Pixie Dust is Just Crack

This is a short story written for my English class. Please give me any feed back this is my first cut.

Part 1:

November 7, 1952 

          This book belongs to: BECK LUCAS

If found please return to: ME 

Momma says we gotta pack up and leave. I asked her why and she just told me, “Daddy needs a break from us.” I don’t know why she talks to me like a child I ain’t nine. I guess I should start with who I am Before I go on tellin’ you all my secrets. My name is Beck, short for ReBecka, but that’s such a girly name. I was born April 19, 1936. That makes me 16 in case you’re bad at math. That’s okay if you are, lots of people are. Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of. I live in Blue Mountain, Alabama, but I reckon that’ll change soon. 

My sister, Velvet-Ann, is 1 year older than me. She sure is pretty too. She’s got long blond hair, big beautiful blue eyes with these long lashes, and her lips and nose are perfectly aligned, I have a crooked nose I guess. Boy I wish I looked like her.

 In case you don’t know what I look like, I have boring brown hair, just above my pretty peculiar collarbones, boring hazel eyes, not pretty hazel, boring hazel. I have nothing on my boring face, no freckles, no lines, not even a damn mole. Velvet-Ann? She’s thin too from her head to her goddamn toes. The thing about Vel though, is she aint gonna be thin for very much longer. She’s saying she’s pregnant. Which means her belly will get swollen. 

One of my old friends, Tucker, he used to tell me this story about his grandpa and the Indian tribe they were born into; One of the Chef’s wives was going into labor, but 48 hours passed and they still couldn’t get the baby out. So what they did, they scared it out. They killed a rattle snake and skinned it. Then they did one of the grossest things I can think of. They wrapped the snake skin around the pregnant wife’s belly, and the baby came out screaming. I don’t believe that though. 

“Ask my Grandpa Redwing then!” He’d tell me every single time. 

“Even if he told me I wouldn’t believe it.” Then his brother, Tristen, would come up to me and put his arm around my chair. 

“Well you should, because the baby? It was old man Redwing.” I still don’t believe it though. 

I bet you’re wondering who the father of Velvets baby is. Actually, it’s her stepdad, and my dad, Buck. When we was 13 I remember hearing the door creek open so loud you’d’ve thought someone’s kitten just died. Velvet-Ann and I shared that room. He climbed onto the bottom of our pine-wood, homemade, stupid, bunk bed, where Vel sleeps. I didn’t understand it at the time but now that I’m older I do. 

The next mornin’ I told momma and she said “Daddy was just giving goodnight kisses. Mind your own business.” She cried when she said it. A week after I told momma, it happened again, only this time Velvet-Ann told me to plug my ears. Even when I did I still heard her yelling. So I got off the top of that stupid, pinewood, homemade bunk bed, and pulled him off of her. He must’ve slapped me somethin’ fierce ‘cause I didn’t get up off that cold floor for two whole days. When I finally did get up and on the bed, my sister made me soup with tomatoes the way I like it. 

“You shouldn’t do that again.” She said caressing my face. It was always so awkward when she did that. 

“He was hurtin’ you.” I pulled her hand away. 

“It don’t matter. Listen to me, If you wanna help me you need to leave it be.”

“But Velvet-“

“No buts, trust me ain’t nothin gon’ stop him.” She sounded so sure. So I did what she asked me to. 

Then one morning before school I remember momma and Vel fighting like two cats at supper… Velvet told ma what happened, and how painful it had been. But momma just said she was sorry, and there was nothing she could do. But what daddy did, he moved Velvet-Ann to a room up in the attic. I never understood why momma never did anything. I’m older and I still can’t understand it.

Now that Velvet is pregnant, momma had some kind of o-biff-anee I guess. We’re leaving tomorrow right after daddy leaves for work, ma says we can’t take a lot though , just what we can fit in a bag or two. I don’t even get to say good-bye. 

I have this horse, Copper Bullet, he’s brown with a silver streak going down from his nose to his tail. He has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. They’re brown which is usually boring, but old Bullet’s eyes, you can see happiness shine through ‘em. They remind you of the stars. 

One night, I heard Buck and Velvet from upstairs. I reckon it was around 2 am. I walked downstairs and saw momma pouring herself a glass of whiskey. She had a cigarette sitting on the counter. She picked it up when I walked past to open the door. 

