Dirt - 2nd chapter

[sldwyer]

After the great feedback with my first chapter, I am posting chapter 2. I don't feel comfortable with the beginning of this chapter, although readers have told me they like it and to leave it in. I really can't put my finger on what bothers me about it, so maybe someone else will see what I don't.


Dirt
Chapter two


Shadows clung to the faded walls of the front room as Becka traced her life with Hank through her small collection of mementos. Her eyes took in every inch of the neat room, finally landing on a shelf nearest her chair. She reached for the kewpie doll won at the state fair the first year they were married. The plump porcelain doll with a smiling face and top knot hair had enchanted her as a young teenager fresh from her family’s home in Kentucky. The few dollars they spent at the fair had been an extravagance she and Hank could ill afford at the time. Being young and in love, they threw sensibility to the wind and made memories that would last forever. Only forever wasn't such a long time after all.

She returned the doll to its place on the self, running her fingertip across the smiling face. A pearly white stone found in the field when they first moved here brought her hand back to the shelf. The sharp edges were now smooth from years of rubbing her fingers over the pretty rock. When they married, the idea of owning so much land was only a dream. Then Hank’s grandfather left all this land to them as a wedding gift, fifty acres of scrub land and a weather beaten house seemed like a gift worth a fortune in 1920. She put the stone in her pocket and moved on to the rocking chair. Becka gently touched the old chair. Many a night she sat there rocking Sammy as a newborn, then Birdie when she developed colic. The click clack from a chip in the rocker leg lulled the children to sleep, and at times herself. Hank would find them fast asleep when he came down in the morning. The small house was saturated with memories.

Becka’s eyes filled with tears and the room blurred as memories flashed before her, one by one. With Hank by her side, she had toiled in the heat of each new day to grow a crop which would sustain them until they were able to increase the farm and provide a healthy living for their small family. All their hard work came to this sad point in their young lives, save the children however they could. Her spiritual beliefs made the decision all the harder. Would she and Hank meet again and one day reunite them with Sammy and Birdie? Or would she be damned in hell for taking this path and forever be bound to yearn for what she once had? As hard as she had prayed for guidance, there had been no revelation of future redemption.

“Becka, please don’t torture yerself this way. We can change our minds,” Hank said, interrupting her mental anguish. He held her tightly, hoping to give her support, whatever her decision may be.

“Ya know I love ya. I jes don’t see no other way. I’ve looked and I’ve prayed. There ain’t no more answers. We got no one to help us through this. My babies are more important then anythin' else.” Becka pulled away and crossed the dust covered floor to the stairs. “I gotta take one more look at my babies.”

With Hank following, Becka climbed the steep stairs with heavy feet, by habit avoiding the creaky spot. She ran her hand along the peeling wallpaper as she made her way to the top. They reached the dark landing and crossed the few feet over to Birdie’s room. Treading lightly, Becka stood beside her daughter’s bed. She leaned over and gently pulled back the damp sheet covering Birdie’s head. Soft auburn curls, damp from the sheet, cascaded across the pillow. Becka caressed the outline of her daughter’s face, then smoothed her curls. Tears spilled from her eyes as she kissed her child’s cheek. Hank did the same and returned the protective sheet over Birdie’s head.

Hand in hand, they left the room and moved across the hall.

Sammy had heard them enter his sister's room. He wondered if they would come to his, too. If they did, he wasn't going to let them know he heard them talking downstairs. Anger filled his small head. The thought of them going away and leaving him and his sister alone was more than he could forgive.
Sammy held his breath when his parents entered his room. He counted to ten to quiet his nerves. Slow deep breaths. He would pretend to be asleep. He lay there, unmoving beneath the damp sheet.

Becka walked to his bed and lifted the sheet. Sammy’s dark hair lay plastered to his face. She brushed a wisp of his hair away and looked longly at his young face, just now beginning to show his father’s features. He had her nose, turned up on the end and her long fingers. Everything else was pure Hank. Large, deep brown eyes seemed to hold all the sights of the world in them, a strong chin that jutted out even further when he let his stubborn streak take control, and his thick dark hair that never would stay where you combed it. Tall and gangly, he was a handsome boy who would one day be a handsome man, just like his father.

Hank and Becka kissed their son and left the room. Before closing the door, she whispered, “I love you, Sammy.”

After the door shut and he heard their footsteps retreat down the stairs, Sammy whispered back, “No you don’t.”


