Wednesday, January 23, 2008

New Beginning 436

The desire to disappear left the instant Reed Darby heard Sammy’s fake crow call. He hadn’t heard her secret distress call in over four years, not since they were eleven years old. He folded his arms behind his head and laughed miserably to himself as he stared up at the crusty ceiling of the old tree house.

He hadn’t heard Sammy’s call just now--he couldn’t have. What an imagination he had.

And then he heard her call again. Clear, crisp, and carrying across the fields and straight through the window of his hideaway, “Aww, aww, aww!”

Reed sat up straight, banging his head against a loose plank. His heart thumped as he rubbed his head and pulled himself to his feet. He squinted out the window.

Bright sunshine. Wispy cirrus clouds. High today, June 6th, of 78 degrees. A splendid summer afternoon in the Midwest. Completely boring to an aspiring meteorologist like himself. His eyes wandered far below a hill, past a barbed wire fence stringing a bank of ragged apple trees where a cluster of barns and outbuildings stood. Samantha Sleestick’s farm.

Sammy was in trouble, and she needed him. Just like old times. He dropped from the tree house and sprinted toward the Sleestick place.

“Aww, Aww!” It was coming from the barn. Maybe it was something to do with that Matt Maddler. He’d been hanging around Sammy’s group lately, looking for trouble.

The barn door was locked, but Reed easily found the loose clapboard they’d used as an entrance years ago. He followed the sound inside and up to the loft. He could never have predicted the horrible sight that confronted him and made him gasp.

The bare, pimply arse stopped pumping as Maddler turned around. “Jesus, Darby, what the fuck?”

Sammy rolled her eyes as she looked at him over Maddler’s shoulder.

It wasn’t her secret distress call after all.

Reed may not have known which way the wind was blowing, but he could sure as hell forecast a shit-storm coming real soon.


Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: ril

13 comments:

Evil Editor said...

Unchosen Continuations:


Reed heard the call again, but it seemed more distant. Of course, he thought, it's not her. The less I believe it, the further away she'll sound.

Even though they were both eleven, they both had their lives planned, together. He, a meteorologist and she, a botanist. Together, they would modernize small-farming. Mostly, though, they planned to be together.

Reed sighed and then noticed that The Board was not dusty like the rest of the boards. No one in the universe knew about The Board except Sammy and Reed. His heart quickened and he raised a board in the floor of the tree house. There was a fresh note. It could only be from Sammy.

"My dearest Reed, Obviously, I am alive. Come quickly, I NEED you!...."

--Bill H.


And right there, beneath the rusting carcass of the 78 Ford, was the place where he'd buried her body last summer.

--Khazar-khum

Evil Editor said...

Since Reed is able to get to his feet, I assume the ceiling is at least five feet high. So I don't see how, when he goes from lying on his back to sitting up, he hits his head on a plank. Where is this plank, that he couldn't see it while lying on his back, and thus avoid it as he sat up?

More importantly, I can see an aspiring meteorologist remarking on the weather when he's having a boring day, and thinks the distress call is his imagination, but his heart is thumping, he's heard the call again, clear and crisp, and he's thinking . . . it's a splendid summer day? High of 78 degrees? I don't think so. You'll have to find a better way to tell us Reed wants to be a meteorologist.

PJD said...

While I agree that the editorializing of the meteorologically boring day gets in the way, I really liked this opening.

The one thing I didn't like so much was the first sentence. "The desire to disappear left the instant" is awkward. It also made me think that Reed wanted to disappear from the current situation, though of course I eventually realized you meant he was escaping from regular life by visiting the old tree house. I think you can put his desire to disappear farther into the scene, where you have more time to make it clear.

But I thought the writing was very good, and the story grabbed me right away. I'd love to read more of it.

Kudos to the continuation authors as well.

And EE, I did not know you were an aspiring architect. Spending a little too much time watching the design shows on HGTV perhaps?

WouldBe said...

I liked this one quite a bit, so I tried to write a best-guess continuation. I didn't especially care for the first sentence, either, but didn't hate it. It has an in media res feel to it. I don't know if this is the actual opening or a chapter start.

Good luck. Bill H.

Sarah Laurenson said...

Great continuations!

I like this beginning. It sounds like a good place to start and it pulls me in.

Here are my suggestions for tightening and rearranging.


Reed Darby folded his arms behind his head and laughed miserably to himself as he stared up at the crusty ceiling of the old tree house. He hadn’t heard Sammy’s fake crow call -- he couldn’t have. What an imagination. He hadn’t heard her secret distress call in over four years, not since they were eleven years old.

Then he heard her call again. Clear, crisp, and carrying across the fields and straight through the window of his hideaway, “Aww, aww, aww!”

Reed sat up straight, banging his head against a loose plank. His heart thumped as he rubbed his head and pulled himself to the window.

His eyes wandered far below a hill, past a barbed wire fence stringing a bank of ragged apple trees where a cluster of barns and outbuildings stood. Samantha Sleestick’s farm.

Dave Fragments said...

The tension exists only in that what Reed hears is Sammy's distress call. I think that's got to be the opening sentence.

We don't know why Reed wanted to disappear and frankly, it isn't as interesting as hearing a cry of help from a girl he hasn't seen in years.

Robin S. said...

Hi author,

I wasn't so pulled into this opening, and I couldn't quite put my finger on why until I saw sarah's edit job and Dave's comments - both of which I agree with. And Sarah left out the meteorologist part that EE mentioned, and hse lost the first line that others mentioned - and it looks very good, and now you have a setup that has a "wanting to read on" feeling to it.

The other parts - the studying, the wanting to get away, as important are to your story, (I assume they are) - hopefully could be inserted soon enough, in a way that flows naturally.


And the continuation was an absolute scream, by the way.

Sarah Laurenson said...

One other idea - change her last name. I keep reading Sleestak (sp?). Anyway, they're the little green men from Land of the Lost.

If this is a deliberate coincidence, then forget I asked. Though I'm really curious about why.

Beth said...

And right there, beneath the rusting carcass of the 78 Ford, was the place where he'd buried her body last summer.

Oh, I really like that one!

talpianna said...

I have no idea what a miserable laugh sounds like. Could someone please demonstrate?

Anonymous said...

Ha ha ha haw hoo hoo boo hoo boo hoo snuffle snuffle.

Wonderwood said...

I like this opening and agree with most of the smart folks around here. I caught the plank issue that EE pointed and thought the same exact thing. Scary. I also questioned "laughed miserably". I'm not a big fan of adverbs, especially ones that make me stop and struggle with the vision and fail to conjure it.

I like it as an opening with the suggested changes to the first sentence. But I think that might be indicative of the piece as a whole (tricky, no?), and I think you have some editing and revising to do. The writing is promising, though, and I'd keep reading, for a while anyway. Good work, author, hang with it.

Chris Eldin said...

Nice one, ril!

Author, sounds like this could be a good story, but I wasn't pulled in by the opening. I agree with what Dave said.