school, I come home, do homework, help with dinner, make sure the twins get their work done, go to bed, and then start the whole, boring cycle over again! Its a plain, repetitive lifestyle that is nothing to stand out in the world!" I paused for a moment, noting the quiet interest expressed on her face. "I think its honestly so dull that that I'm ready to go bonkers!" My mother's face broke out into a smile followed by laughter.

"Mom, I don't think its very funny." I put in, though I found it hard not to laugh along with my mom.

"Okay, okay, I see your point," she said. She slid closer to me and put her arm around my shoulders, and held my hand with her free one. "Marina, sweetheart, I think you're taking so much for granted," she began.

"But that's just it, Mom, I'm not. I love my life. I love my family, my friends, I get along with people, and school's not a problem, it's just the whole, boring cycle of it. I want something to stand out, for something to mean something. I don't want to get trapped in the 'same-old, same-old'." I explained.

My mom thought silently for moment. "I see what you mean, Marina. But sweetheart, it's the everyday things that matter most. It's the love you share with others that means something. Someday you'll see that. I know you will."

I was skeptical at her statement, but I nodded my consent.

"In the meanwhile," she continued, "You'd better be getting to bed. School and the usual tomorrow, right?" She winked.

I nodded with a roll of my eyes and proceeded to place my guitar back into its place in the corner. I kissed my mother goodnight and slipped underneath the covers.

My thoughts ran over the conversation with my mother. Love? I was at a loss where romance was involved, but maybe the love she meant was something more than romance. The love I gave to my family and friends was easy, natural even. But the kind of love that lasted forever? That was hard. I had seen people try to imitate that kind of love with romance. All it was though was infatuation. No, the kind of love I believed to be true love was the give and take, the sacrifice and respect I saw everyday between my parents. Now that was true love. A love that was based on the hardships, triumphs, and joys of life lived together. When I saw my parents look deeply into each other's eyes, I knew that love grew with age, and that life was worth living if you had someone by your side.

Maybe that was the answer to my boring life that seemed meaningless. But I felt that love was far away for me. At 17, who really knows love? Especially when you haven't truly lived it. So I settled on the love I could offer my friends and family.

As I laid in bed, pondering, I continued to look up at the night sky. My eyes landed on a particularly bright star and inwardly recited, "Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, I wish the wish I wish tonight." Breaking out of the poetic rhythm, I thought of my wish. I wished for that kind of love I saw between my parents. The kind of love that made life meaningful. I wished for that kind of love to be mine. Someday, I hoped.

I just didn't know how soon that someday would be.

Winter Moon Chronicles ~1

This is my baby. My book I have been conceiving, struggling, bending my mind over, editing, but no where close to finishing for hmm, 4, 5 years. Brandon read the old draft, but this is a newer version, so... I'd like to get back to work ^^'

The Winter Moon Chronicles

By Mary Ann Kirkpatrick

Inspired by Amy Holt

Have you ever wished that your life could be at least the slightest bit different? I have. I love my life, my friends and family. I do really well at school and church. But, I used to sometimes think that my life was extremely repetitive. It also seemed awfully similar to everybody else’s. I wished it could be different, just a little, so it would stand out from everything else. I wished it would be like the fantasy books I love to read, like Harry Potter or the Chronicles of Narnia. But like everybody else in the world, I thought magic only existed in the books and movies. Oh, how wrong I was. But I'm getting ahead of the story. Let me tell you about myself.

My name is Marina Kirk, I'm 17 years old and I live in Lincoln City, Oregon. I'm the youngest of four children. I have wild, curly, red hair the color of a copper penny and grey-blue eyes. I have five best friends- Amber, Andrea, Lina, Shania, and Corrine. My friends would play a big part in the adventure I would go through to be here where I am today.

Our story begins the last day of autumn. I woke up to an early, slightly misty morning. But that wasn't unusual weather for the Oregon Coast. I got out of bed, went to the window and opened the curtains. I stood there for a few moments watching the waves slowly lap up onto the beach while the mist hovered delicately over the surface of the water. I turned to face my closet and picked out an outfit of a soft, white top, a black, military-style jacket, a dark red scarf, and a pair of dark jeans. I headed down the stairs after stopping in the bathroom to do my hair- smooth and feathered around my face.

“Good morning sweet pea!” My mom greeted me.

“Morning,” I said groggily. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Just a bowl of cereal.” Mom said pouring milk into her own bowl.

“Great.” I said slightly sarcastic. I got up and went to the cupboard pulling out the box of Rice Crispies.

“Did you sleep well?” My mom asked.

“Yeah, but I had this weird dream that I woke up from at about 2:00 this morning.”

“What was the dream about?” she inquired.

“Well, I was on the beach just walking along, it was all foggy, and then I saw this bright light out a little bit toward the sea.” As I was explaining it to her, my dad and my brothers, Adam and Caleb, walked in one at a time. But they weren't listening, only focusing on breakfast, just like men.

“I turned to look at it and the light swirled around in mid-air. As I walked out to reach it, the waves separated for me. When I reached it, the white light turned this vivid blue. I reached out to touch it, and I woke up.” I explained.

“Wow.” she said.

“Yeah, I know, it just makes me wonder what it means.”

“Hmmm, well I don't know. But what I do know is if you don't hurry, you're going to miss the bus.”

“Right, okay.” I got up and rinsed my bowl out, put it in the dish washer and hurried to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

When I came back, Mom had placed my backpack on the counter stool. I picked it up, flung it over my shoulder and grabbed my flute where I left it on the counter.

“Love you Mom.” I told her.

