This is actually Fiddyment Creek. Taken in the fall, it is shallow because the spring and summer were pretty dry. It runs through the western part of Lockport, the town on which my story is based. After the winter we've had with Polar Vortex breaking record artic temperatures and huge amounts of snow breaking records in more than 30 years, the creek will fill up with the spring thaw and melting snow. But, who knows when that will be? Today, there is a thick layer of ice covering the water. I drive past it almost every day and when the water is flowing, there are usually ducks occupying several sections. Quack, quack, quack.
Here's an excerpt from the book about the creek:
One spring after a really bad, long
winter, the creek was already up to the top of the banks from the winter snow
melting, flowing swiftly, and then there was a terrible thunderstorm. You know,
the kind that makes you jump out of your skin and where you can hear the angels
bowling in heaven, and see gashes of lightning pierce through the sky. It
must’ve rained nonstop for a week. The creek was beginning to spill over and
flood the area. There was a cold wind blowing…the kind that could bite your
skin…and it blew so hard it rained sideways. People didn’t go out unless absolutely
necessary. Willowby insisted that he go to the store in case someone had a need.
I could almost hear him speaking:
“M’dear, I just have this feeling…if somebody needs something from the store, I
must be there to help them.”
But she felt uneasy about him leaving.
After a moment’s embrace and quick kiss on the cheek, he left. He trudged
through the water and mud, opened the store’s doors, and sat out on the slatted
board sidewalk in front, watching and waiting. Finally, a couple of fellows
came by and they went inside and started a game of chess; several others
wandered in and watched. Then this wet stranger burst through the door and
yelled, “Help! Help! My son has fallen into the creek and he got swept downstream!
I couldn’t reach him…I can’t swim! He was holding onto a log…but…”
You could hear the panic in his voice. I
can hear it now. Jameson and Paulie
looked up and both of us told them to finish playing…everything was fine.
Penelope was just telling a story.
“That old store down there?” Cathy asked
with wonder. She had recently lost a front tooth and her tongue poked through
the space when she talked. “Wow…”
Will grabbed anything that they might
need — a rope, a blanket, a pickaxe, a lantern, and a shovel — and off they
went following the stranger. Two of the men went to get a rowboat. Will
suggested that those remaining go farther downstream to see if the boy managed
to get ashore, so that’s what they did. As they hurried along, the distraught
father told them that his son’s name was Michael. They yelled his name repeatedly
as they heaved weeds and reeds aside, glancing up and down Fiddyment Creek now
turned into a furious river. Soon, the men with the rowboat came. Will got into
the boat with them and they went farther downstream. He remarked to the men
that he didn’t recall ever seeing the water move so fast. It was so cold it
made their teeth chatter and it chilled their bones. It was murky from the
muddy bottom stirring up. They pulled the boat up onto the creek bank while
tree debris, dead animals, and huge sections of a red barn floated past them.
The others arrived on foot and the men
stood huddled together and prayed to Almighty God to help them. Then, the
unthinkable happened. A jagged bolt of lightning struck a tree across the creek
and there was a low rumble followed by a crack of thunder that sounded like a
whip. Limbs and branches crashed to the ground and piled in a heap. Before they
knew it, light rain began to fall and dampened their spirits even more. It was
almost twilight. The sky was already darkened by pewter-colored rain-filled
clouds when there was yet another splinter of lightning. This jag lit the sky a
little longer. One of the men pointed to a form across the creek huddled close
to the tree that had been hit only minutes earlier.
“Michael?” the worried father whispered.
Now he yelled, “Michael? Is that you?” Trancelike, he waded out to the
speeding, furious creek trying to cross and Will tried to stop him.
“Wait!” yelled Will. “Let’s take the boat
across!”
But the man continued. He was in
chest-high water when he stumbled and disappeared below the angry creek. When
he surfaced, gasping for breath, the swift current carried him away and they
could hear the terror in his voice as he yelled.
“Save my boy! Save my boy!”
Will was a strong swimmer and he dove
into the murkiness, stroked, and kicked trying to catch up to the man. The
current was powerful. The other men stood helplessly watching. They could see a
big log heaving in the current aiming itself right for Will. They yelled to
warn him, but their voices were lost in the storm and the wind. The stranger
went under the water at exactly the same moment that the log hit Will’s head
and blood streamed all across his head and face and into his eyes and dripped
into the water around him. Then Will lost consciousness and disappeared into
the darkness of the raging Fiddyment Creek.
“NO!!!!!!” the men all screamed at one
time, as if with one voice.
But it was too late. The remaining men
managed to get the boy to the other side of the creek; they searched for Will
and the stranger until darkness and the storm stopped them. Two men perished
that rainy day in April.
Maybe from the excerpt, you can tell that it isn't a children's book.
Today, I thought quite a bit about the book title of Persnickety Witch of Fiddyment Creek and its cover design. Some people think the story is about witches aka paranormal activity. Some people think that the cover design looks cartoonish and, therefore, childish. A friend suggested that I rename it with something that gives a little more information than the current title. Something like The Story Behind the Persnickety Witch. Needless to say, I am very conflicted. I worked hard on this book and to have these issues crop up has me totally befuddled. I expected to have it printed, ebooked, kindled, sold, and read by lots of happy folks by now. What was I thinking?
