Open Mic Night – Time To Show Me Your Excerpts!

Today I’m going to share with you a snippet of Emma’s greatest sadness – the day she found out her father left. This event is what started her roller coaster ride of depression, insecurity and abandonment issues:

It feels like a memory. I think it’s supposed to be.
I remember my dad.
Stupid f**ker couldn’t even say it to our faces.
He was the best dad. He smiled a lot. He laughed and told jokes. My mother would do that eye roll thing but her facial expression told us she was very much in love with the buffoon.
And then he left and didn’t look back.
Just like that.
I think I remember the day – it was really hot. My friend had left for the weekend, or was it for good? It’s all a blur now but my best friend wasn’t there. She wasnt there to witness my life go to utter shit around me.
I remember walking into my hot bedroom. I remember I took my top off and, in my bra and shorts, I picked up a letter that had my name on it. It was on my dressing table. It was handwritten. It was my dads handwriting.
I remember looking for my mum in the house. It was silent. No music, no TV. No voices. Silence.
I remember thinking, ‘where is everybody?’
The house was silent.
I unfolded the letter. I read my fathers beautiful handwriting. And I felt my soul breaking into pieces.

Darling, this pains me so much but I have no other way to say it. My marriage with your mother is over and I have moved out of the house. I didn’t mean to fall in love with Sophia. You are young my love, you will understand soon enough that these things are beyond our control. I promise you will understand and I promise you will be able to forgive me one day.
Your mother and I have not had a happy marriage for many many years and this has nothing to do with you or your brother and sister. I want you all to know that I love you very much but I must follow my heart – and my heart says it needs to be with Sophia, here with – “…

I think by that point I had screwed up the letter and flushed it down the can. I remember feeling rage I had never experienced before. It had only been the week before that we were shopping for a new suit. He said it was for work. Maybe it was for Sophia.
Sophia. Sophia Marquez. I think she was Spanish. Or was it Venezuelan? One of the two I think.
My fathers lover.
I wasn’t mad at her. A single woman falling in love with a man isn’t a crime. A married man with a family falling in love with another woman and leaving his family is the crime.
It was after this I committed a crime too.
I killed the motherf**ker.

Now its over to you guys – show me what you got!

About Virginia

Writer, reader, crossword puzzler and conspiracy theorist.

4 Responses to “Open Mic Night – Time To Show Me Your Excerpts!”

  1. A really good slice inside Emma’s head. I like it, but am curious… Do we find out what makes the father’s betray so awful that Emma goes after him? Or is Emma broken already, and this serves as a catalyst? Questions, questions….

    Bit of a sugar high over here. Too much high speed Japanese anime pop music, not enough solid foods. Fortunately the keyboard broke my faceplant onto the desk. I had one possible excerpt to share, but decided to whip something quick off.. So here’s the Prelude to: An Automaton Anarchy (Third in the Ignatius St. Eligius set.)

    The barge moved ponderously through the slow green waters of the canal. A Steady cadence of hoof against packed clay path disturbed the silence only a little. A Mule pulled against its harness bringing the canal boat along with it. White mist rolled down the forested hillsides, spilling over the canal and ground before running out onto the river. A blue jay screeched and fluttered from tree to tree, pacing alongside the barge. The first stains of color were just starting to touch the clouds that dotted the sky.

    At the prow of the barge, sitting on the gunwales smoking a corncob pipe was a curiously shaped figure. From a distance one could mistake it for that of a neighbor. Under further scrutiny however, the eye might discern subtle nuances that would tell the brain: something was amiss.

    The hands and feet would be the first things noticed. No shoes or gloves covered them, because they would not fit. A pair of solid metal rectangles dangles over the placid water, without toes. A slender array of fingers idly clasped the bowl of the pipe, fleshless and gleaming in the weak light of day. The lounging deckhand would seem terribly gaunt and drawn in on themselves. The clothes appear to be better suited for a scarecrow than the current wearer is.

    Under the broad, hat a pale luminosity of blue flickers. Not quite so usual for a common river rat. If one was still, quiet as the field mouse and twice as attentive, one might hear a wheezing sound. A Rhythmic rattle of air circulating through a firebox rather than lungs. For then you would know this crewmember is not in fact a man. Rather something entirely foreign, yet eerily similar. What purpose might this not-man have? Where is it heading along the Pennsylvania Canal?

    Delicately it taps the bowl of its pipe against the side of the barge disgorging the glowing ember of tobacco. Like a falling star it plummets into the water, briefly hissing and leaving only a wisp of steam behind. The canal boat glides on, creaking at the end of the towrope. Past the sleeping woods and the outskirts of Harrisburg it glides. Drifting slowly along the industrial row, no prying eyes focus on one barge amongst dozens. The lounging figure rose and shuffled to the back, where it swung the tiller hard to port and gently bumped the boat against a wharf.

    In the predawn light, a dozen figure emerged from the hold, crossed a gangplank on heavy metal feet. They bore a stretcher with what? Perhaps reverence, certainly with purpose, into a small non-descript warehouse. The pip smoker returns to the wharf and unties the barge, snapping the mule’s traces. Braying in a short-tempered fit the mule continues on its way south. A few lonely ripples lap against the pilings and fade away. The gaunt figure hesitates, surveying the surroundings before retreating inside, leaving the morning stillness unbroken.

    Thanks for the space to share, I appreciate it!


  2. Love the extract V šŸ™‚



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