i just started writing a new novel, wanted some feedback on what i have so far...not very much but anyway lol... here it is leave your thoughts and comments plz and thx
The phone rings. Private name. Private number. Fucking telemarketers. I answer the
phone half expecting some blind AT&T salesman to pitch me a line, instead it’s my stalker “ex-wife.”
“What the hell do you want?”
“Where’s my son!”
I think for a moment before responding. You see, get in a crash with someone, hit them
just hard enough to hear their brain hit the back of their skull, and for the rest of your life
they’ll call every day and ask why you touched them as a little girl. I hang up the phone and
grab the keys from the table, glancing back out the window to see black clouds and a bleeding
sun setting behind some corporate offices. I need a drink. As I walk into the hall, the lights
flicker on and off, rhythmic almost, with the sound of moans and banging on the wall. I hate
living here. Every day you come home to the same $!#@, people fucking next door and strangers
calling to say that you’re the biggest asshole they’ve ever known. Thanks, as if I didn’t know
that already.
I need a drink. The closest bar just happens to be a fucking great distance of 13 miles,
now that wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that the only car I have is now totaled. You
see, this is where everything went to $!#@. This little piece of hell I like to call my life, well
needless to say it wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always the biggest asshole you’ve ever
known. No, the fact is that, three weeks ago, my life completely changed.
From that day, every day was the worst day of my life. My own personal hell. That day,
three weeks ago, I was driving down Connor Street with my girlfriend Lia and our 3 year old
daughter Emily, when some blonde in a shitty 1980’s suburban T-boned us. Crunching metal.
Crunching bones. It all sounds the same when it’s happening in half a seconds’ time. Every
sound you don’t want to hear, that’s what I hear. Horns are blaring. Still blaring. Still blaring. My
horn.
I lift my body up just enough to quiet the noise and look into what is left of the
back seat. This is when every day is the worst day.
“Emily!”
“Daddy!” she says weakly
“It’s going to be alright,” I cry, “everything’s going to be alright.”
I can only watch as the blood streams down her soft cheek, across her forehead. I reach into
the seat for her as she holds her outstretched arms awaiting the hug she desires, but she won’t
get that hug. I can feel my arms getting heavy. The blackness comes swiftly and then I’m gone.
I am nowhere. I can see nothing. I feel nothing. Nothing. Then, I hear screams in the blackness.
Those screams that I dread, the ones that make every day the worst day, they’re calling my name.
I open my eyes to see Lia, mouth gaping, staring wide-eyed at me.
“What’s wrong?”
No response. She’s in shock.
The phone rings. Private name. Private number. Fucking telemarketers. I answer the
phone half expecting some blind AT&T salesman to pitch me a line, instead it’s my stalker “ex-wife.”
“What the hell do you want?”
“Where’s my son!”
I think for a moment before responding. You see, get in a crash with someone, hit them
just hard enough to hear their brain hit the back of their skull, and for the rest of your life
they’ll call every day and ask why you touched them as a little girl. I hang up the phone and
grab the keys from the table, glancing back out the window to see black clouds and a bleeding
sun setting behind some corporate offices. I need a drink. As I walk into the hall, the lights
flicker on and off, rhythmic almost, with the sound of moans and banging on the wall. I hate
living here. Every day you come home to the same $!#@, people fucking next door and strangers
calling to say that you’re the biggest asshole they’ve ever known. Thanks, as if I didn’t know
that already.
I need a drink. The closest bar just happens to be a fucking great distance of 13 miles,
now that wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that the only car I have is now totaled. You
see, this is where everything went to $!#@. This little piece of hell I like to call my life, well
needless to say it wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always the biggest asshole you’ve ever
known. No, the fact is that, three weeks ago, my life completely changed.
From that day, every day was the worst day of my life. My own personal hell. That day,
three weeks ago, I was driving down Connor Street with my girlfriend Lia and our 3 year old
daughter Emily, when some blonde in a shitty 1980’s suburban T-boned us. Crunching metal.
Crunching bones. It all sounds the same when it’s happening in half a seconds’ time. Every
sound you don’t want to hear, that’s what I hear. Horns are blaring. Still blaring. Still blaring. My
horn.
I lift my body up just enough to quiet the noise and look into what is left of the
back seat. This is when every day is the worst day.
“Emily!”
“Daddy!” she says weakly
“It’s going to be alright,” I cry, “everything’s going to be alright.”
I can only watch as the blood streams down her soft cheek, across her forehead. I reach into
the seat for her as she holds her outstretched arms awaiting the hug she desires, but she won’t
get that hug. I can feel my arms getting heavy. The blackness comes swiftly and then I’m gone.
I am nowhere. I can see nothing. I feel nothing. Nothing. Then, I hear screams in the blackness.
Those screams that I dread, the ones that make every day the worst day, they’re calling my name.
I open my eyes to see Lia, mouth gaping, staring wide-eyed at me.
“What’s wrong?”
No response. She’s in shock.
Last edited by k1llampt on Tue Jan 12, 2010 9:27 pm; edited 3 times in total
