The Fountain Pen

I had to work out some plot-based kinks in the ending of my novel tonight. As I’ve been approaching the end I’ve become more concerned about it. Initially it was never a well defined target, as I knew I would be shifting things around. As it grew closer I had a good idea how I wanted to wrap things up, but as I’m now 10,000 words away from “the end” I’ve grown uncomfortable with it. For one thing it was a bit too vague, and for another I still was not entirely clear how to get the characters from plot point a to plot point b. I’m still not 100% sure I’ve solved it, but I think (I hope) I’ve got it solved enough that I can cross the finish line this month.

Due to the plotting of the novel I had to eat away at my lead. I only wrote 800 some odd words, enough to cross the 40k marker. It’s not what I wanted today, but I have a better idea of how to proceed from here.

For today’s excerpt I am reposting a portion of yesterday’s writing to give some context:

“Welcome to the Mission Mill Museum,” Ignatius said with a grand sweeping gesture.

Joe looked around. The immediate vicinity presented itself as a small park with a creek running through it, and a few trees. Across the lawn stood a complex of wooden buildings painted a rustic red with stark white trim. The uniform construction was soothing to the eye, but did nothing to diminish the feeling of weight the large three story brick building gave to the area. The complex stood out among the more modern buildings of Salem. In truth they evoked a colonial era, rather than a frontier old-west feeling, as if the buildings were wholly transplanted from Salem, Massachusetts to Salem, Oregon. The impression was so strong Joe wondered which building would have been used for a witch trial.

“I can see why Sikander would use this place. It’s … old,” Joe said.

“It has been well preserved,” Ignatius agreed.

“That’s not what I meant,” Joe countered. “I mean the atmosphere of this place. It’s almost as if we stepped into another world in another time. I half expect a young girl in a bonnet and boots with buttons to come out of one of those buildings carrying a wooden bucket.”

“And that is precisely what I meant about being well preserved,” Ignatius responded. “More than just the building structures have been preserved. The very spirit of the place is intact. As you say, all that is missing are the people who originally spent their time here.”

At that precise moment a young girl, in dress and bonnet, exited one of the buildings, walked across the yard and into another building.

“You forgot to mention the museum is haunted,” Joe said sardonically.

Katarina laughed. “Let’s find what we’ve come here to seek,” she suggested. “We won’t have much daylight, and I have a suspicion we’ll need it.”

Joe looked to Ignatius who was simply standing still, staring perplexedly at the buildings. “Where do we start looking?”

Ignatius, looking worried, shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“What do you mean?” Joe asked a bit shocked. “At the church you were able to find that brick, sort of like a bloodhound. Why is this place different?”

“I don’t know how to say it, but I think the whole place might be binding.”

Joe looked from Ignatius to Katarina. “Is that possible? I mean, the last one was just a brick.”

“Size is irrelevant,” Katarina replied. “All that matters is that it exists.”

“But the amount of effort it must have taken to convert this entire place …” Ignatius said to Katarina, trailing off. “How could someone pull that off? The time it would take to complete it, without anyone interfering, makes it so unlikely I’ve never heard of it being done.”

“Are you certain there is not another explanation?” Katarina suggested.

Ignatius furrowed his brow. “Like what?”

“What if there is more than one binding here?”

Ignatius’s eyes grew wide. “You can’t be serious.”

Katarina looked him in the eye, unwavering. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Frankly, yes. How could they coexist in proximity?”

“It’s been done before,” Katarina prodded.

Ignatius snapped a quick glance at Joe then back to Katarina, “Yes, but that technique was lost with Helmut,” he hissed.

“Are you sure?” Katarina pressed.

“If Sikander learned it, or rediscovered it, he didn’t tell me. I didn’t even get a hint of it from him.”

Katarina gave him an exasperated look. “Are you suggesting Sikander never kept any secrets from you?”

“Of course not,” Ignatius spat, his dander up. “But I assisted him on a great many of these traps, and we went through all kinds of gyrations to place layer upon layer of bindings in the same city. It would have been greatly simplified if he had this technique. No,” he shook his head. “If Sikander knew how to do this I’m sure I would have caught wind of it.”

“Humor me, and see if I’m right.”

Ignatius sighed. “And where do you expect me to start looking?”

“Pick something suitably old,” Katarina offered. “Say a lintel, or part of the foundation.”

“Very well,” Ignatius grunted.

“What’s it going to hurt?” Joe asked. “Wouldn’t that help if the whole place were the binding?”

“It would have some limited uses,” Ignatius grumbled. “But I would not gain anything specific, and details are what we need right now. Without them we will not be able to unravel the binding and you will be stuck here I’m afraid.”

Joe looked to Katarina for encouragement. She stood firm, calm, and composed, as if there was nothing at all in the world to be concerned about. Joe turned back to Ignatius, “It’s worth a shot.”

They walked over to the large brick building, which Joe assumed was the actual mill, and Ignatius began running his hands over the rough rock foundation, muttering to himself the entire time. After a few minutes he gave up, shrugging his shoulders. “Nothing, and everything. I can’t find anything specific here to investigate.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Joe asked.

Katarina reached out and laid a hand on Ignatius’s shoulder. “Allow me,” she said softly. “Try again. Please.”

Ignatius sighed resignedly and turned back to the building and began running his hands over the rock wall. “There. Do you feel that?” Katarina called out.

“No,” Ignatius growled. “Wait.” He squinted, then shut his eyes and leaned into the building. “It’s faint, but there is something here. Something distinct from the rest of the place.”