Tuesday, October 15, 2013

T.C.S.O.N

Without revealing the final name of a piece I'm working on - here's a snippet of one of the pages. I thought I might share it, so my blog doesn't feel I've completely forgot about it. All character names, including chapters and titles, will not be disclosed on the blog.


V Black

Flashbacks of my younger brother would occasionally appear in my head. Sometimes the images which appeared were mostly those from my childhood. When we were younger, my brother had been unable to say my name properly, and instead just stuck to calling me ‘vivva’. It was always funny to watch him struggle to say my name- sigh, and then just give up – to listen to the air escape the tiny gap where his teeth had once been.  At that time we had been almost inseparable. 

A strong sense of nostalgia wove its way through my body. I giggled a little, wondering whether he would laugh at the memory too. It had already been several years since I left our home, years since I had looked back over my shoulder to catch one last glance at my brother, who was no longer a youngling, but already a full grown man -- who my parents had invested their whole time, future and energy in. 

It felt like I had never been a part of them at all. I had been born different, and already from the start my parents sensed that I would rebel against them – to want to go in my own direction and get lost in the empty promises of tomorrow. I regretted what I had turned into, but not the dreams I had had back then. Some parents were selfish, and only wanted what was best for them, and in some cases they would push those desires on their children – to make them believe that it was the best for them too.

I may have got myself in this position, but had my parents only accepted me for who I was, and not pushed me further away from themselves, I would probably have struggled a little harder for things to work out with them. Everything from the way I dressed, down to my whole being, had been wrong to them. Out of place; out of order. I was a person who needed to be fixed, and when I had reached the point of ‘beyond repair’, they had decided it was time to throw me away.