“Where ya’ goin’?” Her voice sounded lost, angry, and sad all at once. The southern drawl she kept got deeper whenever she was upset. 

“To look at the stars.” I told her, my fingertips pressing against the frost bitten door knob. Her long brown hair fell back to her hips when she lifted her head. One of her green eyes was black and yellow. I tried not to look. 

“Be back in 10 minutes.” She took a drag and a tear fell onto the counter. I thought a lot about this when I walked out the door, was she crying because she was letting this happen to her own daughter? Or was she crying because her husband was cheating on her? 

When I got to the stall Bullet’s ears turned to look at me. It seemed like he was waitin’ on me. I put my hand on the silver streak running toward his nose. His eyes looked like the stars, as they always have. 

“That’s what I should’ve named you. Star. Or lightning.” I remember I scoffed at the thought. “Star is too girly. And lightning sounds like we should be afraid of you, because some girly-girly named you.” I don’t know if you noticed, but I try really hard not be girly. It seems expensive, so my entire way of life just kind of changed. 

“Rebecka!” Buck called from the front porch. I turned my head to see him tucking his shirt in and spitting tobacco. He has this odd shaped hairline that runs white on one side. He says he got struck by lightning but I call bullshit. Nobody I know has ever lived past that. The rest of his hair is blond. His eyes are hazel like mine. I thought mine were boring, geez, you should see his. You know how Bullet’s eyes have happiness? I reckon ma and Buck’s are opposite. Momma’s have sadness, and Buck’s are damn near lifeless.

“I have to go buddy.” I turned to run but he bit my jacket collar. “I have to go. You don’t want me getting’ in trouble now do ya’?” He bent his head down to tell me he wanted a cube. I threw it down on the hay in front of him and ran off. 

“Damn horse doesn’t need attention at 2 am!” He yelled as I ran up.  I darted past him to go see Velvet. 

I don’t remember much after that. Just losts of loud voices. The riding crop on the floor, the blood on white sheets, and Velvet-Ann screaming a lot. 

Right now, its 10 in the night. I’m just watching Copper beat around his stall. Momma said not to ride him for a day or two so he could pull our wagon. We ain’t rich or nothin’ so we don’t have more than one car. But Buck has to take it to work. It’s sad watching him bob around. I guess I should go pack. I’m running out of light. 

Part 2:  

June 11, 1963

I sometimes wondered what went through everyone’s head in that house. Maybe Velvet developed some kind of connection with my father that left her saddened and paranoid. My mother, may have felt some kind of resentment toward Velvet-Ann. Someone with as many insecurities as Missy Lucas had to feel some kind of ugly, a new kind of ugly that lets your daughters feel alone and worthless. The abuse went on for years. Even after we left home in beautiful Blue Mountain. 

We left for Middleton Idaho. A small town at the time. Boise was nowhere as big as it is now. Bullet stopped to rest 3 or 4 times. My mother already knew where we were to stay. So we had enough money for cheap hotels. We were up by 3 to make our way. Bullet would pull our wagon for nearly 15 hours. We finally made it though.

I recall one morning in the first few days we were there. My mothers long brown hair fell to the counter when she poured her coffee. I watched from a distance. 

“Ya’ll can come out now. Spyin’ on a women in her own home.” I stepped around the chair. 

“I wasn’t spyin’.” Her eyes pierced trough me.  

“Ya’ll want breakfast?” Velvet-ann ran up from the couch quickly to the bathroom. Morning sickness kills during pregnancy. Especially during this time when there weren’t a lot of home remedies. 

“I’ll wait.” I told her. She just nodded a lot. 

“Alright. Go feed Copper Bullet some of these carrots.” Missy pulled a bowl out of the fridge and set it on the counter before walking toward her room. 

Bullet looked happy in his stall. Exhausted, but happy as always. In fact, I remember thinking he looked happier standing there. He looked brand new. The world was brand new to him. 

The Idaho air was crisp. The skies being blue with a spot of pink always showing. We lived in our late aunt’s farm house. She past away 6 years ago. The house was a light blue and the doors were a nice wood. You could tell it was her husbands “Weekend cowboy” shack. They had a barn in the back. We never had a barn. I always worried about him out there when it would rain and what not. I always worried whether or not he was cold. 

I laid the bowl  of carrots in front of him. I knew he hated them but there was no hay. We had to go get some that day. He ate the entire bowl in just a few minutes. The grass was wet but I sat down anyway, picking up a long piece of wheat straw, and cutting away at it little by little with my nails. 

