I thought I would share what I read out this month. I intend to read the next part to the writing group next month… once I have worked on it a bit more. I thought it might interest people to see what I had produced.
Feel free to leave comments if you see any problems, or if you like it! Feedback is always useful.
Enter the Night
She stared out, leaning over the rail in an attempt to look tough and mature. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but after Chicago…
Still, the sight of the ocean was something that captivated her. She had never seen the sea before. Never once gazed out, and saw endless stretches of water to the horizon. Even at night, with the stormy clouds above, it was a sight for her to see. Samantha just gazed away, not wanting to look away, to go back up the pier and to the reason why she was in this poky little tourist trap. Still, the clothes she had managed to rustle up while she had stayed for a few days in San Francisco helped to make her feel more edgy, more a streetwise brat.
Of course, before she had gone of on her quest to find her mother, she had thought herself streetwise. How could she not be, watching her father deteriorate as she had grown up? Having to clean up and after them both, and try to get some sort of food inside of them? Over time, it just became too much, for both of them. She had screamed and shouted, having a horrible tantrum. A wild, terrible force unleashed from the deepest centre of her. Throwing things, stuff smashing against the wall… and her father pressed against the wall, eyes wide in terror. His words, burned into her memory.
“She did that, too…”
She had tried to apologise, to make amends. Samantha looked back bitterly at the memory. Why had her Daddy rejected her like that? Become so distant? Why couldn’t he help her, drive out of her the furious fuming anger that still swelled and welled inside her? And when she lost her temper, she ended up doing things. Maybe what everyone at school said about her was true. Both she and her father were losers.
Her father… she beat back the tears, not wanting to cry like a pathetic little baby. As much as she had defended him, she knew that there was truth in their words about him…
Her Daddy. The memories started to pour back to her, despite her efforts.
A failed musician with a crippling drug addiction that had given him the disease that had eaten him away. He’d tried to get clean, and stay clean, but it never took. Samantha didn’t hate her old man, just felt… disappointed in him. She had listened to his music, and there had been talent, particularly when he had been with her mother.
The same mother that had vanished when she was just ten days old. According to the stories about her from her aunt. As much as she was mean and bitter at her aunt and uncle, she was also grateful that they had taken her in. a year of foster care had been more than enough for all sides to handle. Home after home ended up rejecting her, meaning she was back at the children’s home regularly. She wasn’t certain if it was her anger or her looks. She couldn’t help it if her Daddy had been a mix of different colours and backgrounds. Well, if her foster families hated it, she despised it. Looking into the mirror, with no clear idea what to describe herself as. Particularly as she had a tanned -like skin, jet black hair, and bright, piercing blue eyes. Like shards of ice staring and stabbing out. Her nose, mouth… one look at her face suggested she was a white girl, but the skin and hair… and then there were her eyes, the same as her mothers, light coloured.
Paler than the sea, for certain…
She had been there for hours, when it had been day and sunny. Strange how the storm had surged in like that. As if boldly announcing something ominous and dangerous. Maybe it was warning everyone that she was in town? Wandering amongst them in her white crop top, black fake leather jacket, fake black leather skirt with the black leggings. Black leather fingerless gloves and black shiny boots with flat soles and knee length sides. She had added the black trouser braces, though she didn’t need them to keep her skirt up. She had gotten hold of a chain, so she could swing it about and keep people back. Was she getting paranoid? After what she had encountered in Chicago, she wasn’t sure…
It had started off okay, her asking people about her mother, showing them the picture she had of them. It had taken her time to put together all of the information she could, researching as much as she could from the Internet before she even thought about setting off.
She might be fourteen, but she wasn’t a stupid child. Despite what everyone thought of her. she’d been patient, putting down into computer file every last scrap of information she could remember from what her father had rambled on about her mother. Towards the end, when the immune-devouring disease had eaten away at so much of him, his mind had started to become incoherent, and he would rave and mumble about her mother. She had been there, staying with him. To hell with school. Her Daddy was dying, and she wasn’t going to simply abandon him.
She had been found by his body, crying her eyes out as she gripped his cold, stiff hand. She had to have three grown men grip and handle her, her anger and mindless need to stay with the only family she had in the world. Then, after a year of the falsity and cold fostering system, her aunt had appeared. It had taken a moment to remember her, having met her… how old had she been? Samantha couldn’t remember now. All that mattered was that she had other family. Her brother’s sister, who had been trying to locate the pair. Daddy had been in the habit of moving them about a lot.
They were all probably celebrating, her aunt, uncle and cousins. She had been hell to live with, she knew it. She just couldn’t work out why, though. The burning, searing rage that ate away inside her. It was there now, stalking and skulking, like a caged animal waiting to escape and unleash itself onto anything or anyone it could. Of course, all of the adults in her life had tried medications with her, but it didn’t help. If anything, it made things worse, because she wasn’t clear headed enough to keep control of the fury. Or at least try to. It wasn’t as if she was successful. Particularly when the other kids at school tried to pick on her, or her cousins. Not that they did that any more. Even if they were much bigger and tougher than she was. So, when they shoved her, she ended up shoving them back harder. Boo hoo.
Of course, it had meant that she had ended up getting a reputation as a bully. What a surprise. The kid with the food blended ethnicity was the trouble maker. she’d spent time looking into it, and sure enough, there were medical studies that were turning up, saying there were an increase in the likelihood of mental problems in mixed race people. Samantha tried to put it out of her head. She knew she was a mistake, a screwed up example of how human relationships could go wrong.
Maybe that was why her mother abandoned them? She was staring at her little baby girl, and saw nothing in the child? What if – and Samantha tried to bury the notion as best she could yet again – had she been rejected? What if she found her mother, and she didn’t want to know her?
But then, what had her Daddy meant by saying that her Momma had gone into a destructive rage like she had?
And then there was Chicago…