Category Archives: About My Work

The Inevitable Blog Time-Out!

I woke up this weekend with a blaring realization: I’ve been sitting on the last 140 pages of my book’s final edit for about three weeks now.

Okay, so I wasn’t exactly purposely delaying. The last two weeks of the school year were more akin to a semi-truck smashing into my life than a gentle version of cruise control, and then of course last week I needed to take some “chill time” to transition into summer (see: The Readathon). Then came some serious errand and housecleaning time, and a quality weekend with my adorable niece (you may remember her as the Most Adorable Niecey On the Planet). All of this had to happen, but—yes, there’s a but—a little finger tapped me on the shoulder and drew me back to reality.

“Hey you,” I heard. “Remember me? Your book? The whole reason you started this blog in the first place?”

I tried to ignore it initially, but it just kept tapping—sweet little Kyresa, waiting impatiently for that one last edit to finally be done…

Which leads me directly to the inevitable blog time-out. For now I need to focus on this last edit of Kyresa. I’m simply too close to not put it at the top of the priority list. Don’t worry—my parents assure me I came out of the womb talking, and that I haven’t stopped ever since, so it would be impossible for me to cut out completely! I’ll probably just come a-knockin’ once a week instead of two or three times each week. I also don’t expect this will be for long—it’s only 140 more pages, after all!

In the meantime, my e-newsletter will be launching a little later in the month (after I finish editing); if you haven’t already signed up for it, now’s the time! The e-newsletter will contain updates on news, publications, and in time, appearances, and you will receive it no more than once a month.

To receive the e-newsletter, please send a blank email to: EvaRieder-subscribe@yahoogroups.comYou will receive a confirmation email with instructions shortly after. (Be sure to check your spam folder if you don’t see it within a few hours.) If you have a Yahoo account, you can also go directly to the group to join on-site by clicking here. Please join! You can unsubscribe at any time.

All right folks, a giant thank you to all of you for reading and following along. Wish me luck on my final edit, and I’ll be back next week!

🙂


What’s In a Name?

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

—From Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare

I’ve been editing my WIP, Kyresa, for the last time (and yes, I really mean it!). Since it is a fantasy book, it has a collection of unusual names, as do many of the books I read in the Fantasy and Sci-Fi genres. Add to that my plethora of friends with wildly interesting names, and I got to thinking—what’s in a name?

Parents often spend months coming up with a suitable list of names for their soon-to-be-born, one that will need to stick with the child as she grows up, takes on her own unique traits, and eventually becomes who and what she is as a person. So how is it that parents pick the perfect name?

And in a similar manner, how is it that we, as authors, pick our characters’ names?

We almost have an easier task, I think: we have a vision for a character, a set of traits, experiences, and journeys already in mind as we set about to write, and from this we can choose a name to match. Sometimes, we may already know the name in advance—and like the choosing of a baby name before parents know anything about their child, somehow, the name tends to fit. (And if it doesn’t, we can always change it later without the hassle of legal paperwork. Thank goodness!)

When I write, I usually have a vision of a character and then suddenly the name just comes out on paper. I really can’t explain how this happens—I see the character doing A, B, or C, and start typing, and then suddenly said character’s name is right there, typed in front of me. Usually, the name sticks. If nothing’s called to me immediately, the name will be a placeholder. I won’t lie—[the chick], [sassafras], and [what’s his face] have been used as temporary holds before. 🙂 Still, it’s generally pretty rare for me to not feel the rush of a suitable name. Even rarer is a name change—Kyresa actually underwent a slight change a year ago, requiring me to undo over a decade of pronouncing her name the old way as I talked about her character. That was tough. But tougher was finding a new name for a character I’d known so long. (Envision post-its with different spellings of names all over the house for a month and you’ve nailed the experience.)

Since I usually feel the name as I write, I suppose that explains how parents can look at their newborn and know the name they’ve chosen is the right one. So I’m curious—how do you pick names for your characters? Do you flip through baby books, or keep a catalog of names alphabetically? Do you sound out syllables until they match the feeling you have for the character? Or, do you simply drop them on the page like I do, changing them only if they conflict with your vision of the character?

Please feel free to share your methods in the comment section below. Whether it be for baby names or character names, how do you smell a rose? 🙂


Once Upon a Time Flash Fiction Pieces to be Published in an Anthology!

