Writelink Arena

Another brief dip into this project.

It’s a departure for me. I don’t write love stories, yet this centres around the love of man and wife. In this 1500-word scene, Geoff has just arrived home and Sam has something she needs to get off her chest.

The language has been cleaned up for the sake of Writelink, and I’m happy to listen to your feedback.

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After Greg’s challenge, here is the first chapter of a horror novel. The working title, Bennett, is taking from the central character’s surname. A proper title will probably (hopefully) occur to me as I go along. It’s adult fiction and since I don’t know what’s happening, I can’t tell you any more than that.

There is a slight cheat in that this has been sitting on the computer for about 6 months, but these 2,000 words are all that were ever written.

Here’s the overview.

Convicted of theft, disowned by family and friends, Siân Bennett is coming up to her automatic release date when she receives a visitor from her past. But what are his motives?

I’m happy to take feedback.

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The moonlight painted pictures
On a mist embroidered night,
Like dancers on a curtain
When their movements meet the light,
And each movement masqueraded
With such symmetry and grace,
Every dream that ever wandered through
The smile upon your face.

Then the wine glass that you lifted
Shone with such a crimson fire,
Like the ruby tinted renaissance
Of dreams that we desire,
And a single diamond trickled
From the heaven in your eyes,
And its sacred presence touched me
With a sense of soft surprise.

As our lips met in that instant
I felt such a sense of pain,
Like a wish that lost forever
In the mist embroidered rain,
Where I saw you in the moonlight
And I felt your tender touch,
For I just could not remember
Anyone I’d loved so much.

Then I sensed the curtains closing
And I felt you move away
As I stood within my silence
There was nothing I could say,
For the moonlight painted pictures
Faded slowly on the air,
Leaving only the impression
Of your presence drifting there…

A piece from the middle of a WIP. We begin with a confrontation from Geoff’s POV and move quickly onto Sam’s POV. Check the post on my blog at http://www.writelink.co.uk/blogs/davidr/2009/02/20/p6295#more6295 for details of the storyline.

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A conscientious teacher is brought face-to-face with reality.
I'm not at all sure what i'm doing or if I should publish this here - it's not meant to be offensive but is a bit strong for young readers, perhaps. Would REALLY appreciate some feedback on this one

Revelation (edited)

“See you Monday!” Honestly, thought Cassie, teachers – much as she enjoyed their occasional nights out in term-time, they all found it so hard to break out of the mindset.

“Gemma!” she called abruptly, “Isn’t that-?” But Gemma had already been swallowed into the yellow depths of Tottenham Court Road tube station.

Cassie squinted across the street; she could have sworn- yes it was Jamie. Jamie Mulligan, hunched into the uniform hoodie but unmistakeably another face she would see on Monday morning. Or maybe not. She frowned – his attendance had not been quite so good lately and he had become increasingly withdrawn. Nothing you could really put your finger on, yet-

Making up her mind, she plunged into the oncoming crowd, just in time to spot the boy melting into a side street. Not the kind of thing any teacher should be doing on a Saturday night, she reflected, but Jamie was a bit of a special case. She’d gone out of her way to nurture him when he had joined her form; he didn’t have much of a home life, according to staffroom wisdom, and he’d responded gratifyingly to her interest. Gratifying because that was what her job was all about, in the end – making a difference to young lives. But gradually, over the last few months, he’d become aloof. Still polite and responsive but definitely aloof...

Damn! Where had he gone now? Cassie realised she had no idea where she was. A chill breeze nipped at her out of nowhere and the narrow, bin-lined street was deserted. The Charing Cross Road bustle had dwindled unnoticed to silence. Idiot! What kind of adult woman trailed around the back streets of London’s West End alone after some teenager she wasn’t even sure was whom she thought he was? “Who,” she corrected herself briskly and strode forward, assuming a confidence she hoped would discourage any predators.

Jamie would just have to take care of himself. He was just as likely to be able to lay hands on drugs outside the school gate as in the West End, she thought dryly, even if what she suspected was true. It was a worry, though- There! There he was ahead. Almost she called out but embarrassment kept her mute. She shouldn’t be trailing round after him like some kind of nanny – he’d never trust her again, and he needed that trust, someone neutral to turn to. As he stopped outside a shuttered shop window, Cassie slid instinctively into a doorway. Jamie lit a cigarette and they waited. For what, Cassie had no idea, but something in Jamie’s stance told her he had a purpose.

The pavement echoed to sudden footsteps. The young man approaching didn’t look dangerous, quite normal really. Cassie released her pent up breath only to catch it sharply as the man strolled over to Jamie. They exchanged cautious nods, then he drew from his jeans a fold of notes. Jamie pocketed them casually and handed over a tiny package. Not dealing as well! groaned Cassie inwardly.

They disappeared into a passageway just beyond the shop. What now? She didn’t want to involve the police, not if Jamie could be helped before things went too far. But why had they gone off together? Surely they weren’t going to- to ‘shoot up’ in some dingy alleyway? What about dirty needles? What about-

A moan cut through the freezing air. Not stopping to consider, Cassie tiptoed hurriedly to the entrance. At first, her timid but determined peering round the greasy edge went unrewarded – even the grubby lamps of the backstreet were enough to cause night blindness. Suddenly a light on the wall guttered back into life and she saw Jamie pinned against the buiding, palms to the brick, the taller man pressed against him and rummaging through the front pocket of Jamie’s jeans. “Oi!” she yelled. “Oi, you!”

