Notes: ‘A Time To Kill’ and ‘A Holiday Abroad’ were taken from the novel so the characters may be familiar to some of you. I enclosed parts that should be in italics in single quotation marks.
Unlikely Hero
Sure the Old Fellow said, “Revenge is best savored when it’s no longer expected.”
Copyright 2005 by Geraldine Fitzsimmons
All rights to the author
Chapter One
The land around had been bulldozed and dark soil encircled a massive structure. Barbed wire topped stonewalls that stretched for miles. Slimy green mold discolored the gray stones of those walls. An oppressive silence polluted the air outside the walls.
There was noise aplenty within those walls, howling, cursing, even the sobs of men and the incessant barks and yells of warders. At nine years and a few days, Garth Ahern knew all this, though he had never actually heard it. Hadn't his mum spit it at him for as long as he could remember, accompanied by her usual cuffs and slaps. "Sure'n that's where you'll die Gareee, squawking in a prison, just like your pa."
Now he rocked his buttocks back and forth lifting one then the other to keep the dampness from seeping through his short gray pants. It was wasted effort but he did it out of habit. As if the movements could somehow prevent his dirtying his pants. Tears dribbled from his eyes to streak his cheeks. He rubbed at a nose, more like a pop up button, in the center of a small face. A chubby hand reached up to shove the dusty blond hair from his forehead. Managing to dirty his face sufficiently, he then slipped his hands beneath his cold buttocks. Back and forth he continued to rock.
No adult could see what his nine-year-old eyes viewed through the fog of his tears. Parading the dead land around those prison walls were big men, broad of chest, heads held high. Strong voiced they sang to him. He had only a smattering of an idea of what their words meant. Battle, glory and death all connected as one concept within his immature mind. Most of the phantoms he didn't recognize. The few he did were from faded pictures in books that didn't look all that much like these heroes.
Garth never sat here with his friends. He never let on to them what he knew and saw when he came here alone to visit. Among his pals, Garth was a comic who teased and made other boys laugh. He sang nonsensical rhymes of things that could never occur. Dreaming up goblins and ghouls, he could entertain his restless young chums for hours. Some of the older lads dubbed him The Rainmaker and swore, “Surely his lies cause the angels themselves to weep endlessly.”
No one ever saw Garth cry. Even when his ma whipped him in her meanness or a Holy Sister blistered his palms for “Taking the Good Lord's name in vain.” Garth never shed a tear. The heroes cried for him. He knew that was what caused the rain, not some silly angels who didn't give a hoot. The heroes cried because they knew he would soon join them and die in the prison like his pa.
Garth didn't know his pa. Daniel Ahern was dead eight months before Garth was born. His ma had burned even his pictures that might have given the boy some vague remembrance. “Nay, Gareee, I'll not have yah grow inta a boozing, fighting, wasted lump the likes of Dan'el Ahern.” She told him daily but Garth knew different.
His eyes burned as he watched the ghostly heroes marching around those prison walls in time to their battle hymns. A sly smile formed on his lips and he licked at them. In the middle of that parade, Daniel Ahern was marching, waiting for his only son to join him.
Garth shivered from the chill inside as well as outside, his chest hurt as a patch of ice replaced his heart. He trembled and jumped to his feet, dancing about trying to restore the flow of warm blood. He didn't concern himself with hours or minutes but he realized he had been here a long time. Time enough to get in big trouble. Since he was always in trouble, he didn't waste effort on worry. The emptiness of his stomach caused noisy grumbles and a bit of a gas pain. Abruptly the heroes began weeping and the rain splashed on his head. His school uniform would be dirty and wet and his ma would whip him good. Her slaps didn't bother him much anymore, but that yowling. How he hated the sound of Leona’s voice. How he longed to smash a burning brick of peat into her wide yap. He snickered. ‘Sure’n, but weren’t he the Devil's child like the Good Father Reagan said.’
The rain came harder. He ran. Faster and faster his legs pumped, his feet keeping time to the rhythm of the rain. If he could move fast enough, the speed of his legs might carry his body above the heroes' tears; he might run all the way to Hell. The sound of his childish laughter rang loudly. ‘Sure'n he'd never be cold again.’
He couldn't see much through the haze of the downpour but he knew the way by heart. He'd entered the road to increase his speed but when the auto came around a bend he didn't hear it. When his small body suddenly took flight, it was as if he'd gotten his wish and left the Earth behind.
