Chapter One

Chapter One

Part One

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"Don't cling to me, I swear I can't fix you.

Still in the dark, can you fix me?"

-Weight of the World, Evanescence

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I can see my breath leaving my body every time I exhale. To say that it’s cold outside is an understatement, but it’s always cold. I’m used to it. At least inside of my tent, made of animal hide and lined with fur, it is much warmer than outside. But my blood still turns to ice now as my hand moves over the cracked, yellowed piece of paper beneath me. Every time something significant happens in our village it needs to be written down, for our records. The dull pencil in my shaking hand manages to scribble out my message:

December 10th: Kaya Bane disappears for six months. Presumed dead.

The short note is all my trembling fingers can bear before I am forced to drop the pencil, and an icy tear escapes me, rolling down my cheek. I push back the wooden stool I sit on and angrily kick it backwards. In a violent fit of rage I crumple up the piece of paper and toss it across the tent. I stare at it for a moment until the adrenaline in my veins disappears, before silently picking it up again. Smoothing it out, I calmly slide it into the folder where it belongs with the other loose sheets containing our records and history.

Done. I don’t have to look at it anymore.

I know it’s been six months. Everyone wants me to get on with my life now- they don’t say it but I can sense it. At least they feel like I should be putting more effort into getting it together. But what they don’t understand is that being abandoned isn’t something you can get over in six months. They think she’s dead. That’s the explanation I was forced to write. But until they find a body and true evidence, the only logical explanation in my eyes is that she left.

I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and turn to see my father looking down at me. He is a tall man with a face that always seems to carry a lost expression, and dark gray eyes that spill his emotions. Although the gesture is supposed to be a comforting one, it has the opposite effect on me. I never liked his eyes or his emotional weakness. I view it as inferiority.

“Hey…we gave her all the time we could.” His voice is gentle, but his words are aggravating to me, “But you know the rule. After a person has gone missing for six months…we need to give them some kind of explanation.” There is pain in his voice, as if he too struggles with admitting that she’s gone for good, and yet I feel no sympathy for him.

Shrugging his hand off, I hide my glassy eyes from him and wipe my cheek. Without responding, I push back the tent flap and step outside.

Instantly everything is still, as if the people of our village have been frozen by the arctic winds. But it isn’t the cold that makes them stop in their tracks. They are all looking at me. Even the children stop playing and now stare at me frozen in mid-run, all of them knowing that I, as the person in charge of the records, just had to declare my own mother dead.

They stare at me with pity in their eyes. I don’t want pity. I want my mother. And I want them all to just go away and get back to their lives instead of entertaining themselves with mine.

My upper lip curls into a snarl and I glare into the crowd, taking a threatening step forward, “What are you looking at? Get lost!”

Instantly everyone goes on their way, resuming their lives as if nothing had happened, the camp once more thriving with activity, although the tension in the air is evident. For now, I’ve scared them into avoiding me, although I have no true power here. Anger is all I have. It’s the only way to make people leave me alone. I’ll never let it go.

“That’s not how you should treat your people.” My father is still behind me, having followed me out, his voice still annoyingly calm. Once again the sound of it only adds to my irritation.

“I’m not the compassionate leader. That’s your job!” I snap, “I’m an orphan, and I want to be alone now.” I don’t even stop to take in the expression of his face before I storm off, leaving camp to take solace in the woods.

I’m not really an orphan. My mother’s not dead. I know it. I can feel it in my gut. But she’s not here, and although I have my father, he might as well be dead too.

As I storm through the woods with my long hair whipping in my face, getting tangled in branches, I think about how dedicated he is to the village. Because he’s always too busy attending to everyone else, I tend to be put on the backburner. For a long time now I’ve officially seen myself as on my own, whether I like it or not. I always say I don’t like people, but maybe that’s because the loneliness hurts, and I like to pretend I’m okay with it.

I stop at a clearing where I have a clear view of the sky and instinctively I look up. There is no sun. The sky is always cloudy and gray, reflecting my emotions. I stuff my gloved hands in the pockets of my coat and my toes curl inside my boots, digging into the bottom of them and feeling the hard-packed snow beneath. A lump forms in my throat. I wasn’t planning on it, but suddenly my mouth opens and, before I know it, I’m yelling.

“Where the hell did you go?!!” I scream at no one, and yet I’m angry when I don’t get an answer. “Did you follow them? Did you think it would make a difference? Or did you just want to get away? Don’t you even care about the daughter you left behind?!”

My voice echoes and it startles a couple of birds who take off from the trees ahead of me. I stand there for a long time, as if hoping that maybe there would be a response, but the silence eventually becomes too much to bear, and I return to my trek through the woods.

“Screw it… I don’t need you anyway…” I mutter, and after that I speak no more.

Tonight the announcement will be made officially. Everyone knows already though. They’ve all been waiting with bated breath, counting the days just as I have, to see if Kaya Bane would ever return.

 I wasn’t the only one who looked up to her. I wasn’t the only one who thought that she was the one that really led the village. My father is nothing without her. Nothing. And now it’s all going to fall apart.

