TITLE: THE GROWING SEASON
GENRE: YA Thriller
This scene is just before the MC’s stepfather brings the family home from an outing. What they don’t know is that he intends to lock them away forever.
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“Get in,” he says. “All of you. I’m taking you guys for a treat.”
And we do get inside the old pickup truck that’s been our transportation forever. The seats are torn in places, the front smells like stale beer. My mother doesn’t even seem to smell it—it’s not her thing, to register something like that or comment. Everything with her, eyes, ears, nose, are always focused somewhere else, so she can smell, hear, and see things we can’t. In her head, locked in the pages of the fantasy novels she keeps stuffed on the shelves in their bedroom.
The ice cream shop is on Main. Cleo and I watch as it gets closer, a small glass-fronted building with a candy-striped awning. Half a dozen kids are licking cones on the sidewalk outside. The truck picks up speed, then shoots past them in a spray of gravel that leaves some of them covering their faces or looking, stunned, at the cones they’d dropped on the sidewalk. We turn and watch, Cleo and I, and Cleo says, “I thought we were going to stop.”
“Do you deserve ice cream?” He says from the front. I don’t know how he can hear us, except that he’s death and, presumably, death hears everything. I don’t know how to answer—did we do anything that would mean punishment, even punishment by omission?
I think you convey quite a bit with this scene--the ominous tone of the book, the mother's "checked-out" personality, and just how evil the step-dad is. (Love the sentence about the dropped ice cream cones). I'm not really picking up anger though, unless it's just a subtle hint of the step-dad's overall personality. I also tripped up on this sentence: "Everything with her, eyes, ears, nose, are always focused somewhere else, so she can smell, hear, and see things we can’t." Maybe you could re-word it so it flows a little more smoothly?
ReplyDeleteI do think the writing is good though. Best of luck with this!
I like the ominous tone, but I think the first paragraph could be worded a little differently. It's a bit awkward the way it's written now. Maybe shorten up the last two sentences in that paragraph to say 'All her senses are focused on only things she can see or feel.' Also, I'm not sure I feel anger in this passage except for the very last paragraph.
ReplyDeleteA chilling excerpt. I think I'd like more description of the moment they're getting into the car -- what the mother looks like, whether the kids are looking to her or to the stepdad, maybe a little of their anticipation or dread. Meanwhile, the image of the truck zooming past the other kids, ruining their ice cream, is very effective. Good luck!
ReplyDeleteThis excerpt has a great creepy feel to it. The description of the pick-up’s interior is excellent (though I find adding “truck” to be redundant). I could imagine the odor of diesel drowned in the stench of stale beer. Nice.
ReplyDelete“Get in,” he says. “All of you. I’m taking you guys for a treat.”
And we do get inside the old pickup truck that’s been our transportation forever. The seats are torn in places, the front smells like stale beer. My mother doesn’t even seem to smell it—it’s not her thing, to register something like that or comment. Everything with her, eyes, ears, nose, are always focused somewhere else, so she can smell, hear, and see things we can’t. In her head, locked in the pages of the fantasy novels she keeps stuffed on the shelves in their bedroom.
You give your reader a good feel for the mother, though I picture her more as reading romance novels. I suggest using an em-dash and changing a few things, as follows (including mirroring eyes, ears, nose with see, hear, smell): My mother doesn’t seem to smell it. It’s not her thing to register something like that. Everything about her—eyes, ears, nose—are always focused somewhere else so she can see, hear, and smell things we can’t. Her head is forever locked in the pages of one of the fantasy novels she keeps stuffed on her bedroom shelf.
The ice cream shop is on Main. Cleo and I watch as it gets closer, a small glass-fronted building with a candy-striped awning. Half a dozen kids are licking cones on the sidewalk outside. The truck picks up speed, then shoots past them in a spray of gravel that leaves some of them covering their faces or looking, stunned, at the cones they’d dropped on the sidewalk. We turn and watch, Cleo and I, and Cleo says, “I thought we were going to stop.”
You can keep your reader in a deeper POV with a little rewording and make the reading a bit smoother.
The ice cream shop is on Main. As we get closer to the small, glass-fronted building with a candy-striped awning, the truck picks up speed, shooting past the half-dozen kids licking cones on the sidewalk outside. Our tires spray them with gravel, leaving some of the kids covering their faces and others looking down stunned at the cones they’d dropped on the sidewalk. Cleo and I turn and gaze out the truck's back window.
“I thought we were going to stop,” Cleo said.
“Do you deserve ice cream?” He says from the front. I don’t know how he can hear us, except that he’s death and, presumably, death hears everything. I don’t know how to answer—did we do anything that would mean punishment, even punishment by omission?
I was surprised by the use of the word “he” here. I expected father, dad, step-dad, driver, etc. Maybe that’s because it’s an excerpt or maybe it’s implying something (that I might, otherwise have understood) because you next refer to the driver as death. Also, it seemed perfectly logical to me that the driver would hear Cleo’s comment, unless you give me a reason not to, such as: Cleo said under her breath; Cleo whispered; Cleo said as the truck roared down the road, etc.
Although this story sounds a bit too creepy to be on my TBR list, you’ve hooked me enough that I would like someone else to read it and give me a synopsis because it sounds really interesting.
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ReplyDelete