I’ve decided to do things a little differently in regards to Goldilocks and the website here.
I’m not going to post the entire story here as I get it revised and finished up. Instead, I’ll provide updates in regards to where I am and post bits and pieces from the story.
The goal with Goldilocks it to have it self-published and ready for you to purchase by the end of the year.
Currently I’m back at the beginning of the who process. I’m happy with the prelude, which you can read here:
I’d gotten through Chapter’s One and Two, which you can read here:
Goldilocks Chapter One
Goldilocks Chapter Two
I was stuck however, on Chapter Three. For an entire week, every chance I got, I sat and stared at the screen. Reading through what I originally had for Chapter Three and not liking it one bit, but failing at coming up with a solution.
Then, with a suddenness that surprised me, it was there and I was writing again.
However, it made me go back and look over Chapter One. I realized that I wasn’t happy with how all of Chapter One was really nothing more than the back story of the Griswold family. So I decided to give the chapter a face lift.
What follows is the first 600 (or so) words from the new Chapter One.
There was only one round left in Burt’s rifle. One round, and no spares in his pack. That shouldn’t be a problem. One round and the right opportunity was all that Burt needed to take out his son and end what the boy had started once and for all.
Burt crouched behind a hedgerow and checked that the gun was loaded properly. The hedges stretched out on either side of him, making a wall that lined the graveled walk that led to the front door of the house. Burt figured that it was just a matter of time before his son, Butch, came up that walk.
The sun shone almost directly overhead, which told Burt that this little campaign had gone on now for over an hour. Too long. He knew that he had to end it, he just had to be patient.
A few minutes passed. The only sounds Burt could hear were the calls of birds, cars passing by down on Walter Road, and a lawn mower somewhere in the distance. He checked the rifle once again.
Burt knew guns from the war, but this one was strange to his hands. It didn’t quite fit right, but it was all he had. He would just have to make due.
Soon Burt heard the distinct sound of gravel crunching under foot. It was time. He tensed as the footsteps drew nearer. Burt didn’t dare to look over the top of the hedge, but that sound could only mean one thing. Butch was walking down the gravel path, heading towards the house just as Burt knew he would.
Burt tensed, ready to spring when the moment came. He rested a finger on the trigger and pressed the rifle’s stock back against his shoulder. As the footsteps came to a point just on the other side of the hedgerow where Burt waited, he popped up like a Jack in the Box and squeezed the trigger.
Burt hit his target, but it wasn’t his son. It wasn’t Butch. It was a woman.
Burt had to stifle a laugh at the site of Mrs. Sugarbaker with a suction cup dart sticking dead center to her forehead.
“It looks like you got me, Mr. Griswold,” Henrietta Sugarbaker said, her voice the very essence of restrained fury.
“I’m so sorry about that, Henrietta,” Burt said, still fighting to hold back his laughter. “I thought you were Butch.”
“Do I look like your son?” She asked, her eyes narrowing at the familiar use of her first name.
Burt knew better then to answer. He could spot a rhetorical question at three hundred yards.
“Have you, maybe, seen Butch at all this morning, Mrs. Sugarbaker? You know, while you were out taking care of things?”
“No, Mr. Griswold,” she replied, pulling the dart from her forehead with an audible pop. “I have not seen young Butch.” Henrietta Sugarbaker was the head of grounds keeping for Burt and his family. “I have a feeling, however,” she continued, handing the dart back over to Burt and smiling slightly, “that he will see you, before you see him.”
That’s when Burt heard a faint click and felt someone small hit him in the back of the head. Something like a suction cup dart.
“Gotcha!” a voice shouted from behind.
Henrietta Sugarbaker gave Burt a sly wink, and walked on up the path towards the house. Burt turned to find a large tooth-filled smile with his son, Butch, standing behind it.
“I gotcha, Dad!” he shouted as he started to dance in place right there on the grass.
“What are you doing?” Burt laughed.
“I’m doing my I Beat My Dad Happy Dance,” Butch replied, still dancing.
“That looks a lot like your Macaroni and Cheese Happy Dance,” Burt said, walking over to this son and putting an arm around his shoulder.
“Well yeah,” Butch said, “It’s the only dance I know.”
The first thing that struck me about this new opening is that not once do I explain that the Griswolds were bears.
Maybe I won’t specifically state that these characters are bears.