The Very Very First Version of New Wings (post one)

Pre-note: So I haven't posted anything in a while because I haven't written anything in quite a while. The sad truth is that I haven't been able to write. I blame the essays and the stress of university, but truth is that it's just writer's block. There, I said it. Damn writer's block has killed my creativity and drive to keep going. 

So to revive myself, I started playing with Annika McCalden's Facebook profile and started posting some sections of New Wings that I'd written but taken out of the actual novel. This made me think of the very, very original New Wings, the one that I began to write when I was twelve years old. I remembered I had transferred it onto my laptop, and so I went looking for it. Finding it, I thought I should share it with you readers here on my blog.   

Here it is. The very first attempt I made at writing New Wings, section one.

The very, very first version of New Wings, section one: 

 

 My version of Lovely Bones:

*Angels*

"She came together well, do you think so, sir?"

"The stitching was well done, Mary, thank you."

"Oh, it was nothing, sir.''

"She is awake, sir. Come quick."

"Very well, Jake. Mary, go fetch Jacob. He must be here, for he is her Guider."

 Everything was blurry. Bright and blurry. I was laying on something soft and fluffy. My arms lay on something even more soft and feathery. There seemed to be two people in the room with me, one had just left. They all held two large oval things behind their backs. Weird. One was sitting beside my bed; the other was walking toward me. Wait, he seemed to be floating, his feet hardly moving or touching the ground. How...?

That's when my sight came back, and I gasped. They all had wings! Large fluffy wings! And halos! I sat up straight, with my hands behind my back. My arms touched something soft. I gasped once more as I noticed that I also had wings. Not as large, of course, for I was only thirteen, but still, fluffy wings. My hands went to the top of my head. Nothing.

"Of course you don't have a halo, you haven't seen Her yet."

A guy about the same age as the man sitting beside my bed entered the room through a door at the left.

"What?" That's all I could manage. The one standing a ways away answered.

“You don't have a halo, you haven't seen Her yet. I don't what you call Her, there are many names. God, The Creator, Mother Earth, etc.

Actually, Mother Earth is her real name, but-"

"Wait a moment. Where am I? What am I doing here? Do my parents know I'm here? Boy, they're going to kill me!"

This time the person who was walking toward me, now standing beside my bed, answered.

"You're in Heaven."

Chapter 25

Pre-note: LOOK! A PLOT TWIST! FINALLY! AFTER ALL THAT FORESHADOWING! -->

Chapter twenty-five, section one:

I didn’t look at it, at first.

At first it was just a phone, none of my business, because I assumed it had nothing to do me. I considered myself a moral person. I respected people’s privacy, people’s space, people’s things.

Then the text came through.

The cell was sitting right beside me, sitting on my desk next to my own phone, just a few inches from my elbow as I struggled through math questions. He must have put it down and forgotten to pocket it again before he left.

It beeped and glowed, and I looked over, out of habit and curiosity.

New Message

Fr: John Archibald

Jake, please have McCalden’s updates done for tomorrow.

My updates? Wait, my NAME?

Then another one came through.

New Message

Fr: John Archibald

Jake, please have Tuesday’s report reprinted. Emotion and adjustment pages were lost. Thanks.

That’s when I picked up the phone.

I don’t normally go through people’s things, I see that as breaking someone’s trust, but at that moment I didn’t think. Jake had been here a couple hours of ago, he’d left his phone here by accident, and maybe he trusted me to not look through it, but in at the same time these messages had just flashed across the screen right in front of my face.

I went back through the history. Apparently I wasn’t the only one Jake sent texts to, rather he used his phone often for work. There were long conversations between him and this John Archibald in particular, always about me, or rather, about my “updates” and “files.”

It took me a while to piece it together. If I had never found that folder on me in the hospital, I might have never figured out what was going on or even dismissed the texts, but rather it started to come together in my mind as I read more and more, and slowly but surely, my head became heavier and heavier.

Daily reports.

Monthly summaries.

Emotion sheets.

Adjustment pages.

My life recorded and analyzed.

I don’t know when I came to realize this fully, or exactly when I decided to see this for myself, but the next thing I knew I had my coat on and was out the door.

The night was surprisingly warm and still. A silence hung through the world as I headed through the school grounds. As I passed the parking lot I noted that Jake’s car wasn’t there. He’d left almost an hour ago and I wondered how long it would take for him to realize he’d forgotten his phone. I wondered if he’d wait until tomorrow to come back for it, or if he guessed I might go through it and instead would come rushing back at any moment.

I made it to the curb and started pacing back and forth, up and down the sidewalk in front of the school, but it didn’t take me long to understand where I was going. I paused and picked up my phone, calling a cab.

When the car pulled up, I slid into the back seat. The man sitting in the driver’s seat, in his dark suit and low voice, asked me where I was headed. I had to describe the building since I had no idea what the address was.

We came up to the big omniscient building clad in shadows. The man didn’t say a word about where he was dropping me off or why I was out at ten at night visiting an obviously closed building. Instead I watched the car drive away, the black easily engulfed by the night.

I used the number pad to open the double doors. I would never have remembered the digits from that one day Jake had taken me here if it weren’t for the fact they were so simple: 1 2 3 4. Then again, I had never even heard the word crime here.

 I wandered the sterile halls. It took me a couple minutes to remember how to get to the room, the room I knew I at least needed to start at. However, I stumbled upon it, instantly recalled the big wooden doors. Another set of numbers pushed into the keypad at the side and I swung the doors open into the Victorian-looking library.

