Open Mic Night

That time of the week again. The time to share our latest works.

This excerpt gives us a little insight into Emma’s family – not much but it’s an introduction. We learn about her brother, who abandoned the family shortly after their father left.

“And you thought he was going to break up with you,’ Dr Bergen said, tapping his pen on the notebook.
He was acting impatient. Uninterested.
This man didn’t like me. Clearly.
Stupid f**ker.
I glared at him. ‘The classic couple phrase ‘we need to talk’ doesn’t exactly translate to ‘we just won the lottery’ does it,’
The doctor jotted some things down. I swear the guy doodles. A doodle of a house with pretty curtains framing the windows upstairs. In front we have a picket fence and manicured gardens. Out the back, a sparkling in ground swimming pool, a cabana and bbq quarter. Or, he could be writing what a hideous murderous wench I am.
He brought me back to the present. The beautiful present day of my sad, sad existence.
‘Have you?’
‘Have I what’
It sounded like he sighed. But that exasperated sigh your parents give you when you have pretended not to listen. Again.
How is this man worthy of my time? He doesn’t want to help me. He just wants to get paid.
‘I need to know if you have ever been physically abused in the past’
‘What, my parents?’
‘Parents, boyfriends – significant relationships,’
I almost stopped breathing.
Of course, I was lying. Angus did hit me once. He said he didn’t mean it. Bullshit of course. He had control issues, anger issues. Issues in general. But I stayed with him. I did.
My reasons? Emotional. Sexual. He had me trapped. Hooked.
I remember my mother begging me to leave him. I should never have told her what happened because she never, ever left well enough alone after that.
My sister would come by once a week to check and see if things were ok. She would then report back to our brother. Because he was a ball of security, that one.
A big selfish cowardly ball of bullshit. My big brother.
As soon as our father left, David was not far behind. A 18 year old piece of shit who didn’t want to take responsibility for 3 emotionally needy women. His words.
Some put it down to coping mechanism. Others said it was shock at the sudden departure of our dad.
I say it was cowardice.
Whats that old adage – like father like son. Cliche, I know but its the truth. David wouldn’t have known responsibility if it came and bit him in the ass. Twice.
I should have killed him instead.

What have you guys written this week? Care to share? 🙂

About Virginia

Writer, reader, crossword puzzler and conspiracy theorist.

4 Responses to “Open Mic Night”

  1. Oh all right, drag it out of me… Here is a super early preview of the epilogue of ‘A Dirigible Disaster’, which is presently being posted over at my blog 🙂 Please note, this is just the frist 350 words or so. It isn’t the complete epilogue. Ta.

    The air in the alley was putrid. The reek of rotting food, human waste and other unidentifiable smells permeated the wood, brick and mortar of the surrounding buildings. A hulking shadow detached itself from the wall, shambling into recesses of the alley without hesitation. The man moved from shadow to shadow dragging his left foot. Further back the narrow passage formed a ‘L’ shaped turn. Here a second figure stood waiting. Thick clouds overhead obscured the moon, leaving only the weak gas lamps from the mouth of the alley to illuminate the corridor. Their reach was not far.

    “You’re late,” the second figure said. He kept his voice at a whisper, but filled it with disapproval. The larger figure merely shrugged and made no comment.
    “Three days. They returned three days ago. I heard the report, from the chin-waggers on the street corners. How they defeated you, pushed you off the bridge if the stories are true.”
    “Yes, master,” said the large man.
    “’Yes’ what? Yes, they did push you off, or yes you are a great disappointment to me?”
    “Both, master.”
    “Have you an explanation then?”
    “No, sir.” The first man hesitated, but then plunged on. “Joseph’s dead.”
    “I don’t really care. At least dead he has a reason not to complete his given task.”
    The first man held out a paper cylinder.
    “What’s this,” asked the smaller man.
    “Thas the plans, master.”
    In the darkness an invisible eyebrow rose. “Truly? How did you manage this?”
    “I looked at the plans onboard the train. Memori’d thems. Took me a while to draw them.”
    “Are they accurate?”
    “They’s as best I could do.”
    “I see. Well done, you managed to accomplish the goal then.”
    “Are we going home then?”
    “Home, Elijah? You would speak to me about going home? We have not even begun our true task. This is mere preparation.”
    Elijah hung his head and nodded silently.
    “Were you wounded at all?” his master asked.
    “Dented my ribs a bit. One bullet smashed an acchewataters.”
    “An ‘actuator’ you mean. Can you get along for now? I haven’t the time to repair you.”
    “I’ll be ok, sir.”
    “You know I am concerned with your well-being. Ever since, I first bought you all those years ago. When you were a puny little runt. I took you in and nursed you to health and beyond.”


  2. I really like your excerpts. Emma’s staccato thoughts are such a strong voice for the story, and her sporadic references to killing someone keep me on the edge of my seat as I read!

    I have a short one this week as well (from my revision, hot off the press;) )

    The angel knelt amongst the glittering shards, frozen as if hewn from ice. The only indication that time passed at all was the steady drip of the blood from her temple onto the polished floor.

    “Libra,” Nick said. The sound of her name tasted sweet between his lips. She stretched her arm to his, rising slowly from among the shattered glassware. A few pieces fell from the folds of her skirt, clinking as she let him wrap his arm around her.

    “Let’s get you outta here,” he said.


    • Brilliant Kirsten – as usual, I was able to visualise every little detail without you giving too much away. Cant wait to read more!
      Im so glad youre liking Emma and the story. I’m finding it hard to write the happier scenes with this staccato-ness, I think I mentioned before that those scenes are going to need the most editing 🙂


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