Part 11

        I went to the dark room after work every day the rest of that week, processing film. Once that was done, and my film had dried, I cut up each strip and slid the negatives into plastic sleeves, in a fresh new binder I'd bought for the summer. I decided to wait until next week to start running off contact sheets and doing prints, and took the binder full of negatives back to the Mayhew's with me on Friday night. I flipped through the pages before bed that night, putting them in order and labeling them with the dates and general subjects. As I slipped the last one into place, I paused a moment, puzzled. I hadn't seen any of the shots of Caleb and the other boys working on their fort. They should have been in here... I looked through the sheets again, but still didn't see them. I went over to the dresser, but there were no used rolls of film, I'd brought the last ones over that day and processed them. I looked on the floor around the dresser, checked in the drawers, checked all the pockets of my jeans... nothing. I knew it couldn't be in the dark room, I'd double- and triple-checked every place I'd set anything down before I left that night. If it had been left or dropped anywhere else in the house, Mrs. Mayhew would have found it and returned it, her vigilance with keeping the house neat'n'tidy was insane. Caleb, for all his mischievousness, knew how important my pictures were to me, he wouldn't have snatched any.
        I must have dropped it outside somewhere.
        I groaned, my head dropping into my hands as I slumped back onto the bed. I dug through my memory, trying to sort out where I could have lost it... It wouldn't have been in the lawn, the neighbor's son had been over just today to mow the lawn, someone would have seen a film canister. Mr. Mayhew was meticulous about there not being anything left in the yard for the mower to hit and dent its blade on, he and Caleb had been over every inch of the grass. It had to be in the woods, probably by the fort. I remembered checking my pockets when I finally made it to the fort, and I'd had all my rolls of film then... but I didn't check when I left, when I got back that night I just dumped everything onto the dresser.
        On the bright side, it would be a lot easier to retrace my steps from the trip home from the fort than it would be tracing my path heading out to it. The boys had, thankfully, led the way and pointed out landmarks for their path to the fort. It wasn't extremely visible, but once you knew what to look for - a notch cut on a tree here, a bit of string there, a slim young tree with its lower branches all bent downward, a grouping of rocks in an open space... I had to admit, I was impressed by their ingenuity.
        But I'd have to wait until morning, I hoped like anything it was inside the fort, and that it wouldn't rain, that the dew wouldn't be all that heavy...

        All night long, I was haunted by the image of Caleb's innocent curiosity peering in through the window of the old shack, the sunlight streaming in beside him, catching in his shining gold hair... the moment I knew I'd trapped in the film's emulsion, if only I could find that film...

        I woke up really early Saturday morning, it was barely six o'clock and I knew I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, I was too wired about going out to hunt for my missing film. I threw on a pair of beat-up jeans and a super-comfy vintage style Coca-Cola t-shirt - as much as I loved creating unique outfits, when I was going to be blundering my way through the woods, I wanted comfort. I threw my hair back into a ponytail, and reached for my cameras and some film.
        Then I thought better of it, and poked around in a desk drawer until I found a small camera case I hardly ever used. I threw a few rolls of film inside of that, instead of my pockets, then zipped it closed and snapped the strap around my belt loop. I grinned weakly at myself, shaking my head, glad I caught myself before I made the same mistake a second time. I grabbed a granola bar out of the box on my desk (realizing I'd have to re-stock my munchie supplies pretty soon, I was running out of granola bars), and headed outside.

        Amazingly enough, I only got slightly lost while trying to find my way to the boys' fort, and that may well have been due to my searching the ground everywhere for that freaking film canister. At first I half expected to be challenged on the path by the boys themselves, but then I remembered that Caleb was actually staying home this weekend, apparently his parents wanted to spend time with him. ...I shook my head, trying to clear out such negative thoughts, I'd never met his parents, I had no idea what his home situation was. Maybe his parents really did just work a lot, and anyway it seemed he really loved staying with his grandparents. He seemed a stable enough kid, no different from every other boy his age - probably healthier, for that matter, he was always outside. I couldn't remember having seen him in front of the tv for more than a few hours total, and most of that was a movie he was watching with Dave on a rainy afternoon.
        There was a bit of fog in some of the lower areas in the woods, clinging like bits of cobweb to the underbrush. The back of my neck prickled now and then in the chill, damp air. The sun filtered through the trees at a low angle, its light still pale and cold. It made for a very uncanny atmosphere...not like the one from a week or so before, that had so inspired my photos, this one felt more ominous, more like a presence, it was a bit unsettling. I really wished I'd suddenly hear the bright, energetic voices of the boys... I did take some pictures along the way, but I was distracted, both by the search and by the odd feeling in the air.
        At last, I reached the fort, my feet and pant legs soaked from the mist and dew, my skin both sweaty and chilled. The film was most likely around here somewhere, this is where I'd done the most bending over and crouching down and getting up and generally clambering all around and giving little plastic canisters all sorts of chances to slip out of my pocket unnoticed. I thought back, and tried to retrace my path as best I could, walking around the outside of the fort, looking around the tree I'd climbed a little ways up, to get a glimpse at the roofwork the boys were so engrossed in. Fortunately for me, the boys hadn't felt the need to put any sort of lock on the door yet, so I was able to step inside... and there it was! I leapt across the room and pounced on the small black round thing on the floor, snatching it up and clutching it to my chest in a ridiculously over-dramatic gesture, grinning like a psychopath contemplating the wonders of ketchup and bunny rabbits. Oh I was so relieved, I didn't know what to do so I just laughed for a minutes or two, falling back to sit on one of the bigger logs in the room.
        When I'd regained my composure, I stared out the window idly for a few minutes, deciding what to do with the rest of my day. I felt like I'd exhausted the photo-potential of my usual haunts for the moment, I wanted to explore. I could get out my bike and ride out toward the lake, or into town, or maybe just follow the road out away from town, and see where it led me, maybe poke around one of the many other little single-stoplight towns nearby. Somehow, though, that didn't seem all that appealing just then...I decided I wasn't in the mood for bumping into other people for awhile, I wanted some solitude. Was there anything else interesting to find in these woods, I wondered. This area had been settled for a few hundred years, there were all sorts of half-decayed old buildings around - like this one, even. I wasn't that far from the lake, and people have always liked living near lakes. I was pretty sure a large creek ran through these woods, too, the Canadaway Creek? which emptied into the lake. That would have been a draw for people. Hell, the creek itself would be a nice photo-op, I hadn't taken many pictures of water lately. Maybe I'd even follow it down to the lake, it couldn't be more than three or four miles.
        That sounded like a better plan. I got to my feet, stretching, and re-adjusted my ponytail. I felt warmer, now that I'd been out of the mist awhile. The sun was getting higher as well, the morning chill wouldn't last much longer. I left the fort, closing the door as securely as was possible behind me...
        ...and my stomach growled. Apparently a granola bar wasn't going to cut it for a day-long hike. I sighed, glaring at my stomach, but realized I should have a bottle of water with me anyway. So, back to the house I went.

