Camp NaNo - Week 2

We're already entering the second week of Camp NaNo!! Unbelievable... With the long Easter weekend, I must admit I had fallen behind but now that's it's time for me to catch up, I see the lurking shadow of the next book fair I will attend. I like book fairs because I love to meet and exchange with my readers, but I must say that these book fairs don't do much for a deadline! Nevertheless, I intend on keeping up the writing.  I will bring my laptop with me and use every minute I'm in my hotel room (when I'm not showering or sleeping) to write! I won't let this book fair drag me behind... hopefully.

Nellie 4 is going well. I had already written a part of it so I have a good idea where I'm headed and now I can write it without wasting too much time thinking about where to go next but soon, I will reach a part that was never written before. I hope I'll be able to keep pace although 1 700 words a day is a totally feasible thing so it should not be a problem... I'll let you know how it turns out!

As for my ghost story, I must admit I have a lot more fun writing this one! But since most of creative juice is drained from Nellie, when I reach The Bedford Hotel, I usually don't put in a lot of words... I'm still below 5k but I don't mind: I'm having fun! ^_^

To give you a general idea of what the ambiance of the book will be, here's an excerpt of it (my favorite one to this day).

Happy reading! ^_^

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(Novel excerpt)

Amy woke up in the middle of the night. Since she came back to the old family home, she hadn’t slept easy. This time, some bloodthirsty demon had chased her right out of her dreams. She woke up in sweaty sheets that she tossed aside, swinging her feet out of the bed. Her eyesight completely adjusted to darkness, Amy looked around at what was her bedroom while growing up. A reading chair, a desk, a small bookcase, a dresser. Everything was where she had left it: posters, trophies, teddies, books, candles. Even the bed was still in that same place, under a slant of the roof. Amy felt a sudden burst of heat on her face. It was so warm in here.

            Getting up, she walked towards the pillow-covered bench under the only window in the room. Why was that window even closed? Amy had always loved to leave her window open during the night, hearing the nocturnal crowd sing their songs while a cool breeze fluttered the curtains. Amy looked out the window into their backyard. After all those years she had been gone, everything was still the same on that patio. The chairs, the garden boxes, and their old barbecue grill. Amy frowned.

            Didn’t mom get rid of that thing years ago?

            The young woman shrugged and pushed the window open. However, the expected cool breeze did not enter the room. Amy started to feel like she might pass out from the heat. Wanting nothing more than something fresh on her face.

Water!

Suddenly stumbling through our own room in the darkness, Amy managed to find the door handle. Giving it a twist of the wrist, Amy left behind her dark room to gain access to an even darker landing. She took a few steps, a growing sense of blindness in her while she had to grope the hallway’s walls to find the bathroom. Finally, the contact of cold tiles under her feet informed her that she had reached her destination and Amy allowed herself to flick the light switch on and close the door behind her. Once her eyesight adjusted to the bright light, Amy grabbed the faucet’s knob and gave it a turn to get the coldest water this house could provide. The water flowed and Amy could wet her face with delight, lowering her entire body temperature to the point of shivering. Once back to normal, Amy turned off the water and dried her face. As a reflex, she glanced at her reflection in the bathroom’s mirror only to find it covered by a sheet.

‘That’s what mom would have wanted,’ she could hear Sara’s voice say. Amy rolled her eyes. Stupid superstition. She gave a pull on the sheet, freeing the glass.

Only where her own reflection should have been, her mother’s face was staring at her with wild eyes.

Amy screamed and sat straight in her bed. She gave her surroundings a bewildered look; everything was in its place in her old bedroom and the curtains were flying in the wind that slittered in the house through the open window. It had all been a dream.

Feeling her heart beating slower and slower in her chest, Amy gave a relieved sigh and lied back in bed but sleep escaped her. She tossed and turn a few times and was dozing off when a familiar buzzing sound drew her back to the surface: her cellphone was ringing.

She glanced at her alarm clock: 3:15. Who’s calling me at this hour? She grabbed her phone and checked the ID caller: unknown. No help there, but whoever it was, it had to be the bearer of bad news. Why else would anyone call someone in the middle of the night?

Amy picked up.

At first, nothing could be heard but static which slowly phased out to leave room to an odd, raspy kind of breathing.

“Hello?” called Amy again. “Who are you? Are you okay?”

Suddenly, all the noise on the line stopped. And as from a great distance, the distorted voice of a woman could be heard.

“Amy Bedford?”

“Yes?”

“Which side of the mirror are you on?”