Who can wait to blog with this kind of news?! Honestly, I’ve been somewhat sitting on this over the weekend because I kept pinching myself to see if I was dreaming. But I’m not!

You may recall a series of flash fiction pieces I posted a couple of weeks ago, each contenders for entry into the Once Upon a Time “Unexpected Fairy Tale” Flash Fiction Contest. You read and voted, and I submitted your pick: “Rapunzel Had a Bad Hair Day.” Results of the contest won’t be in until National Flash Fiction Day on May 16th, but in the meantime…

I am delighted to share that the lovely ladies running the contest, Susi Holliday and Anna Meade, decided to put all the entries together in an anthology! That’s right, a published anthology available in both book and e-reader form!

I’m still reading through the 88 entries myself, but I’ve read nearly half so far and I can attest they are delightful works. Now you can not only read the entries online, but you can get all of them together in one charming little book—a collection of unexpected fairy tales in your very hands!

Turns out, all 88 of us authors had our own unexpected fairy tale waiting in the midst. Thank you to Susi and Anna for this wonderful gift! (They’re like real-live fairies!)

You can check out Susi’s blog for more information here: SJI Holliday. The book should be available on May 16th, to correspond with National Flash Fiction Day. I’ll keep you posted as well.

I’m going to sign off now to jump up and down and squeal. And kick up my heels. And dance around in circles as sprinkles rain down from the heavens. Yay! Happy day!


Join My Newsletter…and, From Math to English

Two topics for today.

First up: I’ve officially launched my e-newsletter!

The e-newsletter will be used as a way to announce publications and news related to my writing, and in time, it will provide information on appearances and events. It will be sent out about once a month to subscribers and is hosted by Yahoo groups.

To receive the e-newsletter, please send a blank email to: EvaRieder-subscribe@yahoogroups.comYou will receive a confirmation email with instructions shortly after. (Be sure to check your spam folder if you don’t see it within a few hours.) If you have a Yahoo account, you can also go directly to the group to join on-site by clicking here. Please join! You can unsubscribe at any time.

Next up: From Math to English!

While many of you know me as an author, you may not know that I am also a teacher by day. A high school Math teacher, to be precise. However…next year, I will finally make the transition into teaching English! For most of my friends and family members, this information came as no surprise—and more with a stream of comments along the lines of “Well, geez, Eva, it’s about time!” 🙂 While I’ve always been comfortable with and good at Math, I also tended to morph into “English girl” the moment I climbed into my car and drove home to write. So, becoming a hybrid teacher seemed like a good next step.

But how did this decision finally come about after ten years of teaching Math?

I suppose the idea bounced around in the back of my mind rather indirectly over the years, but in truth I believe it came largely from the inspiration I found in my Precalculus students last year, and most heavily from my fourth period class.

Engaging and fun, lively and clever, the class was one of my more memorable ones. I’m still not sure how it happened, but somewhere early on in the year they learned I had written a book. What delighted me was that their interest seemed beyond the traditional distract-the-teacher-from-the-lesson maneuvers when several of them kept asking me about it outside of class. I was honored to know they were interested! After many requests and conversations, I promised my fourth period class that I would have a “book jacket” for them to read by the end of the year.

These students were so enthusiastic—they checked in every few weeks and rooted me on. Having them interested in Eva Rieder the Human as opposed to Eva Rieder the Math Teacher was incredibly flattering and sweet, and so I did indeed share that jacket with them at the end of the year, and their excitement warmed my heart.

Then came the final seal: I had all of my Precalculus classes do a short writing activity to reflect on their experience in the course. In Math, we talk formulas, procedures, strategies, and applications, but we never really get to just talk. Reading the reflections of my four classes—their musings, their interests, and their challenges—was so extraordinarily inspiring; I remember reading them on a bike at the gym (no kidding) and thinking, “THIS! This is what I want to hear from my students. I want more of this!”

The very next day I decided to move over to English, a career change that would allow me to learn more about my students and the way they think, and that would also partner smoothly with my writing passion.

Teaching something so dramatically different will certainly require some adjustment; nonetheless, I am thrilled for the change. To be clear, I would never have gotten to this decision as easily as I did if it hadn’t been for about 92 wonderful, inspiring Precalculus kids.

So for all those students, I would like to send out a giant thank you. I’ve never felt so lucky to have such great kids in my classes!