        Half an hour later, I was back at the fort with a small backpack, which contained a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, an apple, a few cookies, and two bottles of water. (It was probably going to get warm, and I really didn't trust any water that touched Lake Erie water to be safe to drink.)

note

So while I was busy not falling last night, I fairly literally had a 2am revelation on my story.

Actually, I'd been trying (and failing) to think of a title. The few NaNos I have actually managed to title, I was really, really happy with the titles, they really encapsulated what I was going for. (Even though I never quite got to that point in the first NaNo I attempted, ha.)

So I was trying to sort out how to best encapsulate what this story was about. Not a summary, but the message of it (such as it is), what it's trying to accomplish. And I think I figured it out, I got it all linked together.

I'd been thinking back to my own photography classes, mentally going through the processes of working with film and making prints, and I remembered just how magic the moment always seemed, every time, when you put what looked like a blank sheet of paper into a plastic tub of chemicals, and from nowhere, an image slowly appeared, from nothingness into a ghostly hint into a full, rich, perfect recreation of something you'd seen days ago. Burned into this paper, where the naked eye couldn't see, an image was hidden, under layers of chemicals that could be changed and made to reveal the image, if you just used the right liquid on it. If you touched it just the right way, you'd see something otherwise impossible to view...

And it's the same with the house that Kris is going to find, it has a surface layer, just this old, empty, abandoned house, with little things laying around, layers of dust. But under that, inside of it, there is a presence, I don't know if it's an actual ghostly presence yet, but the house itself has a presence, has an identity. There's a rich depth to the house and the emotions it has held within itself for so many years, a history and a self, and you have to look at it just right to see it...

...I'm not putting this into words as well as I should, but I haven't quite found the words to it yet. Revision January is a ways off yet. ;) But that, THAT is the link, that is what makes the connection between the photographer and the house, that's why she can see it for what it really is, not just another empty shell to be rebuilt or torn down.

And that, once I can summarize it, will be my title.


(On a related subject...I don't know if that's a strong enough tie to make it the whole motivation and climax of the story, I still feel like there should be some link that ties Kris to the woman who lived in the house. But I'll worry about that when I get there, I'm hoping the two of them find it for themselves, and all I'll have to do is record the event. ;)

Part 10

        The following Monday night, as I unloaded some more used film from my pocket, I realized I had a pretty large pile of film canisters growing. There had to be close to a dozen...and I was going to have to develop them all. I sighed heavily, and threw a half-dozen into a backpack (along with myy developing supplies) to take with me to campus the next day. I'd been told the dark room would be accessible starting a week after the semester ended, since a summer class would be using it during the day. There were a few other students who would be doing independent studies over the summer as well, so the card swipe on the door would be active from 9am to 9pm every weekday for us. (We could stay later than that, but the door wouldn't open from the outside after nine. We just had to let the cleaning people know we were there, if they came in and we were still working.) I wouldn't have to have any prints ready until my class started in a few weeks, but at the rate I was taking pictures, I knew I'd better start developing them now, maybe start making the contact prints too, or I'd be totally overwhelmed. I didn't dare take any of the rolls to be professionally developed, since I knew there were good shots on every roll, and anything that I didn't develop myself, I wouldn't be able to use for the class.
        When I left for work the next day, I told Mrs. Mayhew not to expect me for dinner - I had a bagged lunch with me, and there were vending machines on campus if I needed anything more than that. I was determined to get all six rolls done that night. My lightproof canister would hold two rolls at a time, so I'd only have to go through the process three times. As long as I didn't get tied up too long, trying to wind the film onto the reels in the dark, I shouldn't be there too long. The developing process, apart from the winding onto the reels, took half an hour at the most, and I'd have the place to myself, so I wouldn't have to worry about sneaking between six other people to move my things into the next batch of chemicals.