The screen door slammed but I didn’t turn around to see who it was. I stayed ion the grass a little longer and then went back inside. Velvet-Ann was in the kitchen cooking fried green tomatoes. She only ever made them when she wanted something from me. 

“Whatchu want?” I figured cutting to the chase was important with a pregnant women. Her belly wasn’t much bigger than when we left home. By this time, it had been 2 weeks. 

“Can’t I just make my little sister somethin’ nice?” She smiled but any fool could see right through her. 

“I guess you could. But you ain’t ever done that before. What makes now different.” She didn’t answer. She put a plate on the table. And waited for me to sit down. She waved me toward the chair. I picked up the fork and hesitantly sat, taking little bites. 

“Want some milk?”

“I want’chu to tell me what the hell you want.” Velvet sat up holding her coffee. 

“Becky we need to go. We need to leave again.” I hated when she called me that. 

“Okay. When?” She looked at me confused. 

“Just us. Just us and the baby.” I stood up angrily. Quickly moving toward the living room.

“Beck listen to me!” I turned facing her quickly. 

“Listen to what you want to leave mom!”

“Where is mom now?” I looked around, realizing who slammed the door. “Exactly, she left.”

“Probably for a walk-“

“Yeah, do you know where she goes on these walks? She goes to the tavern to call him. To call daddy.”

“She just needs time!” I don’t condone yelling at a pregnant teenager, but boy she had me mad. 

“Time. She already told him where we are. He’s comin’ as soon as he gets the dough!” I stayed silent for a moment. “He told me, if I left he would- “ Tears filled her eyes. I leaned in wrapping my arms around her neck. 

“Okay we’ll go.” She sighed pulling back quickly. 

“Don’t tell momma. You can’t!” My mind was racing faster than dogs. 

“I wont.” Her eyes showed relief I haven’t seen in years. “What about school?” 

‘It’ll take daddy a few months to get enough dough the way oil prices are going, we’ll leave in 6 months. Just make sure that you act like you don’t even know.”

“Okay. I got it.” She smiled. Inside I felt fear and hesitance toward leaving. 

“Good. Now eat your breakfast quick. If momma sees you haven’t eaten it’ll be your hind.” 

That day, momma came home like nothing had happened at the tavern. She was all smiles for the rest of the day and neither of us knew why. 

During this time in my life. I avoided many of my chores. Many clocks passed by spent in the barn mucking out stalls and reading to Copper. That is until school began. 

Everyday when the bell rang, I had already been sitting in my seat for approximately 40 minutes. The teacher was always late. Next to me in class was Maryland Christ. I think she though she was sent from God because her last name was such. Behind me sat June, Bee, and Douglas. And on the other side of the room was Thomas, Petunia, and Ellis. We had a very small class but it was one of the biggest in our building. We were all aged 15 to 17 and were the entire high school students. During this time it was common for a lot of kids to drop out in year 7 to work on their families farms or in the coal mines. It seems like a lot has changed in 10 years. 

After my first few days I had realized I was easily a target. The new girl, the tom-boy, the ugly one. 

I was beautiful when I tried. Boy, when I tried you could hardly tell. But they never knew me when I tried. 

One day I was on the swings outside and this boy Thomas pushed me off. I thought only little kids did that kind of thing but I guess it was a mentality thing. 

“What’d you go and do a thing like that for!?” Boy was I mad. My fist was already made up as I walked toward him. 

“Go on and calm down now. Just a joke for the ‘pretty’ lady.” He laughed as my smile dwindled. 

“Leave her alone! Go on, Thomas. Lord knows she’d hit you back to the shed. Show you somethin’ bout respect your momma never did.” The kids surrounding ‘oohed’ as Ellis spoke. He walked up to me slowly and whispered in my ear, “Come on now, you and I can walk away from this.” I moved my shoulder from under his hand. 

“I ain’t need your help!” 

  “No, you don’t need my help. ‘Ain’t’ isn’t a word.” The kids around us cleared and all alone stood Thomas, Ellis, and I. “Get out of her Thomas I don’t need your help. Go pray for yourself, boy!” he ran away scared. 

“I done told you I ain’t need your help.” I turned and walked away. 

“And I told you, ‘ain’t’ isn’t a word. Where you from anyway?”