Wishing everyone success with all their reading, writing, and number-crunching! 🙂

***

To subscribe to Eva Rieder’s e-Newsletter, please email: EvaRieder-subscribe@yahoogroups.com


Quoth The Raven

After a particularly long and stressful week, I decided there was exactly one thing I wanted to do last night: go see The Raven.

I’ve always had a special place in my heart for Edgar Allan Poe. The 19th century dark poet and author was one whose work I treasured in high school because I tended to favor the romantic lyricism of his work, as well as his gory imagination. I admit that my previously shared flair for the dramatic didn’t hurt my fascination with the man, either.

So, walking into the theatre, this deep adoration had me hoping James McTeigue’s direction of The Raven would delight me as much as Roland Emmerich’s did in Anonymous last year (great movie, if you haven’t checked it out yet). Though I think the cinematography of The Raven was lovely—the period thriller is set in 1849 Baltimore, a time of colorful and decadent wardrobes, quaint horse-drawn carriages, and bleakly dark cobblestone streets—and the concept was clever, the movie did not quite meet my expectations. The admirable John Cusack seemed believable as a goateed Poe at first, but I soon found myself put off by some of his attempts to speak in the style of his character. In all honesty, I think most of the actors came across that way—their acting seemed fine, but something about their dialogue didn’t click. In Anonymous, I never felt uncomfortable with or aware of the actors’ Shakespearean dialects; here, I felt everyone struggled, spending more of their focus on attempting to command the romantic language than acting their parts. Blood spewing violence aside, I felt the movie had a unique idea that could have been a little bit clearer, and perhaps needed more depth.

Fortunately, I have a knack for enjoying most movies, even those that leave a bad taste in my mouth. Despite my criticism of The Raven, I did find some prettiness embedded in it—namely, the frequent quoting of Poe’s stories as he connected the serial killer to his artistry. If for no other reason, I enjoyed the movie for bringing Poe’s language to the screen and into the ears of a new audience.

Now for some fun: mesh a flair for the dramatic with a love of Poe and a 14-year-old girl, and what do you get? Some really over-the-top poetry. When I arrived home last night, I remembered Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” and “The Raven” once inspired an intensely mad work of my own. Since it’s always good to poke some fun at oneself, and for your amusement, I thought I’d share a piece that a 14-year-old me wrote for a high school English class—and which my teacher found so dramatic, he actually read it aloud to the class, complete with wild hand gestures…Oh boy. Hold on tight, folks, there’s some real teen angst in this one:

Madness

Alas!

What brought it on?

Was it the anguish inside or

Was it the torture on the outside?

Did the cold nights of loneliness

With the terrible insomnia

Of the pain for tomorrow

Bring it about?

Was it rejection, and the feelings

You threw harshly at me?

Maybe it was blackness

That burnt through my window,

Burning until nothing was left

But a shriveled, diminutive

Shell of what I had once been,

Forcing me into eternal insanity.

You laugh at the torture

I must withstand,

But oh!

How you bring it on, let it continue.

Stop this pain you cause me!

Don’t laugh!  No!

Hold me!  Love me!

Be as you once were.

Halt your squalid words,

Your painful ideas.

Don’t grin at me;

So insolent and deluding.

Deceiving and conniving,

Stop it!  Please!

You’re calloused and shrewd.

What caused it?

And in your insinuating actions,

Your insubordinate ways,

Do you realize a

Part of me tears away?

I’m going mad.

You caused it.

You’ve torn my heart to shreds, but

You keep laughing

With your gimlet eyes

Shooting impetuous hatred

My way.

Why?

The pain is

Causing me great

Indignation.

So stop!

You’ve pinioned me against

A wall of thorns

And you won’t release me

Until…

You won’t tell me either!

Stop it, please!

My will to live is gone!

I don’t exist.

I’m just not here.

Stop!

It won’t be long.

You’ve killed my heart,

You’ve killed my soul.

You keep on killing

And you won’t let go.

Your passion to

Hurt me

Is driving me mad;

I’m declining

In more ways than one.

I’m nautious

With your treatment;

Steadily vomiting your putrid

Love out of my system.

But it won’t all leave.

No, it’s still there,

But covered with your madness.

Your madness

My madness,

You’ve given it to me

Like a plague, a disease.

I’m crying out,

Unplug your ears

I love you, please!

I’ve lost my will

I can’t hold on

Save me from this death

You’ve left me mad and insane.

