Chapter 1

            “When lame ones leap just like the hart. When loved ones never have to part. Such blessed times you'll realize if you keep your eyes on the prize...” Machlon song softly as he brushed a stray dark lock from his sister’s clammy face. The tears clogging his throat made it increasingly difficult, but this was one of Amaris’s favorite songs, a Kingdom song, the only one she knew by heart and maybe just maybe it might touch her soul. That was all anyone could hope for at this point. He squeezed tight the muddy pond green eyes their mother loved and girls went wild over, willing himself to continue. “When tears belong to yesterday. When fears and pains have passed away…” As his voice faded away, Machlon, as his elder brother had done, lowered himself to kiss her head. What he wouldn’t give to see the solemnness of her steel gray irises just one more time. She looked so vulnerable and unreal, her lanky 5’9” frame under a tangle of tubes and wires, olive complexion made ghastlier by her cascading raven hair. Part of him refused to accept that this was the same girl he’d been acquainted with for the past 15 years. “I’m so sorry, little sister.” His 5 minutes up, he took his leave and returned to the waiting room, to await a fury like no other. It did not surprise him in the least that Isaac, all of 22 years old yet no more mature than the teenage half-siblings he was designated legal guardian of, was nowhere to be found. He had left Machlon alone to face what he could not.

            “What the Hell did that Ricano b*****d do to my baby?”

            The frazzled and stringy haired middle aged white woman the nurses kept expecting to appear never came. Their narrow minds had formed an image, based on Amaris and her brothers, of what the alluded to mother should look like. This exercise of imagination did not come close to reality as an imposing thick set Hershey colored woman stepped out of the elevator on to the 5^th floor critical care unit. Dressed in a spaghetti strap top and bedazzled denim capri pants with an auburn highlighted wet to wavy weave and knock-off Louis Vuitton handbag, there was no way this woman belonged here. She was flanked by a nearly exact but far more responsible and bespectacled version of Isaac, a petite Latina, and a little girl with a headful of colorful beads.

            “Mommy!” Machlon shouted, coming to life at the first crass word of his mother’s southern drawl and getting quickly to his feet, clumsy as a newborn foal. Yes, the gravely ill needed their rest, but he had not seen the center of his universe for nearly 3 years. In 5 seconds flat he had reached her, falling upon his beloved mother so heavily that he nearly knocked her over and babbling about how much he had missed her.

            “Son…baby boy…..you’re about to crush Mommy!” She gasped wrapping her arms around his neck and raking her fingers through his poker straight dark brown hair affectionately, which took some effort though she was by no measure short at 5’11”. “Lord, look at how big you’ve gotten! You’re taller than me now! Just like your brothers!”

            The touching little reunion seemed to be enough to convince the charge nurse that maybe this woman did have some reason to be here. “You’re Amaris Stehle mother I presume?” Her uncertainty was forgivable since nobody who encountered Dorinda Lewis, believed she was a day over 30, let alone a first time mother at 17 and grandmother by the age of 35. Mention the 12 years she had spent in the Army and jaws hung so far, they were nearly in Mexico.

            Ready to conduct business as she called it and establish herself as a no nonsense force to be reckoned with, Dorinda pushed her youngest son aside and stepped forward. “Yes, ma’am, I am. And I am also the mother of Machlon Stehle and Isaac Diaz. In fact all of these, except for the little girl, who’s my grandbaby, are my children.”

            Several moments of awkward albeit expected silence followed.

            “Trust me, honey.” Dorinda pressed on. “I’m quite a few years older than I look and whatever proof you need so you can tell me why you’ve got my youngest child laid up on your ward, I’ve got right here in this purse.”

            Machlon took a few steps backward not knowing what else to do with himself and collided with Ibrahim, who grabbed his arm, more so to hold rather than steady him. Despite his growth spurt, Ibrahim remained taller than him at 6’6”, an inch taller than his own twin, and though extremely almost painfully thin and nerdy in appearance, was in reality quite strong. Before Machlon could yank his arm away, Ibrahim’s mouth was by his ear. “Walk with me, talk with me, baby brother. Because the police better find Isaac’s cowardice a*s before I do. Have you got any idea how hard we’ve been looking for you?” Unable to get away, Machlon tipped his head back to look at Ibrahim’s face. His bluish eyes had turned nearly black like burning coals with rage and Machlon did not doubt for one moment that his eldest brother was out for blood, even from the other half of his soul, his own twin.