“What’s it matter?” My southern drawl never bothered me, but for some reason I remember feeling shy about it. 

“Well, you have an accent, like me. I got one too you hear?” He did. But his wasn’t as thick as mine. “I’m from Oregon. The northern state with southern drawls.” He chuckled, he seemed more shy than I was. 

“Yours don’t leave you saying fake words.” 

“Well sure it did!” He walked backwards while skipping rocks. He had dirty brown hair that came out in front of his forehead. “ ’Cept my parents taught me when I was 15.”

“How old are ya now?”

“17 I think.” I laughed. It had been a long time since I laughed.  

“You think?”

“Yeah, I don’t have a birth certificate.” He skipped two more rocks and kept walking beside me.

“Oh.” The silence was well kept for a few moments. “Alabama.” I said finally. “I’m from Alabama.” We both stopped walking and he stared in my eyes. He had the greenest eyes. They reminded me of Copper Bullet, because for one minute I thought I saw a star. He turned around and started skipping rocks beside me. 

“I lied you know.”

“Everyone lies.”

“But since you actually told me where you’re from I’ll tell you.” He smiled at me.

“I’m from New York.” I looked at him surprised. “I know, a New Yorker with a southern drawl but there is an explanation.”

“Tell me then.” He smiled and laughed. Thinking about it now his laugh reminds me of James Dean. 

“I’m adopted. My folks were from Kentucky, then they moved to New York. But I love Oregon. I’ve never been. But I want to.” I thought about how hard that must have been, being thrown away by your parents, but then I also thought of how nice it is, because someone choose you. The rest of our walk was filled with silence until we came to a hill. A little farm was seen from that hill. 

“That’s my house.” He sat on the pavement and skipped a few more rocks. 

“I know.” He shook his head, “ I-I mean, I know that must be your house because it’s beautiful.” I sat down next to him. The sun was setting. 

“Ain’t you gott-“ He looked at me and stopped talking for a second. “Don’t you have to go back home to your parents?” He shook his head ‘No’. 

“No. They don’t mind when I get home. Sometimes I stay out all night.” 

“But it’s cold.” He laughed his James Dean laugh. 

“I told you, I’m from New York. You never told me how old you are.” 

“16. I think.” We both chuckled. 

“Now why do you think? You don’t have a certificate either?”

“Sometimes I just feel older than everyone around me. ‘ Cept you. You make me feel small.” He put down the rocks and looked over at me. 

“Gee I’m real sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m just used to being the intelligent one, at least the mature one.” I’ve never wanted someone to know what was happening in my life before, I wanted to stay there all night and tell him my story. A few more minutes drove past and he walked me to Bullet’s stall. He said hello and left. 

When I walked through the door momma was pouring herself a glass of whiskey and listening to the news. Velvet asked where I had been, I told her a friend walked me home and we sat to watch the sunset. She made me a salad and sent me upstairs. She said momma and she needed to talk some things over, and it would be best if I had jut went to bed. It wasn’t until months later I learned they were fighting over me. 

Part 3:

“I met a boy today. He walked me home and we watched the sunset. I thought I saw him one night standing by the barn feeding Bullet cubes, but I think I just wanted that to be in my future. His name is Ellis.”  -1953

When I found this diary, a lot of memories came back. The year now is 1963, I’m 26 and expecting child. I’ve had more nightmares since I’ve found out I was pregnant. Nightmares about my past. Particularly this time in my life this journal so mentions. My husband thought it should be a good idea to finish the story I started in this dairy and fill in the blanks, to help me remember and realize why I am having these dreams. 

One night during the holiday break, Velvet-Ann was putting up Christmas tree decorations. Nobody loved Christmas more than her. I pulled on my hood and went to the barn to give Bullet an extra blanket. When I opened the barn doors Ellis was sleeping on the floor. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” He was just laying there next to Coppers stall. 

“I just wanted to make sure he was warm.” There was a blanket laying across Bullets back. 

“But why are you here? You could’ve left the blanket and gone.” I closed the barn doors and sat beside him. I could feel the cold on his skin. “You’re freezing.” I started to wrap the blanket around his shoulders. 

“I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.” I folded the blanket out across his lap and he smiled. “Why are you lookin’ out for me?” 

“Well as of right now, you’re on my property, which makes you my responsibility.” He lifted the blanket up as if to ask me if I wanted to share the warmth. I moved closer toward him. 

