Writer’s Quill Winning Story!

We had some great submissions for our prompt, but alas, only one can win! After much deliberation, our winner is…

To Elaine Mountvale, by Katherine Milliken

Congratulations, Katherine! I hope you enjoy her story as much as we did!

Also, keep an eye out for our next prompt! And comment below if you have any prompts you’d like to see on the Quill!

To Elaine Mountvale…

Katherine Milliken (Grade 8)

I had always had a secret longing to wander through the woods at night. I would stare out of my bedroom window (which faced the woods) at the moonlight in the clearings and the contrasting darkness under the shadows of the trees, and I would feel so fascinated by the whole picture that I could hardly restrain myself from rushing out to it.

“What are you doing, Elaine?” asked my sister Denise, coming into my room once while I was thus occupied.

“I’m looking out the window,” I said truthfully.

“I can see that,” said Denise. “I meant, why are you looking out the window? There’s not much to see.”

How could I answer that? If Denise didn’t see the beauty and mystery in those softened, darkened woods, how could I explain?

“There’s everything to see,” I said with dignity.

“I should have known you’d say something like that,” said Denise, slightly irritated and slightly affectionate at the same time.

It was a few days after this that I woke up suddenly early in the morning. I looked out my favorite window – the one facing the woods – and it looked so much more beautiful than usual, even at night time, that I felt I really couldn’t stop myself from going out to them. I quickly did my morning routine and very quietly let myself out. The dew splattered on my bare feet, and I could hear some early birds out. An owl hooted in the distance.

I forced myself to keep at a walk, drinking in every detail. I could not keep this up for long, however, and by the time I had reached the woodline I was nearly dancing. I had explored much of our fourteen acres of forest in the daytime, but never so early in the morning. It was an ethereal experience, and I enjoyed it to the utmost.

Finally I started to trace my way back. In passing by a huge tree with extensive roots, a flutter of something white caught my eye, and naturally I stooped and picked it out from the roots. It was a torn piece of paper, with writing on it. Some of the words had obviously been cut off by the tear.

I stood still for a moment, trying to decipher the smeared words. It looked as though it had been written in calligraphy, or some similar font, but the writing was cramped and uneven. After a few minutes, I was pretty sure I could understand it:

…didn’t understand that. Of course, I knew he would feel a little overwhelmed, but I thought he would be pleased after he’d gotten accustomed to the idea. I would have jumped at the chance. He has always acted oddly though, you know, Elaine. I’ve never understood him, as fond as I am of him. I’m sure you would like to be made a millionaire overnight, wouldn’t you?

Give my love to your dear sister. She’s such a darling. Don’t forget to come over tomorrow, Elaine dear. I’d love to have you, and you can judge Julius’ behaviour for yourself. Don’t forget to bring your –

I puzzled over this for some time. It couldn’t have been for me, could it have? But…my name was Elaine, and I’d found it on my parents’ property. I slowly moved forward, staring intently at the paper. I very abruptly forgot all about the paper when my toe snagged on the roots of the large tree, depositing me on my backside.

I gingerly attempted to get up. Glancing down balefully at the root that had tripped me, I saw another bit of paper. I eagerly snatched it up. It appeared to be from the same source, but it was from a different part and was a good deal shorter.

…………………rison

To Elaine Mountvale

Dearest,

I haven’t written you in so long. How is….

“The plot thickens,” I said with a laugh. My name was in fact Elaine Mountvale, so it would seem that the message was for me. Who on earth could have sent it? I didn’t know anyone named Julius, and certainly I didn’t know anyone who might have gotten millions of dollars.

I hurried home with my precious bits of paper in my hand, being careful not to trip again. The sun was up by now, and I thought it likely that my parents were already up. Even Denise might be up by now.

I came in by the back door. Mom was sitting in the living room. She looked really tired.

“You okay, Mom?” I whispered.

Mom opened her eyes. “I’m fine, honey,” she said. “I just had a migraine last night, that’s all.”

I carefully wiped my feet off on the doormat. “Would you like tea or something?” I asked.

“Actually, I’d love some coffee right now,” said Mom. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble, sweetie?”

“Of course not,” I said.

Mom readjusted herself and picked up what looked like a schedule for the day. “Can you just wake up Denise? She really should get up earlier.”

“I’ll wake her up, all right,” I said significantly. I got Mom a cup of coffee and then raced up the stairs, clutching my papers.

“Denise!” I said urgently, gently shaking her. “Denise, wake up!”

“What? Stop, I’m trying to sleep,” muttered Denise.

“Wake up. I have to show you something,” I said. Denise still did not wake up, so I tried the more extreme method of starting a CD on top volume.

“Stop, stop!” said Denise. “I’m waking up!” She half sat up and groped around for the glass of water she’d left on the dresser. She accidentally knocked it over, and then she thoroughly woke up in the process of cleaning it up. I finally turned off the music – which had been blaring all through the clean-up – and sat on the bed next to her.

