not that anyone cares, but here is all i had time to write this week for chapter 3. sorry it's so short, but it has been a stressful week and i had a lot of trouble concentrating on it since i have to write while i am at work. but i swore to my friend jennifer that i would post something come hell or high water, so here it is.Red preheated the oven for a minute or two before sliding the casserole in on the middle rack. Then as he was bent over in front of the open refridgerator searching for butter to spread on the muffins, he heard a noise from down the hall that didn't quite make sense with the sounds of water running from the bathroom. It sounded as though someone had knocked over a lamp on carpet, muffling the sound of glass breaking. Teyla's cottage was not large; you could hear everything that went on in every other room of the house no matter where you were. The noise was enough to make Red straighten and stand stock still, listening and growing more apprehensive by the moment. "Gramma?" he called, wanting to make sure she was okay before he officially flew off the handle. He slid open a silverware drawer as quietly as he could and pulled out a good-sized kitchen knife. "What happened, Red?" Teyla called back, drying her hands and face with a towel, then opening the bathroom door."I don't know, I heard a noise." he answered lamely.She joined him in the kitchen, eyeing the knife in his hand. "I also heard it, I thought you made the noise." The mood in the room began to shift. "It wasn't me, it came from further down the hall, towards the bedroom." "Then we must prepare to defend ourselves." said Teyla cryptically. She crossed the room in one fluid movement and retrieved a rather large pistol from on top of the refridgerator."Are you sure you're even sick?" asked Red, his brow rising at the sight of the weapon."Just a head cold, slight fever." she whispered, checking the gun's magazine. " I am glad you have some hand to hand combat training," she remarked. 'Again with the karate,' thought Red, trying not to look scared shitless, which was how he felt. He gripped the knife tighter in his fist and hoped to God he didn't do anything stupid.
A. Why would we not care about your story? I have been reading it and I like it.B. Your friend Jennifer...It is just the three of us on here.C. I like Gramma Teyla cooly pulling the gun out of the drawer. She sounds like a tough old broad.J