“I’ve never told anybody the truth about my family.” I looked at him confused. 

“I thought you said you were adopted?” 

“I lied.” People lie. It’s something I’ve always understood, I just didn’t understand why someone would lie about being adopted. 

“I don’t understand.” He looked up at me. 

“I never had a family.” He looked at me and waited for a “go on” look. “I was put in an orphanage when I was 10. I ran away when I was like 13 and I ended up here. I’m going to school so I don’t have to work in the mines.” 

“Where do you sleep?” He looked at me sad. 

“Here. Before you moved in I slept in that house. I thought it was abandoned, had been for years.”

“It was my aunts.” He wiped away a tear and looked away. 

“I’m real sorry Beck. I just didn’t want you to think I was just some bum.” He stood up and walked toward the door. 

“I don’t think that.” He turned around. 

“You don’t?” 

“No, it takes a lot of courage to stand up and make the best with what you got.” He smiled and sat back down. A minute past with silence. I was about to get up so I turned to say ask if he wanted to stay for dinner and he kissed me. I froze. No one had ever kissed me before. I started to cry. I didn’t know why at the time but I do now. I just cried. He apologized for a long time before I stopped. 

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t-“

“It’s not you. The only guy that ever touched me…” I pushed back tears. 

“It’s alright.” He wrapped me in a hug. It was first time I realized who’s blood was on the white sheets. I told him my entire life. All the moving, all the abuse, all the sadness.  Then told me his. All the adventures he’s been on. All the places he’s been to, all the happiness, all the sadness, all the lies.  We talked until Vel came looking for me. Ellis stayed for dinner then slept on the couch.

Part 4: 

“I think I’m in love for the first time. I never thought it was possible. Velvet-Ann and I leave in 3 months, the entire world seems dammed again.” -February 1, 1953

Velvet-Ann’s stomach grew at a substantial rate, along with her anxieties. The more our beloved mother went to the tavern to place her forbidden calls, the more Vel worried Buck was on the road. She had reason to, at this point in my mental health, as did I. 

One day in February, Ellis and I held hands down the paved hill. A car rushed past us, Ellis quickly pushed us out of the way and we rolled down a hill. We both sat up to see if we knew the model of car. 

“What kind of an idiot goes that fast down a road!” He held out his hand for me but I kept looking at the truck. “Beck? Beck what’s wrong?!” I stood up on my own. 

“You have to go.” He looked at me with incertitude. 

“Beck-“

“It’ my father. I have to go help Velvet-Ann” I started walking and he followed closely.

“Please! You’ll just make it worse, my father doesn’t let us have friends over, let alone boys.” He just stared for a moment then nodded. I began running down the street to our farm. When I got in, the battle had already begun and all the memories came flooding back enough to break the dam. 

“I just wanna see Rebecka!” Buck screamed at Velvet. I hadn’t even gotten through the door yet. 

“You’ll never see her again! You’re a monster! You ruined our lives! Mine, Rebecka’s, even momma hates you!” 

“Then why’d she tell me where to come up here?” I walked in slowly. Velvet-Ann had a shot-gun in her hands pointed toward Buck. Her belly hidden by the couch that had been flipped over. Suddenly all eyes were on me. 

“Becky, tell Vel you want me to stay.” He walked toward me and the whiskey became apparent. 

“Take one more goddamn step toward her and I’ll shoot you!” Buck Turned toward Velvet again. 

“You ain’t gon’ shoot me.” 

  “You ain’t gon’ test it that’s for sure.” 

“Becky, tell Ann you want me to stay.”

“Don’t call her Becky she doesn’t like that.” Buck turned around toward see Ellis, whom was the calmest one in the room.. Lord knows where he came from but I was damn happy he showed. 

“Who might you be, boy?” He put his hands down at his side balled into fists. 

“Names Ellis. And you are?”

“Well, I’m these girls daddy . So I reckon this is family business and you best leave.”

“He is family.” Velvet said stepping back. Her stomach revealed a tiny bump. 

“You pregnant or momma been feedin’ you too much?” Velvet-Ann walked closer holding the gun to Bucks head. “You ain’t gon’ shoot me.”

“Buck,” Ellis stepped toward Velvet-Ann in an attempt to protect the baby in her tummy. “I suggest you get on out of here, find a church, and pray for yourself. Lord knows you need it before I let this lady pull the trigger next time you set foot here.” Buck backed away and I moved toward Ellis.

