Her Time. Chapter Four: Destiny

Today is a bittersweet day. I'm publishing the final chapter of the latest in a series of writing collaborations we call the Progressive Story Project. Each story, told in a few chapters, is written by a number of bloggers, each building on the segments of the story submitted by the previous authors. The result is always a fun read.

I want to say again that I am so grateful to the friends who participated in crafting this current story. They each gifted me with their thoughts, their imaginations, their time and their words.

Here are the links to the previous chapters in this story. Be sure you're up to date before reading today's conclusion:
Her Time. Chapter One: Out of Focus
Her Time. Chapter Two: Leader of the Flight
Her Time. Chapter Three: Take Off

As always, for each segment in this chapter, I've listed the author of that portion in the top right corner.

Her Time
Chapter Four: Destiny

Kimberly of When I Grow Up

"Do you trust her?" 

The voice in his ear startled him. Michael had forgotten about the other woman who was now close at his side, so close that he could feel her breath on his neck.

"Of course," he said. "Almost from the day I met her, I knew we'd be together forever."

The woman, who he was now sure was Camryn's great great grandmother reached for his other hand. A sharp floral scent hit him. It smelled of spring. It was that flower that Camryn loved so much. He had always thought the smell overpowering. What was it called? He looked at the woman who so resembbled his wife and it hit him. It was a hyacinth which was also her name. Why had he never made the connection before?

Camryn and Hyacinth grasped his hands and they both turned and looked questioningly at him. Without even thinking he said, "Yes, yes. I am with you. Of course I couldn't let you do this alone." He still wasn't sure what "this" was, but knew that it was what he had to do. Perhaps he was under some sort of spell, but now that he had committed, he felt free, almost as if he could float on air.

The trio moved down the middle of the street, toward a faint light. He noticed a fog creeping in from the outside edges of the street. The woman began to sing.

Jenniy of Climaxed

Michael couldn't be sure what was going on, but he also couldn't leave his wife to do whatever this was alone. It was terrifying. Stark naked in the streets? Glowing lights? A crowd of chanting, yelling, stomping strangers and a long dead relative burned for being a witch holding his hand? If he hadn't seen it for himself, he would have laughed in her face had she told him. No wonder she'd gone sneaking around in the night.

Their song grew louder while the crowd followed and joined in. He still couldn't understand the words . . . it had to be a different language. That was the only explanation.

He heard a low bark and glanced beside them to see Shelby padding along as the fog thickened and drew closer. That dog . . . he'd always shrugged off the intensity of her connection to his wife even while knowing it was a bit out of the ordinary, so the least surprising thing of the night was her presence, and he found comfort in that. There was no way possible Shelby would be here walking along like this was any other night if something was seriously wrong. Shelby would know, and she'd protect Camryn at all costs. She always had. 

The four of them and the crowd behind them were drawing nearer to the light. He could now tell that it was coming from the cemetery in the oldest part of own - the one with the unmarked graves where the witches were rumored to have been tortued, burned and hidden away, unfit for Christian burials. It made sense, he guessed. All sorts of strong, capable women like Hyacinth had met their ends unfairly here. Perhaps they were meant to be recognized and laid to rest finally after all this time? But what did that have to do with The Flight? And Camryn's being the Chosen One? 

The trio (and Shelby) stopped abruptly in front of the cemetery gates, and he watched in fascination as the glowing lights he'd seen took shape and stood before him as women just as real as the ones holding his hands.

The crowd behind him kept their chanting but his wife and her great, great grandmother began moving through the growing group of women. He watched on in fascination just as bewildered as ever, but he wasn't scared anymore He should have been, but whatever was going on had given him the greatest sense of peace he'd ever known. 

All the while, Camryn herself was more driven than she'd ever been. The only problem was that she wasn't sure what she was being driven to do still. 

Espresso Layer Bars

Karen of Baking In A Tornado

Carly took another bite of her Espresso Layer Bar and looked up at her mother. "Go on, Mom."

Haylie looked at her beautiful daughter. Twenty one years old yesterday and just about to graduate college. She couldn't be more proud. "I really don't know much more, honey. My mother never told me because she never knew herself. I know you didn't know your grandmother, Carly, my parents disappeared before you were born. It's one of the reasons I keep her picture on the wall of the study."

"And that's why Camryn's picture sits alongside Hyacinth's," Carly added.

"Yes," Haylie interjected, "along with Hyacinth's".

