Dinner Time

The Price family inherited an old house in the french countryside with a dark secret.

The Price family of four arrived at the dilapidated two-story house far into the French countryside. It was clear the house had not been taken care of as it should. All the foliage was overgrown, especially the vines. They grew into the bricks of the house and even inside on the second story. The brick walls had long scratch marks if a large animal tried to get in. The house had a strange smell of burned hair. Everything in the house seemed to be hand made probably worth a pretty penny. The father, Victor, inherited the house from a long lost relative, Lamont Pelletier. It included the house, its contents, and the surrounding lands. The house stood on the only road that led into a small valley. Victor had a satellite map of the area, but the picture was blurry. He could not see anything but the top of trees in the valley. Victor walked around the house. His wife, Lena, and two teenage sons, Victor Jr., and Simon went inside. Lena readied the food on the table they had bought in town. 

The boys went into the basement and discovered an arsenal of weapons. Maces, staffs, swords, guns, bullets were all neatly arrange on tables. In the middle stood a pedestal with an old book. The boys looked closer. It appeared to be written in a reddish ink and bound with animal skin.

"Jeezus, it's written in blood," said Simon.

"Are you sure it is blood," asked Victor Jr. 

"I think you're right. I know what French looks like and this is not french either," said Victor Jr. As they looked through, they saw depictions of people fighting what appeared to be werewolves.

"Cool," they said in unison.

Outside the house, Victor saw an old man walking along the fence. The old man started to speak french and Victor apologized and said, "I don't speak French." He took out his phone and used it as a translator. The old man was amazed. He was the neighbor from down the way and was friends with Lamont. The old man told Victor that days before Lamont's death, Lamont came to him excited about finding a book in the valley. Later that night, the old man heard unholy howls. Lamont was found dead the next morning by the mailman. The official cause of death was an animal attack, but the old man knew better. It was werewolves. Victor thanked the man for the conversation, but he didn't believe him. There was no such thing as werewolves.

Victor came back in, started a fire in the fireplace, and told his family the incredible story he had just heard. The boys explained what they had found in the basement. There was a howl in the distance. Lena and the boys felt uneasy. Victor, unfazed, walked outside. A wolf standing on its hind legs held the old man up by his neck. The old man dripped blood onto the ground. The werewolf snarled, showing a row of razor-sharp teeth with pieces of flesh dangling between them. The old man screamed as the werewolf tightened his grip.

"Boys, go get the guns from the basement," said Victor. The boys grabbed shotguns and brought them back. Victor loaded them with buckshot and handed them out to his family.

"Junior, you come with me. Simon, take your mother and get into the basement," said Victor. Victor and Junior walked towards the werewolf with their guns raised. It howled and dropped the old man on the ground. They quickly picked up the old man and headed for the house.

As they approached the house, the man screamed with the pain of a thousand soldiers. Victor pulled out his phone. The old man spoke. The phone translated, "Burn the Book." Victor yelled at Lena and Victor Jr to burn the book. They grabbed it from the pedestal and threw it into the fireplace. As it burned, the howling became more intense. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. Between the howling, the smell, and the dark figures of wolves roaming around on their hind legs the family was overwhelmed. The old man spoke again and the phone translated, "Thank you for destroying the one thing protecting you."

Victor and Junior retreated to the house. One by one, werewolves came out of the shadows. Their teeth glistened in the moon night and their mouths watered, as they surrounded the house. The family ran in the basement and prepared their last stand. The old man stood up and smiled revealing rows of canines, ready to rip into human flesh. He licked his lips in anticipation of a four-course meal. As he approached the porch he yelled, “L’heure du diner.” The phone translated again, "Dinner time."

Author's Note

just writing for fun. any feedback is appreciated. thank you

Reviews

[JayG]

• The Price family of four arrived at the dilapidated two-story house far into the French countryside.

This isn’t the Price family arriving. It’s you, the narrator, reporting it in a voice the reader can’t hear. For you, who knows what emotion to place in the words the story lives. But only you can know that. The reader has only what the punctuation suggests, and, the meaning the words suggest to THEM, based on their background, not your intent. Have your computer read it to you to hear how different what the reader gets is from what you intended. That's a good editing tool, in any case.

Look at that simple opening sentence as a reader, not the author, to see the questions the line evokes:

1. What does “dilapidated” mean in the context of this story? It can mean run-down, which a coat of paint might fix. It can also mean derelict, or wrecked. You know the house. The Price family knows it. But the reader? Not a clue.
2. Two story house? It could have a dozen rooms or only two. And its size matters. For you the words act as a pointer to images and memory in your mind. So you the image of the house you intend appears in your mind. But for the reader? The words act as a pointer to images and memory in *YOUR* mind. So the reference is meaningless to the reader.
3. “Far into the French countryside? In what province? Does that mean the nearest neighbor lives a mile away or 300 meters? You know. They know. But who did you write this for? Shouldn’t the reader know, too?

The problem is that like most hopeful writers you’re using the nonfiction writing skills learned in our schooldays, where they were training us t the needs of employment. And what kind of writing do employers need from us? Essays and reports, not stories. Use those skills and the story will read like a report.

The thing we all miss is that professions are learned IN ADDITION to the general skills given in school. And Fiction-Writing is a profession. Pretty much all the fiction you’ve chosen to read since you learned to read was created with the specialized knowledge of the profession. And we didn’t learn those skills in our school. Nor did reading teach them, because we no more learn the skills of writing fiction by reading it than we learn to the skills of the chef by eating. And that’s what you need to look into. They’re not all that hard to learn, but if we don’t truly understand what a scene is, and the elements that make it up, how can we write one?

The local liberty system’s fiction-writing section can be a huge resource. And to see how different the skills and necessities of fiction are from the nonfiction skills we leave school with, you might dig into the articles in my WordPress writing blog (link at the bottom).

And for the best book on the subject that I’ve found to date, you can download, Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer, at the site below. Use the leftmost download button to select the format needed for your reader.

Not great news, I know, but it what you need to know, and since you asked for feedback…

So give it a shot. If you’re meant to write the learning will be fun. And if not? Well, you’ve learned something important. So it’s win/win.

Hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/

[Donna]

I enjoyed reading this story. It kept my attention the whole way through. Great ending!