[New post] Nanowrimo Winner 2022

AJ Niblock posted: " I have won NANOWRIMO! Woot woot! I just finished writing 50,000 words this month. And now I don't want to even think about the draft. As a more traditional NANOer, I don't edit as I write. (I do check spelling). So, here is the first chapter of my ve" Still Working on My Novel Nanowrimo Winner 2022 AJ Niblock Nov 28 I have won NANOWRIMO! Woot woot! I just finished writing 50,000 words this month. And now I don't want to even think about the draft. As a more traditional NANOer, I don't edit as I write. (I do check spelling). So, here is the first chapter of my very, very rough novel titled Solved by Magic. If you read it, be nice. It's probably pretty terrible. I've never written a mystery novel, so this was an experiment for me. As always, happy reading and writing today and every day! Solved by Magic Chapter 1 When It Rains, They Die It was raining again. What else could you expect in Seattle? The emerald city was dreary and not doing anything to improve anyone's mood. The air smelled of damp garbage and a faint whiff of urine. A person rushed along the sidewalk trying to hug the buildings. Their efforts were in vain though, the rain was on a mission that night. It poured down onto the heads of everyone drenching them and soaking them through. Their hand slipped as they tried to push the door open. "Damnit," they said. They moved the cake from one arm to the other and used their other hand to push. The door to this building always stuck, especially when it was raining. After stepping foot in the door, they stamped their feet, though it did little good because the mat was saturated. The cake started to slip from their grasp, but they grabbed it with both hands now that they were through the door. They followed the murmur of voices carrying down the hall. "Hey," a brunette said as they entered the meeting room. "Hey," they replied. They sat the cake down by what was arguably the worst tasting coffee ever made. Whoever made it each day should be ashamed to live in Seattle. It was against everything the city stood for. The chairs were already set up in neat rows facing the podium at the front of the room. The floor was tiled and aged, and the walls were do for a touch up. The once white paint was now more of a grey brown. Those gathered didn't care about the shabbiness of the place. It mirrored the tone of the meetings in so many ways. Everyone took their seats. Most of them sat in the same place every week. Newcomers were the last to sit, waiting to see where others would stake their territory. Some of the chairs creaked and squeaked as everyone settled. The meeting was underway. They listened to each person tell their story followed by the others congratulating them and clapping. They were the last to share. Tonight was a milestone for them. They were celebrating, hence the cake. "I'm ten years sober today." They paused and smiled. "It's been a very long, and a very short decade." Some of them chuckled. A few chairs creaked as people shifted around. Some of the new members were growing restless. They hadn't planned on attending and celebrating someone's ten year mark. Of those gathered, some were only ten days sober. "I won't bore you all with my story. Many of you have heard it too many times anyway." They looked around and smiled at the familiar faces smiling back at them. "Why don't we get to the part of the meeting we're all looking forward to." They pointed to the back of the room. "I brought a cake. Please, have a piece with the world's crappiest coffee before you set back out into the deluge of our fair city." There was a big round of applause. It felt like it was more for ending their speech than anything else. "Thanks for bringing a cake, though I feel bad for asking you to, since it was your celebration and all." A familiar voice droned on while they ate their cake. Others came up to them and shook their hand. All in all, it was a fairly depressing celebration. As they stood there, nibbling on bits of cake and making small talk, they started to feel uncomfortable. Others began to feel unwell too. First, their head hurt. It was a headache that felt like it might split their skull. They made a quick excuse and went to the restroom. They sat with kneeling on the dirty and dusty tiles vomiting up the cake and coffee. It didn't end there. They regurgitated everything they'd consumed that day. And when they were finished with that, they threw up bile. In that few minutes, they didn't understand what was happening. As the pain and nausea continued to intensify, they panicked. This kind of pain wasn't normal. This was the kind of pain you went to the hospital for. As they rested on the floor trying to focus on anything but the pain, others came into the room. The stalls filled with members puking up their guts. There were murmurs of "what is happening?" and "make it stop." In the seconds that felt like minutes that they were sitting on the stall floor, there was a brief moment of clarity. Something was wrong, very wrong. And it wasn't just the coffee. Before the pain blacked out everything else, they pulled out their phone and dialed 9-1-1. Unfortunately, they dropped the phone before they hit send. As several of them succumbed, the rest of the members grew alarmed. Luckily, those falling to the floor weren't the only ones concerned about the fast acting illness. Another member called 9-1-1 at the