Friday, January 1, 2010

Chapter XI. Havenword

C 2004 By Gracie Prior
( Welcome back to Fridays. Last time, the Scribblers were beginning to enjoy their new clubhouse, Havenword.)
The Scribblers, first and foremost writers, all have journals or diaries. Terry writes in his:
Dr. Quentin,
It's me, Terry, again. I know it's been a long time since I've put anything down in here, but I have been so busy. Butch had us working on his clubhouse night and day it seemed. Then, Dad has been feeling awful. He coughs almost every night and keeps us up. Not that I care, but it must hurt. The doctor, not you my dear Dr. Quentin, said he needed rest and gave him some medicine. He says his lungs are going, whatever that means, and that's all he can do. Dad just looks so sorry, like he feels it's his fault he's sick. Well, maybe it is, sort of. The doctor said he smoked too much and now his lungs are shot. Who would think? So Dad quit smoking, too. I just want to hug him and make it better, but I can't. See Doc , I'm just a kid, and kids can't do anything. Not one blessed thing. Oops, Mom better not see that. She won't. You're a secret I keep hidden under my bed. Hope you don't mind, Old Man. Well I have to go. I get to go to the store for Mom and get some bread and milk. She's letting me buy bubble gum, but I don't care about that. I just want to do something. Doesn't anybody get it? I am a member of this family, too. And I"m just stuck. Always, Terry
Terry get back from the store in time to catch the Scribblers at the new clubhouse. Havenword was such a wonderful place. Just the four of them could hide out and do their writing, acting, journals, and sharing secrets. Mary had decided they should do as Butch joked and run around the house every day they were meeting. It felt good to get up and they could say they exercised, and it was sort of a private joke. They always came back to the clubhouse refreshed and giggling. It seemed to improve their brains too, because after getting settled again, they came up with great ideas.
Terry lay back on a new canvas lawn chair in the corner. Along one side of the room, Butch and his dad had built bookshelves. Now all their plays could be stored in file boxes. Mary, Butch, and Jimmy sat in straight school chairs at a small table. They were adding to the short one-act play. It was called A Chosen Generation. Mary and Jimmy were just ready to go through a final run with the new additions. Mary's character, Congruent, meets a boy, Aaron, in the desert. He has a lame horse. She skillfully helps shod him and they discover that they are on the same dangerous journey to save the world. After false identities, arguing, and hurried preparations, they mount the horse and head out on The Quest. That is the extent of the play.
"And so, Aaron and Congruent head off toward that bright and shining object in the mountains," Butch reads as narrator. "Good job you two. It's short, but exciting. We'll add one of our old plays we did before you came, Mary, and call it a two-fer. And we'll charge less. Let's all get gung-ho for selling tickets like last time. Mary, can you get your mom to helps us again?"
"Sure, I think so. But I'd like some help. You guys need to go door to door and get people excited. Let's go ask some businesses in town if they will sponsor us. Maybe we could get programs and put adds in for them. My mom, can help with that, too. She's got connections."
"Really?" Butch asked. "You guys just got here."
"She works fast." Mary answered.
"Say, Mary, what does your dad do?"
"Not much, I'm sorry to say, he's a preacher."
"Mary," Jimmy said frowning at her.
"Sorry, I mean he does a lot. We just don't see him much because he's always out."
"Terry, you haven't said much," Butch said looking in the corner.
"Nope, I haven't."
(Next time: Terry gets involved in a new opportunity.)

No comments:

Post a Comment