Allow me to reiterate that I am publishing this revised version of Margga’s Curse in first person point of view, told from Vree Erickson’s perspective. I look forward to reading your comments.
Verawenda Erickson is a character I created years ago—many years ago!—when I was a teenager who found that he could create fantastic worlds by striking the keys of a typewriter.
According to a book of names that belonged to my best friend’s mom all those years ago, Vera is Latin and means “true” and Wenda is English and means “pleasing to the eye.” I liked the combination, so I created a neighbor for twins Dave and Amy Evans to interact with when their friend Lenny Stevens wasn’t visiting. Vree got her nickname because of her initials VRE—the R stands for Renee. Vree was an attractive only child whose parents Charles and Karrie lived down the road from the Evans family on Myers Ridge. Charles was a lawyer and Karrie was a part-time nurse and part-time substitute school teacher.
Vree was a minor character in my stories who became featured more when the stories shifted to Lenny and she became his love interest.
She was born seven minutes after midnight on June 19, has straight, shoulder length blonde hair, green eyes with amber flecks in the middle, is thin and will grow no taller than 5’ 4” by her senior year. Her eye color comes from her mom (another character with green eyes—I’m not sure why I was attracted to green eyes back then), though her eyes are actually blue-green and gray with amber flecks. Some days they are bluer, some days greener—the blue stands out if she wears light-colored clothing, and the green stands out if she wears dark clothing.
Vree started off as a shy, reserved character who didn’t contribute a lot to conversations, but observed and listened in the background. When she had something to say, however, she was assertive and spoke her mind clearly. Like Dave and Lenny were at the beginning of this creation, she is an exceptional artist. She especially likes painting skyscapes, so she often stares at clouds, which has prompted others to claim she has her head in the clouds. She also likes writing poetry. Some of her poems became songs for Amy’s band ARC, and her beautiful singing voice complimented Amy’s for a duet during a school Christmas talent show.
Other favorite activities include swimming at the local Y and at Alice Lake, and ballet at Little’s Dancing School in New Cambridge.
Vree was and still is very particular about her clothing and grooming. Even her bedroom is immaculate. Among the bright colored wardrobe in her original large, flowery bedroom were designer T-shirts, blue jeans, shorts, sweats, tennis shoes, clogs, sandals, and flip flops. Even the walk-in closet she had before I changed her life was a roomy place for designer dresses, pantsuits, HS blazers, and high-heeled shoes that she wore to social functions. She was and has always been very particular about what she wears and how she looks to others.
Vree’s home is at 31619 Ridge Road on Myers Ridge and was a converted foursquare farmhouse built around 1940 after the Victorian house on the property burned to the ground. The farmhouse has a white exterior with blue trim. Inside were plush cream carpets, plush furniture, and velvety drapes similar in appearance to Lenny’s home before I changed Vree and made Dave and Amy her triplet siblings. Now the house is quaint and rustic, and terribly tight-fitting with six people living in a three-bedroom home.
Life in the neighborhood was quiet and peaceful when I first created Vree, and it still is, although farming is almost a vanished way of life now. Only lawnmowers and some tractors interrupt the peaceful backyard barbecues during the summer, and snowplows, snowmobiles and hunters shooting at game are heard during winter.
Vree’s closest neighbors were Parker and Michelle Evans and their two children Dave and Amy who lived across the road and less than a mile away, west. The original <em>Night of the Hellhounds</em> was based on this structure. Now, her closest neighbor is Lenny Stevens and his father and sisters who live where the Evans family lived all those years ago when I discovered the magic of storytelling by striking the keys of a typewriter to paper.
WHEREVER I WAS AT, I could not see much, just a gray darkness similar to the warm and safe kind beneath my blankets when I hid from thunderstorms. But I was not beneath my blankets; the grayness was infinite here, wherever here was, and I floated and rolled and swam in it, which made me certain I was dreaming.