I wrote like a mad woman. Sprite has been officially erased from that manuscript, and it made me strangely sad. Don’t worry, little buddy. You’ll most likely end up elsewhere…unless you don’t. Perhaps I have killed you for good, but I have no way of knowing. It’s funny how you become so attached to characters. I’ve cried while writing death scenes before. I felt such loss.
I had a fantastic phone conversation with my brother today. I also had a nightmare where a man pulled off his skin like a shirt. His eyes rolled around wetly in their sockets and the air whistled through the muscles in his cheek as he talked. I was trying not to stare.
I have to be up in four hours, but I can’t sleep. My daughter keeps waking up in tears and the house is making strange noises tonight. It’s restless and so am I. I’ve been pacing around and plotting out my story. Not much has come to light except for my certainly that Reed Taylor puts stainless steel kick plates on his doors. I wonder if he’s the kind of man who has a dog.