        As I'd feared, it was incredibly creepy being down in the dark room by myself. Even the lit rooms felt like something out of a horror movie. The photography department was located in the basement of one of the dorms, and though it wasn't bad with people around, it was pretty forbidding being down there alone. I had my iPod with me, but I felt uneasy turning it up too loud - I wanted to be able to hear any and every sound nearby, just in case another student came in, or something weird happened, or... I had no idea. It was creepy. I'd have to get a small set of speakers to play my music through, it would feel more like company then. (There was an ancient cassette player/radio in the print-making area, but the radio couldn't get much of a signal down here, and who still had cassette tapes around??)
        While classes were in session, everyone left their backpacks and things out by the small, cubby-sized lockers near the door leading outside, but I was going to need everything in my bag, so I unpacked it on a tabletop in the developing room. I took out a scrap piece of paper and wrote a quick note, just in case anyone came in, so neither or us would scare the bejesus out of the other. I left it on top of my bag, which I figured anyone looking around for traces of another person would spot.
        I felt like I was leaving one of those horror-movie notes, "In case I don't make it through the night, John Doe probably killed me." God it was creepy down here! I started my iPod on a playlist of nice cozy '90s alternative, music from my childhood, reassuring and comfortable. I only put in one headphone, so I could still hear any peripheral noises. I pulled out two rolls of film, got together everything I'd need, and went over to the real dark room.
        I remembered again just how confusing the doors into this kind of room had been to me in my first photography class, back in high school - it was the exact same kind of entryway here as it had been there. A big plastic column was fitted snugly into the doorway, with an opening into the rooms on either side. Set inside the column was a smaller column, with only one opening, which could be spun around. This way, no light could possibly leak into the smaller room, and undeveloped film could be handled safely. The opening was already facing the room I was currently in, so I stepped in, and spun the inside around myself, until the opening was on the other side.
        "Anyone in here?" I asked automatically. No answer, but I waited a moment out of paranoia, making sure there weren't any breathing noises. "Okay, turning on the light..." This was a convenience I hardly ever had during a regular class, there were always people in here fighting with their film. Small bits of glow-in-the-dark tape were placed on the edges of the counters that lined the walls of the room, to help you keep from bumping into things - so it was possible to move around and set up entirely in the dark, but I took advantage of being able to have the light on a minute, lining up everything I'd need, and taking a moment to memorize where it all was. I held a roll of film in my hand, and lined up the can opener to bend back the metal which sealed the film into it, then reached over and turned off the light.

        Almost an hour later, I blinked my way back into the light. The first roll of film had been a breeze, but the second one I'd nearly thrown across the room, it must have taken me fifteen tries to get it to roll evenly into the spiraling wires of the reel, and even then I was pretty sure the film had bubbled out somewhere, and one section was touching another section. I'd reached the point where I no longer cared if I lost a few frames, I just had to get out of that room. As soon as my eyes had adjusted to the light, I had to start blinking again, as the fumes from the developing chemicals assaulted my poor eyeballs. I wasn't used to them being that strong, usually they had diluted after having been used by swarms of students. I'd set out fresh chemicals a few times before, I was in the rooms enough and the professors trusted me enough to give me the go-ahead to refresh the chemicals when needed, but ugh, it wasn't something you could ever really get used to. I tried not to pour out more than absolutely necessary to soak the film - the photography department was a pretty small one, and I didn't know how much supply there was left after the previous academic year.
        I set the timer, and shook the canister holding the two reels of film gently back and forth, like shaking a can of soda to potential explosion, only in slow-motion. Singing softly to myself along with the music playing into my ear, I let my gaze fall idly around the room, thinking again how medical it looked, with its white walls and white counters, tiled floor, and oversized metal basin running along one wall. Maybe more like a restaurant kitchen. I poured the developer out of the canister and back into the small brown bottle I kept my allotted portion in (since the stuff could be reused). I brought my canister over to one of the two giant plastic tanks, which were shaped like water coolers, only larger. And filled with poison. I put some chemical stop into my canister, and went back over to the sink to gently slosh it back and forth, then let it sit for a minute. I pulled my iPod out of my pocket and set it to shuffle everything on there, since I was about at the end of the playlist I'd had on. I poured the chemicals out into the sink, leaving the tap running to wash it all down, and refilled the container with fixer. Back to shaking, then letting it sit, then shaking for a few seconds, then letting it sit... I double-checked the length of time I should do this for with the chart posted on the wall, and sighed. It was so agonizing, having to wait so long, and all the time not having any idea if the negatives were developing right or not. "...Late nights with no-one real, no-one real to say that... This night feels like a dre-am, the kind where you wake up smi-ling, the kind that you wish were real, and I don't wanna e-ver wa-ke up..." Shake, wait, shake, wait... Finally! I poured the fixer back into its giant container (the chemicals inside were still pretty darkly colored, apparently no-one had replaced it after the end of the last semester), holding my breath as I did so.
        I unscrewed the lid of my lightproof canister, and set it under the tap, letting the water fill it and run over. "...filtered water and pictures of you, I'm not coming out until this is all over..." I sang along under my breath, grinning wryly. "And we become silhouettes when our bodies finally go..." I checked the clock and plopped down into a chair, letting my head fall back to stare at the patternless holes in the tiled ceiling. What were those tiles made of, anyway? They had the consistency of cardboard, basically, I remembered poking at one back in high school, they'd been rewiring something in the ceiling once and taken a few of the tiles down. I thought about going in and started to get the next rolls of film ready, but decided I'd rather finish these two first, so I had something accomplished for sure tonight. I skipped the rest of the song playing, I'd heard it a million times. Skipped the next one. Let it play Coldplay's "Talk". I smiled wryly to myself as I thought back, a friend of mine had been really into Coldplay early on, when they were only getting a bit of airplay, mostly on college radio stations. I felt like such a poseur next to that, I'd listened to them a bit back then, but it wasn't until "Clocks" that I really fell in love with them, and that was when everyone and their mom did too. Oh well.
        Checked the clock, and it was close enough, I got up and dumped the water out of my film canister. I poured a bit of wetting agent in, put the lid back on and swished it around a little. Finally, I poured that out, took off the lid, and pulled out the first reel of film. I made a face - I could see it touching in two places already, those frames were lost to me, the chemicals weren't likely to have been able to run over the film right in those spots. Oh well, I'd known this roll was probably messed up anyway... I unrolled it carefully, holding it up to the light and taking a first look at the images, in eerie inverted areas of light and dark. I sighed in relief - it was only some of the first shots I'd taken around the house, there weren't many of them I was really attached to, most were pretty generic pictures of the house as a whole, the barn, the surroundings. A few had potential though, some of the flower shots were nice. I opened the dust-proof metal cabinet, and clipped the roll of film into place, letting it hang down, and put another clip on the bottom to hold it straight. I closed the door back up, and went to take care of the second roll.