"Hyacinth is my . . . ?" Carly asked.

"My 3 times great grandmother, your 4 times great grandmother."

"The trunk you mentioned in the story, Mom, it's the one in our attic now?"

"Yes. And some day it will be in yours."

"If your parents disappeared, how can you know all of this? Who told you?"

Haylie steeled herself, this part of the story remains the most painful. "When they first vanished, we were terrified, heartbroken, lost. The police did a lengthy and in depth investigation," she began, "in fact, as far as they are concerned, the disappearance of Camryn and Michael remains an open missing persons' case."

"But you know more."

"Years later your aunt and uncle and I did some DNA testing and ancestry research which lead us all the way back to the Salem Witch trials. We took a trip to Salem where a museum there dedicated to the trials had personal journals dating back to the 1700s. The name engraved on the front of one of them was Forsight. We knew that our 3 times great grandmother used this last name so we got permission to view the journal, apparently kept by one of her ancestors. That's where we learned what little we know about our family history, a recurring event intertwined in that history called The Flight, and that some of the women of our family are called upon, when needed, to be the Leader."

Haylie sighed and continued "I can't prove all of the details of the story I've told you today. We three, the children of Camryn and Michael, talked at length after that visit to Salem. We've added details we can't know of course, but based on what we have always known of our parents and their relationship, and what details we learned about our family history, this is exactly what we believe happened. All of us."

"Why are you telling me all this now, Mom?"

"Because you're 21. You're old enough to know. Camryn, my mom, was taken by surprise, even ended up in the hospital, that much is fact. If I disappear, or if I'm not needed but you're called on to be the next Leader of the Flight, I want you to know as much as I do and to not be afraid. Whatever the Flight is, whatever the Leader does, I can promise you this, it is noble and honorable and right and that your grandmother loved me with all of her heart. Wherever she is, she still does. And she will have nothing but love for you. Go with her or not, that's your choice, but know that she would never hurt you."

Carly stood up and wrapped her arms around her mother, hugging tight. "Thank you, Mom."

Haylie looked at her daughter with tears in her eyes. "And if it does turn out to be you, I want you to do something I wish I could do myself."

"Anything, Mom."

"Kiss my mom and dad for me. Tell them I am so grateful to them for my childhood, that I adore them, I always will." 

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Below is a list of the talented bloggers who joined me in authoring this story, along with links to their blogs ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 

Sarah of Sarah Nolan
Jenniy of Climaxed
Lydia of Cluttered Genius 
Kimberly of When I Grow Up
Jules of The Bergham Chronicles
Dawn of Spatulas on Parade
Diane of On the Border
Tamara of Part-time Working Hockey Mom
Rena of Wandering Web Designer and The Blogging 911 


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Links to past Progressive Story Projects ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

2014: A Holiday Story

2015: Storm Past

2015: A Holiday Story (picked up where the original left off)

2016: Sincerely Sarah

2017: Take Aim

2017: Skin Deep

2018: Mystery at the Castle

Espresso Layer Bars        
                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
3/4 stick butter, melted
1 1/4 cups chocolate graham cracker crumbs
1/2 cup toffee baking chips
1/2 cup macadamia nuts, chopped
1 cup espresso baking chips
1 cup white chocolate chips
1 can sweetened condensed milk.

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9 X 13 baking dish.
*Mix together the melted butter and the chocolate graham cracker crumbs. Press into the bottom of the prepared dish.
*Layer the toffee baking chips over the crust, then continue to layer the ingredients, the macadamia nuts, then the espresso baking chips, then the white chocolate chips. 
*Drizzle the sweetened condensed milk over the top. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until the edges are browned and the center is bubbly hot.
*Cool. Run a knife around the edges and slice into 24 bars.

Her Time. Chapter Two: Leader of the Flight

I'm sharing another Progressive Story Project post today. Just as a reminder, this is the 8th time a group of bloggers have joined together to write a piece of fiction. We all contribute to the story, each building on the segments written by the others. Above and to the far right of each section, I've listed the name and a link to the blog of the author of that piece of the story.

One week ago I posted the first chapter of our newest story, Her Time. Today's post is chapter two of Her Time. If you haven't already done so, be sure to read:
Her Time. Chapter One: Out of Focus

Her Time
Chapter Two: Leader of the Flight

Dawn of Spatulas on Parade

Michael stood over Camryn praying she'd open her eyes. The test revealed nothing. The doctors were completely stumped. Just that she had been deposited at the ED three nights ago.

