Hello; Hola; Merhaba; Salute;
This my the newest novel that i'm working on. I was inspired by the book;
Right Behind You by: Gail Glies. i luv tht book very very much. can't count the number of times i've read it. its inspired me to write a whole lot of stories tht are...at the moment...unfinished. But, i hope i finish this one!! So, this is the first chapter. Me luved writing it, n i hope u enjoy reading it. if not...the things i'll do when i'm behind you.....
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9 year old McFlan on side.........................>
My mother has always been there for me. When I was sick. When I was depressed. When I was suicidal. When I was bulemic....etc. She's always been there. ALWAYS. Up until the day....that I killed her.
What I Remember
''Mick. Mick honey! Come on in and get washed up! Dinner is almost ready,'' mother called from inside the house. I looked up at her, tears in my eyes. I wasn't ready to come in. I was playing with my new toy that grandpa had bought me for my bithday. I'd only gotten the present this morning! I sat out in the yard. Thinking on rather I should obey....or keep playing. Mother came back out onto the porch. She saw me, sitting in the grass, waist deep in thought.
''Mick,'' she called again. ''come on honey.''
I didn't move. I didn't have the guts to tell her no. I've never told her no. But, I didn't want to stop playing either. All I remember after that is her coming out to get me....and me pushing her. Pushing her down the three flights of concrete stairs that led up to our home.
What They Say Happened
McFlan Corse.....You killed your mother.
What Happened
It was a chilly autumn day. The sun was settling on down into the night. Brushing threw the sky like an angel. The clouds moving fast across the sky. The naked trees taking in the wind, letting it blow them which ever which way. Families had pumpkins on the porches and ghosts on their windows. Witches in their tree's and skeleton's in their yard. Nothing much to live for. The cars zooming by...fast. FAST. Fast on the highway up the street from my home. I sat in the grass and closed my eyes. Sniffed the air to gather some of the insense from the passing wind. Much, much to live for. I rubbed my fingers gently threw the grass. Letting its tips of ice pinch me. A pinch of love. I looked down at my toes. My mother had painted them pink. I loved the look of the pink color next to the orange leave. It looked as if it should be in a magazine for toe colors. Oh silly me! Always thinking of something that no one else would.
I'm the unique one. Well.....thats at least how my teacher put it. When Mya Rice and Keeta Marks teased and bullied me....they said things that shouldn't be repeated. But, my mother was there to comfort me. To hold me in her arms and sing to me. Sing songs that were embeded in my heart. I knew the words without having to even think. But, I never sung the words. Things always sounded better echoing off of my mothers lips. I'm the unique one. I repeated to myself. I'm the unique one? I repeated once again...but this time, with a question mark. I reached over and grabbed my new toy. I clutched it to my chest and squeezed. Grandpa got it for me. This morning, actually. For my birthday. It was perfect. It was the newest one out. And most and best of all...., it was mine.
I twirled the dolls long red yarn hair around my fingers and smiled. To only know she was coming. My mother stepped out onto the porch and smiled.
''Mick,'' she yelled. ''Mick honey! Come on in and get washed up! Dinner is almost ready,''
I looked up at her. Tears swelling in my eyes. I stuck my little lip out and let my eyes do the begging. She didn't notice. She went back into the house. I looked down at my new doll. And then, back at the door. And then, back at my doll. I stared at the doll. Wishing I could just stay out here with her, observing any part of nature I hadn't noticed before. I sat there, trying to think of what I should do. Tell her no? I've never told my mother no. Go inside and lose this once in a lifetime feeling inside of me called happiness? Mother came back out onto the porch and looked down at me in the grass.
''Mick,'' she called again. ''come on honey.''
I still sat. Trying to figure out what I should do. Then my father came out onto the porch.
''McFlan! McFlan Clarice Corse! You obey your mother this instant. If I had shoes on i'd come get you. Whats your problem?'' my father exclaimed angrily. Very angrily.
