Rakuen: the Red Children1
or2
Tonight was Halloween3
Ch. 14
5
Tonight was Halloween, and I hadn’t even finished carving my pumpkin when the doorbell rang. I inhaled deeply, lay the knife down gently, and approached the front door. I feared what I knew must stand behind it, and I knew it wasn’t a trick-or-treat. Exhaling determinedly, I clamped my hand around the doorknob and turned it jerkily. The door was whipped open.6
Turns out I was wrong. For the billionth time in my life.7
After appeasing the children with some candy I had stashed in the freezer, I flopped dejectedly onto the cushions of my couch. At most, my reprieve would last a couple hours, but probably more like a few minutes separated me and that which I dreaded. I fanned myself as I watched the sun slowly set through the windows. An Indian summer was thick in the air. The leaves on the oak trees all down my suburban street had forgotten to fall, wilting lettuce clinging desperately but limply to the branches. 8
Suddenly, I remembered my pumpkin, lying with its disemboweled guts strewn across a cutting board. I dashed to the kitchen, grabbed the knife, and attacked the pumpkin with a renewed fervor. At the end of our battle, it looked more mutilated than carved, with a lopsided grin and misshapen, different sized eyes, but I figured it looked whimsical enough for use. Hurriedly stuffing a candle inside, I ran for the door, the pumpkin in my outstretched hands. I placed it gently on the stoop just as I heard someone come up behind me. 9
“How…festive,” a voice quipped. “Have you forgotten the true meaning of Halloween?”10
“If by true meaning you mean a night when evil spirits are free to do whatever the hell they like, then no, I haven’t,” I said, drawing myself up to all my five feet and six inches, “but that’s not what you mean, is it?”11
“No, miss,” the voice said cautiously, “but it’s time you returned to where you belong.” The voice seemed male, but was mid-ranged, and could possibly be a woman’s.12
I tried to hold the shakiness from my voice while my knees violently knocked together. Wiping my sweaty hands against my jeans, I said, “I don’t belong there. The new generation will succeed the old, and you all will best me by far-“13
“Impossible!” said the voice determinedly. “You must return to us.”14
I was too frightened. I was shaking so violently, so noticeably, that I was certainly afraid to move any farther. That’s when he grabbed my arm - for it was a he, as I saw when he spun me around to face him. Lean and tough, he was no older than 20 (ten years younger than I). He had paused, awestruck while gazing at my face and the scar that covered it. I pulled back my arm.15
“You still have much to learn,” I said in a mockingly cold voice, feeling absolutely foolish, and scrambled inside, padlocking and bolting with nervous, flitting fingers. Satisfied, I sighed and turned down the short hall to the kitchen.16
Turns out I was wrong. He had learned plenty.17
The boy broke down my high security door with a single kick, blasting splinters and wood dust everywhere. Silhouetted in the barely surviving sunlight, he flicked his flippy, dirty-blond hair out of his eyes as though he though he was some kind of movie star hero. I looked him up and down quizzically, trying to appear not nonplussed, then walked slowly into the kitchen with the boy following. I pulled out a chair for him and set about making coffee.18
“Will you come?” he said hopefully, like a child, with endless hope and puppy dog eyes.19
“No,” I said, measuring coffee grounds.20
“Ma’am?”21
“What?!” I spat angrily.22
“Are you really as great as they say? The teachers, they rave about you talents…”23
“No, I’m not,” I said, pulling out a coffee filter. “And no sycophant’s praises are going to bring me where I don’t belong.”24
I’ll tell you now; it was the third missed prediction of the night.25
“But you father and husband have returned from the dead,” the man said joyfully, spreading his hands wide. “You do belong there!”26
I spun on the spot with raised eyebrows. I was very interested. It was either the truth, which, knowing my father, I could not rule out, or a very wild lie, meaning there was another, very important reason I was needed. But something else entirely was puzzling.27
“I’m not married,” I said, finally finishing starting the coffee.28
“But of course you are!” the boy said, as though I was mad. “You’re Jon’s wife,” he said, slowly and soothingly, as though he were talking to a mental patient, “why else would we badger and search for you otherwise?”29
“There are things much, much larger than Jon, and I can think of a plethora of reasons you would want me back,” I said, my voice beginning to rise, “beginning with-“30
But that’s when the doorbell rang. I just remembered that our pretend movie star had kicked my damn door down, and I rushed into the foyer, where splinters, dust, and even some pink insulation had just begun to settle.31
“Oh my God - Linda, thank the Lord you’re all right! I though something dreadful happened when I saw all this - what happened? Who’s that?”32
Claudia was a very nice, very blond, very intrusive neighbor. She and her two boys were now on my doorstep, which as of recently had a very nice view of my whole downstairs. She was peering over my shoulder at the boy, who was leaning dangerously far back in his chair. 33
“Ah, Claudia…this is my brother Damien. Damien, say hello to my neighbor.”34
