The first of five milestones has been reached, as Part One of my FNAFiction, Everything Is All Right, concludes over at Fanfiction.net and Archiveofourown.org, so if you’re reading along, go ahead and check it out, and be sure to leave a comment telling me how much I suck for ending it there! Ha ha! And then get ready, because Part Two: Mike Schmidt and the Long Night premieres next week, same FNAF-Time, same FNAF-Channel.
This is great for all you readers, but not so much for me, as it means I not only have to remember how the heck I set up the books in the first place, what with the cover images and tags and all, but also how to get Part One as a single document together and dump it on Wattpad, for my readers who are waiting to read the whole thing all at once. I know I should do that tonight, but honestly, I’ve been weaning myself off coffee and have a massive headache. I’ve already been staring at my computer for ten hours and I am done.
So please enjoy this excerpt from the very last chapter of the very first Part of a much bigger book than any I’ve written so far, while I take a couple aspirin and lie down in a dark room.
And just like that, it all came together.
The following Monday, Ana received her first official welcome: her copy of the inspection report, stating that conditions at the property were within parameters for the house to be safely inhabited, along with a notice from the post office not-so-politely reminding her to come in and fill out an address card for their records. While she was in town doing that, Ana dropped by the DMV and got a Utah’s driver’s license, then went home and celebrated by reshingling the roof. A week later, the woman from the Mammon Utility Board came out to connect her power and water, whereupon the basement flooded because the house had not been weatherized for twelve years. Replumbing took another week and as she was finishing that mess, the local storm god thought it would be funny to snap the top off a dead pine and hurl it through the garage door. All of this in addition to the cleaning, clearing, hauling and landscaping that she was not only now allowed to do, but obligated to do as a homeowner.
So she kept busy. But the one thing she did not do was unpack and move in.
She thought about it. She even took a box of clothes upstairs once, wandering up and down the hall for more than an hour with every intention of claiming a bedroom for her own. Not Aunt Easter’s and never David’s, but hell, there were six more, weren’t there? Some were even familiar to her, as if she’d played in them as a child, but she had no real memory and no special feeling for them.
It should have been a good thing. It wasn’t. Far from providing her with a refuge from the oppressive memories she found in every other corner of this house, the unknown quality of these guest rooms was itself repulsive. The somber colors painted on one set of walls had been someone’s choice, the commanding desk with heavy brass finishings had fit someone’s style. There were still memories here, lying as heavy as the dust over every surface, she just didn’t know whose they were. It was bad enough to share this house with the absence of her aunt and cousin; she couldn’t share it with strangers as well.
In the end, she took her box back outside and set up her tent. Sooner or later, she knew, she’d have to get over herself and move in, but not yet. She could eat in there, once she had replaced the appliances, installed new cabinets and bought new dishes. She could shower in there, not to mention all the other bathroom-related activities that came with indoor plumbing. She could probably watch TV or read a book or go dancing down the hall in her underwear, although she hadn’t tried yet. In fact, she was certain she could live in the house as long as she kept her eyes open while she did it. The thought of being asleep in there, helpless, oblivious…no. Not ever, maybe, but for damn sure, not yet.