#project spellbind

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It’s one of those days when summer licks at spring’s heels. The temperature is hot and the air hangs thick and humid. 

Winnie dips her toe into the creek. “It’s cold.” 

I laugh. “Good. I’m burning up out here.”

I put down my cup of lemonade next to the pitcher that Winnie’s mama sent with us and wade into the creek. The cold water rushes around me and plasters my bathing suit to my skin. 

I turn around to see Winnie still standing on the creek bank, her feet slowly sinking into the mud. Her Ethel Moses bob frames her face as she’s silhouetted by the afternoon sun. 

“You coming in, Freddy?” 

Winnie rolls her eyes at me. “Not if you call me that!”

I stick my tongue out in response. “Okay, Winifred.” 

She sits down on the bank and slides in to meet me. 

“Count of three?” I ask. 

“You know it!” Winnie’s grin is crooked and pink as hollyhocks. 

“One…” I start.

“Two.” 

“Three!” 

We go under. The chilly water rushes around us. The only sound other than the roaring creek: the steady thump-thump-thump of my heart in my ears.  

I stay under until my chest aches for air. Then, and only then, I let my feet push off from the smooth rocks at the bottom of the creek, propelling me back into the air.

I gasp for the hot, sticky, spring-sweet air and let it fill me up. A wet strand of hair gets into my mouth and I splutter, trying to get it out. 

Winnie laughs across from me, her skin glistening with creek-water in the blazing sun. “You okay?” 

“You know me.” I smile back, combing my fingers through my wet hair and pushing as much as I can behind my ears. “I’m always okay.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Winnie laughs. “Except for that time that you tripped over your own Mary Janes and thought you broke your arm. You cried hours until the doctor told you it was fine.” 

“It hurt!” I defend “And we were seven! It’s not like you haven’t had any embarrassing moments, Freddy.” I raise my eyebrows. “Need I remind you of what happened in Mrs. Delmar’s class?”

Before I can get another word out, a man-made wave comes towards my head. My mouth fills with creek-water. 

“Ew! Winnie!” I splash her back. 

She shrieks and dives under to avoid my attack. When she pops up again, I try to splash her again -- but she barely pauses for breath before diving back under. 

I can’t see where she is and then --

A wave of ice-cold water catches me in the face. I’m sputtering and wiping my eyes and coughing up creek-water. 

“Okay, okay!” I put my hands up. “I yield.”

“As you should.” Winnie says. “As the loser, can you grab me some lemonade?” 

I roll my eyes and acquiesce.

I wade back to the bank and pour Winnie a glass from the pretty glass pitcher. I pour myself some too. I take a sip, face puckering at the way the sourness burns in my throat. 

I turn back around, holding Winnie’s cup in my hand. 

She’s gone. 

Of course, I know what comes next. This is a memory after all. Winnie is going to jump out from behind a tree on the other side of a creek and then we will both laugh and play in the creek until it gets dark and we have to go home. 

Or, Winnie should come out from behind a tree. But the seconds tick past with just the roaring of the creek and my heartbeat in my ears. 

“Winnie?” I ask, voice trembling. “The joke’s over. I have your lemonade and you can come out now.” 

But she doesn’t. 

“Winnie?” I say again. “This isn’t funny anymore.” 

But Winnie’s gone. 

I spin around, expecting to see her standing on this side of the creek or wading towards me in the water or splashing me to prove a point. 

“Come on, Winnie, please!” My voice trembles. “I’m going to call you Freddy until you come out. Freddy, Freddy, Freddy, Freddy…”

I’m cut off by something nudging against my side. Winnie’s arm brushes against me. She’s floating on her back, arms stretched out as if she’s trying to backfloat.  

Except her lips are tinged blue. 

I drop the cup and let the tide carry it away. I grab Winnie by the shoulders and pull her up to the creek bank. I check her pulse the way Mama told me to do but the next step is to call a doctor if something was wrong and something is wrong because she’s not breathing, she’s not breathing, she’s not breathing.

I wake up to a buzzing dread climbing up my back like a ladder. I want to run to Winnie’s house, knock on her door, and convince myself she’s okay. I want Winnie’s mama to call me “honey” or “darling” and make me a cup of tea while Winnie gets ready to go out. I want to hug Winnie and promise I’ll never call her Freddy again if she doesn’t want me to. But I can’t. 

Because Winnie’s not even alive anymore. Neither is Winnie’s mama or my Mama or Mrs. Declan or the doctor who always used to check on us when we were ill. 

It’s just me. 

[Taglist under the cut.] 

Current word count: 50,168

Plan: I’m going to go through the whole draft a couple more times, try to fix some of the pacing, and then put it away for a while (aka one of my friends bullied me into letting her read it so I’m going to do that and then see what her feedback is so I can work on my second draft.) 

HAVE A NICE FLUFFY PROJECT SPELLBIND SNIPPET I’M SO HYPE

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“What do you want to do with your 16th year?” I ask. It’s a family tradition. Mama asks me what I hope to do during my 7th year or 12th year or 15th year. It hurts that she won’t be able to ask me what I’m doing with my 16th year. But at least I can start the tradition over with someone else. Someone I care about. 

Lydia shrugs. “I don’t really know.” 