same time. Their call went through and Seattle's finest were on the scene in just over twenty minutes. In addition the police, ambulances lined up to take away those stricken ill, but they were too late. In the minutes that everyone stood there waiting, desperately wishing there was something they could do, five people died. Once the police and EMTs were on scene, the remaining members did their best to recount what had happened. The problem was that it all had happened so suddenly. How do you explain something that is outside your own understanding? As the cops took statements, the crime scene techs arrived and began collecting evidence. With this many bodies, and the sudden onset of the illness, poisoning was suspected immediately. Everything in the building was evidence. The cake was collected, along with the foul coffee. The longer they stood there being questioned, the more the members realized that they were all suspects. They were told not to leave town and their statements were triple checked. Their alibi was irrelevant. Any of them could have done it. While they were being questioned, another one of them started to feel sick. He dropped to the floor. "Someone grab his head. He's having a seizure." The EMTs were still on the scene. They did everything they could to help. Everyone else, cops, AA members, and crime scene techs, were useless. Whatever was causing the rapid deterioration seen throughout these people was too fast acting to stop. The death toll ross to six. After that, the police rounded up all the remaining members up again and escorted them to the precinct. They weren't taking any chances. One of those at the meeting was most likely the culprit. The techs went about processing the scene. They gathered the food and coffee and also water samples. They picked up the pamphlets and collected paper cups. Photographs were taken and diagrams were drawn. Everything was labeled and collected according to procedure. They taped off the room and locked it in case they needed to return to collect anything else. The building super wanted to know when the room could be used again. "Not anytime soon," said one of the techs. The super wasn't happy. "Seriously, don't use this room until we give you the all clear," said the tech making direct eye contact with the super. "Sure, sure," agreed the super. The tech was pretty sure the room would be used the minute they left the building, but none of them were paid enough to sit around and guard it. *** As the case proceeded, the cops questioned and re-questioned everyone that had any connection to the building, no matter how tentative. The forensics confirmed what everyone had suspected from the beginning—poison. In this case, someone had laced the coffee with cyanide. When asked who'd made the coffee, every remaining member had agreed. Victim number six always made the coffee. They wouldn't have poisoned themselves, would they? As the days ticked by, little progress was made. The only conclusive fact was that the poison was a very strong form of cyanide. Not something you could just buy. Someone had made it more potent. That seemed to indicate intent. Had one person been the target and the other just collateral damage? No matter how few leads they investigated, nothing was learned. The cops tried leaning on those who'd been at the meeting, but nothing came of it. No one knew anything. All of them seemed scared. Following the deaths of their friends, some of them had fallen hard off the wagon. They needed those meetings now more than ever, but at the same, they would never be able to attend one again. Watching their friends die so quickly and without reason scared them for life. No leads pointed to anyone. The case was going nowhere, but unfortunately, the news wouldn't let it go. The media frenzy surrounding the story refused to die down. Headlines that predicted deaths were great for ratings. The papers printed stories with headlines like "What if you're next?" "Random acts of violence on the rise." The detectives investigating the case, like every other cop in the SPD, were getting pressure from their boss to find someone, anyone, that could have committed the crime. Six deaths could not go unaccounted for. The original cops on the case did their best but it lead nowhere, eventually, more urgent cases popped up. The files were kept open, but without any new leads, nothing could be done. *** After nearly four weeks of nothing happening, the original detectives were called into the office of their captain. She was the meanest person in the department, but also the most respected. She didn't get to be captain of the west precinct homicide squad by chance. She'd worked hard to get her place, and she fought hard to keep it. Captain Carol Sayers was an impressive 5'11' and thin as a bean pole. She towered over most people and wore heels that made her even taller. She liked to look people in the eye when she spoke to them, and she would rather be looking down into someone eyes than up into them. "Sit," she said to the two detectives milling about in her doorway. She was tapping a pen on her desk pad and glancing out the window watching the rain fall. Detectives Rosemary Howe and Rook Wilmot were her best homicide detectives. They had an impressive closure rate, and more professionalism than most of the other detectives put together. The captain wished she could bottle up whatever made these two work so well and