        8:30, I was done for the day - I didn't want to walk back to the house when it was too dark, there weren't a whole lot of streetlights once you left the campus. My negatives wouldn't be dry for hours, so I wrote my name on a bit of masking tape and stuck it on the clips holding up my film. Photo kids were pretty good about being respectful of other people's things, I wasn't all that worried about it. I gathered up my supplies and turned off the lights behind me (probably not necessary, but why not, save a few bucks in the budget for fresh chemicals). I followed the twisting halls out to the lobby, and stared a moment at the bank of lockers...then just took the one I'd used last semester, it would be easier to remember that way. I put all my supplies inside, dug my combination lock out of my now mostly-empty backpack, and snapped it into place. I didn't see any other locks there, guess I was the first one back in here since the end of semester cleaning. I shouldered my backpack, cranked up my iPod, and headed out into the cool dusky air.

Part 9

        "Dillon, get off of there!"
        "You're gonna break it!"
        "No I wo-o-on't!"
        "Yes, you will, Dillon, we haven't put anything under that section yet, it can't hold any weight."
        There was a sharp cracking sound, which was met by two cries of dismay and one of abject terror. I hurried forward anxiously, still unable to see the fort, but following the direction of the boys' voices.
        "Di-llon!" I was relieved to hear his name yelled in rebuke, rather than concern. "This is why we didn't want you coming with us, you always screw things up!"
        "B-but I--- I--- I was just trying to help!" Even at a distance, I could tell he was fighting valiantly against crying.
        "Ugh, Dill, just get off the stupid roof. I think you only cracked one of the boards, we'll just take that one out and put in another one, we have some extras."
        "I'm--- I'm sorry, Caleb, I'm really sorry---"
        "It's fine, it's fine, just, stay away from what we're working on, okay? Go sweep all those stupid leaves out of the inside, we knocked a lot in there today from up here."
        I heard the sharp squeal of nails being wrenched out of wood...but I still couldn't make out the fort anywhere. Granted, there was a lot of underbrush in this area, the trees were fairly spread out so enough light reached down to let smaller things grow up, which made it much more difficult to find my way through. There had to be a path around here somewhere, but I couldn't for the life of me find it. I decided the fort must be in the midst of a grove of the little scrub trees, or under vines or something - the boys had to be close, but I couldn't see a thing that looked manmade. Unless the fort was just a little cove covered in vines--- but no, there was /hammering going on, and Caleb had told me they were going to work on the roof, so it had to be an actual structure. Where on earth was it??
        "Hey - do you guys hear something?"
        "Shut up, Dillon."
        "No really, I think someone's out there."
        "You sure?"
        I stood stock still, holding my breath.
        "I'm sure, I heard someone walking over that way."
        "Well, go check it out then."
        "Okay..."
        I listened carefully, figuring out what direction my opponent was approaching from. As quietly as I could (which really wasn't very quiet), I tried circling around toward the direction I figured he had started from, hoping to get around him but still reach the fort. Of course, I hadn't gone ten feet before I ran into what was basically a wall of vines tangling around shrubs and small trees - there was no way I was getting through that unscathed, and also no way I could do it quietly. I crouched down and stayed still for a few minutes, listening as best I could, but Dillon had one up on me with smaller size, lighter weight, and more practice, and I couldn't quite tell where he was. It wasn't long before my legs started cramping, and I had to straighten back up. I tried moving toward the fort again, but couldn't see a clear way forward, the only way it looked like I could go was back the way I'd come. I sighed heavily, looking around hopelessly.
        "HEY CALEB! I give up, I can't find your fort! You win! ...now come find me before I die lost in the middle of the woods? Please??"