I did not move. Dad turned around again. He ran into mom as she was slipping her shoes on.
''i'll go get her,'' dad insisted in an angry hushed tone.
''no, Dan. I got it now. Maybe somethings wrong'' mother said, walking past him and down the few stairs. She came over to me and hovered over me. With her hand on her hip she said,
''is something wrong Mick? You need to get washed up for dinner right now! Its almost dark.''
I looked up at her. Speechless. She then looked at my doll.
''is that it Mick? You still want to play? Well....you can play inside the house....''
Its not the same inside the house!
I thought as I stood up and backed away from her.
''McFlan Clarice Corse! I AM NOT going to chase you. Its not time for games right now.''
I backed up a little further. She reached out and snatched the doll from my arms.
Nothing ran threw my mind as I put all my force into that push. That push that changed everything. She screamed as she tumbled down the first flight. No more screaming down the second flight. No screaming. Just blood.
5 years later
''Hello McFlan. My name is Gabrielle Summers. I'm your new therapist. Welcome in.'' the woman said as I walked slowly threw the doorway of her collaboration room. I looked back as the door closed behind me. The creeking sound of the hinges made my heart thump. The room was white. ALL white. White walls. White tables. White chairs. A white couch. And a white refridgerator. Not to mention the pale white woman sitting on the couch. If she stood against the wall you wouldn't be able to see her!
''how about you have a seat here,'' she said. Gesturing towards the white chair next to her couch. I walked over to the white chair across from her couch and sat down. She looked confused and a little annoyed, but then she smiled and then cleared her throat. She took the glasses from the top of her head and placed them on the tip of her nose.
She looked down at some papers and then cleared her throat again.
''so....your files say that you killed your mother when you were nine years old. You went to a mental facility for juvenile children, and there you had therapy with Olivia Simon.''
She looked up at me as if she expected me to say something. My lips were chaped and shut. She grinned and then looked back down at the files.
''McFlan.....its not time for games right now.'' she said.
My heart and stomach burned. Thats the last thing my mother said to me. I looked down at the white carpet and held my stomach.
''McFlan....what happened that night?'' G Summers asked again.
I reached out and grabbed the jar of marbles on her counter. I dumped them all out on my lap and then started to slowly put them back into the jar.
''Mcflan....''
''I'd prefer to be called Mick,'' I insisted putting a red in before the green. I took it back out. I liked green better, it should go first.
''Oh kay then Mick...are you going to tell me what happened that night?''
''You already know. I know you know. Its all in the files.'' I said looking up at her. She stared at me a moment and then looked back down at her papers.
''Its kinda suckish that i'm your second therapist Mick. But, its kind of a good thing as well. Do you know why I say this?'' G Summers asked.
I scooted the pink marble over to the red because their colors were too similair to be classified as something else.
''Because...well....i'm going to read this letter that your first therapist sent with your files.'' G Summers cleared her throat and got comfortable in her spot on the couch. She crossed her legs like a lady and studied the paper before proceeding to read.
''When McFlan Corse came to me...as children so young would usually be...she was in a state of isolation. She was still in shock and so she isolated herself from everyone. Her father, Danny Corse, told me that after that mistake she made that night...she didnt cry. Instead she...''
''Mistake,'' I said.
G Summers looked up at me.
''pardon?''
''Olivia...wrote...mistake?'' I asked.
G Summers looked at the paper again. She started to mumble and then said,
''after that mistake she made that night...she didnt cry.''
I stopped sorting marbles and looked down at my hot quivering hands.
''I made a mistake,'' I whispered solemnly.
G Summers watched me for a moment and then got up and went into a farther room. She grabbed something and then came back out to me. She handed me a blank peice of paper and a pen.
''class dismissed,'' she said.
I met my father at the front entrance of the building. He pulled up close and unlocked the door manually. I opened up and hopped in.
''that was fast,'' he said.
I nodded.
''Is there something you want to tell me?'' he asked.
''Not this time,'' I said wiping a string of dust from the dashboard.