lathriel | NaNoWriMo Excerpt: introductions

It's obviously a rough draft, and obviously a NaNo, but here it is.

It was a warm night in the middle of August, but not nearly as warm as it would have been in Mississippi. I was clad in a plain black tee-shirt, a pair of cut-off shorts, and black sandals, my long dark hair done up in a sloppy ponytail. Harold had tired out a little by that point and was much easier to handle as we strolled down the long gravel driveway; he still bounced along with the same stupid grin on his face, content to be exploring strange and exciting new scents. He would enjoy the cooler weather here up North much more than I would, I was certain.

“Let’s go check out that sign, eh Harry?” I urged him on when we reached the end of the driveway. The crickets were much louder out by the road, I realized, as their incessant chirping filled my ears. Stars shone brightly overhead, constellations I swear I had never seen before glowing like celestial diodes in the clear, blue-black sky. I gazed up at them, inhaling the sweet country air. It smelled different out here. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but it did.

The big black sign loomed just ahead of us, and I wondered why it wasn’t lit up with flood lights like most housing development signs would be. As we came closer, I saw an enormous iron gate appear beyond the end of the stone wall, and I felt drawn to it. I found myself approaching it to peer between its cold, thin bars.

Harold began to growl. It was so unusual for him to make such a noise that at first I was afraid there was another animal near by. “Harry,” I scolded. “Enough of that.”

With a short whine, he obeyed, sidling up to my legs and pressing against me.

I came right up to the gates. There were a series of large, darkly colored houses beyond the wall, in a cul-de-sac whose center was obscured by a large security building, also dark. It looked as if no one lived in any of the houses: every window was dark, without a single reflection from a single light. The architecture was strange—modern, with hints of gothic elements, but everything was dark...

“You must be Miss Sterling.”

I almost jumped out of my skin. Harold barked, defensively.

“Sssshhh,” I hushed him, tugging on the leash.

He growled.

“Harold!”

The scold was enough to silence him, but he pressed harder against my legs, staring pointedly up at the silhouette — shadow against night — on the other side of the gate.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized. “Yes. Zelda Sterling. I suppose we’re neighbors?” I offered my hand through the bars.

“Zelda?” the man wondered, tasting my name. “Unusual. I’m Johnny Midnight.”

A sharp zapping sound bit through the air as electricity roared through the phantom lanterns along the high stone wall, suddenly illuminating the gate, and the man on the other side of it. But first, it blinded me.

I raised my left hand, wrapped in the rough red weave of Harold’s leash, to cover my eyes.

“Sorry about that,” Johnny laughed. “We’re having some work done on the powerlines. There was a storm a while back that knocked the power out for almost a week—I’m justy taking some preventative measures to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Ah.” I lowered my hand as my eyes adjusted to the light.

He reached through the bars of the gate and took my hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Zelda Sterling.”

I was dumbstruck. The man before me was gorgeous—tall, broad shouldered, slim, with blond hair and pale eyebrows, chiseled features watching me, appraising me. He could not have been younger than twenty, nor older than thirty, but it was impossible to say exactly how old he might have been. His soft hand was warm as it wrapped around mine — delicate as he pulled it through the bars and up to his full lips.

The giggle that came after was unbidden, and foolish, but it appeared to please him.

“And here I thought they’d left chivalry behind in antebellum South,” I remarked.

He smiled back, dazzling me with his cool blue eyes. “We have many surprises for you up here in the North, I’m sure.”

Harold began to growl again, taking hesitant steps backward and forward between me and the gate.

“I’m sorry,” I told him, tugging my hand back so that I could get a betting grip on the leash. “It’s been a long day for Harold here, too. I... should get back to the house.”

“Of course,” Johnny agreed. “Oh, and, my condolences, to you and your mother. Your grandfather was a fine man.”

I nodded my thanks, restraining a frown; no need to introduce the neighbors to my family drama. “Nice to meet you.”

Harold and I turned about and headed back toward the road. My heart was beating strangely in my chest— still surprised by the stranger, the lights, the unwarranted affection. Was I excited about this encounter? It was hard to tell. But, in listening to the sound of my own heartbeat, I did notice something:

The insects had stopped chirping.

I let Harold tug me several yards down the road before I remembered why my curiosity had brought us to that gate to begin with, and I spun around to read the sign that, surely, would be lit up by flood lights now.

“Midnight Estates,” I muttered. “Sounds like something out of a horror movie.”

Harold grunted his agreement. He tugged harder on the leash to go home.