        Ten minutes later, after having gone through a rigorous set of handshakes, oaths, agreeing to conditions, and every other formality the three boys (Caleb's friend Dave was the third voice I'd heard) could think of, I was given a thorough tour of the fort. Really, as forts went, it was pretty impressive. The boys had found a run-down shack two summer ago, and worked on it ever since. I couldn't tell if it had been a storage shed, or a rest stop for hunters, or what originally. The walls were roughly sided with wood, though a few run-down spots had been covered over with sheets of corrugated metal. In my defense, it really was hard to pick it out, there was an awful lot of undergrowth in the area just around it, and leafy vines of some sort covered a good portion of the walls. There were two small windows, though one was missing about half of the glass. The door swung loosely on its hinges - Caleb told me it hadn't even been fully attached when they started working on it, the boys had replaced the lower hinges, though they wanted to replace the whole door if they could before winter.
        "It's actually easier to get out here in the winter, with all the plants dead, but the walls leak so much it doesn't even keep the wind out," Dave explained. "The roof is almost all patched, then we're gonna put tar paper over it to keep the water out. The walls will be next."
        "I thought we were gonna fix the window?" Dillon asked.
        "Where are we gonna get sheets of glass?" Caleb asked dismissively. "We'll just get some of plastic, like Grandpa puts over the drafty windows in their house, and that'll keep the snow out, and most of the wind."
        The walls were bare, apart from an ancient calendar hanging beside the door. There were two rusted metal frames of chairs, pushed up against one wall, which even the boys didn't trust to hold their weight, given the assortment of logs laying around. A small, stained card table sat under one window, which the boys had set a coffee can full of assorted nails on. Otherwise, the room was devoid of any furnishings, just a bunch of dry leaves and other bits of debris in the corners.
        The boys went back to work, Caleb and Dave on the roof, Dillon cleaning out the interior. I was given permission to take pictures, as long as I swore (again) never to reveal the location of the fort to anyone.
        My strange mood of that morning had fallen away, but I still felt a little strange, a bit disconnected from my usual self. While I took a few pictures of the boys, I found myself strangely drawn to the signs of age, of wear, around the building. It made for a nice contrast, young boys against weathered old wood, bringing a fresh breath into the place, and I took a few nice shots of bright new wood nailed up beside grey aged wood. But again, I felt there was more... almost like there was a personality to the place, an identity to the shack, like a face I couldn't quite make out, but would see if I got the angle just right. Again, it was a very strange feeling, and I really didn't feel like I was quite nailing it in the photos. But I kept trying, taking pictures through the shattered window, up close to the bright patterns of rust on the chairs and table, trying to vary the angles and approaches as best I could. It was a nice challenge, actually, trying to take so many different pictures of such a small place.
        I sat down for a minute inside, changing a roll of film. I'd just gotten a new roll in, when Caleb peeked in through the broken window. "Hey, how many pictures are you taking, anyway?"
        I grinned. "A lot. The more I take, the better chances I'll take something really good." He started to move away, but I called him back. "Wait wait wait! Stay right there."
        He looked at me skeptically, but stayed put. He leaned his elbows against the outside sill, tilting his head to the side and peering in. "You taking pictures of me?"
        Click. "Yep." Click. "Take a step back, away from the window? No, off to the side, yeah. Now step up and peek in, like you're just seeing the place for the first time, look curious about what's inside."
        Apparently he was bewildered enough by my instructions to keep the expression I wanted, and I couldn't stop grinning as I took a few more shots through the shattered window. "Fa-a-antastic. Cay, you're an awesome model, thank you."
        He just rolled his eyes. "If you make me look girly, I'll beat you up."
        "I promise, I won't." I was so happy with the shots I'd taken that day - and just as Caleb had come up to the window, the light had streamed in from outside, catching at small dust motes in the air, and fracturing through the cracks and sharp edges of the glass. He walked off and I heard the rustle of leaves, as he swung up onto its branches, to climb from there onto the roof. I swung my camera up into my hand, balancing its weight automatically, and took a few closer shots of the broken window, seeing what effects I could make it do for me, focusing sometimes on the glass, and sometimes the trees and things outside the shack.
        "Hey Dill! Can you throw us up that crowbar?"
        "...you sure you want me to throw it?"
        "Oh HA, HA, very funny."
        There was a pretty substantial thud on the ceiling above me, and I eyed the aged wood warily, but saw no sign of damage.
        "I said not to throw it!"
        "I didn't hit you, what's the difference?"
        "Okay, so I'll just throw a few nails down on that side of the fort..."
        "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Geez..."