And now…

I’m gone.

***

Wow. There’s probably a reason I switched to fantasy and contemporary fiction instead of poetry… 🙂

If you would like to read more about Edgar Allan Poe, please check out the Edgar Allan Poe Museum or PoeStories.com. You can also read more of Poe’s work at PoetryLovers.com.

Have a great weekend, everyone!


Once Upon a Time Official Entry Day!

Happy Sunday, everyone! First, I’d like to say thank you for reading this week’s four-day series and for taking the time to vote. I enjoyed having you be part of the process for picking my official “Once Upon a Time (OUAT) Flash Fiction Writing Contest” entry. National Flash Fiction Day is May 16th, and this flash fiction contest was set up by the lovely folks over at Yearning for Wonderland in honor of the first annual U.K. event. The rules were simple: 350 words or less on the theme of “Unexpected Fairy Tales.”

So, I offered up three flash shorts for you to pick from (you can see all three here: Flash Fiction Works), and you voted on your favorite. Your second choice pick was “Henrietta’s Love Song,” but your favorite piece, earning 57% of the votes, was “Rapunzel Had a Bad Hair Day.”

Thank you again for reading and participating. Below is my official entry, and at the bottom of this post is a link to some great entries by other authors. Be sure to check all of them out!

 

Rapunzel Had a Bad Hair Day

by Eva Rieder

They say Rapunzel had the longest hair. What was she in? A tower of some 73 feet?

Well naturally, I found my way to that tower, chest puffed and neck straining, and stared on up that ungodly height to the little face peering out at me. I slayed the witch yesterday, so it seemed I had a fair chance of making it up to my Princess.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your—”

“Got it,” she screamed, and down came the tangled mess of hair.

I suppose I should understand that a gal trapped in a tower with a mane almost 73 feet long is worth waiting for, but that’s a pretty long climb on a lot of split ends. I didn’t really believe it until I started climbing, Rapunzel bitching almost the entire time.

“Ow. Ow. That really hurts.”

“I’m the Prince, Rapunzel!” I said, but she kept on whining.

When I approached the top, the tension grew ever tighter, and her bemoaning of the situation ever louder. I had to ask myself, what kind of Princess gets herself trapped in a tower?

And did she bathe?

So it was as I tossed myself over the window ledge that I slowly peeled open my eyes, Rapunzel cranking her hair back onto her head with some sort of pulley system and fussing as if she had a head big enough to house this dreadlocked mess. But really she had a pinhead. A pretty little pinhead, but not one befitting that length of hair. She smoothed her hands along her dress and smiled—you know a girl trapped in a tower hasn’t seen a dentist, right?—and I just scoped it all out with a sigh.

“I’ve come to rescue you, Rapunzel.”

“Oh Prince!” she squealed. She looked a tad on the old side, really, but I guess she’d have to be to have that hair. She wrapped her gnarled hands around my neck, and when she planted her kisses over my face I resolved first thing we’d get her teeth cleaned.

“You saved me!”

Oh yeah, I sure did.

***

Thanks for reading!




It’s Voting Day! Which OUAT Flash Fiction Piece is YOUR Pick?

Well, the time has finally come—Voting Day of the four-day blog series!

For the past three days, I’ve been sharing the pieces I created for the “Once Upon a Time (OUAT) Flash Fiction Writing Contest” in honor of National Flash Fiction Day. The contest required the story to be no more than 350 words on the theme of “Unexpected Fairy Tales,” and today I am asking YOU to place your vote for the piece you would like me to enter into the contest.

If you are just joining or would like to review the stories, you can check them out at the following links: Henrietta’s Love Song, Rapunzel Had a Bad Hair Day, and Prince Charming Has My Shoe. Then please cast your vote below. The poll will remain open until 6 p.m. P.S.T. on Saturday, April 21st, and on Sunday the 22nd, I will post the results as well as my official entry.

Thank you so much for reading and for being a part of this vote—I’m excited to see which piece is your favorite, and I am also looking forward to entering it into the OUAT contest! Also, thank you to those of you who have commented on the stories. Feedback is always appreciated and welcome.

And now…<kazoo sounds here>…time to cast your vote!

Thanks again for participating!


OUAT Flash Fiction Entry Possibility #3…Vote is Tomorrow!

