New Writed
06-13-2014, 03:38 PM
I'm a new writer and this is an excerpt from my short story about a 22 year old dealing with the uninformed decision of divorce between her parents.. Looking forward for feedback and any valuable suggestions please! Thank you for reading this..
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I waded into the house which seemingly was empty and a solitary quietness had engulfed the place.
Only I knew that this silence was either a forgoing period before a tsunami hit or the ensuing ruckus the Vesuvius created. I prayed it to be the latter I longed it all to be over.
In any case I couldn’t care much if I wasn’t going blind with hunger. I quietly stole the mac & cheese tub from the fridge with the half empty Mott’s singles to go and scrambled upstairs.
Dad was in his study, he didn’t say a word just briefly looked up at me and cast a once over first at my sloppy flip flops to my wrists clinging the tub and to my bare neck without the gold chain with the small cross and it’s miniature crucified Jesus and went back looking skeptical into his laptop.
Like that was the only issue. Nevertheless.
I remember fighting my lids for the 17th call logging in my missed calls list and a flurry of messages tapping down on what’s app and gtalk.
I knew jack **** of whatever was happening. All I wanted was to catch up with sleep, finish painting my pigeons in the courtyard of the harem women and then prepare my essay for Monday that’s all I want.
No confrontations, no self-loathing Ma and no Linda losing her tender childhood to gospel and behavior observance.
Just me. My sleep…That urging feeling you get, to close your eyes, when you have no bed and a cold north-wind that’s keeping temperatures sub -zero or the feeling you don't get when you have a 300-thread count bed sheet on a $2000 tempura mattress in an air-conditioned bedroom. That’s what it is.
I lay there lazily hearing the grasshoppers snapping their hind wings and crackling all night. I never was able to bring myself to such situations. I took a lot of time to even know what just hit me.
Did dad even know what was happening to me? I just wish he knew what I knew about him and what he knew about me.
I’m sure he thinks I’m oblivious to what he’s going through. I just know he’s either doubting ma which could be his gratification for the constant plea for discipline in the house.
Or he may even be a control freak. But he doesn’t know I know these. He didn’t know I’ve had relationships with men older than him and I just know which archetype he is.
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I waded into the house which seemingly was empty and a solitary quietness had engulfed the place.
Only I knew that this silence was either a forgoing period before a tsunami hit or the ensuing ruckus the Vesuvius created. I prayed it to be the latter I longed it all to be over.
In any case I couldn’t care much if I wasn’t going blind with hunger. I quietly stole the mac & cheese tub from the fridge with the half empty Mott’s singles to go and scrambled upstairs.
Dad was in his study, he didn’t say a word just briefly looked up at me and cast a once over first at my sloppy flip flops to my wrists clinging the tub and to my bare neck without the gold chain with the small cross and it’s miniature crucified Jesus and went back looking skeptical into his laptop.
Like that was the only issue. Nevertheless.
I remember fighting my lids for the 17th call logging in my missed calls list and a flurry of messages tapping down on what’s app and gtalk.
I knew jack **** of whatever was happening. All I wanted was to catch up with sleep, finish painting my pigeons in the courtyard of the harem women and then prepare my essay for Monday that’s all I want.
No confrontations, no self-loathing Ma and no Linda losing her tender childhood to gospel and behavior observance.
Just me. My sleep…That urging feeling you get, to close your eyes, when you have no bed and a cold north-wind that’s keeping temperatures sub -zero or the feeling you don't get when you have a 300-thread count bed sheet on a $2000 tempura mattress in an air-conditioned bedroom. That’s what it is.
I lay there lazily hearing the grasshoppers snapping their hind wings and crackling all night. I never was able to bring myself to such situations. I took a lot of time to even know what just hit me.
Did dad even know what was happening to me? I just wish he knew what I knew about him and what he knew about me.
I’m sure he thinks I’m oblivious to what he’s going through. I just know he’s either doubting ma which could be his gratification for the constant plea for discipline in the house.
Or he may even be a control freak. But he doesn’t know I know these. He didn’t know I’ve had relationships with men older than him and I just know which archetype he is.