Last month, I took a break from blogging as we settled back into our homeschool routine. (Our youngest started high school this year!) Now, I’m working to get back into the swing of writerly things and return to posting on (most) Mondays. And what better way to dive back in than posting a drawing and a story each Friday, since October is also the month of INKTOBER!
INKTOBER is a drawing prompt challenge that takes place during the entire month of October. It’s just for fun, so don’t worry if your sketching skills are sketchy. Any and all are welcome.
Are you INKTOBER-ING?
I’d love to see your work. Drop a line in the comments about where you’re sharing your INKTOBER creations.
Today’s Prompt: Throw
Three times Mallory had rid herself of that wretched bag—that hard-sided hunk of luggage the color of digested peas which contents had haunted her. Over the past few months, the vessel had terrorized her, mocked her, and twisted the details of what had happened deep into her brain.
A week had passed since she saw it last. And she had thought she was finally rid of that bag. Blessed relief.
But no! Once again, that bag had returned to her, like a stench she couldn’t wash off, a curse she could never be free of. It was there. In the arm’s of the woman standing on Mallory’s doorstep, that wretched bag was there. Delivered—yet again—by her oh-so-helpful, always-smiling neighbor: Charity.
Mallory’s shoulders tensed. She glared at Charity. “Go away.”
Charity laughed, a joyful and unencumbered sound. “Oh, now. Be nice. Look!” Her eyes glinted as she patted the bag. “I found your suitcase.”
Charity’s sunny disposition made Mallory’s blood boil. A hard knot formed at the back of Mallory’s head, pinching her last nerve. “It’s. Not. Mine.”
Charity smiled. “Sure it is. Your name’s on the tag.” She held the bag out to Mallory.
The emotions Mallory had been holding back erupted like geyser. “And I got rid of it! Three times, I got rid of it. But you! What are you doing? Are you digging through my trash? Following me around town? Stalking me? Tormenting me? What?”
Charity’s eyes opened wide. Her smile vanished.
Mallory’s shoulders sagged. She lowered her voice. “Don’t you get it. I don’t want that bag and I don’t want you standing here on my doorstep.” Her breath hitched and she looked away.
Neither said anything for a moment. Then, Mallory faced Charity again. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
Charity glanced down and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I knew you were trying to get rid of the suitcase.”
Heat returned to Mallory’s cheeks. “But. . . why?”
“Because something similar happened to me seven years ago.” Charity looked up at Mallory. “I made a choice I couldn’t undo and I tried to forget and go on like it never happened. But it nearly destroyed me.” Charity pointed at the bag. “You’ll never be free of that suitcase until you open it and deal with what’s inside.”
Mallory looked down at the bag. It’s hard outer shell barely scuffed. Open the bag? After everything that had happened?
Mallory’s chest tightened. A cold sensation washed over her. “I can’t.”
“You have to. But you don’t have to do it alone.”
Discover SCBWI Bookstop!
Every year the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators hosts Bookstop to promote new and recently released titles for children and teens—making it easy to discover new books. And Snow Globe Travelers is part of it this year! Visit Snow Globe Travelers’ Bookstop page.