Dear me, that wasn't the right thing to say at all.
We had a simply frabjous time at our CBCs house, despite the fact that I had a horrible cold for the whole time. I always get a cold when I am with them. I kid you not. I think it is a tradition, and we would all be in a perpetual state of shock if for once we got together and I was completely healthy.
Anywho, we took a slew of pictures, but you will not get to see any of the good ones until either Kiri Liz, Beth Grace, or Jessa Bri emails me some of the pictures, preferably of the epic costume party. Hint, hint...
By the way, I have started a new mystery, which is the result of staying up until three-thirty in the morning on Saturday night talking. Believe me, we were all LUMPS at church the next day. Well, maybe I exaggerate, but it was something like that. Anywho, I came up with the beginnings of a plot and a really great name for the main character, which, at present, is the title of the story.
Ira Bournton is the name.
No, it is not set in Victorian England, like CATT. It is actually set in the fictional New England village of Nanrantsouak Harbor in 1873. It involves a thirty-year-old tragedy that ended in murder, a ridiculous family that lives in a supposed haunted house, a man with an eye for detail and fourteen children, his wife, the best friend of young, beautiful Catherine Melsey who went missing a week before her wedding thirty years before, and the mysterious old sailor, Ira Bournton, who comes to work for the family at the haunted house for no apparent reason other than the fact that he feels the oldest daughter, Muriel Irene Gaskey, needs protection from a past that is about to catch up to her family.
(Who names their daughter Muriel Irene? The names do not fit at all. I told you the haunted house family was ridiculous. Somehow, though, the name popped into my head, and there it stuck.)
So, now you will have to put up with my excited splutterings for the next week. After that I will be stuck at college and too busy to post on blogger, although I will when I can.
Anywho, here is the first paragraph of the book. It describes the haunted house.
Set back amongst the aging oak trees, rimmed by a narrow field which was, in turn, rimmed by more trees, the old house had last lived thirty years before. It was not large, but it had once been beautiful. It seemed to sag with the sort of despair that comes to houses who have been lived in before and then suddenly abandoned. So it had been with the little house. The cheerful white paint with light blue trim was long faded to dingy shades of grey, as if the surrounding forest was trying to turn it into a part of itself. The house was too homey, though, too much like the cheerful New England farmhouse that it once had been, to submit fully to the call of the wilds about it.
What do you think?
|This is Ira Bournton. |
Disregard the modern clothing and imagine him in the garb of an 1870s sailor.
Thanks for reading and God bless,