Happy Wednesday, everyone! Today is the third of a four-day blog series to determine which flash fiction short I should enter into the “Once Upon a Time (OUAT) Flash Fiction Writing Contest,” in preparation for the first National Flash Fiction Day. OUAT expectations are simple: no more than 350 words on the theme of “Unexpected Fairy Tales.”

I crafted three pieces and—heavy in the throes of indecisiveness—decided that I would leave the choice of which story to enter up to YOU, my wonderful blog readers! The pieces have been posted daily, and tomorrow this site will be hosting a vote for you to pick which story should be used as my entry. Monday’s story was Henrietta’s Love Song. Yesterday brought you Rapunzel Had a Bad Hair Day.

Please be advised, today’s story includes some PG-13 content, but without further ado, here is…

 

Prince Charming Has My Shoe

 

So I left my shoe at the friggin’ ball.

My step-mom’s freaking out and the steps are driving me mad, and all I’m doing here is scrubbing the floor to shut them up but I really wish I could get my shoe back.

I worked out a deal with that nasty fairy and she’s going to come to collect, all bibbety-bobbety-boo like, and shit’s gonna go down if I don’t have that shoe.

When the spawn girls leave the room to pick their zits I rummage through the closet again to see if maybe I misplaced it myself, but I clearly remember getting home lopsided—one foot cut up from hikin’ it through the forest and the other cramped tight thanks to those godforsaken heels.

Of course…I was a little drunk, so it’s hard to remember exactly what happened after that sweet ass prince handed me the spiked punch.

I think we danced a little. There may have been some fireworks. I don’t really recall, but I think the step-mom might be onto something those times she’s called me a floozy.

The good news is that the girls are all squawking about the Prince showing up, because apparently he thinks the love of his life wears the damn shoe. Please. That would be me, and I don’t really care, but I definitely could use that shoe back.

“Cinderella,” the godmother says, but I wave her off and run out to greet the Prince at the door.

“Try me first, Charming,” I say. The godmother fairy has started hovering in the doorway behind him. Can he smell that?

He slips the shoe over my toes and starts crying like a baby in delight, so I smack him and run. When I get to my room I chuck the glittered shoe at the nagging fairy and knock her out cold.

I’ve already got a bad rap in this town so who cares? I’m free and clear and can get back to my work, so they can talk all the talk they want; I’ve still got my soul.

Sweet deal.

 

***

 

Thank you for reading, and please feel free to share your thoughts and comments at the bottom of this post. Don’t forget to come back by tomorrow to vote for your pick.

You can check out other participants’ entries by scrolling to the bottom of the page at Yearning for Wonderland’s OUAT Contest. There are many fantastic stories to read!


Once Upon a Time Flash Fiction Entry Possibility #2

Welcome to Day Two of my journey into flash fiction! For those of you just joining, I am participating in the “Once Upon a Time (OUAT) Flash Fiction Writing Contest” in honor of National Flash Fiction Day. The contest theme is “Unexpected Fairy Tales” and there is exactly one rule: the entry must be no more than 350 words.

Since I had so much fun with the challenge, I ended up writing three pieces. I’ll be posting them daily through Wednesday—but I can only enter one piece, so I am leaving the decision up to YOU!

On Thursday, please be sure to vote for your pick; the story with the most votes will be my entry to the OUAT contest. Yesterday’s blog entry contained Henrietta’s Love Song. Today’s story is…

 

Rapunzel Had a Bad Hair Day

 

They say Rapunzel had the longest hair. What was she in? A tower of some 73 feet?

Well naturally, I found my way to that tower, chest puffed and neck straining, and stared on up that ungodly height to the little face peering out at me. I slayed the witch yesterday, so it seemed I had a fair chance of making it up to my Princess.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your—”

“Got it,” she screamed, and down came the tangled mess of hair.

I suppose I should understand that a gal trapped in a tower with a mane almost 73 feet long is worth waiting for, but that’s a pretty long climb on a lot of split ends. I didn’t really believe it until I started climbing, Rapunzel bitching almost the entire time.

“Ow. Ow. That really hurts.”

“I’m the Prince, Rapunzel!” I said, but she kept on whining.

When I approached the top, the tension grew ever tighter, and her bemoaning of the situation ever louder. I had to ask myself, what kind of Princess gets herself trapped in a tower?

And did she bathe?