“I brought stuff to make pizza!” My mother always had such horrible timing. She stepped in to see the chaos. “Buck?” 

“The girls and this young man seem to want me to leave, Missy.”

“Nonsense. Grab a seat in the kitchen and we’ll get started on supper.” Velvet and I looked over at each other as if our new plan was in motion. Ellis held my hand. 

“I ain’t leavin’.” Ellis said shyly.

“Ain’t isn’t a word El.” We both smiled and Velvet-Ann placed her hand on my shoulder. 

The more I look back on things the more they seem like a movie in my mind. I almost wish it wasn’t real. But it if it wasn’t I wouldn’t have the life I have now. 

Back to the story; Buck stayed for dinner that night. Much of the meal was enjoyed in silence. Ellis made sure he sat between Velvet-Ann and Buck, even though the usual routine was to sit beside me and my mother. I admired his bravery and hero-like behavior. Once the silence was broken there wasn’t a shred of it for days, even in the night. 

“I got a job here.” Buck spoke like the devil eating a human soul. Velvet-Ann looked to my mother and then to me. Our plans kept changing but we were always on the same page. 

“That’s great. Will you be staying with us?” Missy’s eyes grew in happiness while her daughter’s multiplied in anger. 

“That’s a fine idea. Now Ellis I just want you to know, the girls aren’t aloud boyfriends, but you’re more than welcome over for dinner.” Ellis stood up with his fists formed. I rushed over to him grabbing his shoulders. He was always a little taller than me. 

“Not worth it. Not now.” I whispered in his ear. We both walked out to the barn. I’ve never seen him so mad. Even now there has only been one other time. Bullet looked to be waiting for me again, the fear returned to his eyes as if Buck’s presence was enough to scare the brightness away. “Me too buddy.” I said putting my hand on the silver streak. 

“He waltz in here thinking he owns the damn place, he only wants to hurt you again that’s why I’m not aloud here.” Ellis was pacing the barn floor. I stood in front of him to make him stand still. All I could think about was what I needed in that moment. I hugged him. I didn’t let go until I felt his heart slow down. 

“Ellis I need you to listen. Velvet-Ann and I need to leave. We need to leave so nobody can find us.”

“Y-you can’t leave.” His heart started racing again. 

“I want you to come. I need your help.” He nodded and we got to work. 

Velvet slept in my room that night. Ellis took the gun and slept with Bullet. Buck and momma were sound asleep. We had a plan to get out of there that night. It seemed easy enough. The plan was for Ellis to take Bullet and the wagon and we would act as if he took off. Then Velvet-Ann and I would wait through the day and pretend to go to a doctor appointment in the truck. We couldn’t take any clothes, no memories, nothing.

Part 5: 

““I am turning over every leaf of all my leaving. I can finally loose my past like the keys to the get away car.” -Andrea Gibson”  -1953

When morning came Bullet and Ellis were gone. The wagon was still on the property though. I assumed Bullet wouldn’t cooperate after last time we pushed him with the chuck. The morning was filled with angry exchanges, manly from mother. 

“That little thief!” 

Of course the tears flowed from my side for the “loss” of my beloved friend, but the real tears were from the awful names my own mother called him. Of course they didn’t know better, but I did. I thought we were very convincing, Velvet-Ann made me fried green tomatoes too just like she would if the event was real. 

“We should go look for him!” She screamed. 

“Wouldn’t make any damn sense to. Boy’s probably half way through the county.” A wave of relief washed over Vel and I. 

“Daddy’s right.” Vel said. I knew she was just playing nice, but at this point I think even my idiotic mother understood what was going on. 

Buck chuckled while pouring coffee. “Hmm, ‘daddy’s right’. How do those words taste out your mouth?”

Velvet glared. “Bitter. Like that damn coffee you’re drinking, it’s been there for days.” He looked down at the mug then threw it down the sink. 

“Make a new pot.” Velvet’s eyes turned to me.

“Could you make it Beck? I need to get ready.”

“Su-“

“Ready for what?” Momma interrupted . 

“I have a doctor appointment in town. Beck and I are going.”

“You takin’ my truck? ‘Cause I ain’t seen a damn horse to pull that wagon.” 

“Gonna have to, they gonna tell me the sex today. I can’t miss it.” 