spoon feed it to the others. The two sat quietly waiting for the captain to be the first to speak. "You know about the poisonings that happened a month ago," Sayers said. They both nodded. How could you not know about it? The whole precinct, every department, kept talking about it. With no suspects and no leads, the news had resorted to blaming the SPD for the deaths. "Well, today is your lucky day. It's your case now," said the captain. Both detectives shifted in their seats. "We don't want to step on anyone's toes. We thought the case was Moore and Stevenson's?" asked Wilmot. "Not anymore," replied the captain getting to her feet and coming around the desk. She sat perched on the side facing them. "They aren't making any progress." She paused and sighed. "We need fresh eyes. A new lead. Anything really. We can't let six deaths go unexplained." "Of course," said Wilmot. "Plus, the media is determined to bring it up as much as they can. We aren't looking very competent right now." Sayers studied the two as they sat there. They studied her back, not in a challenging way, but in the way that capable detectives did. They observed and put pieces together. Hopefully this puzzle wouldn't be outside their capabilities. "I want you to work on this case and nothing else until you've exhausted everything. Go over everything again. Requestion all the witnesses. Until I say otherwise, this is your only case." They nodded at her and left her office without asking any questions. Rosemary had a feeling this case would get dropped on their laps. The really tricky ones usually did. She hated cases like this. It was the kind of case that needed solving but didn't want to be solved. Comment Like You can also reply to this email to leave a comment. Unsubscribe to no longer receive posts from Still Working on My Novel. Change your email settings at manage subscriptions. Trouble clicking? Copy and paste this URL into your browser: http://amandaniblock.com/2022/11/28/nanowrimo-winner-2022/ Powered by WordPress.com

[New post] Kausar….111

arifsonia posted: " "But the business was always doing well", She said, exasperated at mixed news coming from America. Some people reported that the business was lucrative. Some said Adeel was very worried and chased by debt collectors. "I have no idea what's going on o" My mind as a woman Kausar….111 arifsonia Nov 23 "But the business was always doing well", She said, exasperated at mixed news coming from America. Some people reported that the business was lucrative. Some said Adeel was very worried and chased by debt collectors. "I have no idea what's going on over there", Hamza said. He was the only involved brother. The other four largely stayed distant and cold. "If the business runs to the ground", Kausar said with trepidation at what was going to come out of her mouth next, "We won't be able to live there. How can I support four kids in the United States of America without a solid income? My salary doesn't cover that much". Hamza looked at her. True that he had anticipated Arshad and Kausar insisting on leaving with the kids. When he had spoken to Arshad before everything went up in smokes, Arshad had expressed the thought that they'd take the kids with them to the USA and Hamza could visit. He had certainly never thought that Kausar alone would be raising his kids. "You're not going back to the USA now", He blurted out, "I won't let my kids go there all by themselves". She looked at him coldly. He was an odd man to be suddenly switching up his act to concerned brother and father. "Then keep your kids here, except you signed over the rights to me", She shrugged her shoulders. The last thing she wanted was to let him know how terrified she was of leaving them with this monster who had eaten her sister alive, "But just so you know, Aunty was going to come with me". "Ha!" He exclaimed, "That's even worse. Two women are worse than one. And two of your kind. I don't trust Ami just as I don't trust you". "You don't trust me?" She laughed incredulously, "You certainly have a way with your ego. You've proved to be so untrustworthy that your own wife had her kids adopted while you were alive and able. And you don't trust me. Wow! Learn something new everyday". "I won't send my daughter to that country where she won't listen to me once she turns eighteen. I can't send her there with you. It's not safe. She needs good role models. Women who can tell her about culture, religion, our values…." She raised a hand, "Save it!" She left. "Ami!" He banged the door open. Nasima opened an eye and looked at him. He was her youngest and had enjoyed some favoritism from her over the years but this was uncalled for. What was he barging into her room for? "Hamza!" "Arshad's business is deteriorating. I have to call Adeel tonight. But that's a problem that I will deal with later. First, I have a bone to pick with you. Were you planning on leaving here with Kausar and the kids to the USA? My kids?" She straightened up in her bed. Her glasses had fogged over from the tears and sighs. She cleaned them meticulously. It was so important to see these men for what they were. "That's correct". "And you didn't think consulting with me was even the least bit important, did you?" "I suppose I didn't". "Zehra won't go", He said, his tall frame shaking with righteous fury, "My daughter won't go. She won't go where sex is allowed. She won't go where she can have a boyfriend. She