Part 8

        I walked along toward the back of the house, noting the way the dew clung to every small thing, glistening, sparkling where the light caught it. I tried to think of how I could capture that delicacy - I had my zoom lens with me this time, but I wanted something different than dew clinging to grass blades, that wasn't it. I took a few pictures of the dew beading on rose petals, much closer up than I usually would, and that was nearer to what I wanted, the subtle shading of the rose petals conveyed the tenderness of the morning quiet. But it still wasn't right, it wasn't as... unearthly as I felt. And something in me wanted that to be what the photos revealed, not just the prettiness of the morning light shining off the dew, but the feeling the morning gave me.
        I looked around, and saw a dead tree in the back yard, off in a corner beyond the barn. I'd seen it before of course, but it was only now that I really noticed it, saw the potential in it. Barely noticing how wet my feet were getting by tromping through the dew, I walked around behind the tree, putting it between myself and the brightly pale sunrise. I took a few pictures through the branches, but that wasn't it... I backed up farther, to get more of the tree in the shot. I walked slowly to one side, then the other, looking through the viewfinder, trying to get a composition... and suddenly I found it, if I stood a little off to one side it looked almost as though the old tree was reaching toward the lightening sky! I took a few shots that were almost identical, just to be sure I had it - I knew the moment I saw it what I would try in the darkroom, I could bring up the contrast much higher, and maybe darken up the side with the tree a little, and give it almost a storm-ridden look around the tree, which stretched yearningly toward the soft promise of the sunrise...
        I took a few more pictures around the tree, trying a few where I moved the camera, to blur the image and give it more of a sense of the motion I felt it had... It was very strange, I felt led by the images around me. It didn't feel at all like I was in control, I was just a means of conveyance, it was as if my usual conscientious rationality was being bypassed, and things went directly from my eyes to my heart and my hands responded with the camera without thought. It almost seemed I might still be dreaming... (It wouldn't have been the first time, but I absolutely hated dreams like that, where I'd taken all of these gorgeous pictures and then woke up and realized I didn't actually have them... dreams like that had actually made me cry in frustration and loss.)
        I turned slowly to look around the yard, deciding where to go next, wondering what places would look best in such ethereal light. I noticed a bit of fog laying in the lower dips in the fields around the house, and I moved toward the nearest. I crouched low to the ground, trying to get a shot filled with the fog... I moved in closer, the mist wrapping wispy tendrils around my ankles and knees as I stood in its midst, then knelt in the grass, having spotted the tall spike of a wildflower, something light blue and almost daisy-shaped that I didn't know the name of. Its leaves had sharp points to them, the whole plant had a jagged sort of look to it, very angular and sharp against the mist in the grasses around it. I smiled as I took another half dozen shots.
        By this time, I could sense the world starting to wake up around me. I heard a few vehicles drive by on the road, the animals in the barn were making more noise and I could hear Mr. Mayhew making the rounds feeding them. I heard a shout and a peel of young laughter, I heard a screen door slam, I could feel myself coming back to earth. I didn't want the feeling to fade, I longed already to have back that which I had barely lost yet...but I knew it would return. Probably not until I stopped looking for it, though - like the kids in the Narnia books, they could never get back by trying to, it just happened when it ought to.
        God that was a frustrating thought.
        But somehow it didn't entirely bother me, I still felt incredibly peaceful...and hungry, once I thought about it. I headed back to the house, somehow I'd used up two rolls of film already, and I didn't have any more with me besides the roll that I'd already put into the camera. I was really going to have to keep myself from spending my tiny paychecks on anything besides film, if I was going to make it through this summer. A small groan escaped me as I realized just how many rolls I was going to have to develop once I got over to the darkroom on campus. Maybe if I had to deal with this many rolls, I'd finally get decent at winding it onto the reels in the dark...
        When I reached for the handle of the front door, Caleb appeared out of nowhere and darted inside ahead of me. A sharp gasp of a shriek escaped me, and he laughed as he raced through the halls and pounded up the stairs to his room. By the time I reached the kitchen, he'd run back down the stairs and out the door again, a piece of toast in one hand and a hammer in the other.
        "I hope that little hellion didn't wake you, Kris!" Mrs. Mayhew chuckled from in front of the stove. As always, whatever she was making smelled fantastic - some sort of omelet I thought.
        "No, I was actually already up... it was such a pretty morning, I went out and took some pictures."
        "You really do love photography, don't you?"
        I was thoughtful for a moment, still trying to wrap my mind around the strangeness of the morning. "I do, yeah... I still have a lot to learn, though."
        "Well, practice is the way to do it!" she answered cheerily, flipping the contents of the pan deftly. "Would you like some breakfast, dear? The hens are laying beautifully, I have more eggs than I know what to do with."
        I started to politely decline, I still felt awkward about the extreme hospitality I was shown, but she cut me off. "Now don't you go being shy, I've told you that I am honestly incapable of cooking small amounts of food." She gestured pointedly at the plate next to the stove, which had a small stack of omelets already on it - and I noticed there was still a large bowl a quarter full of egg mixture nearby.
        I giggled and conceded. "If you're sure it's no trouble..."
        "Oh it's less trouble if you eat, it'll save me time packing up leftovers later!"

