http://slow.writerscafe.org/Scott_Winchester The original writings of author ScottWinchester en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775990505 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15             His eyes scanned the Gardens withsuch a feeling of nostalgia that his chest seemed to warm. The window he stoodinside was high up, among the highest around; such a vantage point allowed himto see it all. The cobblestone sidewalks, the ivy covered .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1309553/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1309552/ A SNEAK PREVIEW to The Chess Club Sequel!Assorted Passages from:The Servants of the Secret Garden"... where is Roland Beaumont's son now? And the Artist of the Black with him...?" "... we don't know. They've passed beyond our sight...""Survivors of the Chess Club, welcome. To Kincaid Gardens...""Yo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1260163/ There was a time when my legal name was Nicolle Darling and I was nothing like I am today.Those were the days of grief... my brother Adam had died and I endured ourhateful parents all by myself. Those were the days of loneliness, when I sufferedthrough my awkward phases of high school, b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1220579/     Somewhere, in the valleys ofher mind, she remembered that song. The soft piano, the slow melody, the peaceful melody. Where had she heardthat song before…? It brought images to her: a bridge at night, and the soundof water, that piano, the keys played so beautifully, and .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185578/     The electricity was still offin Maple Hill High school; somewhere, most likely, someone was at work tryingto get it back on.            No need. The Truthbringer, Timmy Stoker, Artist of theYellow, was about to light up .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185576/ The clouds of yesterday haddarkened; rain was imminent.             Nicolle was running horribly late for school. This was,according to the plan, the last day they would go to school until after Dom’sUp-and-Coming Artistry thing .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185575/ “Who in the hell are you?”            “My name’s Elijah Beaumont.” Then, a touch grizzlier: “Iassume you’re Sylvia Norton, Nicolle’s mother?”      &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185573/ Hugo Reid stared at his reflection in the mirror ofhis Riverlove Run cabin. A suit and tie was considered the standard everydaydress code for anyone with a membership in the Holders. The leather gloves thathe wore, though: he’d chosen to wear those himself. It simply wouldn’t do to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185571/ Before her eyes had changed color, it was as if Nicollewas living with a blindfold impairing her, seeing only darkness. Afterdeveloping her Artistry and joining the Chess Club, it was as if the blindfoldhad been removed and she was allowed to at last look out the window and see thesplendor o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185569/     Vee: “So what now?”             Dominic: “What domean what now? We leave, immediately.”             Elyse: “Leave towhere?&rdquo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185568/ “Can you hear me…?”            Vee was asleep… but yes, she could hear it, the voice of a woman.What a sexy voice, too, soft yet deadly, the purr of a tiger.        &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185566/ Nicolle Darling had never been kissed.            Thiswas, admittedly, not her greatest concern at the moment. Her greatest concernwas on the front of the newspaper sitting on the kitchen table… front of thenewspaper, she noted,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185565/ Natalia Hawthorne reached forward, found the buttonthat upped her stereo’s volume, and held it down. She had been told that thesound system that came in her 2009 Bugatti Veyron EB 16.4 was almost aspowerful as its engine; for $1.5 million dollars, it had better.   &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185525/ Nicolle had a long traditionof staying silent during tense moments. She held that tradition in the hoursthat followed the Eclipse Bowl; her eyes darted between a frantic Vee and anenraged Dominic, a spectator of ping pong, yet she said very little herself.The entire matter seemed out of her .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185524/ Dominic was so afraid he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, hecouldn’t scream; his fear shamed him and shocked him. How had it snuck up onhim like this?            The lights of his Up-and-Coming Artistry had arrived; th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185523/ Rain on the window. The soundof a fly roaming the room.            As morning had come rain clouds had followed, blockingthe glorious glow of sunrise and replacing it with stony horizon. It wasn’t adeluge or a shower but somethin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185519/ Nicolle met Timmy three yearsago, when they were freshmen. He’d moved to Maple Hill High school fromMaryland for reasons he’d told her but she could no longer remember, somethingto do with his father’s absence in his life. He was almost instantly unpopular,possessing an unf.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185518/ Death.            Nicolle placed her hand on the sycamore tree in front ofher. It was strong and old… not an easy tree to bring down. If she provedunable to do it she could always find something smaller, but this particularmorni.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185419/ The memory returned to her:Adam had just passed away and, unable to confront this horrific new reality,Nicolle retreated to her bathroom to be alone. Ten years later she was nodifferent.            In all of the time that Nicolle had a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185418/ It wasn't an epiphanyexplosion; it wasn't lightning across the sky, or a slap on the face; it wasn'ta scream, but a whisper... as soon as Dominic awoke he realized it was there.Quiet, almost unnoticeable, but there. It had been so long since it had beenthere that he'd nearly forgotten he pos.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185378/ Nicolle looked back over herfirst day as a Chess Club member and found herself unable to nail down how shefelt about it. True, Alyssa had given her plenty to be upset about " andjudging from conversations with Vee the Chess Club was prepared to give Alyssa plenty to be upset about in thenear.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185376/              It was the sort of thingNicolle knew would be talked about for years to come; the Big Fight in theLunchroom. Once all of the students who witnessed it were gone students wouldstill be talking. It had all the ingredients for a public bon mot, for .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185375/ Elijah Beaumont opened hiseyes. His instincts told him that it was almost sunrise though no light camethrough his windows. It was Monday morning; with her car still being worked onhe remembered that he was to give Presley a ride to school. Seeing her " hehoped " would help him get rid of the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185199/      The dawn " as breathtaking as it was, huesreminiscent of rose and amber, cool air brisk in the lungs " was not welcome toNicolle. Returning home was never welcome;Nicolle had hoped she would be able to spend the entirety of the weekend at thevan Valen’s, but:&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185198/           Itwas nearing eight o’clock when Vee said almosthome.           Theroad Vee lived down had a rustic, old country painting feel to it;her driveway, a long stretch of pea gravel, was set.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185197/ When at last the bell sounded,ending first period, the members of the Chess Club slowly exited Room 44, theirshades hiding the secrets they carried. Nicolle wasn’t really sure what to donext; so much thought had been set on arriving on time that she hadn’tconsidered what happene.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185195/                 “Youknow... maybe we should have a seat,” thegreen eyed boy had said moments prior. “We'vegot a whole lot to cover.”                 Witha friendly hand on the back Ve.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185194/                 Nicolleread the email again. Then a third time. A fourth. A fifth. Unable tocatch her breath, she stood and walked across the room, her hands inher hair; twenty-one seconds passed, twenty-one crazed moments,before she was at her compu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1185193/                 ElijahBeaumont reached with his free hand and turned the volume up on hisphone, from which poured the sounds of The Din Symphonic. They wereamong his favorite bands, beautiful classical sounds fused withelectric guitars and angelic voca.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1184760/                 Nicolleopened her eyes. Sunlight and silence; beams from her window madesquares of light on her walls, dust particles floating around in themlike life underwater. Her body ached, for some reason, so she didn'tmove from her spot in bed.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1184759/  ChapterTwo: A Memory of Fire (in a Cold, Cold Place)            NicolleDarling was known on the online community as Salem. Shedidn’t know why she selected that screen name. She had once readthat 90% of all people exaggerate at least a li.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1184758/            Nicolle Darling and her brother, Adam, were dreamers like most eightand ten year olds. In their daydreams -- which eventually tookthe form of a comic book that she illustrated and he wrote -- they did not live in the Darling h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1184754/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Scott_Winchester/1184751/