Blog #5 - "May All of the Dirt Across the Land be Lice"

Everyone knows the saying ‘those who lie with dogs get fleas.’ In St. Abel some are more acquainted with the saying than others. Those who possibly join cults get lice.

Dorothy was out late that night. Or early technically, she hadn’t been able to sleep so she decided to go out to the playground and get some shots in the dark. Her new camera has a supposedly great setting for taking photos in the dark and she was itching to try it out. On the other side of the park, unbeknownst to her, there was a meeting in the old power plant, which was slowly crumbling into dust. Hushed whispers filled the cold, early morning air.  

Dorothy is at the right place at the wrong time, and she notices the flickering lights. Kids often go into the plant for any number of reasons, but tonight, she noticed the shadows were larger and she wanted to know.

She began snapping photos of those exiting the plant. The first was Billy Bob, he hesitates at the side door, looks both ways and hurries-off.  Snap. There was a pause. Then two, Azula and Jackie, leave together. Snap, snap. Dorothy lowers the camera and waits. A minute or so later, after the others faded into the dark, Bret and Ren exit. After exiting, they pause, say something to one another and go their separate ways. Snap, snap.

After a few more minutes, Dorothy is packing-up her camera thinking there are no more,  but the door opens and Evelyn appears. She looks around, then quickly heads toward the silent statue of Taft. Dorothy can only get a shot from behind her. Snap. "Damn-it." She mutters. 

Post #5 is due on Jan. 28th.  If you are not in this scene, your character is "infested" with something. Dreams, fears, too many pennies, or something that causes you to try and find a solution to rid yourself of this infestation.  Those mentioned here get an actual infestation of lice.  Whether or not you are there by your own choice, curiosity, fear or accident, you write about being in the abandoned plant. 

Blog #4: The Pharaoh promised Moses

 Everyone makes promises.  Mothers promise good things from Santa for good children; couples promise to stay together; others promise to keep secrets. We all make promises to ourselves. Many promises get broken.  At the Foxberry, the promise of spring was far off and winter brought long nights and short days. But strangely, on this day, here in St. ----, the weather had warmed enough to allow for the exodus.
     When they decided to close the power plant and move to the other side of town,  Glenn Electric promised the town that everyone was "safe." The newspaper's headline showed the shuttered windows and chained entrance, and a clean bill of health was stamped on the notice placed on the massive doors. Some promises were never intended to be kept.
     They arrived early in the evening when the light left is just enough to make your way. Darkness soon will arrive. The frogs were leaving their home next to the creek because promises weren't kept.
       Most people first noticed the sound they made. It was if they were imploring everyone out into the streets. Like "hey, hey, this way, this way." The frogs appeared first on the Taft statue in the small pool at the base of the statue.  When it became too crowded, they searched for other sanctuaries. The exodus made some people think they were in a waking dream. Others simply stood and watched the progression.
     After a while, the frogs couldn't be ignored. A few had managed to get into the lobby fountain, while others headed to the large outdoor fountain at the end of Effugium -- a fitting Latin name. There were, of course, unfortunate casualties.
     But it was the sound, the constant, layered murmuring wafting through the streets and reverberating off buildings that made everyone notice.
      Cats appeared and chased them into corners. Some well-intentioned people gathered a few intending to return them to the creek but realized that the exodus was away from the creek.
     The sound drove many inside only to find a stray Peeper, Leopard, or Pickerel frog just trying to make its way. Some followed the pilgrimage as if they, too, were seeking sanctuary from broken promises.

Due date: Jan. 14th. Two things to include in your blog: 1) Incorporation of frogs in someway is necessary to get a passing grade in this post 2) Think about how you can weave magical realism into your characters story.  Are you the agent or the affected? Remember the rest of the blog post will include the other plagues, along with solving the murder of Mr. Evans.

Post #3 - The question of Mr. Evans

Everyone has questions.  Little kids ask why the sky is blue, teenagers ask why can't they make their own choices, and adults ask where has all the time gone? In the Foxberry, the elevators go up and down, mostly, and people stand in the lobby as if they were themselves part of the building. On this particular day the patrons were startled by the sound of water flowing from the fountain. Some tossed a coin or two in. Did they want their wishes granted? Did they want answers to their questions?

Take, for example, the question of Mr. Evans. Who knew him? Who saw him the night he met his end? Who had any answers? For that matter, why Mr. Evans? The police were doing their best in a place that liked to hold its answers tightly within the walls, street corners, restaurants and behind closed doors. So it stands to reason that the police struggled to find any pieces of the puzzle, much less put any pieces together.