            “There’s nothing to tell.” Machlon mumbled remembering the promises he had already made. “She just…”

            “Brain dead?” Dorinda blurted out dramatically, a good thing for her youngest son because it meant his arm was released as the eldest rushed to make sure she didn’t hurt herself as she sank to the ground. “Revived twice? Was she already dead when the paramedics got there or something?”

            The kid counted his blessings and retreated away from the spectacle unfolding already fed up with it, with these people he had been told and shown he was better off without. From the pocket of the Nike sweatpants clinging to his slender hips, he produced the newfangled I-Phone which had Isaac had given him as an early 17^th birthday present and rolled his eyes at the 6 missed calls, 4 voicemails, and 9 text messages. He did not need to be reminded, what to do, what not to say.

            “Hey!” Karisma spoke for the first time.

            Too late though.

            The elevator closed, but before Machlon could breathe a sigh of relief, Ibrahim's words sent a chill up his spine. 

    "Either he's for us or he's for Isaac and his bullshit." 

Amaris Janoah Faith Lewis-Gessinger, 15, died unexpecetedly in her devestated mother’s arms on Tuesday November 3, 2009 at Methodist Hospital. Born in Fort Hood, Texas on July 5, 1994, to Dorinda Lewis, Amaris was habitually resident in Louisville, Kentucky, though she also spent significant periods of time in Tampa Florida. All who encountered her remember as a quiet and shy but very intelligent and well mannered young lady with a bright future ahead of her. The youngest of five children, she was truly Mama's Baby but sadly at the time of her death, through no fault of her own of course, she had been kept away from her loving mama and home in Louisville for the past 2 1/2 years. Survivors include her mother, Dorinda Lewis, Louisville, brothers Machlon Lewis-Gessinger, Louisville/Tampa, Ibrahim Diaz, Houston Texas, Isaac Diaz, Tampa, sister Karisma Santos-Lewis Indianapolis Indiana, and niece Hayvn Santos Indianapolis/Louisville. She was an Unbaptized Publisher of the Jehovah's Witnesses. In accordance with her mother's wishes, no services shall be held in Florida as Mrs. Lewis desires to return Amaris to her habitual residence in Louisville to be mourned by family and friends. 

Without alerting Isaac and whatever goons might be hanging around to his return, Machlon held his breath as he entered the former's residence through the side door, expecting to be hit with the rancid odor of four day old vomit. 

"Oh s**t, she's seizing, call 911!" The dumpy brunette, who was Isaac's latest broad, had yelled.

"We can't you dumb b***h!" had been Isaac's response as he'd looked first at his girlfriend then at Machlon who'd been trying to get his phone out of his pocket. "What comes with an ambulance, little brother, whether you want it or not?"

Exactly who Isaac didn't need around, the police.

Machlon had no choice except to breathe and was shocked when the scent of bleach and of Sandalwood incense filled his nostrils. He opened his eyes slowly and was convinced that they were deceiving him as he scanned the room searching for the bottles of alcohol lined up on the counter, the electric pocket scales on the table, and strange jackets thrown over the chairs. Was he in the right house?

"Good job, baby brother!" Isaac slurred from the living room. "Now, people think I kidnapped and held ya'll hostage!"

There was no sense in arguing with him. He was out of his mind on only God knew what. Guess nobody ever warned him about getting high on his own supply! 

"That lying b***h still has sole custody, but she gave me legal guardianship! I never kidnapped ya'll!" Isaac refused to be ignored. "I offered her to come see ya'll, but naw....b***h didn't wanna come see  her own damn kids!"

To avoid hearing any more, Machlon went right back out the way he came and climbing into the 2007 Chrstyler 300 which Isaac had passed down to him when he turned 16, took off for destination unknown.

Author's Note

please be brutally honest

Reviews

[Davidgeo]

The writing's pretty good but to be brutally honest... the story is quite boring. Also, by how you write dialogue here I can tell quite easily you are not American or are a really pretentious one. Simply adding a "y'all" here in an otherwise standard written bit of dialogue is a dead giveaway you're clueless on that front. You have to change your vocabulary and use more contractions, invest in a thesaurus or start using the one you have. Beside the stilted nature of it, the dialogue also feels very forced, for example, if someone is in a panic they don't ask rhetorical questions like " "What comes with an ambulance, little brother, whether you want it or not?".... in reality that person would simply say, "we can't the cops'll come ya moron".... but in an even more realistic world, that would be something each person already knew and wouldn't need to be discussed. It's a really heavy handed bit of expositional dialogue at best or a lack of understanding in regards to human interaction at worst. Anyway... that's pretty much what I mean by contrived, this whole story feels forced and the dialogue feels stilted and unnatural. I have no intentions of reading you further for these reasons. I think you might be trying too hard, you don't read like a natural writer.