Down that row and to the left, open the drawer second down; it’s the one dated Thursday, October 28^th, 2010. Find the folder with my name on it. Flip through the articles again and feel the tightening in my chest.

I shook my head, taking the folder and tucking it under my arm. I headed to the moonlit couches again, where, sighing, I flipped the book open and picked up the first article.

Chapter 24 (post four)

Pre-note: Short section I just wrote. I feel like the writing is not as strong as usual, to say the least. I think it was the hours of essay writing today that killed my creative touch. Oh well, another essay to write tomorrow and then one more month of school! I cannot wait to have spare time to write New Wings instead of essays!

Chapter twenty-four, section four:

Sitting on the roof, with my head on his shoulder, watching the sunset and the clouds dye pink, maybe I should have known it was all too good to be true. But I didn’t then; I was happy.

There was a good couple weeks of this happy, this too-good-to-be-true happy. I was surrounded by the people I thought cared about me, I wore pink nail polish and laughed every day. There were floral dresses worn to the beach and spirit wear worn to cheer on the soccer team, friends always to my left and right. These were the good days, I thought.

Oh the things you give away to get want you want – they are always the things you really needed in the first place. But isn’t that the way it always works? You’ve got to lose something in order to find it? The thing is I thought then that I’d found it, when really I had just lost it.

Chapter 24 (post three)

Pre-note: This is not a very dirty scene, but it may be a little too much for any ten year olds, so don't tell you I didn't warn you.

Chapter twenty-four, section three:

When he slipped his arms around me, I could feel myself melting with his touch.

The blankets were full of wool and down, thick yet soft. I pulled the one up to my chin, laying on the other. Under the stars on the roof, the air had a spring chill to it and Jake snuggled in closer. My hips curved with him, my feet tangled with his. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, where he’d pushed my hair away so he could whisper in my ear, “You’re beautiful tonight.”

I thanked him by eliminating any remaining space between us.

Turning and facing his green eyes, I whispered, “I feel like we haven’t been alone together in forever.”

“It has been awhile.”

“Coffee dates, acting like just friends, it isn’t enough.”

“I know,” he responded, running his hand along my side.

“We should do this more often.”

“I agree.”

Then I couldn’t take his hand running up and down my hips anymore, and I kissed him.

He kissed me back, pulled me closer. I felt my senses come alive, my heart start beating faster. I started losing boundaries – my leg slipped up over his hip. He reacted, his hands pulling me closer to him there. I felt full while so very empty.

We tossed and turned for what felt like forever and no time all at once. Whenever he started anything that made my stomach start to twist, though, I would move his hands back to where I thought they should stay. I wondered if I was teasing, but I kept putting my interests first. Then, once when I had stopped him from traveling up my shirt, I whispered, “sorry” without even thinking. He whispered back, “Don’t be.”

Even if he hadn’t thought about his answer and it was just an automatic response, it still made my chest grow heavier with something I didn’t dare yet label as love. I kissed him thank you. And the next night, up my shirt didn’t seem too far to go.

Chapter 24 (post two)

Pre-note: Here is the next section. The sun and warmth inspired me to write another piece of New Wings today. 

Chapter twenty-four, section two:

The name “Soleres” seemed to fit the city. Walking through the clean streets to Sunshine with Chantel, Cara and Amy, in our matching skinny jeans, the latest catalogue in our hands, colour coded and puppy-eared, the sun shining through our hair, it fit: Soleres – sun and light and warmth.

There was never a mention of what had happened last week at the dance, or of the last month for that matter; instead, we talked about the boy that Chantel had met and the way 68 had danced with Amy all night long. Then there was lots of giggling and stereotypical squealing when Amy got a text from 68 as we wandered through the new sundresses – and all he asked her was what she was doing that night.

After we had checked out our purchases (matching sundresses, blue clutches and over-sized button cardigans), Amy turned to me as we left the store.

“New Wings, we’ve decided to make this official.”

“What?”

She took my arm and started leading me up the street, the opposite way from where the car was parked.

“What? Where are we going?” I kept asking, laughing along as they smiled and giggled, shaking their heads.

“You’ll see!”

“Hint please?” I laughed, my arms now joined with theirs.

They all shook their heads so their bangs bounced and forth, then Cara laughed, “That was still a hint you guys!”

They all burst out laughing, and I just smiled, totally confused.  

We rounded a corner and they pulled me into a store before I could read the sign in the window. We immerged into – a hair dressers. I looked around at the large mirrors and row of black chairs, the decor was modern and expensive looking.

“What’s going on?” I asked, still smiling.

“Wait, you’ll find out soon,” Care insisted as Amy started talking to the little blonde receptionist in a low voice. The reception nodded and motioned a woman over.

The next thing I knew, I was in a chair and the woman was holding scissors. I closed my eyes and felt the cold touch of metal against my forehead, the almost silent snip of hair under blades, the bristles of a soft brush over my face, then the motion of the chair as the hair dresser spun me around.

I opened my eyes and saw my reflection in the mirror – my reflection with my wheat-blonde hair, and the reflection of Cara, Chantel and Amy with smiles ear to ear, now all with the same messy, side-swept bangs.

“This calls for a picture!” Chantel announced, pulling her cell phone from her purse. There was a click and then the moment was frozen in time: Care, Chantel, Amy and me, my grin even wider than theirs.