{"id":4748,"date":"2016-03-17T20:36:04","date_gmt":"2016-03-18T00:36:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/?p=4748"},"modified":"2016-03-17T20:36:04","modified_gmt":"2016-03-18T00:36:04","slug":"fictionfriday-the-start-of-something","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/index.php\/fictionfriday-the-start-of-something\/","title":{"rendered":"#FictionFriday: (the start of something)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" data-attachment-id=\"4572\" data-permalink=\"https:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/index.php\/fictionfriday-looking-for-point-fair\/blog_logo_fictionfriday\/\" data-orig-file=\"https:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/blog_logo_FictionFriday.jpg\" data-orig-size=\"278,198\" data-comments-opened=\"1\" data-image-meta=\"{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;}\" data-image-title=\"blog_logo_FictionFriday\" data-image-description=\"\" data-image-caption=\"\" data-medium-file=\"https:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/blog_logo_FictionFriday.jpg\" data-large-file=\"https:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/blog_logo_FictionFriday.jpg\" class=\"alignleft  wp-image-4572\" src=\"http:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/blog_logo_FictionFriday.jpg\" alt=\"blog_logo_FictionFriday\" width=\"174\" height=\"124\" \/>She paused at the entrance to the great room, reached to her right, and flipped on the light. She could make her way through the rest of the house, in the dark, blind-folded, with no problems, but no matter how much she threatened, screamed, threw things away, punished, etc., the boys never could seem to keep their toys picked up in the great room.<\/p>\n<p>She wouldn\u2019t even care about the mess, but the only way to the kitchen was through the great room, and the kitchen, at night, after the boys were finally asleep, was her only refuge. Her only safe haven.<\/p>\n<p>She picked her way through the mess \u2013 the discarded, separated newspaper pages; the dirty socks; the half-set up train set; the Legos and blocks; the empty cheese-stick wrappers \u2013 and did the reverse on the other side of the room. Flipped off the great room light, flipped on the kitchen light.<\/p>\n<p>It always surprised her that no one found her stash of liquor. She reached under the sink, behind the plastic grocery bags, behind the paper towels, and pulled out a half-empty bottle of vodka.<\/p>\n<p>She didn\u2019t even like vodka, but it could easily be added to whatever juice she found in the fridge. Whatever her thirsty boys had left.<\/p>\n<p>She rummaged around, found an almost-empty bottle of Sunny D, added a jigger of the alcohol to it, swirled it around, threw it back. Took a deep sigh. Sat down at the crayon-stained kitchen table.<\/p>\n<p>Took another slug.<\/p>\n<p>Put her head in her hands.<\/p>\n<p>And sobbed.<\/p>\n<hr \/>\n<p>This is the beginning of something I just started writing this week. I&#8217;m not sure exactly where it&#8217;s going (Pantser in the hiz-ouse!)&#8230; but I think it might be part of the <a title=\"#FictionFriday: Looking for Point Fair\" href=\"http:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/index.php\/fictionfriday-looking-for-point-fair\/\">Point Fair<\/a> universe&#8230; only before everything went horribly awry. I&#8217;m not sure how I&#8217;m going to make things go awry, but that&#8217;s part of the fun of writing! And at least, I *am* writing!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>She paused at the entrance to the great room, reached to her right, and flipped on the light. 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