Scratching his head, Michael said, "where were you, why were you out at night and in the rain? Oh how I wish you'd open your eyes and answer me." 

At that moment a young girl walked in. "How's our leader doing?" Startled, Michael said "uh um, what, who are you referring to?"

She smiled and disappeared. Damn, he needed sleep. He was hallucinating, or was he? He could smell a faint perfume or soap, it felt familiar yet strange.

Camryn moaned and said "flight". Michael patted her hand, her face, but no response. He rang for the nurse. Upon arrival he told her all that had transpired in the last thirty minutes. She nodded and said "it's almost time" and was gone.

"Almost time for what? What are you people talking about?" Michael almost screamed down the hall, and then his phone went DING. Damn, a text, now what?

It read . . . "meet me on 23rd street at midnight and all will be revealed. Be prepared to take flight."

What the???

Camryn stirred again. "Flight." "Leader." "Get ready."

He was so confused.

Thunder struck and she jumped almost off the bed. Camryn sat up. Looked around the dark room. She let out a sigh of relief. Michael lay next to her, the dog at the foot of the bed. Man, what a crazy dream.

She laid back down and her phone said DING. She was hesitant but picked it up. The text read . . . "We are ready leader. Flight."

She almost passed out. Holy crap! maybe it wasn't a dream. What the hell was going on? She was scad and exhilarated at the same time.

This was her path. Her passion had come to her. Her reason for being. She was to be the leader of Flight, whatever that meant.

Pepperoni Pizza Casserole

Jenniy of Climaxed

She couldn't sleep. She knew it was a fruitless endeavor as soon as she read the text. She felt electric. Alive. She hadn't felt this way in so long . . . maybe ever? She leaned her head back on the pillow looking over at the lump that was her sleeping husband and listening to the dog snore. It wasn't that she hadn't been happy before. She loved Michael. She loved their life together. But now? Now she had this mystery to solve, this purpose that hadn't been there. And how would she ever explain it to him without sounding like she was losing her mind? She knew that wasn't true; she wasn't crazy. She could feel in every fiber of her being that whatever this Flight was, it was hers. It was her past, present, and future rolled into one, and now she just had to figure out exactly what it all meant.

She got up from him quietly and called for the dog. No reason to call, really. Shelby was her baby and always had been from the minute they'd seen her in the shelter. They had a connection that was truly unexplainable. So before she could even get her name out, the dog was at her heels ready for whatever adventure lay ahead. 

She and Shelby padded quietly into the kitchen to start some coffee and make some kind of plan.

Going through the motions helped her think. Camryn could probably make herself a cup of coffee in her sleep and probably had when the kids were younger and she had run solely on hope and caffeine. There were many long nights she couldn't recall having done it at all and still found herself sipping and thinking and daydreaming while she rocked and played and prayed for a long nap later.

Two spoonfuls of sugar and more creamer than most would find respectable.

While she stirred and waited for the nectar of the gods to cool off enough to keep from burning her tongue, she had a thought. She still had some of her great grandmother's things in the attic, things that looked too old and too important to throw away when her mother had helped clean out GG's house to sell and had been passed on to Camryn when her mother died a couple years ago. There were always stories about GG . . . family stories, whispers at family reunions, things only talked  about when there had been too much drink or when someone was beyond other kinds of help.

She'd never really gotten to know her GG, Eloise. Not the way she wanted when she heard the tall tales and whispered secrets. If any place was a good start to find answers, it was in Eloise's things.

She looked up to find Shelby waiting for her underneath the pull cord to the attic by the laundry room . . . that dog always knew what she was thinking. 

Lydia of Cluttered Genius

 Camryn slowly ascended the ladder trying hard to not make any extra noise that might wake Michael. Every creak or groan of the old wood made her cringe. Shelby whined as she watched Camryn go further and further away.

Once in the attic, Camryn wiped cobwebs and dust off of the old trunk that lay in front of her. This was GG's, and it was the one piece she didn't really inspect when they'd brought things home from her mother's. Perhaps an answer was inside.

Fumbling with the front clasp caused her to slice her thumb on the metal. She gasped at the pain and quickly investigated the damage. Blood rose to the surface quickly, so Camryn tucked her thumb into the rest of the hands' fingers to try to stem the flow.

