Day 7 - 12,570 Words

I have two pieces of good news: 1) The heat finally broke today, at least for a little while and 2) I bought PEANUT BUTTER M&Ms at the grocery store :)

I was having a lot of trouble writing in the present today. I had to get Mark going, he has to get back to his childhood hometown, and I wasn't sure either of how to make him do it, or how to give him more modern information about the town. I spent a good long time thinking about it before I figured out that I had already given myself all that I needed, and all that Mark needed - we had both just forgotten about it.

Not really sure what to post, but I'm putting something older so I don't reveal too much of the plot. Here is an excerpt from when Jake and Mark first meet Tom Sullivan.

One especially hot afternoon in July, about a week after what Jake had dubbed “That Thing We Don’t Talk About”, Jake and Mark welcomed a new member to their club.  A club bonded together by their mutual experiences with evil. 

 Almost all of the children in the town under the age of thirteen, gathered together at The Lake each day as the heat rose to a boil in the late morning. Mark and Jake usually kept to themselves, but they were drawn to Tom. Tom Sullivan was a kind child, with a cherubic face smattered with freckles. He was short for his age, and had red hair which he wore in an unfashionable and quite lengthy mullet. But Tom, like Mark and Jake, had that darkness in his eyes. Tom, like Mark and Jake, knew something that the other kids didn’t know.

That afternoon, Tom was sitting by himself on a bench with his nose in a book, as per usual. Tom did not have many friends, and spent most of his time reading whatever he could get his hands on. Today, he was reading a novel entitled “Can you here the drums, Fernando?” the front cover decorated with a photo of what appeared to be a WAG sporting a bubblegum pink short sleeved terry cloth hoodie with matching shorts. The content of this novel was well beyond what these boys from a very small town of less than 1,000 souls, in very Northern Ontario would ever understand, but Tom was reading it with relish.

“Hi,” Jake said casually.

           “Hi,” Tom replied, his tone begging the question of why this boy was talking to him as he reluctantly peeled his eyes from “Can you hear the drums, Fernando?”

Until next time, faithful readers.