[MeratheRestless]

You know.....I never thought much about the dialogue. As for the 'ya'll' thing. Well I grew up in Georgia, though I now live outside the Deep South, and heard this word ad nauseum. Same for the word 'ain't'. I could write a lot more simplistically, but I like unusual words and choose my few spoken ones carefully. I guess I forgot that most people are not me and get straight to the point. It's honestly something that has never crossed my mind until you brought it up. Thanks.

[MeratheRestless]

I guess I should also ask, why do you find the storyline boring? What were you expecting to happen?

[Davidgeo]

You must of forgotten. I'm originally from Chicago and only recently returned from various places in the south (Columbus, Georgia was one of them)... so I think I'm just hypersensitive to it and likely overstating that. I'm sure it's probably just fine in that regard, enough people speak differently within any given sub culture.

[Davidgeo]

It's not for a lack of action, it's the way you describe it. You try too hard. I'm a big fan of word economy, it's just a style preference. Boring is a very subjective term, so maybe its just me.

[maria ( rose)]

No story is ever boring..take in regard of the time passion and thought that went into this. I just shared it with my twitter friends and facebook family. keep up the great work!

[Davidgeo]

Mind your own business. I'm intentionally being harsh because that's what author asked for in the "author's note" section. I understand you want to rescue the damsel in distress but in reality, you have no business in this thread. Go start your own. Go pretend to be chivalrous in that one.... you are wasting everyone's time this way.

[Davidgeo]

Just for your own future self awareness... yes... there are stories that are boring. You discredit your entire "review" when you say s**t like that. Let me guess... you're a slightly drunken social justice warrior? ugh...

[Davidgeo]

Why'd you delete your last comment? You're a fraud. You're not here to critique you're here to try and shame me for not reviewing as you like it. People like you are a cancer on honest discourse. Shame on you.

[Akasha Rayne]

Good Chapter overall, my only observations on what can be improved are the following. Please take more time to to proof read your document before posting or ask someone if they wouldn't mind looking it over after your initial proof reading session (Beta Reader). There are a few run-on sentences but nothing too majorly altering. Keep in mind also, to not start sentences with And as it can confuse readers as to what exactly you are talking about. Thank you for taking the time to share your work with everyone here and I would like to apologize for the drama that I have seen in the previous comments. I hope that you do not hold any ill-will to the website due to others animosity.

[SweetNutmeg]

I see no reason for a person to be brutal when being honest, and I must say it is unwise to ask for brutality. I try to be gentle with people, on here and in the rest of my life. So here's my take on things. I made note of several awkward places, which seem to represent the main flaw in your writing style.

1. "the only one she knew by heart and maybe just maybe."
Maybe what?

2. "He squeezed tight the muddy pond green eyes"
this might be more clear if you said "his" instead of "the." I had to read that several times to figure out what you were saying and who the eyes belonged to.

3. "olive complexion made ghastlier"
Olive sounds like an attractive skin complexion, not ghastly

4. "he’d been acquainted with"
acquaintance is a person you are not very close to, someone you are distantly friendly with. I don't think that's what you meant to say.

I think you are trying to impress us, but readers want clarity first and foremost. The best compliment a writer can receive is for the reader to forget they are reading, so sucked in by the story they forget they are holding a book. And that can't happen when the reader is stumbling over odd sentence constructions and unclear meanings.

Relax. Be natural. Use words as you do in your life, and you will develop your own unique style.

I think you have the makings of a good story. Lots of interesting characters, a sudden death, family discord, tantalizing hints of characters' backgrounds, crime. I am especially interested in the mother, who seems a larger than life, strong willed person. I look forward to seeing what happens. And that's exactly how you want to leave your reader... wanting to see what happens next.

[MeratheRestless]

I have written through Chapter 9 so feel free to keep reading and post any other helpful tips.

[maria ( rose)]

Nope sorry not a fraud. Been here for many years. Have winning badges to prove it. :)
Have a well known group that I am very proud of with over 1000 great authors. and that is where I seen my friend's story at. So please don't comment back to me no more. Thank You.

[maria ( rose)]

Excuse me MeratheRestless for commenting in the wrong space. I much rather comment up here.
Enjoyed your story. :)

[MeratheRestless]

Thank you, but did you mean chapter 1 or the whole thing?