won't go. Take Noor". "Hmm", The prologue of this story was going to be just as pathetic as the ending, she could tell. "And why, do you think, I'd agree to it? You signed the adoption papers knowing Zehra would be going to the USA". "With Arshad", He screamed, his face red with passion. He had never hated a woman as much as he was starting to hate Kausar. She probably had sown this seed in Rabia's head. He had always been a good father. Even Rabia, in her death couldn't deny it. This was all Kausar's doing. She had duped Rabia, conned his own mother and was now going to the USA with four kids. What did she mean to gain from it all? Maybe there was some monetary benefit. Maybe she thought that if she had four kids she'd get more in the inheritance that was soon to come from Faraz. Ah! So this was it!!!! "I won't let her take them", He said, more calmly now. "I will not let her take them. Whatever her highly doubtful motives maybe, I won't let her". He turned and stomped out of the room. Nasima fell asleep again. Summers are a killer in Karachi. It gets humid and hot. Fatigue creeps into every longing beings body. The sun shines bright from dawn to dusk. No time of the day appears to be without some degree of sunlight. One one summer afternoon, Nasima entered her room, unexpectedly smiling. "Your iddat ended today", She asked gently, touching Kausar's leaf-green dupatta. She smiled back. It didn't seem like four months had passed. It felt like a hundred. This house had become suffocating. It boiled under the sun and then got colder than death at night. The constant modulation that her body had engaged in to regulate the temperature inside and outside of her had drained her. She just wanted to go back to New Jersey. "I see you're packing", Nasima looked around. "We are leaving next month, Aunty! It's only three weeks until then". "Hamza won't let you take them", Nasima said. "It's all talk", She said briskly, "He's a spineless jerk". They had butted heads frequently in the last few weeks. She had never counted on him being assertive and forceful. Unsurprisingly, she had countered him with equal force. "They're my kids", He had screamed. "That you happily helped me adopt", She screamed back. "I wish Rabia burns in hell for the power she gave you", He always resorted to getting to her by using Rabia. "You didn't deserve her", She said contemptuously, "She was such a fool to marry you. She could've been alive if she hadn't married you". He made her, if possible, even more miserable than Arshad did. With Arshad the misery came with some sort of strength. With Hamza it was amazing that men could still overpower her. He entered the room. Usually he didn't come to her room unless someone was there with her. She didn't know if it was a sign of respect or distrust but welcomed any way in which she could avoid him. "Kausar!" He said quietly, "I won't let you take them, especially Zehra". She kept quietly folding clothes. "I've lost my wife. Why do you want me to lose more?" "I don't trust you with them", She said briefly. "Take Noor", He always said this like he was offering her some type of ransom money, "I'm not objecting to that. In fact, he'll have better education, more opportunities, he'll see the bigger world". "And what about Zehra?" She asked sharply, "She doesn't need to see the bigger world?" "No", His nostrils flared, "A woman seeing the bigger world is never good news. Look at you! You and Arshad were happy for the first few weeks of your marriage when you were here. The moment you landed there, trouble started". Arshad was dead. She wasn't going to denigrate his name. It wouldn't be fair. "Please, Kausar!" He stood in front of her. Even though he was exceptionally tall, she was only about half a head shorter than him. "I don't know what to tell you", She finally said, "I can't leave Zehra with you. Especially Zehra". "What do you mean?" "Women aren't safe with you", She said briefly and went back to folding her clothes. He looked stung. Like someone had slapped him. He stared at her for many minutes. Then he turned and left. A few days later he saw five tickets, one for each of the kids and Kausar, on the dining table. Maybe she had left them for him to see. They were leaving in about three weeks. It surprised him that Nasima's ticket wasn't there but knew that Nasima was considerably more secretive than Kausar. A restlessness took him over. Sure he had consented to his kids being taken away but if he ever found out that Zehra grew up like girls could in the United States then what was he going to do? His mind kept whirring. His eyes flew open in the middle of the night, his body drenched in sweat. Girls in American movies looked like Zehra. What would he do if Zehra called him one day and told him that she was dating? He developed insomnia. It didn't help that the only man in the world, his father, had taken to his room since Arshad's death. For whatever reason, Arshad had always been Faraz's favorite. It looked like Faraz was going to be the next to go. "You've got quite the conundrum on your hands", Faraz said, after hearing everything. "Papa! Have you seen Kausar? She's so strong-willed. Never gave a day's comfort to my poor brother and now she threatens to take my kids from me. Do you think that just because Rabia made an emotional decision on her deathbed and I went along with it to appease her, I should be punished like this?" "No one