It’s dark when I know that I have to return. I see the smoke signal in the sky that marks the beginning of the meeting. I struggle with myself, considering not showing up. I almost don’t, until I decide that I am being weak. Weakness is the last thing that I want to show, but my legs are heavy and I reluctantly have to drag them back to camp, hardly convincing myself.

I scarcely make a sound as I arrive on the scene of everyone gathered around the large campfire, my father standing at the center, turned orange in the glow of the flames. I am the last one here out of the thirty people in our group. Looking for a place to disappear into the crowd, I end up choosing a fallen spruce log at the edge of camp instead, avoiding contact with anyone.

My father’s worried eyes follow me, burning a hole into the back of my head. He doesn’t know how to hide how lost he is truly feeling, and he wants me there with him. However, when he discreetly waves me over to stand beside him at the center, I pretend not to see him, fixing my eyes on the ground instead.

I will not be his crutch. That was my mother’s mistake, and now he is weak. And now she is gone.

I can’t hear anything but the crackle of the fire and the howling of the wind as the seconds begin to tick by. My father clears his throat and looks at the ground, occasionally lifting his eyes to glance at the group. I want him to speak already so that I can leave. I want him to stop being a coward. But it takes him too long to say something. At least when he does, I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t waste time on ceremonies, and I’m glad that the announcement doesn’t take too long. If it were drawn out and overly emotional I wouldn’t have come for sure.

“Kaya went missing exactly six months ago today.” He begins, clearing his throat, “I’m not sure why she left, but after losing five people in the last two hunting trips it is possible that she went after them to find them.” He rubs the back of his neck and his voice changes pitch. He’s nervous, but I swear if he breaks down I’m leaving. I pray that he doesn’t. “She always did hold onto the hope that they were okay somewhere…but realistically, at this point, we are forced to conclude that she wasn’t successful and that she is most likely dead. We haven’t found a body, but out here that isn’t likely in any case.”

We all know what he’s talking about. As if on cue, everyone turns to take in the vast wilderness around us. The thick forest of evergreens is a labyrinth, well known for its secrets. People who disappear in it are often never found again. There are too many things that can happen to a body- it can be eaten by wild animals, buried in a blizzard, or perhaps it lies inaccessible at the bottom of a treacherous cliff. No one was expecting a body, but I’m glad we don’t have one. It means there’s still hope.

My father turns to look at me now but I return my blank stare to the ground again. I’ve started to make a crater in the snow with my boots absent-mindedly. I pretend to be very interested in it.

“Lilith is now in charge of keeping track of our records, taking her place.” It’s not an achievement or anything to be the mighty keeper of records, but it’s a necessary announcement I guess. I still wish that he didn’t have to point me out in front of everyone.

Their stupid eyes are staring at me again. I make no eye contact with anyone, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and rage. If they’re expecting me to say anything they’ll be disappointed. They should know better.

The silence continues just as before, and my father offers no further comments. The moment had reached its point where, if left to continue, it would become emotional, and neither he nor I wished for that. I can hear a few people already sniffling, hit with the realization that one of the strongest, most loved people in the village was now gone forever. It wouldn’t be long before someone would want to say something touching about her. But I won’t be there for it.

It’s time for me to go now. My tent is on the other side of the crowd so that I’m forced to walk through them to get to it. They all part ways to let me pass as soon as I rise to my feet, knowing me well enough that they understand getting in my way would be hazardous to their health. My father seems mortified but he’s not allowed to leave, and I don’t care that I’m leaving him alone to deal with it all. I keep my head low and my footsteps fast, and disappear into the only place in the world where I can feel truly safe.

I don’t even bother to pull off my boots as I fall to my knees and drag myself onto the pile of elk fur that I call my bed. I block out the rest of the world by curling up into a ball, letting my thick hair form a suffocating barrier between the air and my face. There’s no chance of anyone coming in here now. This place is mine and mine alone. And here, in the darkness and the solitude, I don’t need to put up walls. And here I can cry.

So I cry. I cry until my face is soaked in tears, and until the icy air freezes them to my cheeks. I cry until the pounding headache in my temples makes me dizzy, until the burning hole in my heart becomes numb. And then I drift off into fitful sleep.

Author's Note

I beg you please to leave me a comment. :) I always love constructive criticism and although some people like to lurk in the shadows it makes me feel good to actually have contact with the people that follow what I write.

Reviews

[Jack Wolfe]

I can see my breath (leaving my body) every time I exhale. (If you’re exhaling your breath is leaving your body, no need to write it out.

I push back the wooden stool I sit on and (angrily) kick it backward(s). (Reorder) e.g. ‘I stood and kicked the wooden stool backward.

No S is needed on backward. If he’s kicking it suggest anger.

*Angrily

*Silently

*Calmly

(Try and omit LY adverbs, they’re a sign of a weak verb, get rid of as many as possible to make your sentences stronger.)