***
The 1968 black Ford, eleven years old, scruffy with mud and rust and battered dents pulled off the road. The man that thrust the door open was cursing. Hurrying around to where his victim lay in the dirt, he swore louder as he saw what he'd hit. Then he knelt in the road, in the pouring rain, beside the boy. The child was unconscious. How could he just leave him--though he should. If the fuckin' peelers caught up with him, they were both as good as dead. Those fuckin’ cops would bloody well shoot the car full of holes. He looked back along the road for sign of his pursuers. He could see nothing. He heard nothing but the rain. He'd lost them.
The border was only thirty minutes away. The hospital-- the same distance but in the wrong direction. There was blood turning the fair hair greenish and mixing with the rain on the child’s smooth forehead. A trickle of gore rolled down from the button nose and pooled on the slack lips. Sure, but wasn't that just what he needed. Get stopped with a dying kid in his car.
A large man, he easily lifted the child and carried him back to his car. He propped him in the passenger’s seat. Deciding he couldn't chance a side trip to the hospital and jeopardize his own safety, he figured to leave the boy at some farmhouse along the way.
It was only six in the evening, but the storm caused it to be dark as midnight by the time he saw the lights of Newry. He'd checked the kid several times and the small heart appeared to be pumping just fine. He was close to the border of the Irish Free States where he wanted to abandon the car and make his way across on foot. The lights from a small station drew him and he pulled up to the fuel pump.
When the attendant came to service the Ford, the car sped away without lamps. Beside his gas pump the startled man found the present he'd been left. "Holy Mother!" He ran back in the station to ring the police.
In a list
What is your opinion of the child and the man?
Comments
1 - 18 of 18
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Nothing makes for better reading than flawed characters, I think, and here you have two deeply flawed characters, who are neither one past hope. The boy, you seem to have set up to find his destiny with his dead father, no matter what happens, but then...bam!
And the man, I wonder what he's done that he's running from the cops?
Your writing is beautiful; the flow as I read it was effortless, and your detail evokes excellent, sharp images in my mind.
Oh...and you've been HO.Odwinked!
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Hi Val, well you were the first to drop the hood
on me. Thanks so much. Make sure you let Cory know.
Thanks for all those nice comments. This is the opening of a 70,000 word novel so there are lots of flawed characters (
I’m the best when I’m writing about good-bad people).
Since this first chapter takes place in Northern Ireland in the seventies, our fellow could be running from a number of groups
. The important thing was that the reader know he was on the run and took time out to ‘See’ to the boy he harmed. Later this idea becomes very important, so I wanted to make it noticeable at the start.
I do hope you found this first chapter interesting enough to continue reading.
Geri
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Still diggin' it....are you revising this novel now? Or just focused on other writings?
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Was there more than one copy o this? I swear I commented beore. Either way I enjoyed reading it again. Your description is well done but not overdone which i really like. The flow works well. I found some sentences confusing bt on the whole it was very well written.
A few punctuation problems such as ... The Rainmaker should be in single quotes.
Again, I enjoyed the story thanks or sharing it
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Very powerful and very well written, the use of metaphores and description of the rain as tears is intresting. going to read the next now.
Just noticed the next in list link isnt working, it keeps taking me back to the first chapter -
Geri, I liked this a lot better the 2nd time around. Now that I'm into the story more, of course, this makes a helluva lot more sense! LMAO....seriously, this is a good beginning to an excellent story so far. I'd love for more people to read this.
Having read everything you've posted to this point, the beginning makes a lot more sense about Garth's obsession with the prison. I felt I slighted you a bit when I first read this. This is dirty, gritty, and realistic. A fine piece of mystery.
Excellent!!!!
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You paint such a sad picture ): Poor little Garth - I really feel for him. You mix slang in with the description to make it feel real, make it feel rough. It's already obvious this won't be a gentle story, but at the same time there is some hope there.
Gritty though the story may be, it's captivating. The characters are real; the man didn't scoop the child up and charge off to immediately adopt him. He freaked out like anyone would xD (Though to his credit he did deliver the child elsewhere as opposed to leaving him bleeding on the road.)
It's a good beginning! You're most definitely left with the desire to know more.. Rewarded 8
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Thank ye, thank ye, you certainly got everything out of that opening chapter that I was trying to achieve with it.
The life patterns that both the man and the boy have been forced into create the type of people they are.
