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@loopylin @rae @koshka @ellette-giselle @theducktator
Yaay, I actually have a self-contained snippet to share. This is pre-teen Barnes, in case you’re not sure who she is.
The typewriter clicked to a stop, its keys fluttering up and down like the legs of an overturned insect. Lucille opened her eyes. The sun glared through her eyelashes, turning everything sharp gold.
She sat on an empty train platform. Made out of thick boards, and built far away from the factory entrance, the platform existed for wagon trucks to line up their beds and slide cargo on board. Sharp scratches ran through the wood’s surface. Box shelves lay underneath it, hanging over the bank of the railroad, for soft packages to stay safe when it rained. Tiny metal symbols poked out – swirls and little bells – to mark mail slots. The mail system was concealed by the platform, which was only a discolored patch on the landscape, blasted into the field by years of use.
Light brown grass lay about, waning in the heat. It seemed to have cracked into shavings, like the grayish coating on old chocolate. Dust rose into the air, not too violently, but with a distinct layer on the railway.
“Pidge.”
Lucille startled and looked around. A tall, graying man with a curved back walked towards her from the factory dropoff. He wore a worn-out uniform.
“Dad,” Lucille called out. She watched him without moving. Her position was comfortable enough, and if she moved, her typing period would be officially finished.
Dali climbed up the wood steps and stood next to her, staring out as she did over the empty track. “You like to breathe out here.”
She scooted backwards, far enough to reach the box of papers at her side, and handed it to him. “Mm, I – I copied the steel work permissions for you.”
“West, North, East…” Dali looked over the dividers. He glanced over and smiled, brushing his hand through his daughter’s linty, close-cropped hair. “Hi, babe.”
She did not smile back, but after a moment, she leaned into his hand. His palm had a warmth of a different sort from the sun. “Hi.”
“Another request box comes in soon.”
“Yes, I will br- uh, bring it right away, sir.”
With that, her father walked off to his overseer station inside the factory maw. His station was overshadowed by a roof and hard to see from the outside, especially at a long distance. The outside area quieted, and the only thing heard was grasshopper chirping and the light hiss of steam from the tar kegs.
Lucille returned to her work, making a format-heavy report for herself to remember what she had done. She blinked as sweat trickled into her left eye. Even the shadow of her typewriter wanted to boil on the ground. Heat bothered her, but she could afford it. No matter how long she spent outside, her skin remained pale, and her flowing shirt took in the breeze.
Ever since she shaved her hair off, some experiences had become more dynamic. Temperature and appearance stopped demanding her attention, but on the other hand, her thoughts came loose with her freedom and flew in the way of other people.
“Hey!” Somebody laughed in the distance.
The faint silhouettes of children ambled along the track, coming back as they always did from their walk. It was the second time they traveled the field that day – having passed through at a different distance before. It was Soren, Cane and a few others.
“Hey,” Lucille said in a lower tone. She tugged at her lace collar.
Their silhouettes materialized. Their school uniforms stuck to their backs, slick from the walk, and the heaviest boys did not wear shirts at all. They barked and scampered to the platform, shoes slapping against wood as they climbed up.
Cane was the laugher. The boy had soft green eyes, the kind that confused people when he meant to cause discomfort. When he stepped close to Lucille, his shoes threw loose rocks onto the track. “Your dad is stingy with mine, I think. Hm? What do you think?”
Lucille began typing again. She spoke with confidence, although her words came slowly. “I’m sure he has a good reason. After all, nobody is… hm. Exempt from… from imperfection.”
“Okay. You should know why he restricted our pay. Maybe he told you, and you were too slow on the ball.”
“Maybe you’re right.” There wasn’t anything else to say.
“You want to play games with us?”
“No, but thank you.”
“You would probably win. Sitting on the rail would do nothing to you. You’re cold, you’re a stone.”
Of her body’s own accord, Lucille tensed one shoulder and the other. The nerves flared inside. “I’m not cold, I’m… hm. Very warm actually.”
“I bet you’re heavy as a stone,” Soren laughed.
Suddenly arms wrapped around Lucille’s armpits and yanked her upwards. Air exhaled from her lungs and her soft chest stung. She fell forward, her hands knocking over her work.
One of her hands landed on the typewriter, and some of the keys smashed into her palm. She grunted from the pain, her fingers tingling as she held them up to see. A gash already formed on her hand, pulsing and swelling, surrounded by white flesh.
She got up and swung wildly at Soren’s face. She hit him with such force that his teeth slammed into his bottom lip, and blood spattered over his nose and chin.
He roared, yanked her forward by her blouse. The two of them swung back and forth, trying to get the upper hand by grappling each other’s shoulders. The other children did not step in.
