Chapter 3: The Girl Who Seemed To Know Things-- Fabulous Freewrite in the Art of Stephen King

FABULOUS FREEWRITE IN THE ART OF STEPHEN KING: CHAPTER 3

The Girl Who Seemed To Know Things

...They brought with them a little girl. She seemed to know things....

Adele had long, soft brown hair that curled into ringlets at the very end. The ringlets bounced off the low of her back and swooshed around her shoulders whenever she made the slightest of movements.

She did all the things children do, and said all the things that children said. She wore little dresses and jumpers her mother had found on sale, to keep her looking always fresh and new on a fairly pinched budget. The mortgage took up most of the extra income.

There was a particular innocence about Adele that was made even more so by the stark contrast of a certain knowing she possessed. Not everyone picked up on it, but most people sensed it in some way--at least, subconsciously. It was something about how she took the world in. She would flit about and sing and prance like any other little girl, but then she would stop and notice things that other children didn’t, as though she had a perspective only an older soul could have. And with good reason. Much of her perspective came from such older souls.

In Kindergarten, just the year before, she walked up to Mrs. Manning, put her hand on her teacher’s cheek, and said in a precious little voice, “I hope you are not too sad today. I know you are missing your mother. Mine is still around, but sometimes I get sad at the end of the day when I haven’t seen her for awhile. So I know what it feels like a little bit.”

Mrs. Manning couldn’t decide whether she should jump back in shock, or lunge forward in a sob and crumble into the child’s arms.

She held her breath for a few moments, patted Adele on her sweet head, and said, “Thank you sweetheart. H-how did you know?”

“Oh, she’s here today. She said not to worry about the gingerbread cookies you burned when you were 12. She knew you tried your best and she’s sorry for yelling. It wasn’t your fault.”

Adele flitted off to play with the blocks.

Her parents were never sure whether they should tell about their daughter up front, or wait for the phone calls to come in after the fact. Their circle of friends was very small, understandably. But there were those who still didn’t know.

Those who did know said she spoke to the angels (“dead” sounded too morbid, so they went with “angels”--and frankly, most of them were good, so the terminology fit).

It was not surprising to find Adele often in a corner of the room conversing quietly with someone who “wasn’t there.” Her parents had grown accustomed to it. How could they not? Especially when it came with perks! They were frequently getting visits from family and friends who had long passed on. It made for entertaining mealtimes. They did not have a television in their house. Nor did they need one.

This home had been chosen by Adele among a handful of others her parents had selected on the market. She liked this one best. Wouldn’t say why. But they went with it. And here they were.

Adele’s favorite place to spend her time was in the formal dining room. They often found her in there conversing under the table or in the corner by the curio cabinet an elderly couple had left behind.

Link to Chapter 2
Link to Chapter 1