So it was as I tossed myself over the window ledge that I slowly peeled open my eyes, Rapunzel cranking her hair back onto her head with some sort of pulley system and fussing as if she had a head big enough to house this dreadlocked mess. But really she had a pinhead. A pretty little pinhead, but not one befitting that length of hair. She smoothed her hands along her dress and smiled—you know a girl trapped in a tower hasn’t seen a dentist, right?—and I just scoped it all out with a sigh.

“I’ve come to rescue you, Rapunzel.”

“Oh Prince!” she squealed. She looked a tad on the old side, really, but I guess she’d have to be to have that hair. She wrapped her gnarled hands around my neck, and when she planted her kisses over my face I resolved first thing we’d get her teeth cleaned.

“You saved me!”

Oh yeah, I sure did.

 

***

 

Thanks so much for being part of the vote on Thursday, and please feel free to share your thoughts and comments at the bottom of this post.

There are many great authors entering this contest, and you can check them out by scrolling to the bottom of the page at Yearning for Wonderland’s OUAT Contest. Happy reading everyone, and thanks for participating!


Once Upon a Time Flash Fiction Entry Possibility #1 (The First of a Four Day Blog Series)

Generally, I try to post about every three days—but today will be the first of a four part, four day series…with a twist!

I found the “Once Upon a Time Flash Fiction Writing Contest” last week, gearing up for National Flash Fiction Day over in the UK.

THE THEME: “Unexpected Fairy Tales.” THE RULES: 350 words (or less) of flash fiction about an “unexpected” fairy tale.

I decided to go for it…however, me being me, I had so much fun I couldn’t write just one! (Read: I like to have options, hence the five different types of lotion in my bathroom vanity and three different shampoo types in the shower at all times. Go figure.) So I wrote three. Three quick little tales to debate over for entry—but here’s the fun twist: I’m going to let YOU decide which one I should enter!

Starting today, I will post one of my entry possibilities each day. Then on Thursday I’ll post a vote box and you, wonderful you, can help be part of my decision process for which piece to enter.

I’ve never really tried my hand at flash fiction before—it’s short, sweet, and oh.so.rapidly to the point. I had a great time with it, and I hope you enjoy the pieces I created. All three are extraordinarily different, and for lack of a better plan, I will simply post them in the order I wrote them. 🙂

Thanks so much for being part of the vote on Thursday, and please feel free to share your thoughts and comments at the bottom of this post. Also, I have included a link to other entries if you’d like to check them out. They’re quite entertaining!

All right, here goes (and I better start before the length of my intro exceeds the piece!). Today’s possible entry, the first of three:

 

Henrietta’s Love Song

Henrietta was a pianist.

Or at least, she thought she was a pianist.

Really what this meant was that on any given day, she would rush home with the faintest red tinge across her puffy cheeks, her breath caught in her throat from the frantic run she’d endured all three miles from the prison she called her high school, and then, throwing herself through the front door with a half-grin at her tired mother, she would drop her bag and plop down in front of the piano.

And then she would play. Long, careful strokes across the freshly polished keys, her raggedy voice tuning in here and there as she pressed the notes that sounded like a fairy tale to her, the whimsical melody that played all day in her head as she stared at him.

Him.

Charlie.

Her buddy on the track team, the most handsomest beautiful boy on the planet that she couldn’t stop thinking about ever!

“Henrietta!” her mother shrieked from the kitchen. “Do we have to do this? Again?”

Henrietta closed her eyes and played, her eyes pinched so tightly shut as she played blind—yes blind, for she didn’t need her eyes to see Charlie’s melody in her head!—and she played until her fingers blistered, that image of him in her mind.

“Seriously, Henrietta, this has got to stop.”

But Henrietta ignored her mother, playing the same song for what would be the twenty-seventh day in a row, some Bach piece that she hummed when he passed her on the 100 meter stretch of the track… “I really like your shoes, Henrietta.”

“Your phone, Henrietta!”

She paused, her fingers folded ever so gently, frozen.

“Caller ID says ‘Charlie,’” her mother said.

Henrietta slammed her hands down on the keys, her breath tight in her chest as her mother thrust the phone against her ear.

“Henrietta,” Charlie said, his voice trilling like the notes of her song. She leaned into it, sighing, delighted, hoping…

“I think you left your shoes in my bag. Come and get them.”

***

Feel free to share your thoughts, and thanks for voting on Thursday!

To check out other fantastic entries, be sure to head over to the OUAT website and scroll down to the bottom of the page.


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