Over the past year and a half I have been writing a book. The process has tested me in ways I had not thought possible. There were days I couldn't stop myself from hovering over the keyboard, tapping away as the words formed beneath my eyes. Other days I had to physically disable the internet so that I would be forced to stare at the blinking line that demanded my brain power.
But that is what it is to be a writer. Some days are better than others. Through it all, however, I have never regretted the time spent, no matter how small, that I've given my book. Even if I come back the next day and want to erase the last two pages, it's still something to work with.
So without further adieu, below is an excerpt from my novel entitled "The Defining Moment". Please keep in mind that this is a work in progress and may have grammatical or punctuation errors. Hopefully the full book will be done in the next year. On that note, I hope you enjoy!
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It was night. Elias could always tell because the birds would stop
chirping and the crickets would start. Of course, that was only during the spring
and summer. During the winter, it got cold and no matter how many blankets he
had, he still shivered. She would come and see him in the mornings to make sure
he got up and didn’t “sleep in,” though he never knew what that meant. Sleep
into what? But then he never felt rested no matter how long he slept. His bed
was an itchy mattress separating him from the cold floor. As he grew taller,
the blanket he’d had forever no longer covered his entire body but his mother
never bothered to replace it.
A box in the corner
was full to the top with toys but he hadn’t touched them in a long time. They
stopped being fun years ago and the stuffed animals were dirty and smelled
funny after all this time. But that didn’t stop her from bringing more of them.
The stupid puzzles, the bright and annoying baby games were only a reminder of
how little his mother cared. Apart from that, there wasn’t much there. Just his
bed, a shelf full of books, a small desk and an old looking chair that hurt
when he sat too long on it. He treasured every piece of paper he could find to
write on and even tore blank pages from the books he had outgrown.
He could walk across
the entire room in ten steps. The only way out was the door he’d never been
through. There was a small closet with a toilet and bathtub. She wanted him to
take a bath every day, to look nice. But for who? He didn’t see the point. He
didn’t get dirty, just a little dusty sometimes. It was a way to pass the time
though, the time that went on forever…
Bare walls with no
windows, but he knew there was something outside the small room. If anything, a
whole other world was waiting for him beyond the walls that she kept him locked
within. He knew simply from the books that she had taught him to read. It was
probably a small thing to her but Elias absorbed every word from those pages.
It was more than a way to pass time; it was a growing realization of things he
never knew, never had. Were they really all just stories that someone made up?
Did kids really go to school and play outside? Did they have friends and
brothers and sisters? And what about a dad? Did everyone have one? In the back
of his mind he had small memories of a man who could have been a father but he
wondered sometimes if he’d dreamed it up. His dreams were so much better than
real life.
But Elias learned a
long time ago not to ask his mother about the things from his books. She used
to laugh it off and tell him not to worry about it. As he got older, his
questions were harder to ignore and her patience grew thinner. The last time
Elias asked something she didn’t feed him that day. He was so hungry, his
stomach growled in protest and he cried and banged on the door for her to
remember him. He had upset her and this was how she taught him.
He had asked why he
didn’t have a father.
It hadn’t always been
like that though. He could remember a time where she would never leave him. She
played games with him, read to him, laughed with him. She would spend hours
every day teaching him to read and write. He felt whole.
But as he grew up her
time with him became less and less. He didn’t understand what was happening.
Some days she would bring him all kinds of new toys and books and sweets and
hold him tight. In those moments he never wanted her to leave. She would cradle
him until he fell asleep and when he awoke in the night and found her gone it
was like someone had stolen his only happiness. The loneliness became
overwhelming and after a while he began to cringe when she would enter his room
because he knew that no matter how wonderful she might make him feel, it
wouldn’t last. The aching in his heart would be stronger than ever the moment
she left.
He pulled the faded,
worn covers up over his head and tried to fight back the tears. He had seen
pictures of the sun, the moon, but wished to see them with his own eyes. She
would never tell him why he had to stay there, locked away from the world.
Instead she would answer, “I’m your mother, Elias. What more could you need?”
The real question was,
why was this all he had?