“Love you too, have a good day!”

I rushed out the door and ran down to the bus stop. There I met Lina and Andrea. “Hey!” I greeted them.

“Hey!” They echoed in unison.

“Are you ready for the History test?” Lina asked me. She flipped her long ash-blond hair over her shoulder and looked worriedly at me from her clever blue eyes.

“Yeah and no,” I said hesitantly, “I pretty much know it all already so I just read it over and repeated it.”

“I'm so worried, I got like five wrong when I was quizzing with my sister, but I kept working on it and I think I'm ready, but I'm not sure.”

Lina most of the time gets awesome grades but she always stresses over them beforehand. I think she has a mild case of obsessive compulsive disorder.

“Well I spent about an hour and a half studying last night and I feel pretty confident.” Andrea said. She had her dark brown hair with auburn highlights in loose curls.

At that moment the bus pulled up. We clambered on and Lina started stressing again.

“If you're that worried about it, give me your notes, I'll quiz you.” I told her.

She reached in her backpack and drew out her purple history notebook. I took it from her and opened it to the Post-it note.

“Okay, in what year did Napoleon Bonaparte declare the French Revolutionary War?”

Andrea and I took turns asking Lina questions for the remainder of the bus ride. Finally we reached the red brick building that was Taft High School, home of the Tigers. When we got inside, we walked to our lockers together while Lina and Andrea were laughing. But, I was thinking about the dream I had last night again. It was like I was off in my own little world; I didn't hear a single thing they were talking about and Andrea had to say my name three times before I looked at her.

“Marina? What about you? Don’t you think Josh is the biggest jerk?” she asked me. Josh is the football jock in our homeroom that is always butting in and disrupting class with rude comments.

“Oh, yeah he is so annoying.” I said.

“Marina, are you okay? You were spacing off again.” Lina asked me.

“Oh, yeah, it's just,” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “I was thinking about this dream I had last night.” I told them about the dream and they stared at me in awe.

“It sounds just like a fantasy book!” Andrea exclaimed.

“Yeah, that's so cool!” Lina added.

“It's weirder than fantasy, to me at least.” I told them.

“Okay, enough with the fantasy comparison, let's analyze it.” Andrea said. Andrea is the psychologist of our group of friends.

“Why?” Lina asked her.

“Well, most dreams mean something, so if we analyze it we can come up with a possible meaning.” Andrea explained.

“Do you know how to analyze dreams?” I asked her.

“Um...” She hesitated, “No, but I'll go check the library for a book about dream analyzing.” She resolved. If Andrea doesn't know the answer to something, she'll find it at the library.

When she finished saying this we arrived at our homeroom, Mrs. Carter.

“Well, well, if it isn't the book club!” came a voice from behind us. We turned to see who it was, and, not to our surprise, it was Josh.

“Shut up, Josh.” I said.

“Hey, hey, I'm just making a comment.” Josh said moving past us running his hand through his light brown hair. His dark eyes had their usual sly glint.

“Well, you know what they say, better seen than heard.” I retorted venomously. Andrea and Lina giggled nervously.

“Ouch, that hurts, Marina.” he said, faking remorse.

“Josh, just for once, can you just leave us alone?” I asked.

He hesitated before answering, as though he wanted to say something, but instead retorted, “How could I leave such pretty girls alone without anyone to talk to except each other and their books?”

“Maybe by paying attention to any of the swooning girls who worship the ground you walk on?” This was true, even though he was a jerk; he was a cute jerk who manipulated all the cheerleaders and majorettes.

“Speaking of pretty girls,” he said as though he hadn't heard a word I had just said, “You know there's a bonfire tonight on the beach, and I was wondering if you would care to accompany me?”

I broke into spasms of laughter, unable to even breathe. “Seriously, who dared you to do this?” I asked between gasps.

“Nobody, I just thought you might want to go and spend some time with the half-back of the football team.” he said innocently, his face was impassable, and I could have sworn (if I hadn't known any better) that he was blushing.

“Whatever, I know there's no way you would do this of your own accord.”

“So is that a yes or a no?” He asked shyly, which was an odd tone to my ears coming from him.

I took a step toward him. “Josh, even if you really wanted to go out with me, I would never go out with such a crude jerk like you.”

I pushed past him to my seat in the front of the class. I focused on pulling my notebook out of my bag and staring at the title of the lesson on the board, resisting looking back at him. Just then my friend Corrine took her seat diagonally to the right of mine.

“Hey!” she greeted me.

“Hey.” I grumbled in return. Corrine knows me well enough to know that when I'm in a bad mood she should let me cool off before she asks any questions.

Then Mrs. Carter entered the classroom smiling and said, “Good morning class!”

“Good morning Mrs. Carter!” We echoed back.

“For today's lesson, we'll be reading and discussing some of Shakespeare's first sonnets.” She said.

As she continued with the lesson, I tried to pay attention, but I had my thoughts elsewhere. I tried to resist, but eventually I took out my calculator and used the reflective glass to look at the room behind me. I focused it so that I could see Josh a few seats back. He was slouched in his seat, with a grim, depressed look on his face. His expression was one I had never seen before on Josh. He looked like he wanted to fall into a pit and die. Suddenly, he glanced my direction, and in surprise, I dropped the calculator, which made a loud noise as it hit the floor. Mrs. Carter looked up from the literature book that she had been reading from to look directly at me. I muttered a, “Sorry,” and picked up the calculator. She frowned and returned to the book without comment. As I felt my cheeks grow pink, I hoped that Josh hadn't realized I was watching him.