Chapter 1: Sympathy Tourettes

Chapter 1 of my first book Owen & The Sky Giants

Chapter 1

 

Owen’s hand trembled. The glass of water that he was holding nervously swashed from side to side. Owen looked down at his other hand that held the two tablets. Sixty milligrams of doctor prescribed happiness rested in his palm. He had taken them for years and although the miracle smile had never appeared, Owen was prepared to roll the dice again for today. He swallowed hard.

 

Owen stared at the coffin. Owen said nothing; just stared blankly at the coffin’s mock oak cover that disguised the MDF cell. Was this the best you could hope for?  To be sat in the front room of a tired old house while even older people flocked around it muttering prayers and recounting tales that never were.

 

“It’s time son” His mum pointed to the black car that had crept outside the house. It waited with a horrid silence, waiting for Owen’s family to open the door and accept the inevitable. Owen’s granddad was dead.

 

The accompaniment of a clichéd dismal sky had also arrived with the hearse and swarmed on the affair. Why did you never get bright sunny funerals Owen thought? The gloom hurt the sky strangling any light that tried to permeate through the bleak clouds.

 

Rain splattered against the veneer of the coffin as the Paul bearers lifted his granddad with all the elegance of a busy furniture removal company. Each droplet of rain splashed the cheapness of the funeral in Owen’s face. Everyone had been given a part, a role to play in the grand in the vain hope they would be excused for their lack of interest while Owen’s Granddad was alive. They wouldn’t, but Owen said nothing; he just stared blankly at the coffin as it passed behind a sea of well meaning flowers. Was this it? No grand farewell, no procession? Just a handful of parasitic relatives to mark the end of your life?

 

The service seemed to pass in an instant, the asthmatic whimpers of a church organ long past its best, pushed the memories of the drive to church into the grey fog at the back of his mind. The tablets must have kicked in Owen thought. They made you vague.

 

Taking them in the morning rather than the night before was part of the plan. Owen had prepared himself for the day, pictured seeing his Granddad being carried into the church, he pictured the congregation’s groans puncturing layers of sympathy; but he wasn’t prepared for it really. To say goodbye.

 

Lightning cracked the clouds as they followed his granddad outside. They swirled with a dark interest.

 

Owen stared down at the freshly dug hole and its new arrival. Lump after lump of clotted earth fell on the coffin as the priest beckoned more to do the same. Owen held the earth in his palm. His hand trembled. It was wrong to say goodbye like this. It should have been a hug, his granddad ruffling his hair; not staring at a glorified box. The mud stung with discomfort, it was a fistful of nettles, biting his hand in resistance; forcing Owen to part with the earth.

 

“Son, it’s time.” his mum repeated her stock phrase of the day. Her hand grasped Owen’s upper arm, clenching it reassuringly.

 

Like the mechanical arm of a cruel carnival grabber the soil left Owen’s hand and cascaded downwards, hurtling towards the target of its smear campaign. It landed burying the coffin like a blanket. It covered the coffin, placing a cold snapshot in Owen’s mind where he had seen his Granddad’s face.

 

The congregation swarmed like plagues to the buffet. Owen hated buffet, stories that never were; becoming truth and intoxicatingly confirmed with ale and sausage rolls. Everyone was laughing or nodding accordingly as if the last hour hadn’t happened. Owen looked over at his mum as a collection of frail women gathered; all suffering with sympathy tourettes. I’m sorry for your loss, I don’t know how you’re coping. Owen knew the conversation would inevitably turn onto him and his ‘problem’. Being talked about was almost as bad as being talked to he thought.

 

His feet were magnets being heavily drawn to the graveside; they plodded obediently, leaving the room. Owen slumped next to the hole, the dull mud swallowed him, as he looked down at his friend. He wished, but it was futile. Owen remembered how only earlier that week he had visited his granddad. He lay down and watched television while his Granddad cooked up a storm of crumpets for them to devour. Rich yellowy butter would ran down their cheeks like a torrent, the television went off and they talked. He just wished…

 

His mum would came over in the evening to pick him up. He had hugged his granddad so tightly that night, the thick coarse wool of his jersey, the smell of clinical shampoo unknowingly mixed with the lingering scent of his Granddad’s pipe tobacco. It was then he heard a voice. Something deep within his conscience reverberated. Tell him you love him. He hadn’t and instead another anxious memory was added to his already strained dosage of anti depressants.