punishes my sons", Faraz said, "But I think that she's not so strong on her own. It's your mother. If she's making plans to leave with Kausar and the kids then that witch is executing what she always wanted to execute which is to leave me. Your mother is not as sincere as she pretends to be. She's spiteful". He didn't care about his parents' relationship. It had been dysfunctional since the beginning of time. "I saw the tickets. She's so crafty. Left them in clear vision for me to see. She doesn't even want to have a conversation with me about it all. Where is she going to eat from? Where is she going to feed this family of six from? The business is going downhill. Adeel called and he said that the store hasn't opened in two months". "Shut the business down", Faraz growled, "That piece of slimy dirt is the last of my worry. He can go down with the business. Arshad had some deal with him but we have no onus of providing for that pathetic Adeel. I care about my family. He can rot in hell". "He's calling me everyday, Papa! Sometimes more than once". "Is he asking for money?" "Yes. He thinks that twenty thousand dollars should help him get the business back up and producing". "No", Faraz stood up. He was a man of impressive proportions, just like his sons. When he was young, he was extremely good looking. Both Arshad and Hamza looked a lot like him. Even now, in his seventies, he radiated power and assertion. "I don't want you to communicate with him again", Faraz said, "You understand that?" Hamza nodded. "Now coming to your problem", Faraz looked at him, "How can we stop her from leaving for the USA? You might think that this is a weak woman who will ask for our scraps but that's not the truth. She has really been very headstrong and oppositional. Her pride, even though her downfall, is also the force that keeps her going. Don't underestimate her. Now, are you really okay with Noor leaving with her?" He contemplated his answer. The truth was that his daughter being in the West without him to guide her was killing him. He didn't think Noor was just as big of a problem. "I've made my peace with Noor eventually leaving with her", Hamza finally said. "Offer her marriage", Faraz said. Hamza's head jerked up. "I will absolutely not", He retorted loudly. "Listen, idiot!" Faraz said, lying down back in bed and staring at the wall ahead of him, "I have some interest in this so I've been thinking about it. When Arshad was here, did you notice that he wasn't happy?" He didn't know where his dad was leading with this but obliged him with an answer, "Everyone noticed, Papa! But what are you getting at?" "They didn't sleep in the same bed". "I know", Hamza said, exasperated, "Everyone knows". "There was discord in that marriage. Do you know why? I've asked your mother. She wouldn't tell me. But she did tell me that they were never close, Arshad and Kausar". "How does any of it apply to me?" Hamza snapped. "I want to keep Arshad's kids here. They're the last living memento of my favorite son. There's no other way to keep them here. Kausar's stupid mother already agrees with me that she'd be safer here. Think about it! If you offer marriage, would she decline? You're young, closer in age to her, the father of the kids she so earnestly adopted. It's not like this hasn't happened in history". "Papa!" He hesitated, "I have already promised marriage to someone. She is just waiting for a year to pass since Rabia's death but I have a wife picked out already". "You can have more than one", Faraz smiled, "You won't owe Kausar anything. You're not getting it. You're taking a woman with two kids, who has no prospects. Her business is in ruins. She has the additional responsibility of two of her sister's kids. People will love you. A beauty she's not! She's the most mediocre woman you could've chosen but look how this is the very act of altruism that'll catapult you from the status of a cheater to a savior. Think about it! You have three weeks". The thought of marrying Arshad's widow was abhorrent. "Papa! I love you but I think your brain is addled. This is impossible. Arshad won't forgive me ever…." "Marry her! Just for the heck of it. I'm not asking you to have a marital relationship with her. This is just a technicality. There are many women in the entire Pakistan that you've had relationships with. What's one more? It's charitable that a young and eligible bachelor who could've had his kids out of his way, could've had any woman, is choosing a damsel in distress. Son! You're not mine if you can't see the genius of this scheme. She'll be forever indebted. With Arshad she was the young and fertile wife. With you, she'd be the widow you housed and clothed. What's not adding up?" Hamza stood with his shoulders hunched, his mind racing, his thumbs intertwined. Faraz watched with satisfaction. What did Nasima think? That she'd punish his sons for him? She had never won. It wasn't possible for her to win now. He knew Hamza would come around. Hamza hated Kausar but no one hated Kausar more than Faraz did. She had eaten his son and when she spat him out, he was unrecognizable. Comment Like You can also reply to this email to leave a comment. Unsubscribe to no longer receive posts from My mind as a woman. Change your email settings at manage subscriptions. Trouble clicking? Copy and paste this URL into your browser: http://mymindasawoman.com/2022/11/23/kausar-111/ Powered by WordPress.com