Chapter One

Chapter One

A Chapter by ScottWinchester


            Nicolle Darling and her brother, Adam, were dreamers like most eight and ten year olds. In their daydreams -- which eventually took the form of a comic book that she illustrated and he wrote -- they did not live in the Darling home, nor were their parents their parents. They were superheros, powerful and brave, able to stand against all, able to fight back. But Adam was now gone and Nicolle was alone. Her mother, sitting in the hospital, noticed and then confiscated the amateur comic Nicolle held. You're no artist, she dismissed, tossing the stapled papers back to her daughter. Might as well just tell you now.

            The post-Adam world was bleak one. When he was still around they could sometimes salvage the day, whether by telling ghost stories hiding under the bed, or playing with ants in the yard, or whatever… fun stuff. Sometimes they would run to Grandmama and Granddaddy Longleg’s house and stay for two or three hours (that wasn’t their names… they were both actually kind of short) until the storm passed back home. Adam wasn’t yet gone for a full day and already such endeavors seemed lifeless, impossible without him. He protected her. He was strong; Nicolle was not.

            “NICOLLE!”

            She heard her name called but did nothing. Her knees pressed together closely; her hands knotted together in her lap; her head bowed as if tired.

            She’d never had an alone moment with Adam once the treatments began. He was often away from home, and if she saw him at all, the doctors were usually around, and her parents always were. She could tell that her big brother had something to say to her, but they both knew better than to speak the truth where the parents would hear. So they bided their time. She wished they had made a secret language or something, like spies or something. Despite the parents hovering nearby, he could flash a double wink at her, meaning “Hey Nicky, guess what”, and she would sniff, meaning “What” and he would scratch the bridge of his nose while simultaneously licking his lips, saying...
            ... what?
            Nicolle would never know.
            She hated death.
            She missed Adam.
            “NICOLLE!!”

            A fist struck the bathroom door. Though Nicolle could not see her it wasn’t a stretch to imagine her mother with her hands balled up into fists and her chest rising and falling from furious breaths. This reminded her of their comic, where she and Adam escaped the dark caverns of the Darling home, evading the blasts of Fire Woman and Ghost Man as they did so. In the comic they’d been successful.

           In real life, alone and shaking a little, Nicolle opened the bathroom door and looked up. Fire Woman was staring at her with eyes that lived up to her name. Her bottom lip was quivering.

           “You,” Fire Woman said, never blinking, never looking away from Nicolle, shaking her head in intimidating disapproval. When she spoke she spoke through gritted teeth. Nicolle braced herself for the fireball. “What are you doing in here?”

I was using the toilet.”

No you were not, you were in here thinking about how bad of a mama I am,” Fire Woman said, chest rising and falling. “Don’t lie to me.”
            Nicolle didn’t answer.
            “Say something!”
            Nicolle didn’t say something, which was a mistake. Her mother moved into the bathroom in a fury, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. Her face was inches from Nicolle’s face. Her breath stunk.

Don’t you dare sit in here, throwing a damn pity party, thinking about how hard you think you have it. Don’t you have any sense?! Do you not know how hard I’ve had it the last few months?!”

Nicolle’s face was peppered with her mother’s spit; that happened sometimes when her mother ranted. Nicolle, knowing the penalty for not nodding in the right places, nodded.
            “I don’t see you drowning in bills, or having to deal with all this,” her mother said. “And instead of trying to comfort me, you hole up in the bathroom and think about just how stupid you think your mama is. I thought I raised you better.”
            Nicolle nodded again. Her mother’s fingernails were digging into her shoulders.
            “Useless little b***h,” her mother said. Then she straightened up in a hurry and walked away.

A few moments passed in silence… then, in the living room, the television turned on. She was safe, for the moment; her mother was likely too exhausted to hit her now. But later it would come, perhaps while Nicolle was asleep… that’d happened once.

            Her eyes looked to the wall calendar that hung above her. It wasn’t on the right month… it wasn’t even on the right year. But no one bothered to change it, and for that she was glad: the photo accompanying March was Tybee Lighthouse. The image had always been comforting, as if this Tybee Lighthouse, somewhere far away, was her refuge, a place where she could be safe. She and Adam spoke of going there…

           Run away, she thought to herself. Escape.

           She ran to her room as quietly as possible and tossed some clothes and other things into a plastic bag. She grabbed her jacket, Adam’s jacket (though she was unsure why), her pillow, and ran to the window across the room. With the speed of a practiced skill, Nicolle undid the rusty lock, lifted the window, held it up with her back as she tossed out her things, and then crawled out, her short feet touching the shaky concrete blocks on the other side. The skies were pewter grey, overcast in all directions; night approached and the air was cool.

