Writing a Story with Jennifer Eaton & Others

What is Write a Story with Me?

This story began July 17,  2012 with the first installment by Jennifer M. Eaton in celebration of her Bloggaversary.  Different authors from all genres joined in, and have added, or are getting ready to add, their wonderful talent and ideas to keep this story moving.

The great thing about being a part of “Write a Story with Me!” is that no one author knows where we are going, and we have no idea what the person ahead of us is going to write that we will have to build on.

It is the ultimate challenge to your creative imagination.

I hope you enjoy our story.  If you’d like to hop on-board, NO PROBLEM!  The more the merrier!  Just click here to add your name to the list, and you will be tagged when your turn pops up.

Please read and abide by the rules before signing up.

Thank you, and enjoy!

If you’d like to sign up, come on over. There’s always room for more!

Previous installments:

Part One – Jennifer M. Eaton

Part Two – J. Keller Ford

Part Three – Susan Roebuck

Part Four – Elin Gregory

Part Five – Eileen Snyder

Part Six – Mikaela Wire

Part Seven — Vanessa Chapman

Part Eight — Ravena Guron

Part Nine – Vikki Thompson

Part Ten — Susan Rocan mywithershins

Part Eleven — Kate Johnston

And here’s my part … I went kind of overboard with the word count (I was so ‘into’ it I forgot to check; sorry about that, Jennifer, lol) … I hope you enjoy it – and don’t forget to go back and read everyone’s entries from the beginning!  Happy Reading! 

Julie Catherine – Part 12 

She laid the leaf gently on the outside sill of the window for the breeze to carry away, and flew to open the door.  Her father, still garbed in his stately Planetary Raiders Captain uniform, scooped his daughter into his arms and whirled her around, hugging her tightly enough that she protested laughingly that she couldn’t breathe.  Marci’s mother hovered behind, rubbing the gentle swell of her belly as she looked on, her face a mix of tolerance and motherly pride. Marci felt a pang of remorse at how quickly that pride would turn to anger if her parents ever learned of her friendship with the fairy, Janelle.

She shrugged off the worrisome thought— for now— slid from her father’s embrace to the floor, grabbed the Needletea pot and skipped down the stairs. “Come, Father”, she called, “tea-time!”

As her mother poured the tea and passed freshly baked scones still warm from the oven, Marci eagerly answered her father’s questions about school and her grades, pleased to be able to give him a glowing report. She was a good student and excelled in her studies. She slathered butter on her scone and nibbled on it thoughtfully;  her mind straying as her parents’ conversation turned to her father’s latest mission.

“… the Commander is convinced the portal can be found; and when it is, the troops will move in, and Argot will finally be rid of the parasitic scourge that threatens to affect the whole of the county!”

Marci’s hand froze, the scone inches away from her mouth, forgotten. Careful not to show any expression that would betray her thoughts, she replaced it gingerly on her plate and wrung her hands in the napkin on her lap, head bowed as she concentrated on wiping her sticky fingers in its folds.  She gulped through the sudden bile in her throat, her appetite replaced with fingers of dread that clawed the inside of her stomach.

She had to find a way to get word to Janelle!  Now!  If she didn’t, the fairies would be totally unprepared when disaster hit— they would be wiped out, all of them.  As much as she adored her father and it grieved her deeply to displease him, Marci could not allow that to happen to her friend; to her friend’s people.  She could not condone Janelle’s murder— and that is exactly what would happen if she, Marci, didn’t find a way to warn her friend as soon as possible.

“Poppet, are you all right? You’re white as a sheet!”  Marci’s father’s voice sounded far away and her eyes were having trouble focusing on his face. The room was spinning, and she thought she was going to be sick.

Her father’s hand on her brow felt cool, and it shook slightly.  Suddenly he scooped his daughter into his arms and carried her slight form up the stairs, where he laid her gently on her bed and tucked a warm blanket around her.  Marci was shivering. Why then had her father called to her mother to get the doctor right away— that their daughter was dangerously feverish?  Marci couldn’t make sense of it; was too tired to think, so she closed her eyes and drifted ….

Down the hall, Bethany crouched, unmoving, in the shadows. A slow smile played on her lips as she slipped into her room and closed the door softly.

 ~ Julie Catherine  ♥

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