I’d feel the sea tickle my toes and it would gradually creep up to my knees. I remember coming down to the sea every summer night with my daddy. I stand in the water watching the sun go down until I could no longer feel my toes. Then my daddy would lift me onto his shoulders and walk me up the hill. We would sit on the cliff wrapped in a blanket until the sun disappeared. The icy wind would whip our faces but we didn’t care. We loved the sea too much. Well, I thought my daddy did.1
My mother died shortly after I was born. Daddy often spoke of her, telling me how proud she would be. When we came back from the sea, I’d sit on his knee by the fire. He’d tell me stories as he rocked me to sleep.2
When I turned 12, daddy became distant. He didn’t understand why I didn’t want to be home-schooled or why I was sometimes moody. It drove him mad. Sometimes I just had to breathe and he’d hurtle something at me. 3
One day, I had been doing a project daddy had set me whilst he went out drinking in the local pub. He had come home extremely drunk at about 10 o’ clock. I had tried to help him to bed even though he kept swearing at me. Eventually I’d given up and I had gone to bed instead. I had heard him clanging around down stairs in search of a drink. He had sworn every time he came to an empty cupboard. I had heard him trip over the rug at the bottom of the stairs, then silence. I thought he’d gone to sleep on the floor. I had listened really hard. So hard that I didn’t hear him creeping up the stairs. He had stopped outside my door. I had heard him breathing heavily. His shadow had crawled under my door and stretched out over the carpet. I had heard the knob creaking. I turned over and had seen my daddy walk in. At first, I thought he’d got the wrong room. I had pretended to sleep whilst listening to him scrabble around my room. I couldn’t see him, only visualise.4
Suddenly, his hand lashed out at my face. He bent down slowly. He had begun stroking it. I could feel his breathe against my neck. 5
To be continued ...6
Comments
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Ah, a newwwww writer on Storywrite. Keep penning. I am still curious about his problems. Like what kind of conflict does this father have inside himself?
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This is a very interesting start to what seems to be a promising story. I like the way it is in first person, it makes the emotions feel so much more real. I have a slight hunch of what the dad does, but I will see if I am right in your next chapter. Hope to see it soon!!!!!!! Kais