        An hour later, I was stuffed full of amazing omelets, had showered, and found myself with two small minions in tow.
        "Bring them back whenever they start driving you crazy," Mrs. Hamlin, their mother, insisted. The girls lost no time in dragging me over every inch of the farm, showing me all the little hiding places and favorite nooks that little kids always have around a place. They showed me where the barn cats slept, and we spent a good half of the morning playing with the small swarm of kittens we found there near the hay bales. I was honestly pretty amazed at the amount the girls knew, they were so incredibly small, but it seemed like they knew the ins and outs of every inch of the grounds, their memories were astonishing. Being only two years older than my own little sister, I hadn't really had much experience with little kids since I'd been one myself. I couldn't always make out what Sarah, the younger one, was trying to tell me, but Jessica was an excellent interpreter. The girls had had birthdays since Caleb last saw them, it seemed - they were horrified when they realized how old I thought they were.
        "I'm five and a half!" Jessica nearly screamed, her pudgy face turning red. "Caleb's so stupid."
        "An' I'm tree!" Sarah bubbled happily, holding up the appropriate number of fingers. "Jessie, am I a half too?"
        "No, silly, your birthday was just last month, you're not a half yet."
        "Oh." She looked so adorably crestfallen that I scooped her up and set her into the seat of an idle tractor that was parked nearby. She laughed delightedly and immediately began making what I assumed were supposed to be tractor-engine noises, though I'd never heard one gurgle quite that much, it was more like a tractor falling into a pond.
        I'd already gotten the okay from the girls' parents to take pictures of them, and I took advantage of the sweet little models' enthusiasm. Most of the shots were just on my digital camera, they moved too quickly to really set up a good SLR shot, but I managed a few anyway. I had a hunch Sarah's short red curls would shine very prettily in the black and white shots, and I snuck in a few shots while the two were engrossed with the kittens.

        After lunch, the girls were herded upstairs for a nap, and Mrs. Hamlin thanked me again for keeping them busy for awhile. I told her honestly that it was no trouble at all, they were absolute darlings.
        "That's only because you weren't the one trying to put them down for a nap," she said with a grin.
        I wandered back outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun - I could hardly believe it was still the end of May, it was easily into the mid-70s outside. I'd heard hammering coming from the general direction of the woods on and off all morning, and now I noticed it starting up again. That was one way to find the boys' fort, I thought with a grin.
        Keeping a hand curled protectively around my SLR (the lens cap had a bad habit of falling off whenever I wasn't paying attention to it), I made my way through the rough brush at the edge of the woods again, deciding to follow the hammering sounds rather than the path I'd tried earlier that week. Couldn't do any worse than I did that day, anyway.

note

This feels very strange to me. I think I've only had...two days so far, where I've had to battle my way up to the wordcount. And one of those days was election day, which I'm pretty sure distracted eeeeverybody.

But I've had an awful lot of days where it didn't feel hard at all to hit another 1,667 words - in fact I've gone over that several times without even really noticing. Given that it's only just now the end of the first week, and the first week is supposed to be the easy one, with weeks two and three being a constant battle, I'm not letting myself get *overly* confident here. I do think the laptop is helping IMMENSELY, no more time spent trying to decipher my own scrawl and type it all in, and I can still sit out on the back porch or work through my lunch breaks or whatever.

I really do feel pretty confident, though. This week has seen me get a much better grip on my main character - she's still a LOT like me, but, not quite. Caleb is not at all the kid I'd initially thought he'd be, but I think once we get to know him a bit better he might head back in that direction.

I actually have a vague plan for the next chunk of scenes!!! Apparently my success last year really did help me sort out how to make this whole thing work for me... lots of munchies and yummy things to drink, setting up a (mostly) distraction-free computer set up, having some nice fingerless gloves (I made new ones and I have got to post a picture sometime, they're pretty amazing)... oh, and telling EVERYONE I know that I'm doing this, so that I'd be insanely embarrassed to not make it to 50K. Also this year I discovered how much wearing silly hats really DOES aid the writing process.

...don't get me wrong, a lot of this is crap, my characters are pretty cliched, and I think the only bit that feels at all decent and inspired is the last bit I wrote today - though, uh, I need some better adjectives in there. Those can wait 'til Revision January. I'm not as lost in the world I'm creating as I was last year, at least not yet, but I suppose that's partly because so far Kris is basically living in the same world I am, I'm going off memory as much as imagination. But I reeaaallly really want to explore this house she's going to find, I'm so freaking curious as to what will turn up, that I refuse to let myself wimp out on getting there.

(Though I'm a little concerned, that I'm a quarter of the way through the month, and am only just now getting out of the introductory parts... thank goodness I have a plan for getting *out* of that section, though, unlike the NaNo I utterly failed at two years ago, which never got past it!)

Part 7

        Mrs. Mayhew's voice echoed up the staircase. "Caaaa-leb! Your mother's on the phone!"
        "Awwww, again??" he groaned. "I just talked to her after school..." His footsteps on the stairs reverberated as loud as thunder through the old walls as he headed downstairs. (There was, of course, a phone in my room, but each of the rental rooms was on a different line from the main house, for privacy and to make sorting out the bills easier.)
        I finished flipping through the pictures on my camera, then crossed the room to set it on the dresser. I suddenly realized I felt lonely - I hadn't expected that to happen, I was usually pretty independent. But having always had my sister underfoot at home, and then a million other people always around in the dorms, I guess I wasn't used to having real privacy. I'd always thought I wanted it, but now I really wasn't sure what to do with myself.
        So I sat at the desk and flipped open my laptop, reaching around to hook up the phone line. I was going to have to deal with a dial-up connection, but at least it was some contact with the outside world...