“Damien” got along well enough, and pleased even Claudia (“Well, she locked her keys in the house, don’t know how she managed it…”). When she was gone, I closed the door as best I could with the locks destroyed and the hinges barely hanging on. I slumped, disgruntled, back into the kitchen. 35
“Ma’am, I’m honored, being called your brother Damien, a great hero-“36
“Shut it,” I said, my stomach clenching and my jaw as tight as spandex on a piece of *bunny*. I regretted being so biting. When I turned to him, I saw in his eyes that he was genuinely flattered, and now genuinely hurt. What a child, I thought. I turned now to the coffee pot. 37
“What’s your name?” I asked the granite countertop.38
“May I ask a question first?” he asked quietly.39
“Hit me with your best shot,” I said, even quieter.40
“Why did Miss Three-O’clock-Bake-Sale call you Linda?”41
“I hate the name Brigh,” I said, “and Linda was my mother’s name.” By now, the decrescendo had reached a whisper.42
“I’m Mathuin. Everyone just calls me Bear, though.”43
“How were you recruited?”44
“I was born…under…rather unusual circumstances. I was only a week old when my parents were contacted, convinced…and then handed me over. They were right to do so - I’m on of the most talented in the whole colony-“45
“What was your given name?”46
“Scott. Scott Dubois. Why-”47
“You saw my saw my father, alive?” I said, slowly and carefully.48
“Yes, personally.”49
It was bizarre, to be rid of fear for that instant. I’ve lived my whole life like a wet cat being blown by a blow dryer. In the beginning, I was disgruntled, then I was driven insane with fear, just to run away and be disgruntled again, just to get blasted with hot air again. But tonight I decided the shake off the water.50
“Please, take me home.” It wasn’t quiet, nor a whisper. It was determined.51
The coffeemaker beeped, signaling that it was done. 52
Great. Something to spill on the way.
Author notes
Ch. 2:
http://storywrite.com/story/show/115121
Sentence Starter - Tonight was Halloween, and I hadn’t even finished carving my pumpkin...
I was so angry, because I typed this all up last night and then it died. This second draft is about the same, worse in some places and better in others, I think. Anyhow, I think it's good for a beginning of a magical-parallel-world-medical-center-thing-with-a-hint-of-Lost.
This kind of got away from me...but that's the point, right? I got really inspired.
The key to fulfill your goals are two things; hardwork and confidence
A contest entry
- ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING! by Sunless Spirit.
120 points, ended July 10, 2007, 22 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Writing Exercises by Delfishie.
600 points, ended July 12, 2007, 17 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - First chapters wanted!!!! by Surreal Rhapsody.
175 points, ended October 6, 2007, 20 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Wise beyond your years? by Bitter Irony.
100 points, ended October 21, 2007, 26 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Prologues And First chapters by Ayesha Raees.
190 points, ended November 20, 2007, 25 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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Overall, Very Good
This was an amazing story, and I thought it was excellent. I will definitley want to read more when you get the chance.
There are some suggestions I would like to give you. First, I thought it was a little weird when the guy kicked down the door, and then Linda invited him in for coffee. That seemed just a little creepy.
Also, I think, just like the comment before me, that it was wierd when Claudia came in and didn't ask about the door. I was surprsised no one called the police. I mean it is, Halloween: people are outside, howcome they didn't see this?
Lastly, I did spot 2 parts where you put "you" instead of "your." Maybe you should correct those, if you didn't do it on purpose.
I know what it feels like to have your computer die on you when you write on here. I hate that. Also, that you can't save. (Here's a tip - select all of you work, and then copy and paste onto Microsoft Word, then you can save, and then you can turn off your computer. Then when you write again, just do to story write, and do everything normal, then open another page with Microsoft. Select all, copy and paste it onto storywrite!!!)
I hope I helped you,
And I can't wait for more.
-Nikki Burk
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nice work
i like it a lot because its very interesting. Though the ending lines were kind of awkward.
Also the part where Claudia came and asked what was wrong was kinda quick... and she didnt ask what happened to the door or anything like most common people do as they are very nosy in other people's business.
Anyway, i like the theme and all...
its good.
good work.
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Wow! That was amazing, truly amazing--and as soon as I finish reading all the stories in the contest, I'm going to go on to chapter two. :-) But no, seriously, I loved it. The tone of your viewpoint character was wonderful, truly engaging, and the pacing was excellent.
Cut at least half of the adverbs in this story--they're very distracting. See if you can limit yourself to one per 50 words. Your verbs (and your dialog especially) will be stronger for it.
A few word choice questions: "wilting lettuce" I'm sure you can find a better metaphor/analogy. "Decrescendo" without sounding like a music nerd, might "diminuendo" flow better?
