Blogblond's Suggestion

Ok, since posts have been lacking on this blog, I'll take BB up on her suggestion to post a teaser of what I've been working on. I write for the young adult market, so don't expect intense sophistication. I'm mainly interested in writing clean, wholesome stories. I haven't yet been able to write about religious Jewish characters - I'm still mulling that one over. I strongly dislike the frum fiction that's available these days for kids - too sweet and perfect - everyone always gets along or at least learns a lesson about doing so. When I'm able to wrap my mind around the reality of frum life without writing an exposé, I will write about frum characters (not that I expect a market - frum publishers seem quite content with the drivel they have. Heck, what am I saying? You may very well consider my stuff drivel...

Oh, and why the new look for the blog? Internet Explorer hated our old template... :( I don't have the energy to update links now - I'll try to get to it tomorrow.

Here goes. We join our heroine, Annabelle, in the middle of the first episode. She has snuck out of the house to meet her best friend, Lilac, and to do some invetigating:

That night, Annabelle grabbed four cookies from the jar in the kitchen and filled two small plastic bottles with juice. Annabelle's mother didn't believe in juice boxes. She said they were a waste of good material and that it was better to refill the small Tupperware bottles. Annabelle wished they could have juice boxes like normal people, especially when she found a Tupperware bottle in the bottom of her school locker last week with two months of mold growing inside. She pulled the back door gently shut behind her and tiptoed down the creaky back steps. Already she could see Lilac's blond pigtails glinting in the moonlight at the edge of the driveway and she sprinted along the dirt two-track.

They walked in silence at first until they were definitely out of earshot of Annabelle's house. Then, they spoke in whispers.

“I'm not sure about this, Annabelle,” whispered Lilac. “What if we're caught? He's not a nice man. Who knows what he'll do to us?”

“Don't be silly. We'll be super-quiet and no one will ever know we've been there. I have to see what's in that tarp. If it's a body, we have to call the police or one of us could be next!” Annabelle could see the skepticism in Lilac's eyes and dismissed it immediately. “Whatever. Lilac, if you want, you can wait in the woods while I look.” They walked on through the field in silence until they reached the forest at the edge of Mr. Needlebom's land.

“Okay,” said Annabelle turning to Lilac, “You'll wait here?”

“S-s-s-sure,” stammered Lilac, wide-eyed with fright at the thought of having to wait alone in the dark.

“I'll be back soon and then we'll decide what to do next. You'll be fine.” Annabelle patted Lilac on the shoulder and looked reassuringly into her eyes. Annabelle set down her backpack at the base of a tree and headed into the woods.

She had walked only a few feet when she heard twigs snapping behind her and a muffled, “Wait! I changed my mind! I'm coming with you.” Lilac caught up and together they continued on, careful to step quietly where they could. At the edge of the clearing surrounding Mr. Needlebom's dilapidated A-frame house and storage shed, the girls paused. Lilac shook with fright.

“We have to cross the clearing and get into the shed as quietly as we can,” Annabelle whispered. Lilac gulped. Annabelle took Lilac's hand and they crouched and ran to the shed. The door was latched and a large padlock swung from the latch. Annabelle grunted in disappointment. She pulled on the lock. It twisted in her hand. It had only looked locked. Annabelle felt a thrill of excitement run down her spine.

She carefully removed the lock and set it in the grass next to the door and pushed the door gently open. It creaked softly and the girls slipped in. Once inside, Annabelle turned on her headlamp. The shed was packed with junk: an old bicycle, rusty oil cans, old wood-handled tools, a croquet set still in its box, and a pile of fishing poles whose lines were all tangled in a large knot. In the corner lay the tarp.

Annabelle was right, thought Lilac, it did look like a wrapped up body. Of course, it could just be a load of dirt, she reasoned. “Let's get out of here!” Lilac's voice squeaked.

“No,” Annabelle set her lips grimly. “It's our duty to look.” She let go of Lilac's clammy hand and took a step toward the tarp. Then another. On the third step, her foot caught on the edge of an old bike pump and she was sent sprawling forward, twisting her ankle painfully. Lilac screamed. Annabelle landed on the item in the tarp. It was just solid enough that Annabelle knew she had been right. It was a body. But whose? She had heard Papa telling Mama that old Mrs. Needlebom had moved to a nursing home in the village about a month ago when she finally got so senile that she tried to serve Mr. Needlebom fried dog food and grass for supper. What if Mr. Needlebom had lied to Papa and just kept her at home waiting for her to die? Maybe she was lying on Mrs. Needlbom! She rolled off the body. Her ankle throbbed and Lilac was still screaming.

“Shhh!! I'm all right! You're going to get Needlebom out here!” Annabelle whispered. “Help me up! My ankle's twisted.”

Lilac pulled Annabelle up. Annabelle winced painfully as she put weight on her injured foot. “Hold my arm. I'm going to look under the tarp.” Annabelle lifted the edge of the tarp and drew it back.