Tag: new

New Ridgewood, 2

Wherever Vree was, she could not see much, just gray darkness similar to the warm and safe kind beneath her blankets when she and Zoey used them for tents in her bedroom. But she was not beneath her blankets. The grayness was infinite here, wherever here was, and she floated and rolled and swam in

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New Ridgewood, 1

Ridgewood continues to change. The same goes for her characters. After all, real-life 2017 is a bizarre, stranger time than 1970 when I began creating the place and her residents. And no matter how fictional they are, they need an essence of reality to make them current and believable. I have told Vree Erickson’s story

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Vree’s Journal Entry 6

It took me a while to dig up this information. Here it is: Balen Renfrew, My Wizard Uncle Balen James Renfrew is my maternal grandmother’s 45-year-old son. He has thick, dark-brown hair, beard stubble (he calls it 5 o’clock shadow—he always looks like he needs to shave before the end of the day), dark blue

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Vree’s Journal Entry 5

Lightning struck Grandma Lybrook when she was 4 years old while she fished with her father at the backside of Alice Lake; the strike left her with low-grade psychic ability, which she kept hidden and secret from us until I saw it psychically. Her psychic ability allows her to see ghosts and other creatures invisible

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Vree’s Journal Entry 4

Leonard “Lenny” Stevens is my best friend Zoey’s big brother. He’s a handsome boy, with dreamy dark brown (chocolate) eyes and thick, burnt sienna hair. He stands around 5’ 7” tall and weighs 125-130 pounds. He is older—15, born July 5, a day that he and his family know also as “Margga’s Curse” because of

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 10

“Vree?” Grandma released my hand. “Are you okay?” She waved her other hand in front of my eyes as the remnants of the vision faded. “I seemed to have lost your attention for a moment.” Her face bore a concerned look. “Tired,” I said, blinking and taking in the room that was my new bedroom.

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 9

The woman’s scream in my head diminished. The sickness in my stomach did not. “I need to lie down,” I said, bolting from the porch swing and charging into the house. The soles of my tennis shoes pounded against the steps as I hurried up the two flights of stairs to my bedroom. I would

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 8

The air tasted sweet and was warm as I sat on the front porch swing and rocked. Past a small rise in the road, a dark blue house across the road sat on a large hill almost two hundred yards up the road. It was a pretty house, more modern looking than the one I

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 7

I stayed close to Lenny, who guided me across the backyard. Along the way, I stopped at a line of three large, bleached canvas camp tents in front of a square fire pit made of cement blocks. “Some of the bedrooms aren’t done yet, so your grandfather thought everyone would enjoy sleeping outside,” Lenny explained

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 6

I opened my eyes to Mom’s concerned face looking down at me. A warm hand and soft fingers pushed hair from my forehead. I lay on the living room sofa and I felt like I floated. I put a foot to the floor to keep myself anchored. My shoulder, back and leg muscles ached, but

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 5

“So, Grandma and Grandpa are staying with us, huh?” I said, looking back at the red Dodge pickup truck in the driveway. “Things are gonna be different.” I lowered my voice. “A lot.” I unbuckled my seatbelt, slid from my seat and out my door, and stood like a newborn foal on concrete next to

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 4

CT scans, MRIs, PET scans, x-rays, all in five days … “I’m gonna glow in the dark,” I said to Mom while I looked out at the rain and soggy countryside zooming past us. It was 4:30 p.m. and New Cambridge was behind us. Ridgewood and home was less than an hour away. Mom asked

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 3

Storms have a way of looking worse through windows. It was a sudden thought as a torrent of rain outside the hospital drummed like a carwash rinse down the long and narrow plate glass windows at my left. Outside, the streets were probably empty, everyone indoors, cursing the rain, but celebrating the Fourth of July

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 2

Wherever I was, I could not see much, just gray darkness similar to the warm and safe kind beneath my blankets when Zoey and I used them for tents in my bedroom. But I was not beneath my blankets. The grayness was infinite here, wherever here was, and I floated and rolled and swam in

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Margga’s Curse, revised: Chapter 1

Intro I know, most of you would rather see my artwork and photography than read my writing. But for the handful of followers who enjoy my writing segments, here’s the continuation of my attempt to rewrite Night of the Hellhounds, or accurately, Margga’s Curse. After I published Night of the Hellhounds with its new title

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Vree’s Journal Entry 1

My name is Verawenda Erickson. My nickname Vree comes from my initials VRE. My name is a combination of Vera and Wenda. My mom named me after her paternal grandmother Vera Lybrook and Vera’s sister Wenda Walsh. My middle name Renee is my maternal grandmother’s middle name. I live with my mom and older brother

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