The late morning sun streamed through the break between the sheet and window frame. Sammy blinked and rubbed his eyes. He stretched, pushed the now dry sheet off his face and jerked up. His eyes darted from the window, then around his bare room, momentarily unsure why he was still in bed when the sun was up so high.
Had his parents left? Or had it all been a bad dream?

He jumped out of bed and pulled his overalls on over the underwear he had slept in. Shirtless, he hurried out of his room and across the hall to Birdie’s room, his bare feet slapping on the dusty, wood floor. When he found her bed empty he rushed to his parents room. His hand reached for the doorknob. He couldn't ever remember their bedroom door shut this late in the morning. His hand rose once again to knock and dropped. Should he knock or just call out?

His stomach twisted, threatening to claw its way out through his skin. He shivered in the heat of the early morning.

A silent house and closed doors didn’t bode well for Sammy. No, by this time in the morning, everyone had been up, eaten, and out the door for chores. Everything felt wrong. Maybe he didn’t dream the conversation he overheard last night.

He grabbed the door knob,threw the door open. His heart stopped for a second. The room was neat, tidy. The bed made and clothes hung on the pegs against the wall. He spun and ran out of the room, down the stairs, through the parlor and into the kitchen.

Skidding to a stop in the doorway, he found Birdie at the table chewing on a slice of old bread. Nicknamed because she never seemed to grow and always complained she was hungry. A little bird with her mouth always going, asking for more to eat. At seven-years old, she resembled more of a four-year old, shorter than her friends, thin as a reed with tiny hands and feet. Her curly auburn hair framed a pale oval face dominated with large gray eyes.

Her head bounced up when she heard Sammy at the doorway. She frowned and said, “I can’t find momma and daddy and I’m hungry. How come momma’s not here fixin' brefess?”

“Did ya look outside? Sammy answered.

Birdie nodded, “I looked from the porch.”

“Well, maybe they’re in the fields. Didn’t you go out in the yard lookin'?”

Birdie started to cry. “I was scared to go off by myself. Momma should be here.”

“Great. Come on, lets go look for em',” Sammy said. He walked past his sister and pulled the back door open. He stood on the porch and searched the yard and fields. As he took off down the steps, Birdie ran after him.

“Wait fer me, Sammy.”

“I ain’t waitin’. We gotta find them.” Frightened and hopeful at the same time, Sammy wanted to know if his parents had really left them. He ran to the fence on the side of the house and searched the fields for any sign. Windswept dirt lay in mounds against the fence and outbuildings, creating miniature hills. He climbed over the fence and up the banked dirt behind the tool shed and scanned the barren acres.

No sign of anyone.

He slid down the hill and rushed back to the yard. Standing beneath the old half-dead Prickly Ashe tree, Sammy turned in circles looking out over the flat landscape for a sign, any sign of their parents. He knew he had missed something. Though he couldn’t think what it could be, until he realized, besides his parents missing, the truck was gone. No truck meant they had really left.

“Noooo,” he yelled. “You can’t go off an’ leave us.” He stood there, beneath the tree, angry. “How can you do that?”

He almost jumped out of his overalls when Birdie came up behind him and laid her small hand on his shoulder. He spun around and glared at her. “Don’t you be sneakin up on me, ya hear.” He pushed Birdie away causing her to fall.

He could hear his sister crying while he sprinted for the barn. He threw the door open and to his amazement, there, in the middle of the barn sat the truck. Sammy slumped to the dirt floor and let out the breath he had been holding. His parents hadn’t left after all. How could they have gone anywhere, the truck was still here. But, didn't he hear his ma saying they ain't got no money for gas.

Then, where were they? Maybe they done went on over to the town. He could think of lots more places they could have gone to. Didn't mean they weren't comin' back on home.

He stood,dusted himself off. A whole lot of worrying for nothing. He felt stupid for carrying on like a scared child. He turned around when a gust of wind rushed through the open door, swirling dirt and pieces of straw. From the corner of his eye he caught a shadow dance across the dirt floor. Sammy slowly tilted his head up. Two pairs of feet dangled above the front of the truck. As his eyes traveled up further, he saw legs attached to those feet. Then the bodies came into his view. His mother and father hung from the barn rafters. They hadn’t left after all, in a sense.

He gulped. Stood there paralyzed.

From behind him he could hear Birdie crying. “What’s wrong with momma and daddy?”

