NaNoWriMo, I have discussed this before and even given you a few teasers from my 2006 novel She Learned To Smile that reached 50,051 words on the final day of November. This year, my novel is called A Memory In The Snow or The Memory... I'm in limbo right now, and is nothing like my first novel, except for the fact that it is again geared toward romance.
I am a little behind on my word count this year, for reasons being that I now have a full time job and husband, neither of which did I have last year, and on top of that I have school that has been a great struggle for me this semester. But that is a different topic for a different time.
It's teaser time! I thought I would give you a quick glance into my story by letting you read the first chapter that I etched out of my brain at an exceedingly fast pace. Here goes nothing and remember that constructive criticism is always appreciated:
Outside my bedroom window, located on the third floor of a middle of the road apartment complex in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, a blinding flash of lightning filled the sky. I cringed and waited for the worst to come. The deafening, rolling, vibrating clap of thunder followed not two seconds later, still I cringed, and then I heard the worst. It started out at a light patter in the hall way, and then the footsteps I heard quickened and a small voice of a six year old girl screeched, "Daddy!" the tiny child hurled herself into my bed, narrowly missing kneeing me in my groin as Captain Ted went tumbling off the bed, past Oregano, and into a dark corner.
"Captain Ted!" was the next cry from the tiny child as she groped from her safe position on my queen sized bed for her beloved teddy bear she had received when she was an infant. I reached one long arm out and seized the bear, returning it into my daughter's impatiently waiting arms as she wriggled herself in under the faded quilt that adorned my sagging mattress. Oregano, a five year old Beagle that we had adopted just a few months back gave an extremely loud snort and went back to sleep. I remembered why we had named him Oregano; it was because it was what I was cooking with the night we had adopted the Beagle. It had not been to long before we discovered that he was a very gassy dog and the scent of oregano that overwhelmed the kitchen from the spaghetti sauce was the only good scent we smelled that night. I turned my attention back to my daughter who cringed at another clap of thunder, "Hush now, its alright sweet heart," I soothed as I attempted to control her long, matted, chocolate colored ringlets. I couldn’t help but notice every day the way her hair was just as uncontrollable as Brittany’s hair used to be.
"I don't like it when they do that," she whimpered.
"When who does what, Mercy?" I questioned, puzzled as to what she was concerned about.
"When the angels drop stuff, like a wagon full of potatoes up in heaven," my innocent and slightly gullible young child explained.
I chuckled softly before replying, "That's just a myth sweetheart. The thunder is just a part of the weather. Go to sleep now, all right? I promise that you can stay with me all night."
Her emerald green eyes, identical to her mother’s, sparkled with glee, "Really! Will you tell me a bed time story and everything?" she hugged Captain Ted tightly in anticipation.
"You already had a bed time story, Mercy, two bed time stories in fact,” I stopped for a dramatic pause, “However, I suppose this is a holiday break, so we can make special exceptions. Oh, alright, what do you want to hear?" I complied, realizing that I was on the fast track toward becoming an old softie.
"Hmm..." she pondered for a moment before deciding what she wanted to hear, "Tell me about Mommy."
I froze after hearing my only child say those words to me. Sure, she had asked questions before, juvenile questions, such as what her mother’s favorite color had been or where we went to school and why we liked kissing or what her favorite flower was so she could bring the right kind of flower to the cemetery. This innocent question, on the other hand, bared more depth, honesty, and hunger for knowing the truth, the whole truth about her mother, than I was prepared for. I was silent for a long time, all the while with Mercy looking at me inquisitively, waiting for an answer. The only sound was the pouring rain and the soft snoring of Oregano.
"Daddy?" she finally asked, barely above a whisper, worried as to what was causing my silence.
I sighed deeply and audibly before finding my voice again, "Your mother's name was Brittany Joy O’Connor. She had eyes exactly the color of yours. And her hair, her hair was just as unmanageable and wild as yours..." I started.
"...Except that Mommy's hair was blonde. I get my hair color from you," Mercy interrupted, knowing this from the many pictures and albums she had seen in her young life.
"Exactly," I continued, "and she was smart, you got your smarts from her, you know that..." I trailed off, giving her random trivial facts, most of which she already knew, but it seemed that the sound of my voice, reassuring her that she was safe, was all she really needed to fall into a peaceful slumber. However, it was all I needed to be plunged back into memories, beautiful and painful memories. Before I could fall into any sort of depression, I brought myself all the way back to the beginning of my story with Brittany. I wanted to relive every thing all over again and feel every think all over again. I closed my eyes and tried my best to remember everything that I could about our life together.
Our story began in our sophomore year of high school when we were fifteen going on sixteen years old. It was as simple as that, we were high school sweethearts and she got pregnant before we were ready for a baby. It was a stereotypical high school love story and we didn’t care one bit. I shook my head as if to stop the memories from reeling in my head and I tucked my daughter in protectively under the covers and kissed her on the forehead. “Good night precious,” I whispered, admiring my beautiful daughter.
I made myself comfortable, careful not to disturb Mercy who could sometimes be a light sleeper. I knew that sleep would not be befalling me for many more hours. Perhaps I wouldn’t get any sleep at all that night. There had been many times that I had lost sleep over Brittany. I barely slept the first month after her passing and many nights like this one had caused me to be thrown back in to the past, where I again felt the emptiness around me that Brittany had once occupied. No matter how many years went by, her death still hurt just as much. The grieving process may have been over, and I even though I was not constantly thinking about her, when I did stop and allow myself to think about her and about the past, it was still just as cutting of a pain as it had always been.
I bit my lip for a moment, as if damming my emotions up inside of me. “I miss you, baby,” I said in to the emptiness of the air. For a split second I felt warm all over. With that I allowed myself to relive the memories, to relive the beauty and the pain, and so, with that, I plunged myself back to the beginning of the memory. I found it interesting that there was no snow linked to our first meeting, though snow would have been unseasonable for September, stranger things have happened.
I tried not to think about snow but even still I let myself think of Brittany…
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Oh! And I'm starting photography school in the new year!!! Cheers all! Have a happy Thanksgiving!
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