from The Dance of the Wedding Gown (NaNoWrimo)

Amanda tossed and turned in the four poster bed. It was too quite, she was used to the noise of the city. She sat up, it was no use. Maybe some warm milk she thought. It always worked in the movies.

She picked up her flashlight and made her way down the stairs. She didn’t want to turn on any lights for fear of disturbing her parents and brother. She came to the steep stair case and gripped the hand rail tightly.

“Of course it would disturb them if I fell and broke my neck,” she said quietly to herself. “They’d sure be sorry that they drug me out here though,” she added with a smirk. “Too bad it would hurt too much.”

Amanda reached into the small refrigerator, got out the milk jug and searched around for a mug. “Thank goodness mom thought to bring a microwave.”

She took her hot milk and looked around. “Probably not a mall or a movie theatre with in a hundred miles” she mused sadly.

She noticed a light coming from the parlor. “That’s strange,” she said to herself. She knew that her father had set up his computer as soon as they returned from dinner. Maybe he was still hard at work.

She walked in the room, but saw that the computer was turned off. “Someone just left the lamp on.’ She reached over to turn it off, but something white caught her. She turned around…and dropped the mug. The ceramic broke in three big chunks and milk stained the hard wood floor.

The very same dress that Amanda was only just admiring a few hours before, the dress that she had carefully returned to the cedar chest, was “dancing” around the room. The skirt swayed and the lace sleeves encircled gracefully around and invisible partner.

“Oh my…” Amanda moved closer and reached over with a trembling hand.

“Take your filthy hands off my dress!”

The dress fell to the floor and Amanda, sweating profusely, ran quickly back to the bedroom. “Just another wacko dream,” she told herself over and over. “I was walking in my sleep, that’s it. I’m going to look in the chest and the dress is going to be in there right where I left it.”

Amanda went to shine the flash light in the trunk, but changed her mind. “Of course it’s in there stupid. You don’t need to look.” With that she slipped back into bed and feel into a fitful sleep.

“Amanda Jean!”

“Uh oh,” Amanda said stretching and sitting up. The morning sun was streaming in the window, promising to be a hot day. “I heard the middle name used, wonder what I did this time.”

Her mother stormed into the bedroom, carrying the lace dress. “What was this doing downstairs, on the floor no less?”

Amanda’s breath caught in her throat. “I..I don’t know,” she stammered.

“This gown is over a hundred years old, it’s irreplaceable! Now would you please put it in the cedar chest like I asked you to until I can find a display stand for it!?”

“Yes, I will right now,” Amanda said quickly.

“What were you doing with it anyway?”
“I was…just looking at it,” Amanda said slowly. “I didn’t mean to leave it downstairs.”

She took the dress from her mother who stormed out of the room, mumbling something about old enough to be more responsible. Amanda stared at the dress in her hands. “Maybe I was walking in my sleep,” she said. “But why would I take the dress down there?”

She stood up and went over to the chest. Kneeling before it, she carefully folded the gown and placed it inside. Suddenly the lid slammed down hard, nearly closing on Amanda’s hands. “Hey!” she yelled, scooting back. “What…” She looked around and shivered. “Why is it so cold in here?”

Then she heard it, crying…someone behind her was crying. Amanda felt her spine tingle. Not sure if she really wanted to, Amanda slowly turned around. Standing just a few feet away from where she was kneeling was the same dark haired girl that Amanda had seen in her dreams.

She was wore a long white gown and was wringing her hands. “I’ve made my sister most angry,” she said with tears running down her ghostly white cheeks.

Another Place Another Time-synopsis

Another Place, Another Time
Laura Moehrle
Synopsis
1851, Willow Glen plantation
Virginia
Southern Belle, Abigail Peterson is given her own personal body slave for her 15th birthday. Abby is thrilled to have someone close to her own age to talk to, even if it is a servant.
Hestie quickly learns that her new mistress is not like other girls, so wrapped up in themselves that they care for no one else. Abby is kind and treats Hestie like a person, something the young slave girl has never before experienced. When Hestie takes Abby’s new brooch, Hestie is surprised yet grateful when Abby doesn’t have her whipped. A special understanding and closeness begins to form between the two of them.
During Abby’s birthday celebratory ball, Hestie trips while carrying a tray full of cocktails. The gown of one of the guests is completely ruined by the spilled drinks. Abby is furious when Hestia is beaten for the incident and confronts her father. It was an accident, she protests. Willard Peterson explains to his daughter that slaves must be kept in line or there would be too many accidents.
Meanwhile her mother sternly reminds Abby that Hestie is nothing more than a servant and must be treated as such.
Abby begins to see the harsh reality of the slaves’ lives. They are not treated as well as she’d always thought. She begins to question many of the things that she was raised to believe.
Hestie risks her life trying to get a gun away from a vengeful slave. Abby is shot in the shoulder and instead fleeing on a north- bound train, Hestie tends to her wound and gets her safely back home. Abby is shocked by her parent’s meager show of appreciation.
Abby is torn between the beliefs of her parents and her own feelings. She wishes she could be like her brother and sisters, young and care free. When Aunt Catherine shows Abby a picture of herself as small child she realizes that she must grow up on the inside as she has on the outside. She must follow her own heart, even if it’s not in agreement with how she was brought up.
When Abby is attacked by one of her suitors, Hestie hits him with a heavy cast- iron skillet, killing him. Now Hestie must run north or face lynching.
Before she leaves, Abby gives Hestie a picture of herself, with instructions to send it back when she was free. Abby also gives her the brooch, for luck. As Abby watches Hestie disappear into the night, she convinces herself that their paths would cross again…”perhaps in another place or I dare say another time.” Many years and generations later, their paths do indeed cross again.

excrept from "Second Chance"

The baby boy was born on March 25, 1986. He was blond, blue eyed and perfect. The baby's mother however, was terrified.

May 12, 2010
I had just sat down on the sofa with my laptop ready to get some writing done when the phone rang. "Check the caller ID please Chris," I called to my son Christian who had just started loading the dishwasher.

"Brian something," Chris said picking up the phone. "Moehrle residence, Chirstian Moehrle speaking...Yes, it's for you mom."

I was expecting somebody from work needing a sub, or a new Creative Memories customer wanting to order. Either would would be great. "Hello?"

"Hello, is the Laura Ann Weis?" inquired the young woman on the other end.

"I used to be," I said with a laugh. Her use of my madian told me it wasn't someone from work or Creative Memories. Perhapps a former classmate was trying to find me.

"My name is Jamie Mush and this is going to sound like a weird question but..." she hesitated for a minute then continued. "My husband has been looking for his birth mother, did you have a child 24 years named Michael Norman?"

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me under water, struggeling to breath. I knew this day would come..."yes I did." I answered slowly.

I was suddenly transported 24 years in the past. It was a very painful and difficult time, one I have tried to forget. Now the past has come forth and the story must be told. It must be told both for my sake and for the sake of my son. We both need to heal.