Little Ida’s Flowers

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  “MY poor flowers are quite dead!” said little Ida. “They were so pretty yesterday, and now all the leaves hang withered. Why do they do that? . . . Why do the flowers look so faded to-day?” she asked again, and showed him a nosegay, which was quite withered.  “Do you know what’s the matter with them?” said the Student. “The flowers have been at a ball last night, and that’s why they hang their heads.”  “But flowers cannot dance!” cried little Ida. “O yes,” said the Student, “when it grows dark, and we are asleep, they jump about merrily. Almost every night they have a ball.” —Hans Christian Andersen. (1805–1875)

NaNoWriMo report 6

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25,977 words written so far toward the goal of 50,000 (48 pages, single spaced; 78 double spaced--spacing is not a concern at this time).

At this writing I am halfway through Chapter 6 and my main character is only twelve years old.  Fifty-two more years to go . . . I wonder how much I will overshoot my wordcount goal?  Anybody want to venture a guess?

My fingers hurt.

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