Carefully, and trying to stay as quiet as possible, she lifted the lid of the trunk. Once open, she was confused. The trunk was empty. Surely they didn't transport this heavy furniture all the way up the stairs without it having anything in it besides dust?

She reached her hand down toward the bottom, hoping that maybe it was just so dark she couldn't see. It was deeper than she expected, so she had to let go of her thumb on the opposite hand to steady herself on the side.

What Camryn didn't realize is that with that movement of her injured thumb, two drops of blood fell into the empty trunk.

Suddenly, the ladder to the attic folded up on its own, and the door slammed shut. Camryn was stuck in the dark and wildly began looking around trying to find her footing

She stumbled a few steps back toward the attic opening. As she reached for the folded ladder, light began to glow behind her. Slowly, Camryn turned around.

Jules of The Bergham Chronicles

The once empty chest was lit up with the most peaceful glow she had ever seen. A warm comfort washed over her. On one hand, she knew she should be terrified and most likely should be running away quickly, or at the very least crying out for Michael's help.

Instead, she slowly walked towards the chest, allowing the warm glow to envelope her. She soon stood face to face with a figure she recognized. She had never met the woman who stood before her in person, but she'd seen plenty of photographs, and two paintings of the beautiful woman adorned her study's walls. She knew from family history, passed down from generation to generation, that this was her great, great grandmother. Hyacinth Forsight.

Her memory of the stories her mother had told her had started to fade in recent years, but she knew that Hyacinth had died at a fairly young age. She had married the richest man in their village, and after he died of an illness, she had gone on to raise her children and run her late husband's company.

In that time people could not believe a woman was capable of successfully managing a company, and when she refused to marry any of the suitors who called on her, it was decided she was a witch, using magic to gain success. She fought against her accusers, but was ultimately burned at the stake.

So, how is she here, in my attic, all these decades later?

Hyacinth smiled warmly, her eyes glowing with an almost palpable love. "Come here my child," she said holding out her hand. "Come with me, and Ill tell you everything you need to know, for the task ahead of you is important."

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Click here to read chapter three, Take Off ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Pepperoni Pizza Casserole         
                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
3 packages (about 5 oz each) large Italian flavored croutons
1 1/2 cups marinara sauce, store bought or homemade. My Homemade Marinara recipe HERE
1 3/4 cups shredded mozarella, divided
1/2 cup chopped provolone
2 TBSP grated parmesan
1/4 green pepper, chopped
1 cup sliced mushrooms
3/4 cup pepperoni slices
1/2 tsp Italian seasoning 

Additional warm marinara sauce for serving

Directions:
*Grease a 3 qt round casserole dish. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
*Mix together the croutons, marinara, 1 1/4 cups mozarella, provolone, parmesan, mushrooms, green pepper and pepperoni slices. Pour into the casserole dish and spread evenly. 
*Top the casserole with the remaining mozarella cheese. Sprinkle with the Italian seasoning. Bake for 25 minutes, tent tin foil over the top and bake for another 20 minutes.
*Serve with additional warm marinara sauce.

Her Time. Chapter One: Out of Focus

I'm excited, once again, to host a Progressive Story Project on this blog. Since I first presented the idea to my blogging friends, this is now the eighth time a group of writers has come together to craft a story.

The project first came to fruition in 2014, and it was a success. Not only was it a fun collaboration for the writers, but my readers tell me that the progression of the story was fun to read as well. 

This is how it works: I start a story, then pass it on to someone to move the story along, it then moves on to the next writers who each in their unique voice and writing style, craft a piece of the tale. The challenge for the bloggers is to have an impact on but not control the story. The end result is expected to be a collaboration on a cohesive piece of fiction. I'm thankful to each of these friends for gifting me their words, and I'm honored to share them with you.

Our newest story, offered in four chapters and written by eleven bloggers, is called Her Time. As always, each segment's author is listed just above and to the far right of their contribution. I've added a link to their blogs and encourage you to check out more of their writings.

Her Time
Chapter One: Out of Focus

Karen of Baking In A Tornado

This was her time.

Time to switch focus, to find a focus really. She was at a point where she could indulge in whatever moved her, had the luxury of pursuing anything and was excited to do just that. Up to this point, her priorities had always been practical or dictated by her life choices. Childhood was for learning to negotiate life, college was about readiness for a future, marriage focused on building a successful partnership, raising kids was, of course, all about them. Those chapters with all of their successes and struggles, were complete.

