December

>.< IDK.

It was a silent night. Not silent in the way you'd imagine. I could still here the traffic; the static and the buzzing of the world. It was silent in the way that my mind was at ease. There was always something clouding my head. Something provoking me to go farther and farther into darkness, but not tonight. I couldn't hear the rushing. Instead the rushing was replaced with an awkward sense of awareness, as if my conscious was fighting it's way back to the surface. Not enough to provoke a reaction, but just enough to feel uncomfortable. Which is an odd occurrence seeing as the dead don't feel.
    I am dead, but dead is an confusing concept, one that many take heavily handed. People usually assume dead means decomposing in the ground. That the dead can't write or talk, but I'll have you know it is quite the opposite. Dead is a new awakening. I am dead, yet here i am as sentient as anyone. Unfortunately, being this way- dead and awake- it comes with a sacrifice. I made this sacrifice on December 18th, 1929.
    I was born and raised in Harlem NY. The height of the depression, naturally I came from the poorest of families. Being the oldest daughter of four i was expected to fend for myself. I did just that, and with no complaints, I was a strong girl. I accepted that my younger siblings could have never endured what i did. It would have ruined them. They were weak, and their souls would have been lost amongst the sadness, but not me. I could take anything. I could take cold nights on the streets. I could take the hollow feeling in my stomach for days at a time. I could even take the penetration between my legs i received nightly.  I held in everyday right up until the coldest night in December.
    He didn't mean to kill me. I know this now, but when it happened i didn't. When i felt his hands grab me from behind and throw me into the snowy grass i felt nothing but hate. When he lifted my dress and pulled down my stockings i seethed with anger. I would have killed him first if it wasn't for the 200 pounds he had over me, and the fact he came from behind. I wasn't in the right mindset it was far below freezing and i hadn't had any food in two days. He was able to overpower me, but i fought. I fought with all the force i had. This man would not have me, he wasn't going to pay so he could not have me. I'm not quite sure if i would have fought so hard if i knew that it would be my last day in my current life. Like i said he didn't mean to kill me, he only pulled the knife out to silence me. I remember the knife pressed against my neck and the stench of moonshine on his beard. I remember the rustling in the bushes and his startled reaction. I remember the blade running across my throat and the warm gush of blood that followed. The one thing i don't remember is whether or not he still fucked me.
    When I told you being awake and dead came with a sacrifice, i probably should have added not everyone makes it. You are offered a choice when you die. You can live forever on this planet, but most people choose not to. I'd tell you why except i don't have the slightest idea.  I don't know what happens to your soul if you choose not to live. All i know is i sold mine, and that is how i came to be.  I sold my soul for eternal life, to live amongst the rushing, and now i am telling you about the night the silence came.

Author's Note

First draft.

Reviews

[Tadej]

I am drawn in. Thank you for being the select few to do so.

[Vile]

I thought this was pretty interesting thus far actually. I like the way you narrate, the vocabulary you use and has an almost poetic feel to it.

One thing I would work on is the way you describe the character.

" I was born and raised in Harlem NY. The height of the depression, naturally I came from the poorest of families. Being the oldest daughter of four i was expected to fend for myself. I did just that, and with no complaints, I was a strong girl. I accepted that my younger siblings could have never endured what i did. It would have ruined them. They were weak, and their souls would have been lost amongst the sadness, but not me. I could take anything. I could take cold nights on the streets. I could take the hollow feeling in my stomach for days at a time. I could even take the penetration between my legs i received nightly. I held in everyday right up until the coldest night in December"

I think you go into it a little bit much, youre telling the reader rather than showing them. Its always more effective showing how strong she is, rather than explaining it. Granted, Im sure youll get to showing us later on in the story, though I think perhaps you reveal a little much in this first chapter, you hook us in, but then I feel like you delve too much into her history early on, with this I'd say let the voice of the character and her actions establish who she is. That's just my take.

On another note, I like that it is more adulterated, that it's vulgar and you're not afraid to be upfront about everything, nice touch, as I said, I enjoy your style, you do have a good way of describing with her voice, so well done on characterization. I enjoy the concept, not sure where it is going yet, though Im intrigued, and look forward to reading more. :)