“Git outta here, Birdie. Now.” he yelled.

“I want my momma. I want my momma,” she cried.

“I said git.” Sammy grabbed Birdie’s arm and dragged her out of the barn.

[SSB]

Wow!

[sldwyer]

I hope that means you like what I posted. I am still not sure of the first part of this chapter - before Sammy wakes.
But, thanks for reading it.

SL

[ninafromnorway]

Amazing! I you've really got me here, and I already find myself annoyed that I'm not able to read more.

Only two comments:

Then, where were they? Maybe they done went on over to the town. He could think of lots more places they could have gone to. Didn't mean they weren't comin' back on home.

Further at the bottom you have this little paragraph. I'm wondering if this is what the MC is thinking, or if this is what the narrator is telling us? (I might me using my words incorrectly here, so bare with me). If it is the narrator, than it shouldn't be in dialect, as the rest of the narrative story isn't.

Also, You have used the colour "auburn" to describe the hair of the mother and the son. You have also used it two describe it for the daughter, and there it's a bit too much use of the word. Maybe you should try and edit that sentence and maybe say something of how she inherited her hair colour aswell?

It's such small pickings that I shouldn't even bother to make a comment about it.

This is absolutely a great story!

[Emily J]

After the great feedback with my first chapter, I am posting chapter 2. I don't feel comfortable with the beginning of this chapter, although readers have told me they like it and to leave it in. I really can't put my finger on what bothers me about it, so maybe someone else will see what I don't.


Dirt
Chapter two


Shadows clung to the faded walls of the front room as Becka traced her life with Hank through her small collection of mementos. feels a bit overt, I think you can describe her looking through the items and let us infer the rest Her eyes took in every inch of the neat room, finally landing on a shelf nearest her chair. She reached for the kewpie doll won at the state fair the first year they were married. The plump porcelain doll with a smiling face and top knot hair had enchanted her as a young teenager fresh from her family’s home in Kentucky. The few dollars they spent at the fair had been an extravagance she and Hank could ill afford at the time. Being young and in love, they threw sensibility to the wind and made memories that would last forever. Only forever wasn't such a long time after all. <-- i like this sentence

She returned the doll to its place on the self, running her fingertip across the smiling face. A pearly white stone found in the field when they first moved here brought her hand back to the shelf. The sharp edges were now smooth from years of rubbing her fingers over the pretty rock. When they married, the idea of owning so much land was only a dream. Then Hank’s grandfather left all this land to them as a wedding gift, <-- this comma should be a semi-colon fifty acres of scrub land and a weather beaten house had? seemed like a gift worth a fortune in 1920. She put the stone in her pocket and moved on to the rocking chair. Becka gently touched the old chair. Many a night she sat there rocking Sammy as a newborn, then Birdie when she developed colic. The click clack from a chip in the rocker leg lulled the children to sleep, and at times herself. <-- you might consider putting the memories into past perfect simple tense: "Many a night she had sat there rocking Sammy... then Birdie when she had developed colic" as these events happened previous to the events being described in past tense Hank would find them fast asleep when he came down in the morning. The small house was saturated with memories. <-- a bit more telling than showing

Becka’s eyes filled with tears and the room blurred as extra space here? memories starting to feel that "memories" is being over-used flashed before her, one by one. With Hank by her side, she had toiled <-- see, here you ARE using past perfect simple in the heat of each new day to grow a crop which would sustain them until they were able to increase the farm and provide a healthy living for their small family. All their hard work came to this sad point in their young lives, i think this sentence could be tied together a bit more save the children however they could. Her spiritual beliefs this feels unnecessarily vague, was she raised Catholic on that farm in Kentucky? made the decision all the harder. Would she and Hank meet again and one day reunite them with Sammy and Birdie? Or would she be damned in hell damned in hell feels redundant, I think damned is enough for taking this path and forever be bound to yearn for what she once had? not sure these two sentences work for me As hard as she had prayed for guidance, there had been no revelation of future redemption. no revelation of future redemption sounds a bit formal

“Becka, please don’t torture yerself this way. We can change our minds,” Hank said, interrupting her mental anguish. He held her tightly, hoping to give her support, whatever her decision may be.

“Ya know I love ya. I jes don’t see no other way. I’ve looked and I’ve prayed. There ain’t no more answers. We got no one to help us through this. My babies are more important then anythin' else.” Becka pulled away and crossed the dust covered floor to the stairs. “I gotta take one more look at my babies.”