She wanted Tybee Lighthouse, the place of refuge, her ultimate escape, but she didn’t know how to get there, nor did she want to go alone. For now, she needed to go somewhere closer. Nicolle made a break for it, running against the wind; her dark hair flew around her head, and Adam’s jacket nearly blew loose from her arms. In the far distance -- over the fence, through the patch of woods, and up the hill -- she could see her grandparent’s house. There were no lights on, but that didn’t stop her. 
            Over the fence she went, through the patch of woods (stepping in a muddy puddle), and up the hill. She ran up the front porch steps, kicked off her muddy shoes, and turned the doorknob. As always, it was open.
            “Come in,” an old voice quietly called, hearing Nicolle enter. Though he was in his sitting room and she was in the entryway, where they could not see each other, he said, “I thought you might come over Nicolle.”
            The house was dark, lit by the ambience of the failing grey daylight alone. Nicolle could see well enough to walk unhindered down the hallway and into the sitting room where her grandfather waited. Like every grandfather that ever lived Granddaddy Longlegs smoked cigars; in the shadows where his rocker sat she could see the orange glow of his cigar as he drew from it. His rocker squeaked.
            “Hello Nicolle,” he said kindly.
            “Hey,” she said.
            “Does your mother and daddy know you’ve come?”
            “Yes,” Nicolle lied.
            “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart,” he said, the words far kinder than when her mother had spoken them to her. “It’s ok... I won’t call your mama.” 
            Nicolle nodded, though she didn’t know if he could see her.
            “Come here, Nicolle... tell me all about it,” he said. The tip of his cigar grew orange again as he took another draw. Nicolle stepped over to his dark corner; the scent of his cigar was nostalgic of happier times, times when she and Adam had been in that corner with Granddaddy Longlegs together. Once Nicolle was close enough she felt a gentle hand reach out and take hers, pulling her up beside the rocker. Not wanting to get smoke in her face, he put the cigar on the ashtray beside him.
            “Tell me all about it,” he said, his old hand rubbing her own.
            “You know already,” Nicolle said. She felt her voice break. She didn’t cry often " both she and Adam had become strong over the years, they had to " but she thought she might now.
            “I suppose that’s true,” he said. “Sometimes it’s good to talk things over, though, with someone you love, somebody you trust.”
            Nicolle loved Granddaddy Longlegs. She trusted him, too.
            “Mama and Daddy are fighting,” she said, staring off to the side. Granddaddy did not ask what about. Instead, he pulled her up into the rocker with him and cradled her close to his chest. Finally the tears escaped, and Nicolle began to weep.
            “I miss him too, baby,” Granddaddy said, rocking them slowly in his chair. “It’s okay, dearheart.”
            He smoothed her hair as they glided back and forth in rhythm, back and forth, humming a soft song. Nicolle fought her tears back to a sniffle but did not lift her head from his chest.
            “Where is he now, Granddaddy?”
            “Hm?”
            “Adam,” she asked.
            He smoothed her hair some more. “Oh, he’s in a better place, dearheart. The angels came and flew him off to a happier place.”
            Nicolle waited a moment. “Nuh uh.”
            “I wouldn’t lie to you, baby,” Granddaddy said. “No, no... no, the angels saved Adam, baby. He’s with them now, he’s okay. Where cancer can’t get him.”
            Nicolle did not stir or speak, but thought in silence, and her grandfather let her. She knew Granddaddy Longlegs would never lie to her, but what he was describing sounded like a wonderful thing, almost magical. She had lived through the entire ordeal; it wasn’t magical. She had seen him lose his hair, and watched him erode from the treatments. She was only eight and he was ten, but eventually he became as small as she was. Angels did not come for him... he’d died. If the angels had been on their way to get him, they had been too late.
            Nicolle hated death.
            An hour or so later Nicolle got up and Granddaddy made them some hot chocolate. After one sip, the phone rang; in that one ringing note Nicolle could hear it plainly: get your tail back over here this instant.
            Sadly, Nicolle hugged her Granddaddy goodbye, making it extra-long, and left. Never before had Nicolle really given much thought to her future, but now she did. She wondered what life had in store for her. If the years ahead were anything like the years behind, she hoped the angels would come for her, too.

            




© 2016 ScottWinchester


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Reviews

' She wished they had made a secret language or something, like spies or something. Despite the parents hovering nearby, he could flash a double wink at her, meaning “Hey Nicky, guess what”, and she would sniff, meaning “What” and he would scratch the bridge of his nose while simultaneously licking his lips, saying... ... what?
Nicolle would never know. '

.. and so forth. Now sat sitting, wondering how much i might cry over this tale, too close for comfort.

You've already hit a mix of emotions with this first full chapter: mother's anger-in-grief to granddaddy's hug and hold empathy. Considering you're a guy - presumably, who's writing first person female youngster, you're using fine phrases, neither too mature or under-stated. And, there's already a distinct air of mystery. Yet another lure.

Posted 8 Years Ago


ScottWinchester

8 Years Ago

I'm thankful you feel that way, and also thankful you too the time to write this in a review. This n.. read more
Love your style of writing brilliant and capturing. Thanks for sharing


Posted 10 Years Ago


ScottWinchester

10 Years Ago

No, thank you, kindly lol :)
This is purely brilliant, and well written. Bravo dude.

Posted 11 Years Ago


ScottWinchester

11 Years Ago

Awesome, thank you for taking the time to read it :) Made my day.
Wow, great first chapter! I liked the family dynamics you described here( especially Nicolle and her grandpa's. very sweet) a few minor spelling/ grammar errors but that's to be expected with a draft. Well done!

Posted 11 Years Ago


ScottWinchester

11 Years Ago

Thank you kindly :) It will probably be rewritten but the story will remain... this first chapter i.. read more
Lost in Wonderland

11 Years Ago

Haha well I like it ^-^

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Added on June 1, 2013
Last Updated on January 2, 2016


Author

ScottWinchester
ScottWinchester

Cullman, AL



About
This is the official page for Scott Winchester's THE CHESS CLUB. Nicolle Darling knows all about unhappy living. Friendless, broke, and abused, she spends her time reminiscing about the days when h.. more..

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A Chapter by ScottWinchester



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