The inner workings of a troubled mind.

Thoughts askew

A surprising white flurry of fluffy white flakes descended upon the rooftops and gently landed onto the sidewalk as my children and I watched through our picture window. The classic song “Let it snow” by Dean Martin came to mind and I belted it out at the top of my lungs. Much to my children’s amusement, they swayed from side to side in unison and sang along with their tiny voices. It was a picture perfect moment.

On the recliner to right of us, my husband stared at us with a raised eyebrow and a silly smirk spread across his face. A look that means he is about to make a smart-ass comment. Probably about my amazing and beautiful singing voice. I forgot to warm up and I was a bit off key, but I sounded good. I shot him that please do not ruin this moment stare, hoping he would let me enjoy the few seconds of snow before it melted. By some miracle, he did. Until the kids left the room, then it was a back and forth wisecrack-a-thon.
We have been maintaining a fun atmosphere around the house this week. It’s been too serious lately, and we haven’t been smiling enough. I plan to take the kids out on the trampoline one last time before the weather becomes intolerable and we settle in for the winter.

I have been working on a character sketch for one of the characters in my novels. I am having trouble with this because, I am used to writing the story and letting the characters personalities and quirks and everything else unfold onto the page. I have no idea how to put it into an outline. I mean I know how to write an outline, I am not an idiot, it’s just my mind goes all over the place when I try. I write things down and then I think of something better so I scratch that and write the new idea down. Then the next part doesn’t fit anymore and I go back to the first idea or start over again.  I’ll do some research later and see if there are any examples online.  I’ll let this outline linger in my mind for a while and tackle it in the next few days.

The strange man came to visit me again. This time, he stood in the background and watched me fight my evil cousin and save her son. His eyes were not as frightening as before, and I thought there was a hint of pride in them. I am not sure what he wants yet, and I haven’t had time to think what his presence might symbolize. I have to admit, as scary as he is, I find a certain twisted comfort with him there. In a way, I feel safe. Not safe from him; he is oozing with danger, but safe from everything else. Maybe he is protecting me, ensuring I am in one piece so he can tear me apart himself. Of course, I am not positive of his motives, but he scares the crap out of me and I assume my death is his goal.

If he comes back tonight, I am going to write a book about him.