Anyway, wonderful work. I can't wait to read more! Good luck in the contest!
~Bitter Irony -
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Sorry, I can't help sounding like a music nerd. I just comes natural
And with the adverbs; I appreciate your opinion, but I feel like this character especially would use lots of description and a somewhat Dickensian tone, which includes a lot of "unnecessary" details. And one per 50 words? That's outrageous. That's way over half of my prep phrases, a good chunk of my clauses, and probably 200 just single words.
Though, honestly, I do thank you for the input and the compliments. This story is really starting to mean something to me, and I appreciate everything you said. -
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Yay, music nerds unite! :-)
As far as the adverbs go, I think perhaps an example would better illustrate what I am trying to say.
Here's your first paragraph as it is: "I inhaled deeply, lay the knife down gently, and approached the front door. I feared what I knew must stand behind it, and I knew it wasn’t a trick-or-treat. Exhaling determinedly, I clamped my hand around the doorknob and turned it jerkily."
It's a great hook, but all the "-ly" adverbs are distracting. This is what it looks like with those removed:
"I took a deep breath, lay my knife down on the pumpkin-splattered counter, and approached the front door...Exhaling determinedly, I clamped my hand around the doorknob and jerked it open."
"Determinedly" is now your one adverb per fifty words. (Note, fifty words is about the length of your entire first paragraph--in other words, not really that long.)
A few things to note about the reconstructed paragraph. First, you have now escaped the issue of having two similar sounding words, 'inhaled" and "exhaled," in the same paragraph. You're able to give a better sense of place [obviously, you know better than I as far as pumpkin-splattered countertops go! :-)] Third, you can use a stronger verb--jerked--instead of the watery "turned jerkily."
"I feared what I knew must stand behind it, and I knew it wasn’t a trick-or-treat."
Leaving adverbs for a minute--how about cutting this sentence down to the bare minimum? "I feared what I knew must stand behind it," it rather clunky. How about "Somehow, I knew it wasn't trick-or-treaters." When you later talk about "exhaling determindly" and opening doors with a jerk, the reader understands that the viewpoint character is afraid. You already show us her fear: don't tell us about it as well.
Okay, now that I've brutalized your poor innocent first paragraph...I see where you're coming from when you say your character would use a lot of description: I got that feeling from her, too. I have nothing against description: I just think stronger verbs and adjectives are the way to do it.
Closing with a quote from Stephen King: "The road to Hell is paved with adverbs." And I don't think he means Halloween-hell, either. ;-)
~Bitter Irony
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I really liked your story. There have been many nights where I have just worked on my pumkin and the kids are at the door.
The thing is that when the door was busted down, the story kind of slowed down a bit and it seemed that they were too involved in their conversation. Why was the door busted down if they didn't want to take her home quickly.
It seemed it got intense and then it slows down. The momentum of the story should have kept up because it was really good. It seemed that it was going to be more exciting and intense.
I can't wait to see what happens in chapter two. Does it pick up and entice the reader? I wonder! -
That was awesome. I'm really wondering what will happen next. Whats up with her dad and where is she going now? Your story was Awesome, good luck on the contest.
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Grudgingly good
"billionth" really billionth
"Great. Something to spill on the way."
Great funny love the quote.
“Shut it,” I said, my stomach clenching and my jaw as tight as spandex on a piece of *bunny*. I regretted being so biting.
Dont get it
All kidding aside this is pretty good. I think you got me beat. Nice that you stuck to the story.
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Notes:
"An Indian summer was thick in the air." - This is written in passive voice. Did you intend that?
"it looked my mutilated than carved" - Did you mean "more" instead of "my"?
"whimsical enough to for purposeful." - I think you have an extra word here. *grins*
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This is so friggin great. I was caught up the entire time in the plot and the weirdness and the not-quite-reality reality you set up. I LOVED "Damien"s entrance and, even moreso, I loved how you followed up the destroyed door with absolute realism; the neighbor checking in on Linda to see if everything was okay.
The most particularly gripping thing about your story was the mystery. I'm a sucker for a good fantasy-based mystery and this worked it spot on.
I'm really impressed with this (obviously). Great job!
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Thanks for the corrections and the praise, but that sentence is not in passive voice. Passive voice is when the reciever of an action is the subject instead of a direct object. Ex:
"The lamp got broken" instead of "I broke the lamp."
Thanks for the help anyhow... -
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lol
Darn it! I knew 'passive voice' wasn't the right term, but I couldn't think of what other word to use. Heh, thanks for pointing that out! :-) -
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No sweat. I hope to have the next chapter up soon, which means hopefully before school starts...after that, probably even more of a grinding halt than now.
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Wow. very creative and interesting.
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Wow, this is really imaginative. Good job.
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