Shouts and words faded, and became a distant buzzing in Lucille’s head, like flies on a carcass. Her pulse builded with sudden fury. She had been surprised – interrupted – and the interruption burned her at a sharper frequency than anything else. Everything fizzed together into an agonizing mixture of noises and smells.
For a moment, she was in control. Even they had to realize she was just as wiry and strong. She held Soren’s balance, and as his foot slipped over the platform, she imagined dropping him headfirst onto the rails.
Their eyes met. Soren bit his lip. The children’s yells died down.
Lucille, still trembling with anger, slowly pulled him away from the edge.
Soren grinned and repaid her in the worst possible way. He took her wounded hand and twisted it, her whole arm burning up to the shoulder blade. Lucille tried to spin away, but somehow went the wrong direction. Stars burst in her head, numbing her immediately into confusion.
Cane came up from behind, twisted his fingers into the roots of her hair, and forced her to look upwards. “Look over there. You see the dropoff?”
She wanted to push him away with her words. But she could not let go of the fire clenched in her teeth.
“Call your dad. Call for help, do it.”
Along the tracks, past the field, figures moved within the factory dropoff. Her father, the overseer, was somewhere in there. He talked and laughed with his workers, saving a spot for Lucille to be a part of their day. He always made a dedicated space for her, ever since she was small. He believed she made the workers smile.
These were workers’ children.
Lucille opened her mouth uselessly, and couldn’t bring herself to do it.
As the pain stung her temples, Cane’s voice whispered, “You got held back this year for throwing a fit in front of the regional overseer. Have you thought about that at all? I can’t believe you’re older than me. You’re retarded.”
They threw her down headfirst. Her ears rang as her chin slapped the platform.
The children’s footfalls receded. Sound died back to become peaceful grasshopper chirps again. Somewhere in the field, an engine sputtered into life, and joined the dull, buzzing pain in Lucille’s chest.
I will make you lose The Game with me.
I hesitated for like ten minutes before pushing the submit button. I don’t know how some of you guys do this regularly. :’-)
I will make you lose The Game with me.
woah! That was crazy!
Thanks for sharing!!!
Fires will rise to testify that 2+2=4. Swords will be drawn to prove that leaves are green in summer
:] Mayhaps I will post more when desire returns.
I will make you lose The Game with me.
Aw, Lucille… I like Lucille.
I think I like her dad. Is he Dali?
I also found her description of her hair fascinating. Is it just metaphor, or does it have an important part in the plot/worldbuilding?
Those other kids are bullies. 😠 The struggle of wills in the fight was really good though. I liked how you focus on her not throwing Soren to the rails, then had them throw her to the platform, although I was a little confused about the placement of things. And of course, I didn’t like them doing it, but that’s not because it was ill written. XD And I would be interested in seeing how their arcs span.
Thank you for sharing! I got so excited when I realized it was a snippet. =D
You have listened to fears, child. Come, let me breathe on you... Are you brave again? -Aslan
Wow. Poor Lucille.
"Don't shine so that others can see you. Shine so that through you, others can see Him." ~ C.S.L.
*Gasp*
Wow. I like Lucille Barnes. The whole scene was beautiful to read, although I’d like to slap a few kids silly. The descriptions were clear and lovely.
Poor Lucille.
A cup of tea is cheaper than therapy.
She’s my favorite, may I have mercy on her soul. XD
I think I like her dad. Is he Dali?
Yes, he’s Dali. I call Lucille’s mum by her name as well. It feels more humanizing to call him that in this story rather than calling him ‘her dad’ or Dad.
I also found her description of her hair fascinating. Is it just metaphor, or does it have an important part in the plot/worldbuilding?
Lucille acts instead of explaining her emotions. If she wants something, she starts working for it without asking her parents for it. If she is uncomfortable, she will get to the point where she bursts into tears before she says anything about her discomfort. The buzzed hair is one example. She cut her hair as an outlet for the more complex emotions that don’t have a plain solution.
I liked how you focus on her not throwing Soren to the rails, then had them throw her to the platform, although I was a little confused about the placement of things.
Ah, I should make that clearer! Will do. *Salutes*
And I would be interested in seeing how their arcs span.
The actual story kicks off at least ten years after this scene. :] However I like writing the backstory. Lucille has a lot of mixed experiences as a child and I’m trying to straighten them out.
My humblest apologies…
I will make you lose The Game with me.
*Does a little dance* Descriptions are sometimes the bane of my existence because you never know if they’re coming across.
And I promise bullying isn’t the majority of Lucille’s childhood experience. There are actually so many things I want to write about for her, and many things are more cheerful and interesting.
I will make you lose The Game with me.
1. As always, I absolutely love reading your writing. Thanks for sharing <3
2. There will be more Fel and Lo scenes eventually. I’m currently struggling with coming up with a villain and filling out the main plot.
3. Your current signature is diabolical and not appreciated.
🎵Movin’ right along🎶
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