The Village Gaarden--a free short story

No, that's not a typo. "Gaarden" is how Norwegians would spell "garden," and my short story features Kelly O'Connell in what may be the closest thing to a fantasy tale that I'll ever write, fantasy not being my natural bent. Short stories are hard for me--either a crystal clear idea suddenly strikes or I stare at a blank computer screen. But when I realized a lot of mystery authors write short stories I decided to try my hand at it. This one that feature Kelly from my Kelly O'Connell Mysteries, still in her Fairmont neighborhood, just sort of came to me. I'm not sure I can even tell you where the idea came from, but I shaped and worked it until it was became a story that incorporated a family story and recipe. So, sit with Kelly in The Village Gaarden, leave the real world behind for a moment, and enjoy kjottkaker or, as we call them, Norwegian hamburgers. So good. You can download the story and the recipe here free:http://www.judyalter.com/files/shortstory.pdf. If you haven't met Kelly yet, I hope this will give you a slight idea and make you want to know her better; if you have met her, enjoy this different glimpse of her.
I have written fewer than twenty short stories in what has been a relatively long writing career. Fourteen of them, previously published, are in my collection Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and Other Stories (available on Kindle and Smashwords for ninety-nine cents). But this is not a plug for that book. It's about mysteries and short stories and The Village Gaarden," which is special to me. I hope you enjoy it.

The day wasn't over

It's not yet noon and I've already had enough excitement for a week. To begin with, when I thought my long day was over yesterday, it wasn't . I finally tore myself from the computer--you know that just one more thing feeling?--and went to tell Jacob he absolutely had to turn off the TV, use the bathroom, and brush his teeth. He was sound asleep, TV blaring. I wrestled his pajama bottoms off to put a pull-up on since heaven only knows when he last used the potty. (This morning he looked down and said, "How did I get this on?") Then I pulled him from the foot of the bed to the head so he could stretch out--50 lbs. of uncooperating dead weight--laid him on his back and told him to close his eyes, put eye drops in, said to open the eyes. "No, three!" he shouted. "Three what?" "Count to three!" "Okay, count to three." At this he scrunched up his face in a cry and said, "No, not me. You count!" When I told him to close his eyes again, he was out, and I left the room feeling like a bad grandmother.

But the night still wasn't over. About one o'clock, he crawled wordlessly into my bed. I really debated whether it was more trouble to endure the kicks, punches, and body slams or to try to maneuver this sound sleeper back to his own bed. I settled for endurance though at times I felt like a battered woman. His favorite place is the middle of the bed, thank you very much. This morning when I asked how he got to my bed, he gave me a look like I am fairly dense and said, "I walked." I asked why, thinking he'd had a bad dream, and he said, "My bed was wet." Swell!
One benefit: sometime during my off-and-on sleep and dreams, the idea for a short story came to me. Project for the day is to rough it out. I've promised to supply a short mystery story for an anthology this spring, and it's been worrying me because I don't write short stories easily unless an idea slams me over the head.
We had one more piece of excitement this morning: Sophie, the nine month puppy, escaped out the door. Before you could blink she was across the street and in the schoolyard. I was so desperate I told Jacob to look both ways very carefully and then follow her. Ran back foir a leash, treats for bribery, and went out the front door calling for my neighbor. The neighbor on the other side said, "She's got her," and there came the neighbor from two doors down carrying Sophie, with Jacob trailing behind them. Said Sophie is so friendly she ran right up to her  with delight! My heart is still pounding.
Jacob has gone to spend the weekend with a friend, the supper is cooked, and I'm looking forward to a visit with good friends. I need peace and quiet.

The World is Closed

Again, and no hope for the next two days! I don't much mind being here by myself, but I don't like the feeling that I can't jump in the car and go if I want to. I try, with medium success, to tell myself that what will be will be, and if you can't go out, you can't. I think the streets are clearing up, at least the major ones, and I would be comfortable driving, but I'm cautious about walking across my porch even to empty trash. Today I had a couple of catastrophes: my washing machine won't work, and I suspect the pipes are frozen. I called for a repair appointment, but I think I'll wait and try it Sunday night, hoping to cancel the appointment. The machine is in an add-on part of the house and not the regular, well-insulated brick portion. Then the dog ate the pie crust for the chocolate cookie pie crust I was planning to fill. I gave him stern lectures, to no avail--when allowed back in the kitchen, he busily searched for crumbs my sweeping had missed. I posted this incident on Facebook and got lots of suggestions on how to handle dogs who ate chocolate, toxic to them. But he shows no signs of distress. And he's a dog who shows distress easily when he feels it. I started from scratch and remade the pie, so the crust will be better than the one I bought.
Tonight my young neighbor next door called just to chat. Being home with a three-year-old, she had cabin fever and wondered if I did. She had gotten out with her husband and said even a ride around the neighborhood would make a difference. We had a good long visit about a lot of things, and she says they'll come for a visit tomorrow. I have invited them, with three other young couples (including Jordan and Christian), for supper Saturday night, and she says they'll take me to the grocery if need be. It's supposed to snow Friday--snow, not ice--and be middling-to-pleasant Saturday, really defrost by Sunday and SuperBowl. I do feel sorry for the merchants and people of downtown Fort Worth who worked so hard to prepare for this week--and now nobody can get out and enjoy the fun.
I've made good use of my housebound time: I finished critiquing a manuscript I was reading in the Guppies critique program, where authors are matched with others and reach each other's manuscripts.I really liked the one I read, but I had lots of comments and suggestions. Critiquing it was a learning experience for me and made me aware of things I need to correct in my writing.
I also posted a short story on Kindle--"The Art of Candle Dipping" should be up in a couple of days. It's a story that has always made me choke up the few times I've read it aloud. Based on a true account in the files of Fort Worth's Log Cabin Village. I'm puzzled though as to how to price it at 99 cents--Amazon didn't seem inclined to let me price it below $2.99, which seems a bit high for one short story. I'll have to investigate that.