“Look what I just found in the woods,” I said, displaying my find.

Denise read both the papers carefully. “Well, what do you make of that?” I asked when she had finished.

“I have absolutely no idea,” said Denise frankly. “Dad might know.”

“He’ll be leaving for work in about fifteen minutes,” I said.

Without bothering to answer, Denise scrambled out of bed and ran into the bathroom. It was a rule in our house that no one could leave the upper floor of the house in the morning without getting dressed, making one’s bed, and doing morning hygiene. I helped by making Denise’s bed and getting out clothes for her. It was unthinkable to

make any headway on the mystery without Denise. We had been born only a year apart, and we always did everything together.

Denise came in and looked somewhat askance at my clothing choice. “Well, I didn’t really think orange and red went together,” she said, “but I suppose desperate times do call for desperate measures.” She grabbed the clothes and darted into the closet. Denise is much better about coordinating her clothing than me.

Seven minutes after Denise had gotten out of bed, Denise and I clattered down the stairs to where Dad was talking to Mom in the living room. We approached him with the papers and demanded his opinion.

“Who do you suppose could have written it?” Denise asked.

“Well, I imagine the ‘Julius’ referred to is Julius Morrison,” said Dad. “He lives with his sister, just a few blocks away, I believe. I’d heard that his uncle just died and left him about three million dollars.”

Denise and I looked at each other excitedly.

“I don’t know who could have written this, though,” said Dad, frowning a little. “We don’t know anyone who might know Julius Morrison.”

Denise and I looked at each other dejectedly.

“I’m sorry, but it’s time for me to go now,” said Dad. “Do you want to see me off?”

“Sure, Dad,” Denise and I said in unison.

After we had seen Dad off, we had breakfast and made our plan of attack. Luckily, school had just ended a week ago, so we had plenty of time.

“Let’s find out Julius Morrison’s address and go scout out the territory,” suggested Denise. “He’s the only clue we have of yet.”

“Shall we storm the castle?” I asked. Denise and I always talked like this when we were alone.

“There might be a dragon guarding the door,” said Denise. “I mean, Dad never said that they lived alone.”

“Better stick to scouting the territory, I guess,” I said, slightly disappointed.

We finished breakfast, then did our chores. After half an hour, we were free to go, which we promptly did. We looked up the Morrison address, and then went out to find it. It was a very old, beautiful house. It was made of yellow brick, and had balconies and window seats and even a turret.

“Some castle, huh?” said Denise, elbowing me.

I tentatively put a hand on the iron gate. “Are you sure we shouldn’t at least attempt an attack?”

Denise turned to look at me. “You really want to try to get in, don’t you?”

“Yes. We could solve the whole thing now, if we did,” I urged.

“Oh, all right,” said Denise. We nervously went down the gravel walkway, and then nervously walked up the brick steps. I then nervously pulled the bell.

The door was soon pulled open by a stern-looking middle aged woman. “If you want to see Julius, he’s not in,” she said immediately.

“How about his sister?” I said.

“She’s busy,” said the woman rebukingly.

“And who are you?” asked Denise. I felt slightly shocked by her audacity. Denise can always surprise me.

“I am Miss Randall, the young Morrisons’ aunt,” she said stiffly. “Now, tell me. Why are you here?”

Denise shot me a look that said, “We may as well tell her.” I explained, and showed her the papers.

“I must say,” said the woman, disapprovingly, “that this letter has nothing to do with us. We don’t know you at all. There’s a very abrasive and annoying girl that lives near here – name of Sandy Crawford. This was probably her work.”

“Oh. All right,” I said in disappointment. It would be a dreadful anti-climax to have the letter be hoaxed by a jerk.

“Goodbye,” said Miss Randall, shutting the door. Denise and I walked away, dragging our feet in dejection.

“Sandy Crawford!” said Denise after some time. “I remember her. Not a very pleasant character.”

“Could she really have written it?”

“I don’t know. She would love to trick us, I’m sure.”

“I mean to find out,” I said resolutely.

“How do you intend to do that?”

“I’ll ask her.”

Denise looked at me, shocked. “Elaine Mountvale! You wouldn’t really!”

“I’ll go crazy if I don’t find out,” I said desperately. “I’d hate to find out Sandy Crawford wrote it, but I have to find out who did.”

“All right, then,” said Denise. “I can’t say I enjoy the prospect of bearding the lion in its den, as it were. If we must, we must, I suppose.”

We walked to Sandy Crawford’s house. We had met her a couple times in several different activities, and our impression of her was not a good one.

We found her just walking out of her house. She greeted us with a somewhat crooked smile. “Why, it’s my dear Mountvale friends!” she said. We flushed slightly. We hated it when she called us that. Sandy was never rude, but she always made us feel uncomfortable. “What’s your business today, Mountvales?”

