365 Days of Writing

Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 14 ‘Let me see,’ Althea settled back into her chair, tea cup in hand. ‘Where to begin?’ Teddy just sat looking expectantly at Mrs Winter. ‘Your great aunt and I were both a part of a special league of women. Hilda was actually my mentor when I joined and she became a great friend over the years. The league itself is responsible for a wide array of things. At home, it deals with charities that benefit the overlooked: women, children and immigrants. Both at home and abroad, it has individuals trained in diplomacy and espionage.’ Mrs Winter looked at Teddy knowingly. ‘I’m sure you can guess what category we fell into.’ ‘Are you saying my great aunt — the one who somehow came to own a sentient house — was also a spy?!’ Teddy demanded incredulously. ‘Good girl!’ Mrs Winter cheered. ‘When Hilda retired, I decided to retire as well and follow her here where I served as her housekeeper. She loved your great uncle Hubert dearly. And it was by his side that s...

  Journal I wanted to have some sort of cosy, wintery… possibly Christmas-y short story for today’s post. Maybe something with the birds or a mouse or a hedgehog? But no story is flooding my mind. Not more than a whisper of an idea. So instead… I’m going to talk about the one Christmas tradition that has stuck with me my whole adult life. Sugar cookies. One of my earliest memories is they of decorating sugar cookies with my mom and brother (at the time my other brother and sister hadn’t been born yet). So it makes sense that sugar cookies would continue into my Christmas traditions as an adult. In Taiwan, myself and a few of the other teachers used to invite all of the students who lived on campus to come cut out, bake and decorate hundreds of sugar cookies each December. (I or myself along with a few friends would make the dough ahead of time so it had plenty of time to chill). We’d all meet in the school’s kitchen (which also served as a classroom sometimes). Before the students ...

  Journal  Christmas cookie update: The dough was made this morning inbetween baby waking up and his first nap. He sat in his swing in the kitchen while I mixed everything together. We just made a half batch which is usually around 15-20 cookies depending on the shape(s). After his second nap, I was wearing him in the sling because he wanted to see what I was doing, and we rolled out the dough, cut out the cookies — I just stuck to one shape this year: Christmas trees — and baked them. It’s a bit strange because some of the cookies held their shape really well and a few did not. During his third and final nap of the day, I realized we don’t have milk… so we will decorate them tomorrow. Hubby is going to pick some up for us in his way home from work. (Also, just as a head's up: over the holidays I will be holding myself to writing each day but probably won't post every day. Look for a slew of posts 7 January). 

  Journal  (written two ways) Option A:  This morning we finished our Christmas shopping. Baby fell asleep nestled safely in the Cuddle Bug. So this evening I wrapped presents, while sitting on the floor and hanging out with my 5mo old listening to Christmas music. Honestly, I’m not sure he was impressed that I was wrapping presents instead of showering him with my undivided attention. But he rolled from his back to his tummy quite a bit, managed to get himself a book and even turn the pages sometimes, and was especially happy when I’d pause between presents to read a story, sing a song with him or play a little. As a result, they are perhaps not as neatly wrapped as some years. But they are wrapped! They’re also now packed in a manner that would make any Tetris player proud into a large reusable bag. We can’t take them on the airplane in it, but they’re neatly out of the way until suitcase packing time. All in all, a success! (Tomorrow, I hope for us to bake some cookies...

  Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 13 Mr Drey brought the police into the study where the would be thief was still hog tied on the floor with a growing lump on the back of his head. ‘Althea,’ the inspector nodded a greeting in Mrs Winter’s direction. ‘And you must be Miss Thompson. It’s a shame we have to meet under these circumstances.’ Teddy wondered to herself why the inspector seemed to be on a first name basis with the housekeeper. She wondered if she should be concerned that he was on a first name basis with the housekeeper. She realised that she had a lot of questions in regards to Mrs Winter after what she’d witnessed this evening. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. ‘Inspector,’ she said. ‘Please, call me Will,’ he said. ‘When you’re ready, tell me in your own words what happened here this evening.’ ‘Well… Will,’ it seemed strange to call the inspector by his first name, but then again, judging by his appearance he couldn’t be much older than her if he was older ...

  One Sentence I am exhausted. 

  Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 12 Mr Drey and Teddy headed quietly towards the study, unaware of Mrs Winter's plan. When they arrived outside of the door, they could hear quiet rummaging. Through looks and gestures, it was decided that Teddy would fling open the door and Mr Drey would dash inside. And so they did.  'Stop where you are,' Mr Drey said robustly upon entering the room.  The man looked up, looked at Mr Drey, looked at the fire poker. He looked at Teddy who had also entered the room immediately behind Mr Drey with the small shovel. And held up a gun. Aiming it at Mr Drey.  'Put your weapons,' he both instructed and questioned, 'Down, if you'd be so kind.'  He was so focused on the two of them, that he didn't even think to look behind him. And, having quietly entered through the window, just as the man himself had presumably done, that was now where Mrs Winter was with her log aloft.  The man crumpled to the floor after a swift pop ...

  Poem -- Dear 4am, Love A Tired Mom Hello 4am, It’s me again.  Baby woke up at 3:30am Crying.  Nappies were changed. Food was procured and eaten.  Now he’s sleeping in my arms his hand reaching across my chest and up towards my neck.  He’s so long now that his legs cascade down my right side feet resting gently on the bed next to me. He looks peaceful, serene.  And looking at him fills my heart with so much love.  But now I’m awake.  He’s wanted me to hold him,  sitting up, while he sleeps so often at night recently.  My body has decided it has to be really  tired before I can (go back to) sleep sitting up.  And I don’t want him to wake up for the day at 4:30am at 5am.  We’re aiming for at least 6am;  something after 6:30am would be even better.  And he sleeps better in my arms. So here I am:  Sitting up in bed, Holding him,  And scrolling on my phone  At 4am.  It’s so quiet at 4am.  And...

Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 11 Back at Monkshood Manor with the car tucked away in the carriage house turned garage, Teddy decided it was time to discover once and for all if there was actually a cook. ‘After all,’ she reasoned to herself, ‘Perhaps sentient houses liked cooking?’ She entered through the servants’ entrance in the back which opened straight into the kitchen. ‘Ahhh!’ Mr Drey jumped. ‘Now you know what it feels like!’ Teddy said laughing amicably. The room rippled a bit as though the house itself was laughing joyously. ‘I see… I see what you mean,’ Mr Drey said being a good spirit and also giving the house a stern look. ‘I never meant to surprise her on purpose!’ he argued. And suddenly entered the most perfect looking cook, for that is who Teddy assumed her to be, that there could ever be. She was short, her curly grey hair tucked neatly under a handkerchief, with round spectacles balanced on her nose. She looked exactly how one might picture a joyful Mrs Claus. ...

  Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 10 The next morning after breakfast, Teddy climbed into the old car again and started her drive into town to Mr Reed’s office. As she wound through the countryside, she had a few thoughts occupying her mind: Who was watching her last night and why? Is she going to learn anything else abnormal about the house or will today? If she doesn’t, what’s next for her? There wasn’t much traffic on the road, just a single car behind her. There wasn’t anything outstanding about it. The only thing of note was a dent on the right side of the fender. And since she couldn’t make heads or tails of the man, and didn’t know of anything else to anticipate in regards to her visit with Mr Reed, she allowed her mind to wander relating to the third question. What’s next? She wanted Monkshood Manor to not just be her home but to be something special for a community. Plus, that would help with repair and renovation costs along with the usual overhead costs. She saw Mon...

  Poem -- Doing the Chores Have you ever tried to: assemble a new vacuum, take the clean clothes out of the washing machine and then fill it again,  Or do the dishes All while a baby arches against you and screams in protest? At least: The hum of the vacuum once assembled was soothing, It’s interesting to unload the dishwasher and put away the dishes, And watching mummy fold laundry isn’t always bad. “The chores don’t matter when they’re little,” People say. But I still need clothes to wear (And so do hubby and baby). I still need pots and pans and dishes so I can eat. And I spend so much time on the floor now next to baby, that it’s easy to notice all the hairs and dust and food crumbs. Are chores the most important thing? No. But there has to be some balance. And today — getting a few chores accomplished was a workout. Thankfully more time was spent: Reading Playing Snuggling Rolling and Laughing.

  Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 9 Teddy left the box of photos and journal on a side table by the entry way. She grabbed a torch light, a hefty walking umbrella and headed outside. She just wanted to have a quick look around where she thought she'd seen the man or shadow or whatever it was.  When she headed to the copse, she noticed that Mr Drey was already out there with his own torch and a hefty log.  'Anything?' Teddy asked walking up over. She noticed the shoe prints in the soft earth. They were a different size and shape from Mr Drey's.  Mr Drey looked up. 'Just these foot prints.' He gestured to the foot prints. They got lost in the grass but appeared to be heading off further into the manor's estate.  'Should we call for the police?' Teddy asked.  'We could,' Mr Drey answered. 'But I'm not sure there's much they could do.'  'Still. They should at least know, yes?'  'If you wish, Miss.'  Teddy look...