I’ve been struggling with thinking of something to write, so I’m not going to write a blog post. Instead, I’m posting the first, rough draft, chapter of the latest WIP.
If you’re not into reading books, not blogs, feel free to parooz the archives.
If you do read, remember it’s only the first write through, so it somewhat sucks at the moment. After 50 rounds of revision it will be better, promise.
This is what I spend so much of my time writing. This is my passion and what I love to do.
Chapter One: Awakening the Grimm
It was a remarkably ordinary afternoon when the remarkably ordinary man came into the library. I probably would not have paid much attention to him had it not been for his odd choice of books.
They were all faery tales.
I just eyed the books and stared at the man, who appeared to be in his mid-forties.
“Lovely day today.” He said absent-mindedly.
“Mm hmm.” I mumbled scanning the bar codes of the books.
“Have you worked here long?”
“A few months.” I mumbled scribbling the due dates onto the cards.
“Do you enjoy faery tales?” The stranger asked.
I stopped what I was doing and just looked at him, “I did, when I was a kid.”
“It’s a good thing to know your history.” He said very matter-of-factly.
“The history section is over there.” I pointed to a stack of cases to my left, “You went to the children’s section.”
“These are history.” He whispered while leaning over the desk.
“Okay.” I said rolling my eyes.
“Have you ever read anything by the Brothers Grimm.”
“Alright, ha ha, it was funny the first time I heard it. So, which one of my idiotic friends put you up to it?”
“What are you talking about miss?” He asked looking confused.
“You’re going to make a Grimm joke right? Because my name is Delma Grimm.”
“Delma Grimm you say.”
“Yes. You can tell whoever sent you the joke is getting old.”
“I do not know what you mean miss.” The man said gathering his books.
“Are you related to them? The Grimm brothers.”
“I don’t know dude. Where did you get these? There is no place for the card, or a card.”
“Somewhere in the back.”
“Alright, I’ll just write-up a card.”
“How is it possible to not know one’s family history?” He asked.
“Because my folks died when I was a kid. I don’t know what my family history is.” I stared at him while putting his books into a leather satchel.
As I was placing the last book in, LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD, my finger slid across one of the pages. I pulled my hand back and stared as the blood pooled to the surface and slid down my finger and onto the book. The leather cover seemed to absorb my blood. It was one of the weirdest thing I had ever seen. I quickly grabbed a tissue and rubbed at the cover, but nothing came off. I stared at the tissue for a few moments and went back to rubbing the cover. Still nothing. I opened the book and saw the blood seeping through the pages. It seemed to disappear right into the paper and ink.
The old man arched his eyebrows and stared at the book.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how that happened. I’ll get you a new book.”
“No, no. That one will do just fine.”
“My blood is on it.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“That is because it just disappeared into the book.”
“Interesting. Well, have a lovely day Noble protector.”
I stared after the old man as he tipped his hat and walked out the door. Over the years I had grown accustomed to the jokes and assholery of people because of my last name, but this guy didn’t seem to really be mocking me. I guess I couldn’t help but be defensive at times. The people who actually knew who the Grimm brothers were always asked the same question, “Are you related to the Grimm’s?”
I didn’t know. After the car accident killed my parents and my brother, my grandparents did not find it necessary to talk about family or my past. Quite frankly I did not care enough to push the subject.
I sat back down and picked up my book, laughing to myself that anybody thought those kids stories were anything more than that. Just kid stories.