Both heads turned towards her. Blinking, the stranger stumbled backward, fumbling at his fly. He fled.

“You stupid, nosey cow!” Unbelievably, Jamie’s fist was raised as he strode towards her. How could Jamie turn on her like this? Yet how could any of it be true about him anyway? The world lost its certainty, its parameters. A whimper of fear escaped her as he towered above her and he dropped his hand. Sighed bitterly.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone? What are you doing here anyway?”

“I – I was on my way home. I saw you. You’ve been so strange lately I was worried...”

“You’re my teacher, not my mother,” viciously,”– and even she leaves me pretty much alone.”

“Yes!” she retorted,” And look what’s come of that. She-“

Jamie gave her a strange look.

“Is that what you think?” he said slowly, wonderingly.

For her, nothing fitted any more. All her certainties about herself, her views, her pride in her ability to read people and respond to their needs was gone. He was staring at her as if she was some creature from another planet – amazed, curious, and yes, repelled.

“Oh God,” She turned away, face and body crumpling simultaneously in shame and shock. “I was worried it was drugs,” she muttered, still not quite able to let go, to accept the painful self-realisation.

“That was a condom,” he said. ”D’you think I’m that stupid?”

“But prostitution – Jamie you’re worth better than that. And it’s so dangerous – haven’t you listened in PSHCE at all? Watched the news?” She had thought he had more sense!

“Look,” he said more gently, “let’s get some coffee.”

A bony hand on her shoulder, he led her out of the alley, offering her a crumpled paper napkin to wipe her eyes. He was in charge now. As they rounded the next corner they were suddenly under bright lights again. People, ordinary people, were strolling about, sitting at pavement tables with wine or coffee. He steered her into a small formica café, pushed her not ungently into a corner seat and ordered two teas. She almost choked as he paid for them from the folded notes he had just earned, but was too tired, too disoriented to protest, too stunned to resist sipping the hot, comforting liquid.

“Look Miss,” he stared into the cup, stirring ceaselessly. She held tight to her own emotions, waiting for him to overcome his embarrassment; but when he looked up it was straight into her eyes; he was not embarrassed, only unsure how to bridge the gap in understanding they had both just discovered.

“I know you mean well, you’ve always been nice to me and you think I’m just a kid.”

“But you are,” she couldn’t help interrupting.

“I’m sixteen. I don’t know if you’d noticed but that’s an adult. It’s only in school you lot still see us as kids.”

You lot...

”I – I’ve never known, not for sure, if I’m gay. I-“

“Lots of people go through that Jamie, there’s no need to treat yourself badly because of-“

“Will you just listen!” He glanced uncomfortably around and lowered his voice again.
“I wasn’t ashamed, I just didn’t want to mess up someone else while I found out. You know what girls are like – at school, I mean- you sleep with them once and they think they’re in love. You know it’s true, never mind equality and all that –“ as she opened her mouth to hotly protest. “And as for the real gays, well they’re too busy covering themselves and hoping no-one’ll find out. They’d never dare and if they did, it’d hurt them more than the girls to be guinea pigs.”

She had never expected to be trapped in such a bind by this boy’s, man’s, she corrected herself, sensitivity. She’d just been pleased that he was so nice and vaguely envied the girl who sometime in the future would, she had assumed, benefit.

“...this.”

“Sorry? No, I do want to know. I want to understand, to h-“

“I don’t need help,” he said, exasperated. “I figured if I tried it out this way no-one’d get hurt. The money’s part of that... nobody’s going to expect hearts and flowers from a rent boy.” A wry smile lent a new adulthood to his face, new to her at any rate, she thought, suddenly humbled.

“Any way,” he continued, “this was my last night. I’ve met someone I like, someone I’m comfortable with. He understands me and he doesn’t judge.” She flinched at the faintly accusing tone.

“ Look, Miss, just go home. Don’t worry about me. I won’t drop out you know, I haven’t caught any nasty diseases and I’ve learned something about myself.”

So have I, she realised, but could not say it yet, aloud. There were boundaries to the young people she taught, boundaries and unexpected depths. She should know her place.

Hi ALL,

I am a new writer @ WriteLink. Here's my latest short story (1600 words), Daddy's Girl.

Comments most welcome

The subject matter is a little strong, so this story isn't suitable for very young readers.

Here's a one paragraph synopsis:

Ray Gillingham's wife went missing eleven weeks ago. He wrote in his police statement that he came home one evening to find his front door open, and his two-year old daughter locked in a cupboard. Following an intensive and fruitless police investigation, he appears on a reality television crime show to make a direct appeal to the public.

Thanks for taking the time to read me work.

Warmest regards
Greg

www.gregmcqueen.com

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Two short chapters of my current project.

The story so far: having survived a terrorist bomb, Chris Deacon is suffering from sexual dysfunction and shock-induced temporary aphasia, which prevents him from speaking. He is also plagued by two phantoms whom he has christened Big P (Big Pistol) and Little D (Little Demon). His wife, Jan and counsellor, Petra, have tried to persuade him that they are trauma-induced hallucinations, but Chris has also had prophetic dreams in which Little D induced two other Spinners survivors to commit suicide. He lives in fear that he is next.

The excerpt is about 1450 words and all feedback is appreciated.

For anyone who wishes to take on the daunting task of reading the whole thing, it is now complete at 120,000 words.

Here is the excerpt.

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This is currently on the other Arena. Please review it there as well. Again, thanks to ozhm for the poem at the end.

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