As the holidays rolled over the city, Halloween passed along with Thanksgiving and Christmas started to appear.  Bea realized that in most other places, packages and letters start filling the mail room, but here, there was only a slight up-tic in package traffic. When the police questioned her, she didn't give them Mr. Evans' letters because she had violated federal law and opened one. A few questions were answered, but more occurred.

Across the street at the museum,  Frankie, Bret, and Evelyn sat in the manager's office, each holding a knife. Each looking at each other.  They now had many questions.

While Aydar and Stephanie G. received knocks on their doors and packages delivered into their arms, Donna and Regan sat in the police station outside the detective's office.  Donna is not too terribly surprised by the summons, but Regan continually checks her phone and looks about the station with a mix of irritation and fear.

And finally, why is Noah standing in corner of the 3rd floor parking deck mumbling to himself as he watches, unbeknownst to her, Stephanie L wandering around spot 303?

To do: If your character is mentioned above, you should have some questions or answers and generally keep with the ideas. For the rest, your character must have a question or two, right? Questions are what keep things interesting.
Due date: December 7th, by the beginning of class.

Blog #2- The Slice O' the Day

Everyone has something that haunts them.  Past loves, clowns, the word "moist," the choices that they made, the choices that they should have made, or going just a little too far at whatever --nobody stands free and clear.

Two nights earlier, Halloween was marked with people dressed as Mr. Evans and wandering through Scary Carrie's. A town that has a year-round haunted house is just asking for trouble.

So it made sense that here at the Foxberry, lives would need to be explained, literally. Four police detectives began canvassing the neighborhood asking people questions about the suspected murder of Mr. Evans.  Some residents didn't bother to answer the door. Some residents were wary but willing to talk with the police. Most tried to ignore the cops as they stood in line at either Big Tony's or Little Teddy's to get the daily 2 for $1.00 slice-o-the-day.  Neither pizza place ran dailies very often, so folks took advantage. Some people were eating pizza from one place while standing in line at the other.

Bootes proved to be one of the more contentious interviews. When the police happened to stop Bootes in the lobby, many passing residents shook their heads, thinking that the police shouldn't step into that game.  Nonetheless, they pressed-on with the interview.  The two cops jumped to the side when Bootes turned and threw a coffee cup, full, in their direction.

Dorothy sat in the park with Mr. Jenkins bravely trying to learn the game of chess, but she mostly wanted to ask about Mr. Evans.  Elwood joined them, just for the company. He absently watched the game, lost in his thoughts. They talked a bit, and then a young man, Shawn, wandered into the park, sat on a bench and began playing his guitar, his case lay open in front of him.  The songs floated-up around the park and reached Jack Stars as he diligently worked on the roof. He hummed along, "...the answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind..."By noon the pool had been drained,  and clean, clear water was filling in. The water sparked in the afternoon sun.

The weather had cleared, the sky was a bright blue and the trees were turning various shades of yellow, orange, and, yes, red.

Individual choices:
Everyone should incorporate some description of either your character or apartment in a way that readers will learn something else, something new, about your personality. Something that in some way haunts your character
Everyone should include one of the main blog details.

Blog #1 - The Roaring Twenties

The day started as one should at The Foxberry.  Slow and painful. The building creaked and strange sounds came and went at odd hours. One would hope that Netflix would use the building as a movie set. Its corners were dark, its lights intermittent, and the residents sometimes seemed diaphanous as they wandered in and out. The building was a conundrum.  It seemed as if nobody would choose to live there, but all the apartments were rented.

The rain made it all come together.  Old Man Jenkins had to give-up on his chess game in the park. Instead, he set-up his game in the lobby next to the broken fountain. When no one would play him, he started working on the fountain, muttering as he took things apart. He was thinking about the parking deck.

Two days earlier, Mr. Evans was found dead in parking spot 303.  He had played many chess matches with Jenkins. Jenkins knew it wasn't a heart attack like the coroner stated. The cops didn't bother to take his statement. Now, he tossed broken parts onto the lobby floor and decided to get to the bottom of the problem. "It's time," he thought "that something around here worked as it should."

Just as Jenkins muttered those words, the water pipes in Apt. 207--in which 2 women were attempting to share the place--broke.  They had to move out into separate apartments.  All the better, really. They weren't getting along very well in the first place.

Your character url is due on October 19th by the beginning of class.
Your blog is due the 26th of October by the beginning of class.