Grimm Memories Sneak Peek

Written By: Janna - Apr• 06•14

My beta readers have done a wonderful and through job, and Grimm Memories is officially off for its first round of edits. It’s a bit like a momma sending a baby bird off the edge of the nest and wondering if they’ll flap their wings or fall.

It’s possibly a little premature (after all, I never know what’s going to get cut), but I can’t wait any longer. Here’s a small sneak peek at Grimm Memories.

 

ANDI shook her head and grabbed her phone from the bedside table. 2:35 A.M. Ugh. She swung her feet out of bed, forcing her body to follow. Her actions were in no way crazy, she tried to convince herself as she unfolded the ladder to the attic. Several creaking joints made her pause, her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest. The noise failed to rouse her parents, and she quickly padded up the rungs.

She pulled herself into the chilly space at the top of the house and caught her toe on a protruding nail. She hissed around the pain, barely containing the howl she wanted to unleash. Finding the swinging chain, she clicked on the single light bulb. Shivering, only partially from the cold, she rubbed her bare arms. She hadn’t set foot in the attic since the day she had found her grandmother’s cloak and disappeared.

The trunk sat innocently against the far wall. More of the dream filtered into Andi’s memory and she approached the trunk slowly. Kneeling, it took both hands to flip the lid open. Books and clothes from another lifetime stared back. She quickly emptied the contents of the trunk into a lumpy pile on the floor and felt around the old-fashioned paisley lining. It took less time than she thought to find what she was looking for. Her lack of surprise when she fished it out of a small tear in the fabric bothered her more than actually finding the photograph.  Had she really dreamed of it here, in this exact location?

The photograph was old, much older than the picture of her grandmother’s wedding that she’d pulled out of this same trunk months ago. The image was in varying shades of brown and was blotchy in places. It showed a young woman with a chubby child perched on her lap. The woman sat stiff and unsmiling. She wore a dress buttoned to her chin with tight, tailored sleeves. Her hair was pinned under a plumed hat, pulled at an angle over a high brow. The baby was swathed in a white dress and was slightly blurry, especially its fist.

Andi had never seen the baby before, but there was no doubt the woman in the photograph was the same one from her dream. The one she’d briefly thought was her mother.  She flipped it over, and saw a tight script, nearly illegible with age.

Margaret and Haley 1873

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