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*Slaps 2 pages of paper onto the table* This here is the first draft of the second rewrite of the second story overhaul of the first chapter of my book. YIKES!!
TL;DR: Sam has a dream where she is in a snowstorm. She wakes up from the dream. Her dad texts her saying he's going to pick her up from her neighbor Mrs. Crane's house, where she stayed the night due to family issues. Sam finds a small painted globe in the attic with lots of tiny holes in it. Mrs. Crane tells her it's a gift she made for her daughter that projects stars onto the wall. Flashback to Sam's parents telling her that Mrs Crane lost her daughter in an accident and Sam's mother doesn't trust her.
You can find the first rewrite of the second story overhaul, along with some corresponding art, on the main thread. If you already saw that, the main change I made to this was to cut the flashback way down and make it seem less out of place, which meant ditching the street corner scene (I didn't like it anyway). I also had Sam wake up from her dream and talk with Mrs. Crane at her house.
I'm also renaming my story to Reverie. That is to say, a very pleasant dream.
Sam woke up with her face buried in bitterly cold snow. She hauled herself up onto her hands and blinked, finding herself still wearing her plain striped pajamas. There were a few flakes on her eyelashes, and a decent powder had already covered her back. There was hardly a dent in the snow around her where she could have skidded or rolled as if she had been thrown. In fact, there was nothing to suggest any sort of way she could have found herself like this--in the middle of a vast expanse of cold black sky, whistling wind, rolling snowdrifts, and snowflakes falling like stars. It could only be a nightmare. I know I am dreaming. I can will myself to wake up, Sam thought. But Sam did not wake up.
A sudden light cast a warm glow across the frozen field, and Sam could see that it was coming from some sort of torch. Perhaps she wasn’t alone out here after all. Shuddering from the freezing wind, she stood up on shaky legs and brushed the snow from them with numb fingers. Then she made her way towards the light, one painful step after another, the several inches of snow finding its way into her sneakers and chilling her socks.
As she emerged from the top of a large hill and peered down into the valley, a whole string of lights came into view. From far away, they looked like they were part of a brightly lit city. But as Sam cautiously slid closer down the slope, she could see that they were lighting up a grove of massive trees. And when she squinted, she thought she could see a little figure scurrying between the lights.
Before Sam could stumble any closer, the snowstorm thickened. A huge blanket of white slammed her back down into the freezing snow.
Sam screamed. Then she woke up.
A dream. Of course it was a dream. Sam fixed her pillowed gaze on the phone beside her bed. It pinged.
This is dad. We settled things, your mother will be out of the house for a while. I’m coming to get you in half an hour, be sure to pack up your stuff.
Sam rolled out of bed and texted back. Ok.
Within ten minutes, she was dressed and cleaned up, and her pajamas were neatly folded in her backpack. She took one last look at the room she had stayed the night in--large, yet dusty, worn, and cluttered with pointless furniture and useless old relics--and felt the sharp chill of an elusive draft. Maybe that was why I dreamed of a snowstorm, Sam thought.
The last thing her eyes rested on was the strange little globe sitting on one of the three dressers. Instead of sporting the blue and green colors of the earth, it was painted over in solid black and was covered in tiny pinpricks, and it had faint purple lettering across it spelling out For You. Something about it compelled her, so she took it down and carried it with her.
Sam began her descent down the steep and creaky wooden staircase that led to the second floor, then past several doors through the hall, then down again to the kitchen where the humble hostess, Mrs. Crane, was waiting for her guest.
“Morning, Sam. Did you sleep alright?” Mrs. Crane asked with a small smile. She was a tired-looking woman to match her practically crumbling house, though her round freckled face and auburn hair in gentle waves seemed to suggest a time in her life where she was happier.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Sam brushed a strand of shiny black hair from her own face.
Mrs. Crane glanced at her watch. “Your father won’t be here for another twenty minutes. Do you want me to make you something for breakfast?”
“Okay.” Sam slid into one of the wobbly counter seats and set the globe on the table to examine it better. “What is this thing, anyway? I hope you don’t mind me asking.”
“Belonged to my daughter. I made it for her, in fact.” Mrs. Crane sighed and pulled a plate from the cabinets. “You can keep it.”
“What are all these holes in it?” Sam asked as she ran her fingers along the bumpy surface.
“They’re stars. I put a little light bulb inside the globe so it lights up like a disco ball. Then you can see the night sky in your room. That’s why my daughter called it The Observatory.” The woman smiled to herself, most likely remembering her past.
Sam felt a sharp pang of sympathy for the woman as she remembered what her parents had said about her a few nights before over family dinner.
“Her name’s Emily Crane.” Sam’s father had leaned forward in his chair.
“Her daughter drowned in a swimming pool a few months ago,” he continued, “and she’s recently lost her job.”
“Wasn’t she a neuroscientist?” Sam had asked.
“Yeah. Anyway,” Sam’s mother spoke. “We were friends in high school. I haven’t talked to her in ages. We kind of...went our separate ways.” She scrunched her nose a bit into what almost seemed like a sneer.
