- I've been working on and off on my first novel. Its about the world gone
totally mad. I've got it completed up to
the second draft. I'm now going through it again and doing a third draft,
and so as I finish each chapter, I shall post it to Green Vibrations. Here
is the first chapter:
by Andy Savage.
Dave lifted his shocked, red face out of the bloodstained snow. He lay
spread-eagled in the middle of the vast, white, open plain, like some great
weight had just rolled over him. There was a taste of acid in his mouth and
he could feel with his tongue a jagged gap where two of his lower incisors
used to be.
He wasn't too sure how long he had been lying in the ice, everything was
spinning around. He guessed he must have lost consciousness for a short
while, and he felt sick. His scalding ears were making a high-pitched
pulsing noise inside his head, and his sinuses were ringing. A hot tear
rolled down his cheek and he let out a pitiful moan. Gritting his teeth, he
started to push his slim body up onto his knees, making the straining
muscles of his skinny arms shake. He felt dizzy, and had to concentrate a
few moments to stop himself from vomiting. With a flash of pain from behind
his green eyes, he heaved himself upright.
He slowly stretched his back, until there was a crack from his spine, and he
held his white haired head, which seemed like it might roll off. He took a
deep breath, permeating his lungs with numbing, glacial air. Squinting, he
looked up. The sky was as blue and thin as his slender hands.
Dave did not yet know if he had been badly injured. He didn't care just now.
He couldn't feel too much. He didn't give it a thought. Everything had
happened at breakneck speed. The smell of the dogs was fresh in his mouth
and he could still hear the sound of the rumbling sleighs speeding into the
distance. He shuddered. He was scared and alone. Something terrible had just
happened and there was nothing he could do about it.
His breath was as ghostly as the endless land. He knew he was lucky. It was
the start of spring, the blizzards had come to an end and the temperature
was now above freezing. Had it been a week earlier he wouldn't have lasted
more than five minutes in the Arctic conditions.
The senses started to return to Dave's body. Everything was hurting. Maybe
he'd been stabbed, perhaps more than once. It was hard to think. The thud of
the baseball bat had emptied his head. He looked around for his sunglasses,
but could only see the smashed remains of the shattered frames.
Nausea was seeping upwards from deep within his stomach. There was a
piercing ache across his back and down his legs. He began to shiver. The
right sleeve of his long leather coat had been torn, and the arm of his
white, woollen pullover underneath was tattered, red and wet. The left knee
of his jeans was ripped, exposing his bare, grazed skin. Not able to reason
clearly, he huddled his arms around himself and stamped his cold, black,
leather boots into the crunchy ground, desperately trying to make his brain
Close by, he saw a purple scarf junked on the snow, and he stooped over
gingerly to retrieve it. He picked it up and held it close against his face.
Simon's smell was on it. It was Simon's scarf. It was still warm. A feeling
of panic burst through Dave. His eyes widened and his heart started to
thump. The horror of what had taken place not five minutes ago now started
to fully hit him, "Oh God," he wept, "Oh God, Simon, I'm so sorry."
Dave felt utterly hopeless and degraded. His memory started to fire images
at him, dreadful, beleaguering images, and with each one he felt more lost
and ashamed, "Oh Lord!" he cried, overwhelmed by despair, "Why Simon? Why my
Shielding his eyes from the dazing, white glow of the messed up snow
spreading out around him, he gazed angrily at the dog sleigh tracks hurrying
off to the northern horizon, "How could I have been so stupid?" he yelled
with frustration and rage in his voice, "How can I be such a complete
idiot!" he bawled, shaking his fists, "Why did I let this happen?"
Dave coughed and felt a sharp, knifelike jab at the top of his chest. He was
finding it painful to breathe. He feared he'd been cut. There was a lot of
blood smeared down his front, but at least it didn't seem to be still
gushing out from anywhere. He wasn't even sure if it was his own blood.
Carefully, he peeled the neck of his pullover open to peer down. There were
three swollen, clotted gashes on his right pectoral. They looked nasty.
Some more visions of the attack shuddered through his mind. He could see the
snapping, yellow teeth going for his legs, taste the solid round wooden bat
in his face and hear the grinning woman's manic whoop.
Then there was his young son's terrified scream as he was seized from his
father's battered arms by the two terrifyingly strong, frenzied men who were
dressed in white bear skins.
Seething tears fell from Dave's face, melting little holes by his feet, and
he held out his bruised hands, "Simon!" he shouted.
It still didn't seem real. It was too awful to contemplate. His son, his
whole reason to stay alive in this refrigerated nightmare of a world, had
been snatched away from him by some evil, cut-throat gang of murderous
bandits in a mad, abrupt instant of horror.
Doggedly, Dave decided he must force himself along the trail made by the
sleighs. He didn't know what else to do. He had nothing left to lose.
Weeping uncontrollably, he staggered forward and shrieked out loud in a
wrathful voice, "I'll get you back. Don't you worry. Your dad's coming. Do
you hear? I'll never give up. I'll make them wish they killed me when they
had the chance. They're going to pay for this! I'll find you, I promise.
I'll get you back! Can you hear me, Simon?"
- isomwave-@... wrote:
> Very vivid work! Are you sending this off for publication? I'mintrigued!
Hey, glad you like it!
I think I will try a few publishers with it once I get through the
third draft, there's still a lot of bits that need tying up, especially
in the later chapters.