Here is the next part of Pittown – Silent Order. A big change is coming. We are at a tipping point.
Chapter 25: Elements of Life
It was only the first month of autumn but already the mornings in Store Creek were cold. Ben’s grandmother’s house was not climate-controlled like his city apartment where inside living was so monotone that you couldn’t even tell what the outside temperature was. In Nanna’s House, there were holes everywhere – between the floorboards, around the windows, and, essentially, wherever there was a join of some sort. In fact, Ben thought that there were so many holes in the house that he was practically living outside. Continue reading “Pittown – Silent Order: Hidden Entrance”
Pittstop, the cafe near Merlyn, had been in the same family since it was a country stop for truckies, thus its name. Sometimes, one of the owner’s cousins worked in the cafe. They were nothing alike. Months ago, the cousin, Tom, decided that Merlyn should know his name.
The next time he saw her, he asked, “Can you remember my name?”
Merlyn usually didn’t remember names well. She remembered people’s energy exceptionally well.
Although there were nicer shops a suburb or two closer to the city, Merlyn made a point of shopping at the Pittown ones. It seemed to her disloyal not to use them. Besides, she found the people interesting. Not infrequently, someone walked past her and turned their head to give her a second look. They looked like they thought they knew her, but then decided that they didn’t. Sometimes, they looked at her quizzically as if they were thinking that she didn’t belong in Pittown.
Good fiction is not only based on believable and interesting characters but, at its centre, is THE QUOTE. The whole point of storytelling is to set the scene for something important to occur. This is generally encapsulated in the words of the characters at strategic points along the way. When we recall loved novels, we recall moments of meaning, change, and insight. Often, we can remember the exact words that were said. I sometimes think, with a little amusement, that writing fiction is like a long, drawn-out way of writing nonfiction. It takes a lot of words, conversations, and stage-setting to get to the point we want to make.