“Awe I wanna go baby.” Momma stood up from her chair.

“No!” All eyes were on Velvet. “I just mean, you can’t. I want to get a cake in town and then tell you the gender.”

“Then why is Becky goin’?” Dear God, Velvet, answer with somethin’ clever.

“She needs to hold the cake so it don’t slide around in those damn seats!” She ran upstairs crying. I’ll never know for sure, but I’m pretty sure Velvet believed what was happening. 

After the coffee was made I put on my best jeans and sweatshirt. I grabbed a necklace that my mother gave me when I was 10. “It will keep you safe, even when I can’t.”  The chain was silver with a golden bird on it. The bird was wearing a crown. “The bird tells you when to fly away. And the crown tells you to fly with dignity… Like a queen.”  That’s exactly what I was doing. Flying away like a goddamn queen. 

When Velvet and I got to town our stomachs turned in knots. It had turned out that Velvet-Ann really did have an appointment. 

“I would skip it, but I know they call home if you miss it. We have to go.” I agreed with her. It seemed to be the only logical thing, we needed at least 4 hours before someone knew we were missing. 

“Just make sure you keep the keys in your hands. The last thing we need is a stolen get-away truck.” I told her. “I’ll stay here too just in case.” I watched her walk away and into the doors of the doctor office. After an hour she returned. She sat down in the seat and began to cry. “Velvet? Wh-what’s wrong?” Worry came over. Maybe the baby had died. 

“Twins.” She spoke calmly but her head was multiplying with fear. 

“Twins?” I said. 

“One boy. One girl. Twins.” I smiled. 

“Velvet-Ann that’s great.” A chuck slipped from her that became a hystaric laugh. 

“I can’t do this on my own.” I wrapped my arms around her. 

“You have me. And you have Ellis. We’re gonna be okay. They won’t be damned as long as we leave right now.”  Velvet smiled. I’ve never seen her so determined. 

“Let’s go.” She turned the key to the car and we drove straight to the county line. 

Part 6:

“Clark Gabel starred in Gone with the Wind. During the point she realized true love for Rhett, he replied with the following, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” I think this applies to a point in someone’s life at least once.” -1953

July 4, 1963 

I wish I could tell you some movie story about how Buck found us, Ellis actually took off, or we went to jail for stealing our daddy’s truck, but that would be a lie. What actually happened is, we went to Oregon, pulled off in a small town called Roseburg, Velvet-Ann had the babies, Ellis and I finished school, and Bullet retired in a nice grazing field. He earned it. We all did. In fact, we never saw Buck or Missy again. 

Velvet-Ann named the boy Joel Ellis Lucas and the girl Saddie-Rebecka Ann Lucas. They have beautiful hazel eyes, not boring like I used to think mine were. They’re happy. Like Bullet’s eyes. They’re 9 now, I see them at least once a month. We try to get together every now and again. We live in different towns but they aren’t far from each other. 

Ellis and I were married when I turned 19, I took his last name. He finally found his birth certificate in a town archive in Mississippi. His mother died of Typhus 4 weeks after his birth. His father passed away 4 years later from starvation during the depression. A void in his heart was filled knowing they didn’t abandon him. Now he works as a lawyer , he’s just been promoted to partner of the firm he works at. I stay home and prepare the nest for our son. He’s due in 2 months now. His name is Thaddeus Rhett Dunn. We plan to call him Rhett though, it sounds more southern. 

I guess we got a happy movie ending anyway. 

Part 7: Epilogue. 

September 17, 1963

Rhett was born one week ago. Sept. 7, 1963. The nightmares stopped once I had finished writing the dairy. I wont know why I had those dreams, but I think El was right, I just needed to tell it to someone. I plan to burn this journal once I write this out. I might keep it, it might help someone one day. I think I will hold onto it. 

I hope one day I have a daughter, so I can tell her the same thing my mother told me, “Know when to fly away, and when you do it, do it like a goddamn queen.” 

 

 

Reviews

[angel]

A most excellent story, Nina, but lots of errors.
You said this is first draft, so I imagine you will catch and fix most, if not all, of them next time around. If you re post when you do your final version, I am sure there will be much less to address.
You know, typos, punctuation errors, and a couple of misspellings. Nothing much, but if you want to be taken seriously, you need to fix them.
You said this was written for a class, so you are young, but you do have a real talent for storytelling, and I believe that you could, with a little extra effort and the right breaks, make a living at it.
It's definitely worth doing a final draft. I would not hand it in as it is now. Now, it is a B paper.
Fix it, and it will be an easy A.