His voice is gentle, but his words are aggravating (to me), (omit)

Instantly (this is the equivalent of suddenly) in writing, nothing happens suddenly, all of the sudden, the pace, tone, and writer’s dictation controls the momentum of the story, it’s also an LY adverb)

You have an interesting start. A woman/mother of great significance is missing, the daughter must find herself in grief, and perhaps overcome her disdain for her father. The story has promise, but there are technical aspects that need to be addressed. I would recommend writing this in the past-tense to avoid the passive voice, and scanning the story for the issues I pointed out above: Ly, Adverbs, omitting needless words, strengthening your sentences.

I hope this helps. If you have any questions feel free to ask.

[La Tigresa]

Thanks for the constructive criticism! I too have noticed these things and it seemed a little off to me but I didn't know WHAT exactly was off until you pointed it out. While I still prefer the present-tense and will stay in it for this story, I will work on the other issues. I actually didn't really know what passive voice was before I looked it up just now and now I understand a little better what needs to be done. When the story is finished, I'll go back and fix those mistakes.

[Delmar Cooper]

I have read and enjoyed this chapter. It is well formatted and professionally displayed. I have also read the comments of Foltz, Nonnye, and Wolfe. I agree with them and can not add anything else that might benefit the piece. You are lucky to have received this much cogent and helpful comment.

[Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere]

I think this is an interesting and fascinating begin of a story, strong too. I'm fond of these apocalyptic tales. Very well done, I'll read some more when I have time. :)

Rudi

[Skai Rain]

Great beginning. Your descriptions paint a brilliant picture and I am excited to read more. Keep up the good work! It may take me a long while to catch up but I shall do my best.

[Pryde Foltz]

I have read a lot of writing on here … a lot … so let me preface this by saying you are ahead of the pack in the story-writing category. That said I do have some critiques for you.

First you show and tell … if the action and the dialogue already show me how the character feels … you don't have tell me also. You show the reader very well how Lilith feels about her father and her mothers absence …
'his words are aggravating to me' we don't need this kind of thing.

The other thing is although you prose is accomplished, descriptive and beautiful … you could benefit from the less (words) is more rule. For example with this sentence below.


'I can’t hear anything but the crackle of the fire and the howling of the wind as the seconds begin to tick by.'

The fire crackles. The wind howls and I hear nothing else.

Ore even better …. The fire crackles. The wind howls. They wait for me to respond. This brings the reader into the moment and more intimately into the character of Lilith. They are not just seeing into Lilith mind … they are sensing as she would.

Anyways … I hope my critique is of some help … thanks again for you lovely words on the Wisp.

[La Tigresa]

Thank you for taking the time to review this! Yes I have been hearing this a lot lately, particularly with this first chapter. I agree and will definitely need to go back and revise all of this now that I have a better understanding of the way it needs to be done.

[Pryde Foltz]

Don't get discouraged … you have the goods:)

[La Tigresa]

Oh I'm far from discouraged. :) I just found the piece that my writing was missing. Thanks to you (and the other reviewers) for helping me find it!

[Nonnye]

Hi and thanks for posting this.
You have created two sympathetic characters and believable tension between father and daughter and daughter and the village. You have also made me want to know what has happened to the girl's mother and why. So for me the hooks for the story are firmly in place.
Some observations: In the second sentence you have shown that it is cold outside and you have painted a picture of what the weather is generally like. The line with" . . . it is an understatement" Takes away from the picture you are painting and momentarily me takes me out of the setting.
"At least inside of my tent, made of animal hide and lined with fur, it is much warmer than outside." You may want to consider re working this line. There is a wonderful foreshadowing that flows from this to the very next sentence. It is a great "hook" but it was almost lost in the arrangement of the sentence.
You have two strong characters, an excellent depictions of place and a mystery and I am looking forward to reading more.
Nonnye

[La Tigresa]

Thank you for pointing those things out to me! When I finish the story, I'll go back and implement your suggestions. I do agree with you that those sentences in particular need to be reworded. I'm so glad that you liked it. :)

[nickdaman6]

Quite brilliant, honestly. The way you take this entire first chapter to give a description of your main character, who seems to have a complex, yet aggressive personality, was a great start. You get into the head of this character and examine the wake that was left due to her losing her mother, great move and great emotions towards everything else. Only caring about her mother, but no one else, then taking that loss and turning it into anger, aggravation, negative energy, I love it! You made this character realistic and strong in my eyes, not some needy little girl who relies on others to support her in her time of loss (the basic, happy-go-lucky characters in an unrealistic way). I like her character, I really do. Again, brilliant job, I'll keep reading along and see what's what!

[La Tigresa]

Thank you! I'm very glad you enjoyed it and thank you so much for leaving a review.

[Aidan]

I really enjoyed this chapter! I'm interested in reading more to see how your character, and her story develop. I think you've got a real strength for conveying setting and atmosphere. However, I think you could be a bit more expressive with your diction. I can really see your character's emotions of anger, confusion, and abandonment. I'd really like to feel them, as well! I look forward to reading the next.

[La Tigresa]

Thank you for for your review! The flow of the story and the wording are the hardest things for me to do and I'm constantly working on making it better. When I finish the story, I'll go back and try to fix anything that seems off. I know some lines here and there do need tightening up. I'm glad you liked it though. :)

[Maglia Weaver Twill]

Lovely Tigresa, I can see where you are and hear what you are thinking