She was so damn lucky and Camryn knew it, appreciated it. She and Michael had watched their children graduate college, all just starting out on their own, building their careers. And now? She would find a focus and put her heart and soul into it, commit to a passion of her own choosing. But what? Michael supported her unconditionally, always had, but since he still ran his business, she had already determined that it would not be anything political or religious, she would never alienate any of his clients.

No matter, there was so much going on in this country and in the world: socially, economically, environmentally, educationally, just as a start. Maybe something along those lines. Or possibly it would be something less cerebral and more artistically expressive or even a physical challenge. She could learn an art form, or a sport, the options were endless. All she had to do was choose.

Not just choose what but the how. She'd come to realize that the choice itself would be part of the journey. She'd know the right focus when she saw it, but should she actively seek something out? Or let it come to her?

Diane of On the Border

The sunshine felt good.

Camryn stopped, closed her eyes and leaned against the rough wall of the building. Tipping her head back, she let the rays kiss cheeks and chin.  Behind her, the sun-warmed bricks felt, at once, solid and friendly.

All about her, she could hear the sounds of people. Footsteps. Talking. Laughter.

People. Simply being themselves.

She took a deep breath of the warm, salt-laden slightly smoky air and let it out slowly. And now she was free as well. But she had to admit that, with the release of the pressures that had fueled her for so long, she found it difficult to get any speed. 

She felt, for want of a better word . . .  weightless.

She sighed and opened her eyes once more to the bright afternoon. Ahead of her, along Harrison Street, she could see the Bay Bridge shining in the sun.

The water drew her.

She began to walk again, turning slightly to make a detour around a large bundle of rags lying in a careless heap on the sidewalk. She wrinkled her nose slightly as she started to pass by, then jumped as a pair of dark eyes opened in the midst of the tangle.

What she had taken for refuse was actually a person!

She paused, then just as she would have resumed her walk, two kids on long boards skidded past, barely negotiating the narrow space between her and the curb.

"Sorry!" one of them yelled as they disappeared down the street.

"You're gonna get yourself killed!" Camryn shouted after them, her eyes following their agile bodies as they dodged people and pets and vehicles. She laughed. How like her sons they were.

Smiling to herself, she turned back then gasped.

The bundle of rags had fully materialized into a human being and was now standing in front of her, head topped with matted, greasy hair tipped to one side and one dirty hand outstretched.

Instinctively, Camryn clutched her small purse close and stepped back.

"It's you!" the strange person said.

"Excuse me?"

"I saw you. You're the one. You will start it all!"

Camryn stared. "Start what?"

Cracked lips creased into a caricature of a smile, exposing nearly toothless gums. "The Flight. You will start the Flight."

Rena of Wandering Web Designer
and The Blogging 911

"What are you talking about?" even though there was a sense of familiarity somehow. She didn't know him and she certainly didn't know anything about a "flight", but it felt like she should know, like she would know eventually. She wanted to ask him questions with no idea what questions to ask. She decided in that moment to just walk away because she didn't think she was ready for the answers.

She couldn't get it out of her mind though. She had spent a sleepless night wrestling with the covers as she tried to suppress the thoughts and images that were flying through her mind. "What did he mean 'flight'?" she asked herself for the hundredth time. "well, you would know if you hadn't run away like some scared little kid." she grumbled to herself.

She couldn't take the curiosity any longer. Tonight she was going out searching for a pile of rags and the man who would be wound up in them. She ate her dinner as she looked at a map of the city. She had marked where she was when she spotted him and then moved out, block by block.

It was starting to rain. Cold, fat dollops sliding down the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. She had walked for blocks in the foggy evening looking for that familiar bag of rags. She hadn't seen even a scrap. "Of course, nobody's out, it's raining, you idiot," she scolded herself. "I'm going to end up with pneumonia."

She decided that it was time to go home, but she wanted to eat first and maybe warm up a little bit. She didn't think she had been on this block before and as she looked around she saw an Irish Pub at the end of the street. "Just what the doctor ordered," she said, "I have got to stop talking to myself!"

She opened the door and felt like Alice in Wonderland. The room was bright and loud with people talking over the music being played by the group in the back of the bar. She spotted a booth in the corner and slid into it, grabbing the menu that was already sitting on the table.

The bartender made his way over a few minutes later, "Well hello Camryn, I'm glad that you're finally here!"
  

Apple Pie Breakfast Casserole
no, it doesn't fit into the story but I'm sticking today's recipe here anyway. 

