Stay up all night with bated breath, pressed against cool windows, frost spreading over glass. Watch the mottled snow, the hushed world under dancing Christmas lights. The sleepless.
Those who see ghosts around corners, whose memories dance like unwanted sugarplums. The lost, the lonely. The ones who would rather forget, those whose heart aches to remember. Those who wait under mistletoe or airports or for phones to ring. Those whose fingerprints wear the edges of photographs. Those who ache to wake up next to someone. Those who wish to escape. Those looking for a way home, driving further and further with each tired tire mark.
Watch the world drift to away and hope it comes back.
Those who stare past their reflection. Those with masks, those with grandiose plays and moves to hide behind. The silent. Those who bear the burden of the people they could have been, those who sink under the weight of their what ifs.
Those whose only hope is to survive this and hope for morning. Who think: if I can get through this, the longest night, surely I can get through what’s to come.
There are definitely two hot Irish men in this book…
Lexi stirred from Dechlan’s bed in the morning light. She made her way to the living room, where she expected to find Deck on the couch. He was missing, a mess of blankets in his place, so Lex continued to the kitchen to put on the coffee. And maybe start breakfast. But, most importantly coffee.
She might not be able to pour a pint, but she could definitely work a coffee marker. Soon the kitchen filled with the smell of fresh brewed coffee. Lexi poured herself a mug and searched the fridge for something she could turn into breakfast. She extracted some eggs, checking the expiry date carefully. They passed the test and she began to make some scrambled eggs.
“Oh, breakfast. Grand,” Dechlan grinned. Lexi turned to greet him, and nearly dropped her fork when she discovered he was only wearing a towel. A small towel. His chiseled abs and shapely arms were dotted with drops of water from his still wet hair.
“Um,” she coloured, “Good morning.” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him and the small, thin towel that did nothing to dull the thoughts of what lay beneath.
“Morning, lass,” Dechlan grinned at her. She was dressed in one of his shirts, and probably underwear, though he couldn’t quite see them. If she would just raise her arms slightly…
“Clothes…” Lexi said suddenly, incoherently. Deck frowned.
“What?”
“I need clothes,” she said. She looked down at her outfit, then back to him, “Like, my suitcase.” Dechlan laughed.
“I don’t know, I quite like seeing you in my shirt, Lex,” he grinned. Lexi blushed.
“But I can’t wear it out,” she replied.
“No, that wouldn’t do…” Dechlan trailed off, distracted by the allure of her wearing his clothes.
“And my other clothes smell like beer,” she reminded him.
“Ah, right,” Dechlan said, “I’ll drive ya down to Athlone today.”
December 6 – Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?
The last thing I made was a decision to be proactive. The last thing I made was 50,000 words of a novel. I made a decision to use my excess of time to do something worthwhile. Something other than watching seasons of TV shows and talking to cats.
I used one very buggy copy of Microsoft Word for Mac. Which, in keeping with the tradition is established while I was writing my dissertation, completely stops working after the first 10,000 words. I desperately need to switch word processors on a permanent basis. I used Pages for my dissertation after the night it self destructed. But I stuck it out with Microsoft Word of a laziness for NaNoWriMo.
I also, inevitably, used my MacBook Pro. This beautiful creature (whose key’s I’m stroking right now) has been permanently attached to me in the last year and a half, and I love it so.
And, of course, I used Wikipedia. Because who doesn’t? I started all my research on Wikipedia, and rounded it out with further internet searches and some guidance from Kitty, Irish history expert extraordinaire.
I would like to make a conscious effort, in the future, to write more books. Always. Because I love it. Some days it’s the hardest thing in the world to sit down and stare at that blinking cursor. But other days you can’t wait to get home to write the scene that’s been playing in your head all day.
I hope that someday soon I’ll have less time to write, simply because I desperately need a job. But I hope when that does happen I’ll be able to remind myself to keep writing anyhow.
And back in the 21st century!
“What is it?” Lexi asked.
“A ring. It’s gold, a fede ring from-”
“The 13th century,” Lexi paled visibly. Dechlan gave her a curious look.
“You know it?” he asked.
“I saw it yesterday…” she said quickly.
“I was thinking it was the 13th century, but I wasn’t sure,” Dechlan said eagerly, “What made you think it was 13th?”
“I, uh, saw something like it once,” Lexi shifted uncomfortably and her chair answered with a series of squeaks. Dechlan watched her levelly.
“Where?” he asked.
“I don’t remember,” Lexi lied.
“Too bad, I was looking for some precedents. Let me know if you remember, lass,” he said brightly, turning back to his book.
Lex stared back down at her book, her thoughts swimming anxiously through her head. How had her ring ended up buried under Roscommon Castle? Well, if you weren’t there to wear it, her mind reminded her.
She finally focused back on her books. She heaved open the large volume of Kings. It was a ledger of the family history, carefully recorded to include the names of all family members, where they were born, when they died. The more important Kings had several paragraphs or even pages of history. She scanned through them quickly until she got to the 13th century. She saw at least ten Aedh Ó Conchobair’s, and struggled to remember his complete name. Finally, she lit on Aedh Muimhnech Ó Conchobair, listed as born in 1247. Wives: Caiomhe Muimhnech O’Conchobair and Alexandra Ceallaigh Ó Conchobair, cousin to Domnall Ua Néill. Lexi stopped and stared at her name on the page. In front of her was concrete proof that she wasn’t delusional, that she had existed in 1275 as Aedh’s wife.
Not too long after the first…
Aedh Muimhnech Ó Conchobair watched his new wife carefully as she shifted, very unladylike, on a couch across from him. He wasn’t sure what to think of this new addition to his household. She did not seem to know her place. She was peculiar, to say the least – entirely unorthodox. She was bolder than any woman he’d ever met and she was as stubborn as a bad mare.
“Would you sit still, Alexandra?” he asked, annoyed. She looked up at him with her beautiful blue eyes. They were the colour of the sea at Gaillimh, he noticed. And perfectly set off by the rich auburn hair that fell in loose curls around her shoulders. He caught himself admiring her. She certainly wasn’t what he feared he might be saddled with when he agreed to the marriage. Her form was as pleasing as her face, with subtle curves and hips that could easily bear his children. He had seen her naked through the water in her bath that morning, and he could not seem to shake the image on her wet, soft skin from his mind.
“Would you tell me why I lied to a priest for you?” she demanded, breaking his train of thought.
“It is simple,” Aedh spoke to her as if she was a child, “Father James has long been under the employ of your cousin, and in order for the alliance to be secured, our marriage must be…”
“Consummated?” Lexi interrupted.
“Yes.” Aedh replied. Lexi didn’t know what to think about that. Did he not want to consummate their marriage? More importantly, why did she care? She didn’t want some strange man, even one that was 6 feet of hot Irish man, forcing himself on her and calling it her wifely duty. But for some reason, she was annoyed at what she was sure was his lack of desire to bed her.
“So rather than suffer through that, we lie,” Lexi said.
“Exactly,” Aedh look relieved that she understood. Lexi glared at him and his ability to make her feel completely undesirable.
writing | Hezabelle December 21, 2010 | 
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