Garth, at nine, is so full of hate already that only a drastic change in lifestyle can correct the man he will become, and even then it may not be enough.
The man, one might assume is far beyond redemption; yet he can still feel guilt when injuring a child.
Ireland is a very small country, so the idea that future of these two characters will become entwined is not so far fetched, but of course we don't stay in Ireland.
I do hope you will continue to read and comment.
Thumbs up,
Geri
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nice
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I agree with Jouven that your ability to describe things is superb. I love the emotive feelings the words have provided. I highly reccomend this to anyone and believe you have great potential. Trust me I am not just saying this. I was holding on to the edge of my seat once I read this. I believe the best part was the subtle but clear indications of the settings which is perhaps something I should have done. You've made clear what this story is about and will continue to be about (if you will continue) and this has to be the best writing style I have ever seen.....good luck, congrats on a great job and best wishes!
. Rewarded 8
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Thank you for reading. I appreciate when someone new picks up on one of my novels. Especially if they take the time to start at chapter one—smile.
And naturally I enjoyed the fine comments.
I do hope this first sample will keep you reading. There are a lot of twists to this tale of murder.
I will of course return the favor shortly.
Geri
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Your ability to describe things is superb. I am always impressed when I stumble upon one of your stories in my browsing because it easily surpasses most on this site.
Your asking my opinion of child and man but I am unsure exactly what to tell you. I think you described their thoughts with excellence. I think the man has a lot of mystery surrounding him that makes me want to know more of what is going on and the child is in such a bad position in life that he is looking at dead people around a prison as heroes.. Rewarded 8
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Thanks for reading this chapter and the great comments.
You apparently understood what I was trying to show. Garth’s love of fantasy heroes, considered criminals by others, makes him mix up right and wrong even when his life style changes.
The man obviously has the same problem. He can kill without regret but finds a problem with harming a strange child.
The size of Ireland, which is relatively small in comparison to the US, is important to the theme.
Thumbs up, Geri
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I think you have a good flair for writing stories. The descriptions of Garth, his bleak surroundings, history, and his 'ma' truly make me see him as an abused urchin who must develop grit to survive. That he would idealize the dad he never knew is likely.
The language in the dialect is not familiar to me,though, and I wondered if a boy of nine would really think about what the Good Father might say, or if boys would really speak of angels weeping as a taunt.
The actions of the man who ran him down defines aptly the character of a man on the run who is not totally hardened, but close to it.
I am interested to see how the story line develops.
. Rewarded 8
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Thank you for reading and commenting.
You followed the plotting in this first chapter perfectly. I realize Garth seems rather young to have become so hardened. This is taking place in 1979, in Northern Ireland were there is an ongoing conflict between the two religious groups and the British army. Children there lived with war in the streets.
Still, that’s only the background that allows for some of the situations taking place. I’m not taking sides--smile. Since I came from this wonderful place, I often use this for wallpaper in my stories.
Garth and his mum’s dialect is Irish.
Garth’s mother (Catholic) is a prostitute whose main clients are English (Protestant) soldiers, so the priest considers her a double sinner. Most schools in Ireland are supported by religious affiliation, which helps to maintain the separation that has plagued the country for endless generations.
You got it; the man on the run is a hired killer.
Again, thank you,
Geri
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Hmmm...I thought the beginning was a tad slow and kind of got bogged down in all the description. Don't get me wrong, the description was excellent I just didn't connect with the boy charcter, I guess. The story then picked up when the unnamed driver hit the boy.
Your writing style is definitely unique. You really have a knack for dialogue and dialect. I'm really interested to see where this goes. So you definitely have an Irish slant in both your novels!?!
I think the intrigue now with the driver hitting the boy really should make this interesting...
I will continue to read on...
. Rewarded 8
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both the child and the man are excellent characters and i really liked their personalites.
the man, i thought at first was going to leave the boy to die on the side of the road but he had enough decency to at least leave him at a service station where he could get help
the boy was a very complicated being and you wrote him well, telling the reader his perspective on daily troubles
is there a second chapter yet?
. Rewarded 8
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(is there a second chapter) There’s a whole book—smile. Once I get all the kinks out—sigh.
Hi, thanks so much for the great review. Since both are rather dark characters, I’m pleased you liked them. You 'See' them just the way I wrote them. I expected the man to leave the child, he surprised me when he didn't--grin.
Chapter two should be up this weekend.
Geri
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