Let loose the Lips of Lucifer (excerpt)

I stepped into my own mansion, i knew it was late, because the sun was red and peeking through the white kitchen curtains. The water was violently boiling over the pot, but I was too exhausted and uncaring to do anything. I dropped my bag on the stairs and was about to go up when the arm pulled me back. The force was familiar, so I didn’t fight. She spun me around to face her, her blood red eyes scanned my unraveled hair and dirty, torn clothes. Her hand struck my cheek hard. I only looked at her quivering lips and the tears dropping on her lips. She opened her mouth to speak, but the kettle started screeching.

“You drink too much tea” I said, and yanked my hand away. I have never defied my mother before.

I ran up the stairs and slammed my door, dropping on the bed, the pain stung my cheek, but instead of making me angry, it made me think of Nora and the day we had. I moved the curtain and looked out; night was beginning to take over. I could hear my brother tapping the pencil in his room noisily, I got up and hit the wall, he hit his too and it made me angry that he wanted to challenge me.

I opened his door, he looked frightened, I was about to grab the pencil and stab his arm, but I could only look at him. He has grown, his legs are longer and his hair higher. He looked like a man, maybe too much reading, for he was only sixteen. He repeated a grade, which almost made my mother crazy, but he was smart, he tried hard, which made me hate him. He looked at me and knitted his brows.

“Mind closing the door” his voice was mature and deep, and I wish I could tell my brother about Nora, like the old times when we shared stories, but I knew he wouldn’t listen, so I just hissed and slammed the door.

I was in my dirty uniform when I woke up; I took a quick bath and went downstairs to breakfast. It was oatmeal and fried plantains; we ate this almost every day. I flung the lumpy meal into the bowl and flung myself into the chair, I didn’t even pray.

“What is wrong with you” her eyes were still red, probably she was crying last night, her hair was not in the tight high bun and she was still in her night gown.

“nutten” I replied with my head down

*(Jamaican Creole for nothing)

“Don’t speak like that!” she shouted, she looked as though she was going to burst, and I enjoyed it. My brother glared at me and shook his head in pity, it made me angry, so I flung the bowl to the centre of the table and ran up the steps. She called after me, and when I looked back her eyes looked hollow and sunken, they looked almost gray around the lids. She looked tired and hopeless, but she should have thought of that when she was calling me “dunce”, that one day it would affect me.

“Today is library day!” she called to me, but I only dropped myself in the bed and soaked my pillow with my tears, I needed Nora.

Every Saturday we go to the library, we are not allowed to drive in the motor vehicle, we are suppose to walk like loving siblings and observe nature, to find one thing that caught my eye and write about it. We have to present it to her in her bedroom that smelt like perfume and talcum powder. She corrected our grammar and sentences with red ink, my brother barely had a mark, mine was always full of angry red lines.

She spoke to my teacher about extra grammar classes and French, and I was strictly prohibited to speak Jamaican Creole. I thought about all these things as I walked in awkward silence with my brother. The sun was high and powerful, sweat ran down my bare chest and legs, but he looked calm and collected, the farmers on the other side dug and separated the land, standing upright every minute to wipe their sweat drenched faces. A woman stood behind one with a jug in her hand. She had a baby on her hip, and they were laughing. The woman had a loud, raucous laugh that seemed to make the man laugh harder. She let out a loud “whoi”. She turned her attention to us as we passed the fence that separated us, no one really spoke to us, they only stared, and I guess it was because of my mother.

I was walking slowly behind my brother, oblivious to my surroundings when I heard the bold, mature voice call out my name. It was Nora. My face lit up. She was wearing a dress with frills around her neck that made her look like a small golliwog. I waved excitedly at her. My brother paused and looked at her, he half shut his eyes and gazed discreetly at her. His feet began shuffling and he lightly smiled at her and kept walking. I hugged her and she put her hand around my waist, as we turned to the opposite direction he called out to me, but I ignored him and kept walking.

We went back to the river and sat on the dry bank, she tore the frilly collar and handed me a cigarette. I nervously took it and let her light it, this time I breathed in slowly and exhaled, I coughed a little and tried again, I was better but still awkward. I really didn’t like the taste and had no idea what I was supposed to feel, but it felt good to do something unacceptable, and my mother’s face in my mind kept me going.

We took off our shoes and dipped our toes in the cool water, squinting at the noon sun.

“Ever kissed a boy?” she asked with a laugh

“No” I giggled. I hadn’t really thought of it before and now felt as though I should. The only boy I really knew was my brother and the few I was not really acquainted with at church.

She leaned towards me and kissed my cheek. I felt a tingling feeling and blushed; no one has ever kissed me before, except the day when my mother thought I was first in the country and kissed my forehead. I smiled and she laughed, then we stripped ourselves of the dresses and jumped into the cool river in the hot summer day. It was evening when we left; the sun was just bowing out, leaving a light breeze and the moon to take over. I boldly walked into the bar filled with rowdy men and we bought sodas, swallowing in one gulp. We walked back in silence and without a word we separated. I felt an unusual tingle of sadness as I watched her leave. For the second time I watched as she sadly opened the door, it was dark,. She looked back and waved slightly, but I didn’t have the will to do the same, for that wave meant goodbye. I knew I wouldn’t see her tomorrow, for we had church, a very special day to my mother, I could at least ease my rebellion for that day.

Reviews

[C. Rose]

Thank you for submitting this to the "Most Improved Story" contest.

Here are some areas you can work on.

Transitions:
It was unclear which side of the door she was on when she slammed it and then she suddenly wakes up. Add a few sentences to make it clear she went to bed - otherwise I think her brother knocked her out.
Showing vs. Telling:
Your "showing" was strong, until you started explaining library day.
Run Ons:
My personal rule is to have the majority of my sentences have 2 clauses, a smattering of short sentences when it fits the context, and a balanced number of 3+ clause sentences. Longer doesn't mean better. Longer can be harder to read. I am not saying eliminate long sentences, but you need to balance them out with medium and short sentences.
Confusion:
He was smart and tried hard but was held back a grade? I don't understand why he was held back.

Typos:
"i knew it was late"
"it was dark,."
"suppose" - supposed
I know Writer's Café isn't ideal for indenting by tab - but 5-6 spaces will do the trick if you can spare a few minutes to tedium.

I like the title. I like tension you create. Good luck in the contest!

[C. Rose]

And remember to publish your revised story as "Let Loose the Lips of Lucifer (REVISED)" and submit it to the contest so that the improvement can be seen.