[Nina Rose]

Thank you. Yes, I honestly posted this before reading it at all, I mean I went over it every every section but you know, everything looks fine right after you've written it. However, I will post the final draft once it finished. Thanks a lot for your comment it really helped me. :)

[angel]

You are very welcome.

[JayG]

Well, you did ask...

Here's the problem: Every word of this story is a transcription of you telling the story aloud—primarily, in summation. Great if the one being told the story can hear the emotion in your voice. But does the punctuation, alone, tell the reader the emotion you place there as YOU read it? No. Does it tell the reader where you change intensity and cadence, or pause, meaningfully, for a breath? Again no. So the result is a voice that's devoid of the emotion you would place there were you with the reader.

Add to that, that the reader can't see the emotion on your face as you tell the story. No change in expression, no eye movement, no visual punctuation via gestures, and no body-language, either. Have your computer read this aloud and you'll hear why we can't use verbal storytelling skills on the page. What your reader gets is very different from what you intended, because the printed word reproduces neither sound not picture.

Add in one more thing: it's not a matter of good or bad writing, or even talent. And your teacher probably liked this piece, because you wrote just as you've been taught to. Problem is, we're not to write fiction, only nonfiction.

Think of how many reports and essays you've been assigned over the years, as against stories. And think over how many of your teachers who graded your fiction were published authors. That matters, because if your teachers knew how to write fiction wouldn't most authors be teachers? And if you were being taught to write fiction, wouldn't most new writers be new grads?

What no one tells us is that the writing skills we're given in school are meant to inform, because our future employers need us to write reports and papers, not stories. So the skills are author-centric and fact-based. They explain and inform.

But we read fiction to be entertained, which is an emotional goal, so the skills needed are different. Instead of talking to the reader, we make that reader feel as if time is passing for them at the same rate as for the protagonist. The goal is to make the story so real that if someone punches our protagonist the reader flinches. In other words, we involve, not inform the reader. And that takes a set of writing tricks that are emotion, not fact-based, and a character-centric, not author-centric presentation. But in all the days of our schooling, who is to point out that problem? Our teachers learned their writing skills in the same classrooms, and if no one told them...

So, faced with the problem you couldn't see as one you opted to go the diary route to give the protagonist reason to tell the story, rather then try to make the protagonist live it as our avatar. It's a sensible decision, except for the fact that the reader can't hear the voice of that narrator. You can, though, and because you can, never learned there was a problem...till someone mean like me comes along. 😠 (you did ask, though. Not many do)

Here's the thing: you're writing well, and can be proud of what you created. But you face the problem that Mark Twain defined with, “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” And that's fixable. All you need do is add the specialized knowledge and tricks of the trade to your existing writing skills. Simple, right?

Unfortunately, simple isn't easy, if for no other reason than that your existing writing skills have been practiced to the point where they work automatically. So even after you know what you need to do to get the narrator off stage and into the prompter's booth, those writing reflexes are going to grab the controls and "fix" the writing. And because it feels right you'll never notice it when it happens, and even on editing, you'll fall back into old habits.

But it does come. And when it does, you'll wonder what was so hard about it. And you'll love the difference that giving your words wings makes.

For an overview of the issues, the articles in my writing blog may help. And the local library's fiction-writing section is filled with the views of successful writers, publishing pros, and noteworthy teachers. So time spent there, and in devouring a few books on fiction-writing technique is time well spent.

My personal recommendation is to begin with Debra Dixon's, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict. It's a warm easy read, and will give you the nuts-and-bolts issues you need. Just take your time, and allow lots of time to think over the issues she raises, and to practice them to make them yours—as against something to note and forget a week later.

Then, after six months, go back and read it again, to get as much as you did the first time—all the things you missed because all that information at once is like trying to take a sip from a fire-house.

But whatever you do, hang in there and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/

[Sol]

Oh man, I really liked this. Just wish you'd told us more about how the characters managed to get by after they escaped.

[Nina Rose]

Could you tell me how you would have liked it be expanded? I also would have liked to expand a lot on this piece but I had a maximum page, if you have an idea on how it should be I could rearrange some peices. Thanks