        The rest of the week was pretty uneventful. I went to work each day, where it was basically more of the same, though I slowly started joining in the conversations in the office. The mornings and evenings were my own, and I got to know the Mayhews' place better. I took plenty of pictures around the yard and gardens, but didn't venture too far into the woods - I was wary of getting lost, I didn't want to go in again without knowing where an actual trail was. Without really being conscious of the decision, I decided I'd wait until the weekend, when I could follow the boys out there - couldn't get lost if they were near. I remembered how well I knew the (admittedly much smaller) wooded area back home when I was a kid, and I was sure it was the same with Caleb and his buddies, as well as half of the other young members of the extended family.
        I fell into the habit of helping Mrs. Mayhew with the dinner dishes every night. I didn't mind, and I think we both enjoyed the company for a bit. She was, as I've said, full of a thousand stories, of family and the town and the house, but I soon learned that there was a lot of insight in her chatter. I made some mention of the fact that Caleb spent so much time here, and I thought it was really nice that he was able to be so close with his grandparents - mine always lived just far enough away that I saw them maybe once a month or so, spending a week with them in the summer here and there. She smiled at that, and said he definitely livened up the place when he was around, but something in her tone told me there was more to it, a bit of sadness maybe. I realized that, though Caleb was always here, I had yet to even catch a glimpse of his parents, and the Mayhews never mentioned them. I had a hunch there was some family resentment somewhere along the way, and given Caleb's constant visits, it seemed pretty likely that his parents' house wasn't the happiest place for him to be. I didn't want to pry, though, so I kept my questions to myself, knowing that more information would seep into conversation sooner or later.
        Friday evening, a big SUV crunched into the gravel driveway, and a small swarm of excited children whooshed out into the yard, immediately beginning to chase each other around and screech and laugh. Caleb, who had turned up earlier in the afternoon on his bike, tried to sneak off out of the house, but Mrs. Mayhew caught him in the act, and, very sweetly, and very authoratively, suggested he let Dillon tag along with him. Caleb grumbled a bit at that, but five minutes later I saw the two of them completely engrossed in some sort of (probably horrifying) experiment with some bugs they'd found, so it seemed he didn't mind his cousin as much as he'd let on. Boys.
        Being nearby, I was introduced all around - again, making me feel more like a family friend than a tenant, not that I minded. The two little girls were absolutely adorable, and they attached themselves to my legs at the earliest opportunity. I spent the better part of the evening being pulled around by the two of them. They showed me the room they always stayed in, I was introduced to a dozen or so dolls and stuffed animals, I had to of course give them a tour of my own room, and they would have taken me around the barn to introduce me to all of the animals (which they had named), but their parents canceled that plan for the moment, as it was getting dark and already well past the girls' bedtime. I had to promise I'd still be there in the morning, for them to finish the tour. I actually turned in early myself that night, still trying to readjust my internal clock after a semester of 3am bedtimes and 10am wake-ups.

        Saturday morning, I woke up at 6:30, and realized I wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep. I didn't really mind, the sun was up and it was that perfect time of morning. I hurriedly pulled on some clothes, and skipped the shower for the time being, just running a comb under the bathroom sink and yanking it through my bedhead hair...and then I gave up and just pulled my hair back into a cutely-sloppy ponytail. I snagged my cameras and a good couple of rolls of film, and moved as quietly out of the house as I could manage (though I still hadn't quite memorized all the creaky spots on the stairs, and a few let out loud groans on my way down).
        Once outside, I just stood there for a few minutes, taking slow, deep breaths and looking around, letting the gentle quiet of the morning seep into my veins. The air was a little chilly again, but it smelled so fresh and clean. The sky was the palest blue, almost white near the horizon, the sun almost invisible in the brightness it suffused into the atmosphere around it. I lifted up my digital camera and took a shot or two over the fields toward the sunrise...then thought better of it, and brought up my SLR, which was again loaded with black and white film. There wasn't much color to the scene to begin with, and something in the back of my mind told me to use the black and white film, I had this strange and unexpected...intuition, I suppose it was, some wordless feeling that the film would capture an atmosphere that would... I really didn't know at the time, I just knew it would be a good thing, some part of me knew that the film would capture the quiet serenity of the morning along with the freshness of the light I was used to my decisions being much more conscious than that, I was used to seeing something, thinking it looked pretty, maybe lining up a composition, and snapping a shot, and being done with it. But this...this was something different, maybe it was the atmosphere of the early hour, the intensity of the light in the small space of time before it was pushed aside by the harshness of human voices and manmade motion... I could feel an odd mood moving slowly through me, I felt... detached from my world, but more a part of something else... Not like I was "at one with nature" or any cheesy hippie shit like that, but... like I was brushing against the veil to a different layer of the air around me, like the difference between looking at something through a layer of plastic wrap and the clarity when the plastic's removed, or the moment when the vague chords of a song playing quietly in the distance suddenly resolve as you recognize the song.