Kimberly of When I Grow Up

Her neck snapped up. She didn't think she knew anyone in this section of the city. She was sure she had never seen the man standing in front of her before. Maybe she imagined that he said her name. There was a lot of background noise. Yes, she was sure she imagined it. She attempted a smile, "Hello. What would you recommend?"

"To start, how about a Dublin Donkey? I'd suggest and Irish Mule, but that has mint in it."

Camryn hated mint. She even went out of her way to find toothpaste without the dreaded herb. She took a closer look at his face. He didn't look remotely familiar. "Sure," she said, "that sounds good."

The bartender went off to make her drink and she tried to compose herself. It was a strange coincidence, but that's all it was. The drink appeared in front of her. "So, Camryn, what's next?"

This time there was no mistake. "Excuse me, do I know you?"

"Maybe you do, maybe you don't. But we know all about you. We've been waiting."

At that, he walked away. There were other customers to tend to. She heard him talking to the new arrival at the bar. "Can I get a flight?"

She jumped at the word. Then she realized the man was ordering a sampling of drinks. Looking don a the bar, she took a sip of her drink. She was making too much of this.

"What can I get you to eat?"

A young girl stood beside her. Camryn was too lost in thought to see her approach. She had only glanced at the menu without really noticing what was on it. "Fish and chips," she said, thinking that as an Irish pub, it must be on the menu. The girl went off to place the order. She took another sip of her drink and pulled out her phone so she would look less alone. She wasn't sure she wanted anyone else to try to talk to her.

Just as she settled in to read a new article, her phone beeped to indicate a new text message. 

"We're glad you're here. Only you can start it."

Sarah of Sarah Nolan

Startled at the text message, Camryn said out loud "Start what?" 

"The Flight" a voice said in her right ear.

Turning, she saw a cloaked figure take the seat at her table, uninvited. "What flight? What are you talking about? Who are you?"

A laugh drifted from under the hod, one seemingly normal with a slight wet wheeze to it. The man beneath the cloak made no indication of revealing himself, but Camryn had an almost eerie feeling that the man was somehow disfigured. "I can't tell you what the Flight is. You have to seek it, learn it, embrace it . . . BECOME it," the man said, staring at the very core of Camryn's soul. "Only YOU can start the Flight. You mustn't be frightful of it. Let it happen naturally, the way it is intended. You'll know when it is time to start and only then can it take off."

Tired of riddles, Camryn closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose against a threatening headache.

"Listen . . ." she said, opening her eyes.

Startled, she found the chair the cloaked figure was occupying empty. She looked around, trying to figure out where he'd gone. But he was nowhere to be found.

Instead, there was a plate of fish and chips in front of her and the young waitress beside her asking if she wanted malt vinegar.

"Actually, I'm suddenly not feeling vvery well. Could you please make this to go and bring me the check?"

Shrugging, the girl grabbed the plate and disappeared, returning a short while with a to-go carton and the check.

After she settled her debt, Camryn grabbed her bag and stood to leave.

She didn't feel the crippling pain in her head hitting the floor as she passed out.

 

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Click here to read chapter two, Leader of the Flight ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Apple Pie Breakfast Casserole        
                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
3 slices of bacon
3 apples
3 TBSP butter
3 TBSP brown sugar
3/4 tsp cinnamon
7 eggs
1 cup milk
1/3 cup maple syrup
1/2 tsp apple pie spice
2 boxes French toast sticks (I used one box of original and one box of cinnamon)

Directions:
*Grease a 9 X 13 baking pan.
*Cook and chop the bacon.
*Core, peel and slice the apples.
*Melt the butter over medium heat in a saute pan. Add the apples, brown sugar and cinnamon. Cook, stirring now and then, until the apples start to soften, about 8 minutes. Remove from heat.
*Whisk together the eggs, milk, maple syrup and apple pie spice.
*Place the french toast sticks from one box in a single layer into the bottom of the baking pan. Pour the apple mixture over the top. Sprinkle with the chopped bacon.
*Arrange the french toast sticks from the second box in a single layer over the top. Press down gently.
*Carefully pour in the egg mixture. Cover with tin foil and refrigerate for at least 6 hours, preferably overnight.
*Remove casserole from refrigerator one hour before cooking. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Bake the casserole, covered, for 50 minutes. Uncover and bake another 10 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to sit for 5 minutes before serving.