It wasn’t until a few days later that Sam had found herself on Mrs. Crane’s shoddy doorstep in the rain. Her father had told her that Mother was drunk and very angry, and Mrs. Crane was the only person they knew in town who could take care of Sam while her parents settled things out.
Mother had protested violently. "You can't trust that lady! She's insane!"
Father had simply herded Sam into the car. He’d rolled his eyes, but Sam could practically smell his anxiety.
Sam had been afraid, but was treated with hospitality and sent to a bedroom in the attic for the night. Nothing had happened that was out of the ordinary. But her dream was nothing like any she’d ever had. It was very cold and frightening and lonely.
It felt very real.
A sudden light cast a warm glow across the frozen field, and Sam could see that it was coming from some sort of torch. Perhaps she wasn’t alone out here after all. Shuddering from the freezing wind, she stood up on shaky legs and brushed the snow from them with numb fingers. Then she made her way towards the light, one painful step after another, the several inches of snow finding its way into her sneakers and chilling her socks.
As she emerged from the top of a large hill and peered down into the valley, a whole string of lights came into view. From far away, they looked like they were part of a brightly lit city. But as Sam cautiously slid closer down the slope, she could see that they were lighting up a grove of massive trees. And when she squinted, she thought she could see a little figure scurrying between the lights.
Before Sam could stumble any closer, the snowstorm thickened. A huge blanket of white slammed her back down into the freezing snow.
Sam screamed. Then she woke up.
A dream. Of course it was a dream. Sam fixed her pillowed gaze on the phone beside her bed. It pinged.
This is dad. We settled things, your mother will be out of the house for a while. I’m coming to get you in half an hour, be sure to pack up your stuff.
Sam rolled out of bed and texted back. Ok.
Within ten minutes, she was dressed and cleaned up, and her pajamas were neatly folded in her backpack. She took one last look at the room she had stayed the night in--large, yet dusty, worn, and cluttered with pointless furniture and useless old relics--and felt the sharp chill of an elusive draft. Maybe that was why I dreamed of a snowstorm, Sam thought.
The last thing her eyes rested on was the strange little globe sitting on one of the three dressers. Instead of sporting the blue and green colors of the earth, it was painted over in solid black and was covered in tiny pinpricks, and it had faint purple lettering across it spelling out For You. Something about it compelled her, so she took it down and carried it with her.
Sam began her descent down the steep and creaky wooden staircase that led to the second floor, then past several doors through the hall, then down again to the kitchen where the humble hostess, Mrs. Crane, was waiting for her guest.
“Morning, Sam. Did you sleep alright?” Mrs. Crane asked with a small smile. She was a tired-looking woman to match her practically crumbling house, though her round freckled face and auburn hair in gentle waves seemed to suggest a time in her life where she was happier.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Sam brushed a strand of shiny black hair from her own face.
Mrs. Crane glanced at her watch. “Your father won’t be here for another twenty minutes. Do you want me to make you something for breakfast?”
“Okay.” Sam slid into one of the wobbly counter seats and set the globe on the table to examine it better. “What is this thing, anyway? I hope you don’t mind me asking.”
“Belonged to my daughter. I made it for her, in fact.” Mrs. Crane sighed and pulled a plate from the cabinets. “You can keep it.”
“What are all these holes in it?” Sam asked as she ran her fingers along the bumpy surface.
“They’re stars. I put a little light bulb inside the globe so it lights up like a disco ball. Then you can see the night sky in your room. That’s why my daughter called it The Observatory.” The woman smiled to herself, most likely remembering her past.
Sam felt a sharp pang of sympathy for the woman as she remembered what her parents had said about her a few nights before over family dinner.
“Her name’s Emily Crane.” Sam’s father had leaned forward in his chair.
“Her daughter drowned in a swimming pool a few months ago,” he continued, “and she’s recently lost her job.”
“Wasn’t she a neuroscientist?” Sam had asked.
“Yeah. Anyway,” Sam’s mother spoke. “We were friends in high school. I haven’t talked to her in ages. We kind of...went our separate ways.” She scrunched her nose a bit into what almost seemed like a sneer.
It wasn’t until a few days later that Sam had found herself on Mrs. Crane’s shoddy doorstep in the rain. Her father had told her that Mother was drunk and very angry, and Mrs. Crane was the only person they knew in town who could take care of Sam while her parents settled things out.
Mother had protested violently. "You can't trust that lady! She's insane!"
Father had simply herded Sam into the car. He’d rolled his eyes, but Sam could practically smell his anxiety.
Sam had been afraid, but was treated with hospitality and sent to a bedroom in the attic for the night. Nothing had happened that was out of the ordinary. But her dream was nothing like any she’d ever had. It was very cold and frightening and lonely.
It felt very real.
You can find the first rewrite of the second story overhaul, along with some corresponding art, on the main thread. If you already saw that, the main change I made to this was to cut the flashback way down and make it seem less out of place, which meant ditching the street corner scene (I didn't like it anyway). I also had Sam wake up from her dream and talk with Mrs. Crane at her house.
I'm also renaming my story to Reverie. That is to say, a very pleasant dream.
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