05 – Maggie

30th May

‘There’s no one else in the playground, can I go?’

Don looked down at his daughter and nodded. ‘I’ll tap on the glass when I find a table.’

Maggie grinned and ran toward the playground. He stared after her, making sure that there weren’t any other kids there, just to avoid any potential problems.

Continue reading “05 – Maggie”

04 – Maggie

30th May
Magnolia tore open the box she’d drawn the picture of the knives and forks on. ‘What if it sucks?’

‘Maggie, honey, don’t use that language.’ Dad sighed, then pulled the tape from the top of the next box. ‘It has a nicer playground than your last school.’

She bundled the tape together, pressing it into a small ball, feeling the sticky residue on her hands. ‘Not that I’ll see it,’ she muttered, ‘I’ll be in detention all the time.’

Continue reading “04 – Maggie”

03 – Maggie

This is a raw draft, as produced for NaNoWriMo.

This is a young!Magnolia story – this starts when she’s eight years old, so about seventeen years before the start of Mirrorfall.


 

16th May

Don paced the length of the hall, his eyes falling on the phone at the end of each circuit.

He held his notebook clutched in his left hand – the figures were all down. The cost for bond, the cost for breaking his current lease – with, as the unit was rented directly from the owner, he’d been able to negotiate down to just two week’s rent, rather than paying for the place until a new tenant came along. The cost for a removal truck. New uniforms. A little margin on the top – something he hated himself for, but it was necessary – considering he’d have to take one day of leave without pay.

His parents could afford it.

His mother had made a killing in the stock market – and still brought in large sums of money every year – high five figures, and sometimes even dipping into low six, when certain things went the right way.

His parents, however, had insisted that both he and his brother make their own way, and their own fortunes. There had been no trusts set up, to be splurged and wasted when they hit twenty-one. Their parents would never let them fail, but money had to be asked for, not expected.

Continue reading “03 – Maggie”

02 – Maggie

This is a raw draft, as produced for NaNoWriMo.

This is a young!Magnolia story – this starts when she’s eight years old, so about seventeen years before the start of Mirrorfall.


 

15th May

The shoe store’s break room was small – it had originally been part of the mytical “back room” that customers seemed to believe held everything from the “black pair of shoes I saw last week” to Dorothy’s red slippers.

They rarely believed it held a tiny portion of unsorted stock, a suspiciously large roll of bubble wrap, and all of the stationery the store required on a day to day basis.

The break room held a small, round table that – if you were generous – held four chairs. There was a slim fridge, a microwave, an ancient electric kettle, and one cupboard that held the tea and coffee supplies, and a basket for each employee’s food – apparently to reduce theft and misappropriated lunches.

Continue reading “02 – Maggie”

01 – Maggie

This is a raw draft, as produced for NaNoWriMo.

This is a young!Magnolia story – this starts when she’s eight years old, so about seventeen years before the start of Mirrorfall.


 

There were disadvantages to being the protagonist.

Donald Hammond threw aside the paperback, into the pile to be sold – it was signed, but well used and creased – it was one of the books he’d been trying to hold onto. An old favourite, but his latest attempt to reread it had left him cold, uneasy and unsatisfied, like always.

He wrote the title, and the price for the starting bid on a neat piece of paper on the bed beside him, then moved to the floor to start sorting through the next pile.

Two rooms of books, magazines and figurines had become three bookshelves, had become two, and now was just the one. Five shelves of books he’d been trying to hold onto. Five shelves that no longer gave him any comfort.

He ran his fingers over one of Maggie’s drawings – one he’d tacked up to cover a stain on the side of the second-hand bookcase.

Being the protagonist sucked, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Continue reading “01 – Maggie”