The following story is not the one I intended to post tonight. I actually wrote an entirely different story, but due to an unfortunate incident involving a transferred file, the delete button, and an emptied desktop trash can I managed to erase the finished file. The only copy. So now you get this.
The Long Road Home
“Boy, get your ass in this car now!”
I did not recognize the man who was yelling at me now from across the road. Only two lanes of blacktop separated us but it may as well have been a thousand miles. He had only just pulled up and the dust was still billowing out from where he had hit the brakes in the gravel shoulder. I was frozen in place, every nerve and muscle tinged with electric energy as my mind and body fought against each other trying to figure out whether to take flight or fight.
I glanced over my shoulder at the open field and the trees beyond and considered my options. As if he could read my mind, the driver opened the door and stepped into the road. I glanced back at the field once more.
“Get. In. The. Car”
He said each word as if it was its own sentence.
I knew I had no recourse but to get into the car. I crossed the two deserted lanes. I feared he might strike me as soon as I was within reach. He just stood glaring at me as I opened the back door and climbed in to the back seat. He slammed the door closed behind me barely waiting for my legs to clear the door.
The car rocked slightly as he threw himself down into the front seat and slammed his own door. The rear wheels spun as he stomped on the accelerator kicking up stones and more dust. I snuck a quick glance in the rear view mirror and met his cold gaze. He was pissed.
Just two hours previous I had been riding along in the family station wagon with my mom, dad, and two sisters. We were on our way home from the city and us kids were a little more hyper than our parents could tolerate. We were fighting amongst ourselves in the usual manner of children when dad’s hand swept across from the front seat and found its mark on the side of my head.
This wasn’t the first time dad had backhanded me and I had built up an immunity over time. I continued to argue with my sisters. Our voices grew louder and louder until finally dad had enough.
He slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a halt. He spun around so fast his glasses flew off his head. Spittle flew out of his mouth as screamed at us.
“I’ve had it up to here with you kids you just keep at it and never stop even when I yell at you and even after I smack you upside the head when are you going to grow up and start showing your parents some respect if you can’t follow my basic rules then you can get the hell out and walk home!”
My sisters kicked in with their automatic defense mechanism: they started crying, but silently lest he get angrier.
“You going to start crying too, boy?”
I was surprised that I didn’t start to tear up. Instead I felt all of dad’s rage as if it emanated off of him in palpable waves. The rage washed over me and made me start shaking. I’d had enough of this. Dad had been getting angrier and angrier lately and for some reason he’d taken most of his frustration out on me.
I crawled over my sister and opened the door. I climbed outside and slammed the door. I stared defiantly through the window at my dad’s angry face and waited. I knew that at any moment he would sigh deeply and tell me to get back in the car.
I was stunned when he stomped on the gas and drove away. I was standing alone in the middle of nowhere watching as my family drove away. I stood in the middle of the lane and watched until the family station wagon disappeared over the distant hills.
It was only my rage at my dad that kept me from being afraid. I started walking in the same direction as the car wondering just how long it would take me to walk home. After a few minutes I reached a crossroads.
Suddenly I stopped.
I don’t know what kind of lesson my dad was trying to teach me, but I decided to teach him a lesson. I turned left and headed down an unknown road unsure just where it would lead. I knew that he would eventually turn around and come back for me, but he wouldn’t find me.
I walked for the next couple hours taking alternating rights and lefts at each intersection. It was the middle of the day and it never occurred to me to wonder what I was going to do when night fell and I was hopelessly lost in the unnamed spaces between towns.
That was when the station wagon pulled to the shoulder across the road from me and my dad yelled at me.
“Boy, get your ass in this car now!”
I did not recognize the man who was yelling at me now from across the road. It was my dad but I no longer recognized who he was. As I climbed in the back seat and road in silence toward our home I wondered at what made him so angry. What had turned him into the monster that forced his only son out of the car on a deserted back road.
I glanced into the rear view mirror again and was surprised at what I saw. The angry glare I had seen only moments before was replaced with a heavy sadness. Our eyes met again and dad sighed deeply.
He pulled slowly off to the side of the road and put the car in park. He turned off the ignition and turned to face me.
It was alongside that back country road that I first learned all about the responsibilities of being a man. I learned that no matter how tough you are or think you are, no matter how much you try to be the best man possible, there are some things that you cannot prevent.
I learned about life.
I learned about death.
I learned about cancer.
I learned that when I got back into that car on that deserted road in the middle of nowhere I was a twelve year old boy and I learned that when I got out of that car an hour later in our driveway and my father placed his hand on my shoulder as my mom and sisters came running out to greet me I was now a man.
Okay, grammar issues first.
ReplyDelete"Get. In. The. Car"
He said each word as if it was its own sentence.
--This is redundant. You already showed he said it as four sentences. You don't need to repeat it.
I snuck a quick glance in the rear view mirror and met his cold gaze.
--Eh, I've never liked 'snuck.' Use sneaked instead. I guess that's a preference thing, though 'snuck' is more recent and FB's spell check doesn't recognize it.
There are several lines where a comma would be appropriate. I won't post them all, but here's an example: The rear wheels spun as he stomped on the accelerator kicking up stones and more dust.
--Put a comma before 'kicking.'
The biggest problem is that far too many sentences begin with 'I.' Try not to do that. Change up the fragments of your sentences so that 'I' is in the middle more, if that makes sense.
It was the middle of the day and it never occurred to me to wonder what I was going to do when night fell and I was hopelessly lost in the unnamed spaces between towns.
--I love this sentence, especially the bit about unnamed spaces between towns. Very eery.
Now the story itself: overall not bad. Maybe a bit more description. You have one of the same problems I have--you focus too much on the character's emotional state and not enough on what's going on outside him. That can be forgiven somewhat here because the story is focused on an emotional scene, but if you really want it to come alive add a bit of detail. I realize these are writing exercises; writing a short a day is more about speed than craft. But you have to get into the mindset of this character. He's still gonna be distracted by little things once in awhile. In fact, it adds emotional wallop to the story because he's going to try to get this stuff out of his head. He doesn't want to be thinking about his dad whacking him in the head, but it will keep cropping up. He can't escape it, and after all that is what he's trying to do, right? Escape? Still, not at all a bad effort for your first story.
Also, try to avoid sentences that begin with 'It is' 'It was' 'There is' 'There was' etc. Like: It was alongside that back country road... Just start it: Alongside that back country road... Anything that can be removed without impacting the story should be removed.