With Hank following, Becka climbed the steep extra space in here i think stairs with heavy feet, by habit avoiding the creaky spot. She ran her hand along the peeling wallpaper as she made her way to the top. They reached the dark landing and crossed the few feet over to Birdie’s room. Treading lightly, Becka stood beside her daughter’s bed. She leaned over and gently pulled back the damp sheet covering Birdie’s head. Soft auburn curls, damp from the sheet, cascaded across the pillow. Becka caressed the outline of her daughter’s face, then smoothed her curls. Tears spilled from her eyes as she kissed her child’s cheek. Hank did the same and returned the protective sheet over Birdie’s head.

Hand in hand, they left the room and moved across the hall.

Sammy had heard them enter his sister's room. He wondered if they would come to his, too. If they did, he wasn't going to let them know he heard them talking downstairs. Anger filled his small head. The thought of them going away and leaving him and his sister alone was more than he could forgive.
Sammy held his breath when his parents entered his room. He counted to ten to quiet his nerves. Slow comma deep breaths. He extra space here as well i think would pretend to be asleep. He lay there, unmoving beneath the damp sheet.

Becka walked to his bed and lifted the sheet. Sammy’s dark hair lay plastered to his face. She brushed a wisp of his hair away and looked longly this threw me off a bit, longly or longingly? at his young face, just now beginning to show his father’s features. He had her nose, turned up on the end and her long fingers. Everything else was pure Hank. Large, deep brown eyes seemed to hold all the sights of the world in them, a strong chin that jutted out even further farther when he let his stubborn streak take control, and his thick dark hair that never would stay where you combed it. <-- that isn't a complete sentence, but it might be a stylistic choice Tall and gangly, he was a handsome boy who would one day be a handsome man, perhaps a dash here? or a colon, a comma doesn't feel quite strong enough just like his father.

Hank and Becka kissed their son and left the room. Before closing the door, she whispered, “I love you, Sammy.”

After the door shut and he heard their footsteps retreat down the stairs, Sammy whispered back, “No you don’t.”


The late morning sun streamed through the break between the sheet and window frame. Sammy blinked and rubbed his eyes. He stretched, pushed the now dry sheet off his face and jerked up. His eyes darted from the window, then around his bare room, momentarily unsure why he was still in bed when the sun was up so high. <-- this sentence needs to be rephrased, the way it is written his eyes are momentarily unsure, I don't think that is what you mean
Had his parents left? Or had it all been a bad dream?

He jumped out of bed and pulled his overalls on over the underwear "he had slept in" feels unnecessary he had slept in. Shirtless, he hurried out of his room and across the hall to Birdie’s room, his bare feet slapping on the dusty, wood floor. When he found her bed empty he rushed to his parents room. His hand reached for the doorknob. He couldn't ever remember their bedroom door shut this late in the morning. His hand rose once again to knock and dropped. Should he knock or just call out?

His stomach twisted, threatening to claw its way out through his skin. He shivered in the heat of the early morning.

A silent house and closed doors didn’t bode well for Sammy. No, by this time in the morning, everyone had been up, eaten, and out the door for chores. Everything felt wrong. Maybe he didn’t dream the conversation he overheard last night.

He grabbed the door knob,threw the door open. His heart stopped for a second. The room was neat, tidy. The bed made and clothes hung on the pegs against the wall. He spun and ran out of the room, down the stairs, through the parlor and into the kitchen.

Skidding to a stop in the doorway, he found Birdie at the table chewing on a slice of old bread. Nicknamed because she never seemed to grow and always complained she was hungry. A little bird with her mouth always going, asking for more to eat. At seven-years old, <-- actually i dont think you need to hyphenate here, "At seven years old," but hyphenated for when it comes before a noun, the seven-year-old girl she resembled more of a four-year old, shorter than her friends, thin as a reed "thin as a reed" is a bit over-used with tiny hands and feet. Her curly comma auburn hair framed a pale comma oval face dominated with large comma gray eyes. <-- adjective overload

Her head bounced up when she heard Sammy at the doorway. She frowned and said, “I can’t find momma and daddy and I’m hungry. How come momma’s not here fixin' brefess?”

“Did ya look outside? Sammy answered.

Birdie nodded, “I looked from the porch.”

“Well, maybe they’re in the fields. Didn’t you go out in the yard lookin'?”

