Prologue

I felt my face dripping in sweat as I ran barefoot, the cold soil squishing beneath my toes with each step. They were yelling after me, chasing me. I continued running. I looked up through my wet hair, the sandy blonde unnoticeable through the mud and darkness of the night. I saw a light. There was a candle in the window of a house up ahead; someone was awake! I ran to the backdoor of this house and waited for the men to pass. Grunts, heavy footsteps, and even heavier breathing came and went in the blink of an eye. I steadied my breathing as I approached the two steps to the backdoor.

 

Knock, Knock, Knock.

 

I stood silently waiting for the door to open. I heard rustling inside and the voice of a woman. The door opens with a ding. There must have been a bell attached to the inside. A dark-toned and big-boned woman looked upon me through her half-moon spectacles, kissed her teeth, and beckoned me inside. I’ve been here before, though I hadn’t realized that until I’d gone inside and saw the orange tabby. I don’t forget animals. They never forget me.

 

The young cat prances his handsome self over to my leg and sat, expectantly. I bent over and gave it a scratch, but stopped- realizing my hands were far too dirty.

 

“You done fell, didn’t you, Child?” The older woman asked. I nodded. I wasn’t much for words- at least not with people. She brings me a towel and I help myself to her bathroom, remembering the layout of her home as if it were my non-existent one. Eleven years old and no place to call home. Some say its ‘tragic,’ but I just muster a smile and move on about my business. I turned on her water supply, which was cold- as everybody else’s was at the time of year. I rinsed of the mud from my hair, my face, my arms, and my legs. I was cleaned off within ten minutes, and the woman was at the door, waiting for me patiently, with a pair of nightclothes.

 

“Why do those men chase you, so?” She asks me. I shrugged at her. I knew the answer. That’s why I was running. There’s never a good reason grown men chase little girls through the streets. This geezer knew it, hence why she was asking me all these questions. I wasn’t in no mood to answer. I just wanted to run.

 

Sadly, when you run to and old lady’s house she’s not letting you go easy, or at all for that matter. Not without a good night’s sleep and a full stomach of all the fixings. I accepted my fate and followed this woman to her spare bedroom. “You don’t got ta’ tell me nothing. I know those men ain’t no good. That orphanage at the top of that hill more like a jail than a home,” she snapped. This shocked me. I’ve never heard a negative word about anything for anybody in town. Only the orphanage seemed to carry such negativity. But I suppose hatred is everywhere. Damnit, dislike. Hate is a strong word; I’m not allowed to use it. She sure disliked that orphanage. I looked down at my feet, twiddling my toes- not knowing how to respond to this open-minded woman. “I know that’s where you were staying, and all. I don’t mean to upset you or nothing, so why don’t you tell me how it is up on the hill? We got ourselves the whole night, up until dawn break,” She offered.

 

I didn’t know what to say or how to begin. She asked me to tell her about the orphanage. “It’s a big ole’ house, on a big ole’ hill. The windows don’t open no more than an inch, not that you can see out of them no ways. They’re made with black glass that you can only see through one way. I think that’s a*s- backwards. Shouldn’t nobody be able to see into no orphan windows,” I hoped that was enough to make her leave me alone, but I was mistaken.

 

She smiled down at me, amused by my choice of description- or topic. She sat with me on the bed I’d made myself comfortable in and sighed. “You know; I was an orphan myself. My Momma was on the drugs, and my auntie took me in real young.”

 

I didn’t understand why she was telling me this, or why it was so important for me to have any type of conversations with her. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. I looked down, shrugged, nodded, and mustered a fake yawn- my last attempt to make this dinosaur get the hell out of the room. She sighed, smiled (more to herself than to me this time), and slowly rolled into a standing position. “I’m gone let you get some sleep, the tomorrow at dawn we’re gone take a trip up ‘that big ole’ house up on that big ole’ hill’.”

 

She walked out the room, turning off the light, and I lay in the darkness, afraid of what she could have meant by what she just said.

Reviews

[Jibey]

Good pace, arresting... Want to read on

[chubbycatchan]

Whaaaaa! YOU'RE SO GOOD AT WRITING! I was totally sucked into your first chapter, which was short but simple and amazing c:

[ZombiieszAreReal]

thank you, please keep going!

[SweetNutmeg]

This was intriguing. I am interested in the character and want to know what will happen next. I'm very curious about the orphanage, so you've done a good job of piquing my interest. I really liked the squishing of cold soil, I could feel the mud under my own feet, it was so vivid. And I feel I really got into the character's head when she was thinking about why the old woman wanted to talk to her.

Now this is a question asked for information, not a criticism... do people with heavy accents and informal, idiomatic speech speak to themselves without an accent and without the idioms? Maybe they do. Our thoughts are usually very clear to ourselves, even if we can't articulate them. But I am not sure if this is consistent. What are your thoughts on the subject?

I found just one sentence awkward:

"I looked up through my wet hair, the sandy blonde unnoticeable through the mud and darkness of the night."

It sounds like the color of her hair is something she would notice in normal circumstances, but normally we don't notice basic details about ourselves. We ignore them because we see them every day.

I also found a few minor technical details that need to be fixed. I'd be happy to point them out if you like... you slipped into present tense a couple of times, and misspelled word or two.

I hope this was helpful.

[Leon C]

A good opening.

A nice narrative and good description.

Some of the dialogue needs work but over all I enjoyed it.

Well done

[ZombiieszAreReal]

when you say "dialogue needs work" please elaborate. I'm open to suggestions.

[Leon C]

It is hard to put my finger on it really. I assume you are writing with an accent in mind but it didn't form in my mind - sorry that that's so unhelpful. I was confused by ole' at first; I read it as Olay first time through but that is probably me. :-)

[ZombiieszAreReal]

it is meant to be a slight southern drawl in the way they speak. this is supposed to be the time where electricity was FIRST showing its evil head, hence why the old woman had a candle. I haven't chose a state or origin for the setting, but a slight southern drawl opens a door for anywhere from NC to KS or MO lol.