Happy Father's Day to all who are celebrating or remembering the fathers in our lives. My Dad has been gone for two years now. My father-in-law died last year. It will be a bittersweet day at our house, but hopefully more on the sweet side.
And welcome to another word-filled weekend with Weekend Writing Warriors: the bloghop of 8-10 sentence excerpts (with extra sometimes, but clearly marked as such, per the rules). Please visit all of the blogs participating. We writers do like to get feedback from others. Just click on the button below to be whisked to the list.
And welcome to another word-filled weekend with Weekend Writing Warriors: the bloghop of 8-10 sentence excerpts (with extra sometimes, but clearly marked as such, per the rules). Please visit all of the blogs participating. We writers do like to get feedback from others. Just click on the button below to be whisked to the list.
I thought about skipping far enough ahead in The Christmas Carrolls to show you Sir Nicholas with his children, but I decided it would be dangerous to start searching for the right 8-10 sentences of that. I might end up rereading everything I've written in the draft so far!
Instead we'll skip ahead a little, to where Mary comes in and finds a stranger in her kitchen.
“Beth, come and help me with…oh! Who are you?”
Nicholas stood, ignoring the strange and sudden warmth in his chest. This was Mary Shawley. It should be her examining him, a stranger in her kitchen, but he could not help a quick assessment of her. Small, pretty in a quiet sort of way, with dark hair and eyes, and a basket full of parcels in her arms. Her spencer was dark blue, her gloves worn but clean, and her bonnet made of straw. Nicholas moved to take the basket from her, and she must have seen her son.
“Henry! What happened?”
Henry smiled as much as he was able without pain and said “You should see the other fellow.”
That's ten sentences. Here's a little more to lead up to next week...
Remembering Beth’s words about fighting, Nicholas had a moment of regret. Perhaps teaching the boy that saying had not been the best idea. He laid the basket down on the table. “Mrs. Shawley?”
Before he could get another word out Beth rose from her place at the table. “Look mother, it’s the chestnut man!”
Mary looked from her daughter to the stranger standing across the table from her. “Bixby is the chestnut man.”
“Sir Nicholas Carroll,” Henry said as if he had been waiting for just this moment to make introductions. “He bought my broken pencils, mother, and I brought him home.”
The woman looked up at her uninvited, well not entirely uninvited, guest. “What on earth is going on?”
Nicholas took control. “Forgive me, madam but if you will allow me to explain?” He gestured toward her parlor with a nod to the children, “Henry, Beth, will you see to the parcels?”
I missed posting last weekend, but I did go and read everyone's posts. Thank you for coming to read mine.
Kate
Instead we'll skip ahead a little, to where Mary comes in and finds a stranger in her kitchen.
“Beth, come and help me with…oh! Who are you?”
Nicholas stood, ignoring the strange and sudden warmth in his chest. This was Mary Shawley. It should be her examining him, a stranger in her kitchen, but he could not help a quick assessment of her. Small, pretty in a quiet sort of way, with dark hair and eyes, and a basket full of parcels in her arms. Her spencer was dark blue, her gloves worn but clean, and her bonnet made of straw. Nicholas moved to take the basket from her, and she must have seen her son.
“Henry! What happened?”
Henry smiled as much as he was able without pain and said “You should see the other fellow.”
That's ten sentences. Here's a little more to lead up to next week...
Remembering Beth’s words about fighting, Nicholas had a moment of regret. Perhaps teaching the boy that saying had not been the best idea. He laid the basket down on the table. “Mrs. Shawley?”
Before he could get another word out Beth rose from her place at the table. “Look mother, it’s the chestnut man!”
Mary looked from her daughter to the stranger standing across the table from her. “Bixby is the chestnut man.”
“Sir Nicholas Carroll,” Henry said as if he had been waiting for just this moment to make introductions. “He bought my broken pencils, mother, and I brought him home.”
The woman looked up at her uninvited, well not entirely uninvited, guest. “What on earth is going on?”
Nicholas took control. “Forgive me, madam but if you will allow me to explain?” He gestured toward her parlor with a nod to the children, “Henry, Beth, will you see to the parcels?”
I missed posting last weekend, but I did go and read everyone's posts. Thank you for coming to read mine.
Kate
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