Birdie started to cry. “I was scared to go off by myself. Momma should be here.”

“Great. Come on, lets go look for em',” Sammy said. He walked past his sister and pulled the back door open. He stood on the porch and searched the yard and fields. As he took off down the steps, Birdie ran after him.

“Wait fer me, Sammy.”

“I ain’t waitin’. We gotta find them.” Frightened and hopeful at the same time, Sammy wanted to know if his parents had really left them. He ran to the fence on the side of the house and searched the fields for any sign. Windswept dirt lay in mounds against the fence and outbuildings, creating miniature hills. He climbed over the fence and up the banked dirt behind the tool shed and scanned the barren acres. <-- i like this paragraph

No sign of anyone.

He slid down the hill and rushed back to the yard. Standing beneath the old half-dead Prickly Ashe tree, Sammy turned well he isn't standing, he is turning in circles right? in circles looking out over the flat landscape for a sign, any sign of their parents. He knew he had missed something. Though he couldn’t think what it could be, until he realized, besides his parents missing, <-- cut this? maybe just "Though he couldn't think what it could be, until he realized the truck was gone." the truck was gone. No truck meant they had really left.

“Noooo,” he yelled. “You can’t go off an’ leave us.” He stood there, beneath the tree, angry. “How can you do that?”

He almost jumped out of his overalls when Birdie came up behind him and laid her small hand on his shoulder. He spun around and glared at her. “Don’t you be sneakin up on me, ya hear.” He pushed Birdie away causing her to fall.

He could hear his sister crying while he sprinted for the barn. He threw the door open and to his amazement, there, in the middle of the barn comma sat the truck. Sammy slumped to the dirt floor and let out the breath he had been holding. His parents hadn’t left after all. How could they have gone anywhere, the truck was still here. But, didn't he hear his ma saying they ain't got no money for gas.

Then, where were they? Maybe they done went on over to the town. He could think of lots more places they could have gone to. Didn't mean they weren't comin' back on home.

He stood, need a space here dusted himself off. A whole lot of worrying for nothing. He felt stupid for carrying on like a scared child. He turned around when a gust of wind rushed through the open door, swirling dirt and pieces of straw. From the corner of his eye he caught a shadow dance across the dirt floor. Sammy slowly tilted his head up. Two pairs of feet dangled above the front of the truck. As his eyes traveled up further, he saw legs attached to those feet. Then the bodies came into his view. His mother and father hung from the barn rafters. They hadn’t left after all, in a sense.

He gulped. Stood there paralyzed.

From behind him he could hear Birdie crying. “What’s wrong with momma and daddy?”

“Git outta here, Birdie. Now.” he yelled.

“I want my momma. I want my momma,” she cried.

“I said git.” Sammy grabbed Birdie’s arm and dragged her out of the barn.

NOOO! I had such a visceral reaction to this (which is probably a good sign in terms of writing) but my reaction was STUPID PARENTS!!! THIS WAS THE WORST IDEA EVER! If they weren't dead I would kill them. Did they even think about the psychological damage they are inflicting upon their children? Argg. They are really dumb, for real. I hope they at least told someone "hey you might want to stop by the house and check on the children in case we hang ourselves."
Whew, deep breaths.

[sldwyer]

Gosh Emily, you have a great eye for tweaking. Not to mention, all the other editing. I am really impressed with your attention to every word written. Are you an professional editor? You make me want to keep posting each chapter just to see what you do with it.
I can't thank you enough for your notes. I wasn't comfortable with the beginning and now I think with your suggestions, I may be able to work with it.

Yes, the parents were stupid, but at that time a lot of people did the unthinkable. People were jumping out of windows and every other type of suicide. Desperation took over logic. I had hoped to show this desperation in the first chapter where the state wouldn't take the children if there was an able body person to care for them. Since the Larkins didn't qualify , this was the only way they though they could get the children taken care of.

[SSB]

I like your story. It shows how desperate the times were, and you capture it in a harsh, yet extremely realistic way.

[sldwyer]

Thank you. It was a horrific time in our recent history and the people who lived through the double whammy suffered the most. The book is more about how perseverance and determination can get you past the worst of times, but also how people lose their perspective on life.

[ABFTomioka]

What a compelling story! I'm desperate to know what happens next. Wonderful work!

[sldwyer]

Thank you so much. I am a little reluctant to put up the next chapter. I don't want people to think I am over using this website forum.