I nudge her shoulder with mine. “It doesn’t have to be anything important. Just small things that you want to do.”

“Fine,” Lydia says as though she’s annoyed. But I know her well enough to know that the scrunch of her nose means she’s joking. “I want more moonlit, rain-drenched dances on the rooftop.” She sways towards me to knock into my shoulder. “I want to hold your hand and run through the halls.” She takes a deep breath. “I want to feel a little less guilty. Maybe, just maybe, I want to try to use my affinity. I’m not sure though.” 

She smiles at me with mischievous eyes. “I’m certain of one thing, though.” She leans her head forward, blonde hair falling forward with her. “I know I want to kiss you.” 

I laugh and lean in. We pay no mind to the other students. There are no other people in this little world of ours. We’re on the grass, the air is perfumed with flowers, and Lydia’s lips taste like cream cheese frosting.

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taglist under the cut! comment or dm if you would like to be added or removed :)

Tagged by @mousetache 

Since NaNoWriMo starts in less than an hour (I’m going to die), I wanted to revisit Spellbind. I’m going to be using this NaNo to work on an assortment of things, one of which is a tentative second draft of Spellbind!

Most Likely to be a Poet: Lydia would be an artsy bullet-journal poet, Seren would be a depressed Instagram poet

Most Likely to Look Good in a Kilt: Clarence

Most Likely to Get Punched in the Face: Lydia’s dad. By me. 

Most Likely to Drop Everything and Become a Sheep Herder: Seren, right after she wakes up. 

Most Likely to be Found in a Library: Lydia. (But honestly all my characters are nerd children and I love them.)

Most Likely to Sleep Through an Earthquake: Seren (I mean, that’s the plot.)

Most Likely to Steal Food from Other People’s Plates: Seren, once she’s gotten really close to someone. 

Most Likely to Cheat on a Test: None!!! They are small and pure and I love them.

Most Likely to Say “Oops” After Setting Something on Fire: Seren 

Most Likely to Open an Orphanage: Lydia

Most Likely to Run Off With the Circus: Seren, mostly because she likes running away from her problems. 

Most Likely to Fake Their Own Death: Clarence, just for kicks and giggles. 

Most Likely to Die and Haunt Their Friends: Winnie 

i refuse to ever let this meme die 

taglist below the cut (please dm or comment if you’d like to be added or removed!)

TITLE

Project Spellbind (i have not finalized the title yet)

STATUS

outline is complete, writing first draft during July’s Camp Nanowrimo

GENRE[S]

fantasy, coming-of-age but with magic

POV

first person, narrated by Seren  

SETTING

an old boarding school turned day school, a remnant from the twentieth century (much like Seren).  it’s near the border of an unnamed city and from the rooftop you can see the city lights masquerading as stars, even as the light pollution dulls the night sky.

the shell of a beloved childhood home, overgrown and overrun.

a place you once knew well and now seem to not know at all. at least the smell of the flowers in the garden has stayed the same.

the mid-2020s, in a world where everyone has “affinities” to different kinds of magic

THEMES

loss

growing up

mourning

childhood

the meaning of truth

the meaning of lies

freedom

falling in love

AESTHETIC

holding her hand and feeling sunlight against your skin

overgrown roses

sitting on the roof and talking to the stars

a childhood home, abandoned

picnics on the grass

that awkward teenage feeling of not fitting in your own skin

sipping stolen champagne

the power of a misplaced word (especially when your affinity is the ability to control people with your words)

FEATURES

queer girls falling in love

queer girls fighting against homophobia

lots and lots of magic

it was originally a sleeping beauty retelling so maybe keep that in mind?

victors wrote the history books but maybe it's time to rewrite them

references to the america of the 1920s because i said so   

the question of whether or not we have to follow in our parents’ footsteps

LENGTH

one book, hopefully 50,000-75,000 words in length

comment or DM if you’d be interested in being on the taglist <3

Guys! We’ve all made it a week <3 I’m so proud of everyone whose done NaNo.

words: 2,205

what i wrote: My friend came over and we worked on our Greek Mythology inspired One Act and then I wrote some more Spellbind!

what’s up next: I’m actively trying to untangle the part in Spellbind that isn’t very coherent timeline wise and actually planning out a timeline to follow :) 

fave line(s): 

From One Act: “I know your fear, young queen, I once held it in my hands.”

From Spellbind: “She seems like a hair ribbon and lace trim kind of girl, like the ones who looked down their noses at me and Winnie, so I brace myself when she starts to speak. 

Instead of whatever cruel comment I expected, she asks “Are you lost?” in a voice as soft and sweet as a summer breeze.” 

ADD MORE DUALITY OF LIGHT AND DARK 

Seriously have some more classroom scenes babe. What is this.

why the fuck does it start and end in 1993?? there’s a literal New Year’s sequence. that’s not how time works. 

Add more scenes of Mrs. Adara being the goat.

words: 1606

what i wrote: I re-wrote chapters 2+3 of Spellbind!! 

what’s up next: More Spellbind :)

fave line(s): 

Miss Halley sighs. I can’t place her expression. She looks the way Mama did when I was little and would run to her, scrape-kneed and crying.She looks troubled.