Oh, very nice, Sail! YAY! First new drabble!

Meant to go to bed an hour ago. Note to self: In the future, please attempt to remember that you don't write concisely enough to make whittling down to 100 words a speedy process, OK?

If I hold off on posting this now, though, I'll end up feeling self-conscious about it tomorrow. Sleep deprivation has its uses. 'Night, all.

Welcome to the Neighborhood

We moved to the suburbs, where cicadas sing accompanied by the hum of traffic from a nearby road.

I didn't know whether to relax or freak out.

A neighbor walked our dog while we unpacked. Three kids brought us homemade cookies. Later on others stopped by with brownies and a hand-drawn card.

I didn't know whether to relax or freak out.

Now I look out the kitchen window. I can see two backyards, three houses, and a street. Privacy fences are against the neighborhood rules.

They can see us.

I know whether to relax or freak out now.

Privacy fences are against the rules? But what about the nude hot-tubbing?

Oh. Did I say that out loud? I was in the moment. Well done, Ice.

Rubber kisses runway with a bark and the brakes slam on, engines reverse. The PA crackles and the easy, almost-bored voice says we're on time, and thanks for flying with us. We stand and step into the aisle, hauling bags and coats from overhead storage and straggle, half-steps forward. Thank fates and little fishes there's a gate, no down stairs, hiking across tarmac to more stairs, and then acres of concourse to cover. Gates are so civilized, when my knees hate stairs. And there, at the end of the concourse, with a mile-wide smile and arms outstretched, is our welcome.

oh, Beverly - lovely!

Privacy fences are against the rules? But what about the nude hot-tubbing?

Wow. Kind of a good news/bad news thing happening in my brain right now; you've got me picturing my neighbors nude.

I'm going to have to re-read just the drabble part of your post so I can walk away with a warm, fuzzy feeling. You made me think of flying home from college and having my mom meet me at the gate. Now I have to go call my mom.

I got the revised chapter 16 done last night. Chapter 17 is getting close, I added something new and hopefully interesting to that chapter.

I've got a lot of 18 in my head, I just need time to write it down. Chapter 18 will be one of those brand new ones.

Okay, my welcome drabble.

The lights are down, black and white images flickering into focus, music playing as small bubbles drift across the screen. As the stentorian voice announces that tonight's program will be brought to us by Geritol, the world's leading tonic, the lights rise to reveal the orchestra, all natty suits and gleaming instruments, perfectly Brylcreemed hair shining under the lights. We sit at tray tables, the foil peeled away from the Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes as their leader turns to us and intones in his uniquely-inflected voice, "Greetings, and what a lovely welcome."

Yes. Welcome to Anywhere, U.S.A. on a long-ago Saturday night.

Oh, Barb.

Yeah, I watched Welk far too long with my folks. I think they were completely shellshocked when their biddable girl turned into a rough-edged goth chick overnight.

Oh, that was a Norwegian accent? I've always wondered.

Two birds with one stone, drabble and roughly the start of chapter 18.

Rainier knew she would be there, he tasted her presence the moment he slipped into the Dream. The sound of roaring water came to him just as he expected, he always found her at the falls. She stood there in a wispy blue dress that gave her willowy figure an ethereal quality. Pale blond hair spilled down her back, she still wore it long. The tumbling water entranced her nearly as much as she entranced him.

"Corina"

She turned toward him and smiled. "Rainier, I thought I felt you in the Dream. How is my favorite cousin?"

The smile masked something. Her brown eyes looked tired, the shadows under them pronounced. As she spoke her gaze darted between him and slightly to his right, not keeping steady contact. For a fraction of a second he hoped some calamity had befallen her husband, but her distress came short of that happy possibility.