“We wanted to ask you something,” said Denise. I pulled out my pieces of paper. I hesitated a little, but I really did want to know who had written it.

“Did you write this?” I asked, handing them to her.

She looked at them carefully. “Do you mean to say,” she said, smiling broadly, “that you accuse me of writing this? Why, that would be deceitful.”

“I mean to find out who wrote it, and I was directed to you,” I said steadily.

“Really!” Her smile grew even broader. “I am fond of a good joke. I’m not saying I wrote it, mind. Really, though, I am known for my sense of humour. I’m sure you noticed the irony in that pa-” Her smile faded, and she looked confused. “Well, good day, Mountvales,” she said, hurrying away.

“She wrote it,” said Denise.

“I guess so,” I muttered.

We walked home. Once inside, we retreated to our special haven; a dark, enclosed corner of the attic. I lighted a candle and reached into my pocket for the pieces of paper. “Hey, there’s only one of them,” I said. The longer piece was missing. “Where’s the other one?”

“You must have lost it on the way back,” said Denise. “Or Sandy Crawford stole it.”

“Never mind,” I said with set teeth. I held the paper toward the candle. The flame licked the corner of the paper. I never wanted to see it again. The words upon it in their elegant scrawl had once meant the world to me, but now, all I wanted was for it to be gone. Well, maybe it hadn’t really meant the world to me. Still, I was glad to burn it now.

“Elaine!” said Denise, pulling at my arm as the paper burst into flame. I quickly dropped it into a glass dish and watched it crumple and fade away into nothing but ash. “Elaine,” said Denise reproachfully, “there was no need to do that.”

“Yes, there was,” I said stubbornly. “I don’t want to keep that thing. It would mock me every time I looked at it.”

“You do say such strange things, Elaine,” said Denise. Which, for some reason, annoyed me beyond measure.

We went down and quietly had our lunch. We would have told Mom about the whole thing so that she could sympathise with us, but Mom was out working at her summer job. After lunch we went out to the woods. We had gone out with the express intention of moping, but it was such a beautiful day that we soon began to cheer up, despite our best efforts. We had gone an acre or two into the woods, and had actually started laughing, when we were suddenly met by a girl. She was about my age – perhaps a year older – and she looked very shy. She looked pleased to see us, nonetheless, and smiled warmly while extending her hand.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Myra Morrison.”

“Were you the one -?” I said, new light dawning.

“Yes, I wrote the letter,” she said nervously, holding out the longer piece of paper, that we had missed. “I’m sorry I caused so much trouble. I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course not,” said Denise soothingly. “Could you explain how it all happened?”

“Yes,” said Myra. “That’s what I came for. It started about six months ago, when I heard from a friend that it was Elaine’s sixteenth birthday. I didn’t know either of you then, but -” she paused and looked, embarrassed, at the ground. “I do things, sometimes, which other people think a little silly,” she said. “I wrote you a birthday letter that I didn’t mean to send to you. I found out more about you both, and I liked you so much – although I’d never met you – that I began writing you both letters every week, then keeping them tied up in my room to read every now and then.”

“Why did we find one on our property, though?” asked Denise.

Myra looked anxious. “Are these woods your property? I never knew that. I would often come in here to watch you playing out in your yard. That was before Julius came home, of course. He left college to come home to me after I finished school, to keep me company. I’m never lonely when he’s here. Last week, when Julius was away straightening out all those dreadful financial affairs, I felt lonely as I hadn’t in a long time, and I came here to read all the letters I’d written. I found, when I went home, that one of the more recent ones was missing. Then, earlier today, Miss Randall told me about your visit, and I felt dreadful. Then I found this piece of paper in the street. I didn’t know my silly little habits would cause any trouble.”

“You haven’t caused any trouble,” I said warmly. “I’m glad, for now we finally know you, after all that.”

Myra smiled, and her whole face seemed to light up. “I’m glad you aren’t angry with me,” she said. “I’d heard that Sandy Crawford was trying to make you think she wrote it, and it was then that I knew I must confess to you.”

“Well, I hope you’ll be good friends with us now,” said Denise.

“Oh, yes,” said Myra. “You must meet Julius, too. I’m sure that you’ll like him. I didn’t really mean all I said in that letter – I was feeling upset at the time and I wanted to vent it somehow. Besides, I didn’t think anyone would ever see it. I found out, afterwards, that he had been very fond of our uncle, the one who died and left him the money, and he didn’t want the money at all if it meant he was dead. I never knew the uncle, you see.”

“Is it really three million dollars?” asked Denise in an awed whisper.

Myra nodded. “Let’s not talk about that,” she said. “I want to see your house.”

“All right, come on then,” I said, catching hold of her hand. We all ran up to the house together, and the happy time that followed was only the beginning of our long

friendship together.

THE END