 

“Why?” Owen sobbed quietly looking down at the reality of the hole. He wanted his lungs, wanted conviction and anger to cut him from the patch of soil he occupied.

 

“... because there was no other way.” A gentle voice emanated from behind Owen.

 

Glancing upwards, Owen saw the tall silhouette of a man. Owen looked up, his eyes adjusted to the light which contrasted with the bleakness of the hole. The figure stood silently. His hair was slicked back so that it covered his ears; dulled by the rain, the chestnut brown of his hair of the man was almost black.

 

The man was not dressed in black at all, nowhere on his character could any speck of ghoulish noir be found and in its place he was dressed head to foot in a tan mack. Had the man even been to the funeral?

The patches that adorned the tails of the coat depicted strange geographical patterns in the same way a globe might show countries.  

 

“What would you know?” Owen’s voice trailed off. He had grown used to adults not making much sense.

 

The figure remained silent, unflinching and unphased, as if he half expected the reaction Owen had given him.  A smile formed on the man’s face. He came closer to Owen, crouching by his side.

 

“I know a great deal more than I care to tell.” The man whispered,

“Your Granddad was very important to us. He…” The sky rumbled aggressively, cutting short the man’s speech. The man looked startled as if the turbulent clouds were a warning that he had already said too much.

 

“What?” A hint of desperation crept into Owen’s voice,

 

Quickly the man pushed his hands deep into his velvet lined pockets. Like children’s feet kicking up fresh autumnal leaves the man’s hand hurriedly searched the contents of his pocket. Owen looked keenly, but the strange man looked worried. At last the man found what he was looking for. He pushed the contents firmly into Owen’s palm, closing Owen’s fingers around it.

 

“Not everything is what it seems Owen” the man said getting back to his feet.

 

Owen? How did the man know his name? Owen looked at the object that the man had given him. The flat, rectangular object was wrapped in brown parcel pager and tied together with old string. Carefully Owen untied the string, peeling back the paper.

 

How could it be real? Owen stared in disbelief.

It was a photograph of his granddad and the man together, but not in this world. Dragons flew in the sky while a vague outline of  castle could be seen on the horizon of the image.

 

Desperately Owen looked up, but it was too late. The man had disappeared.

Author's Note

I am trying desperately to get this published. If you can help in any way or give feedback it is very much appreciated. My facebook page is www.facebook.com/cgguest

Reviews

[Judy]

Great start! At first I was a little worried that it was going to be horribly depressing for kids to read. The end of this chapter has me hooked though. I hope you're going to post a little more so we can get an idea what's going on. One thing-- I'm not sure if you know it, but the beginning of your last paragraph runs down the side of the picture.

[Chris Guest]

Thanks for the review. I'm re working chapter 2 and will post it ASAP. Thanks for the info about the last paragraph running down the side of the image. It isn't showing like that in my browser which is a real pain, but I'll try and make the image larger so it puts it underneath.

Thanks again
Chris

[Judy]

Glad to help. I'm planning on reading chapter 2 when you post!

[Post Pen]

The mud stung. (with discomfort-cut) It was a fistful of nettles, biting his hand in resistance; forcing Owen to part with (it.) the earth.
(You said that his hand parted with the earth and then he parts with it again when his mum grabs him.)
The congregation swarmed like plagues to the buffet. Owen hated buffet, stories that never were; *** second time you have used this. I'm presuming he is young so how would he know if the stories were true or not? Unsettling or at least redundant.

Owen knew the conversation would inevitably turn onto him (toward him)

Granddad cooked up a storm of crumpets ( you can cook up a storm but I don't believe it can be a storm of something like crumpets.)

Rich yellowy butter (would- cut) ran down their cheeks (like) in a torrent, the television went (magically?) off and they talked.

It's getting pretty late. Let me know if you would like me to continue. I think it's a bit wordy and obscure if your audience is children.

Nancy please critique mine. http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/doulasaz/1190709/

[Chris Guest]

That's great to get feedback of all types, and any editing tips are more than welcome :) its aimed at 10 - 13 year olds. I hadn't realised the accidental repetition so thanks again :)

[N15D]

Really good descriptions in here from the beginning I knew i was waiting for something big to happen and the ending of the chapter was expected but unexpected at the same time. I look foward to reading chapter 2

[Kaylee Mae]

I really liked it but it took a minute for me to actually get in to it. Other than that it was really good.

[Chris Guest]

Thanks for the feedback. I'll have a look at the intro again see if I can re work it a bit. Thanks as your feedback is really useful