A moment alone

It was the kind of day where the sun would only shine as it set, casting a pall over the riot of color in the trees. Even the chill which had crept in over night, bringing an anxious demeanor to the squirrels zigzagging over the lawn, could not breathe life into the day. It was as if the day had died. The fields filled with broken corn stalks and dried soy beans only added to the somber tone. Summer was long gone and even the bright patches of Fall could not hide that fact anymore.

She sat quietly with the gray light of the dead day and let her mind turn to horror movies, it was the season was it not. Would she feel more alive if a child walked out of the corn with bright blue eyes or a red ballon drifted by? She doubted it, but a part of her still waited for the goosebump shivers and startled scream as if it were a lifeline.

She was sure people thought her odd, not many walked in graveyards just because or stared at shadows till they took shape, but that wasn’t hers to deal with. That was the concern of others. She just wanted to enjoy the numbing void for awhile before they ruined it all.

Her fingers itched, all sticky and tacky, but it was the sirens that bothered her the most.

She had just wanted a moment alone.

It was already over

Fall rolled in like a thunder storm, dark and ominous. In New England the changing season was more than a damp heaviness in the air, it was an assault to the senses, and it sent the many inhabitants of Concord into frenzy. It seemed to Abigail that the riot of color came with a warning call only the busybody could hear. In her limited experience, it seemed, people’s minds got smaller when the nights grew longer. As if the dark could shrink a person’s world view.

She had seen the hold fear could have during the last smallpox outbreak, which had taken her mother and Daniel two winters back. It still woke Abigail in the night, the way hatred had filled eyes and soured words when she had begged for help that never came. Her Father had preached forgiveness and fortitude of spirit, and she had done as she was bade, but now he too was gone. His last breaths rolling out as the fall thunder rolled in.

It was hard for her to define the venom in every word cast in her direction, but after he was buried Abigail could sense it. While the ire of the town chafed at Abigail it did not stop her. She tended the geese and family plot earning coin with her own hands.

Abigail might have felt put out if not for the pleasure of providing for herself. All the while thinking that the dreadful future Reverend Burroughs had spelled out for her after the funeral was disappearing. With each successful endeavor Abigail became more certain that independence suited her and that she did not need to take a husband. She was not just surviving hand to mouth she was thriving, with no time for mournful thoughts.

Abigail had dismissed the town’s importance.

And the town was infuriated.

It happened in an instant. One second, she was harvesting the last of her wheat by the light of a full moon. The next, she was in the commons surrounded by the light glinting off their unyielding stares. It was in their bright eyes that Abigail finally discovered the emotion’s name. Paranoia. But it was too late.

If she was honest she would have admitted it was over long before the end. When they force-fed her the tooth they plucked from her jaw, it was already over. When her joints snapped as she tried so hard to avoid the touch of their hot irons, she was beyond salvation. It wasn’t until they tied her to the sugar maple, and piled the branches filled with flame red leaves around her that finally, wordlessly, she called to me.

But I offered something other than salvation.

Better late than never…My review of Lovely Bones

I found a misused copy of this paperback on the shelf of my local swap shack (basically a large lean-to filled with “free to a good home” items) and it begged to be picked up. Like many I knew about the Lovely Bones, it was a bestseller after all, and I had seen the movie, but I had not read the book. So nearly 15 years after it had originally been published I started my secondhand copy with the dark ring shaped stain (suggesting it had functioned as a coffee mug holder way more than as a stunning piece of literature). I am happy to report that where it fails as a coaster it more than succeeds as a work of fiction.

This book opens with one of the most hit you in the chest lines I have ever read.

In my opinion books live and die in the first chapter, if I’m not hooked by the end of Chapter 1 it’s going to be a slog. This book had me by paragraph 1!

There are many things to love about this book, and just as many ways to approach this review. I won’t be sumerizing, go find another review if you are looking for a book report, or doing an in depth character analysis. I will instead give you 5 reasons why you must read this book (as I see them anyway).

1. The tension- If you love a good who done it mystery or crime drama don’t pass this book up. You may know who did what but believe me there is tension in spades. Will the guilty party be found out? Will Susie figure out how to live in her heaven and in her family’s world? What impact will this have on everyone who was touched by Susie? Can a family torn apart by violence pull together? I could go on too. Don’t be fooled, knowing the killer’s identity does not mean that this story will disappoint in the surprise or gasp worthy moments.
2. It is not a let’s hold hands and cry cathartically book-So I recently tried to convince someone to read the book and the response was “I don’t like books about little girls being murdered” followed by the “is something wrong with you?” look. That is not this book! Yes of course there are sad moments, Susie and her family grapple with some very serious things, but for me at least it was way more joyous than depressing. For example I felt sheer joy when Lindsey falls in love, laughed out loud at/with Grandma Lynn, and smiled from ear to ear as Ruth cajoles Ray into friendship. Don’t let the emotion behind this story scare you off, embrace it. The young feel everything as passionate extremes allow yourself to get swept up in it, it is Susie’s story after all take this opportunity to look through another’s eyes.
3. For the lines you will want to highlight and quote (though I cannot condone book disfigurement)- This book is full of memorable lines and I am sure different ones will stand out depending on what you need. Goodreads lists over 200 and I am sure there are even more quotable lines. As I read The Lovely  Bones I was struck by how many people could be reached by Alice Sebold’s words. I found lines to share with those struggling with loss, that I would love to text to my young cousins, to help the many who never felt like they belonged in their current situation, to inspire, to encourage, and to just mull over. The words in this book are living things and each read breaths new life into them.
4. It is better (longer) than the movie- Now I know that every time you hear this sentence it is accompanied by a look of disdain, but that’s not how I mean it. What I mean is the movie is constrained by time. There is only so much time which can pass during a normal length feature film before the audience loses focus. Whereas books can be as long as they want spanning decades of time. So while the movie keeps us focused on let’s say the next five years surrounding Susie’s murder The book reaches further into the future where we see Lindsey graduate college, Ray working towards an MD, and an aging Mr. Harvey. The reason I like the extended time line is twofold. Firstly, it suggests, with subtlety, the timelessness of Susie’s heaven. The jumps in time are not the same from chapter to chapter and we follow her friends and family for different stretches of time as well. To me this makes perfect sense and is a wonderful way to show the disconnect between Susie and everyone still living on earth. Secondly, it puts a fine point on the fact that Susie doesn’t get to grow up. A little harsh I suppose but true. This is a life and death story told by a young adult and her perspective cannot change because she cannot change (which is important to how the story ends). Mr. Harvey is a man and Susie is a girl if she becomes a woman the fear of him will lessen. So in my opinion the time in the book is critical both explaining and being explained by the story making the book better than the movie.
5. Karma- So whether or not you believe in the religious component of karma most of us like the idea of good things happening for good people and bad things happening to bad people. Believe it or not, but I think this book adheres to this universal ideology. Yes, something horrible happens to Susie but she is not lessened by it George Harvey is. She is in a perfect world and she receives the ultimate gift in the end (not to give anything away here is tricky). While this may seem like a small consolation I still believe it counts because Susie gets joy, love, and wonder while Mr. Harvey does not. His fate is darker and well deserved.

Susie’s voice is refreshing and the story is captivating, hit the library stacks you will be glad you did.

Sin Eater (6 of 7)

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The rain starts up signifying the nearing end of my night. The wail of an infant pulls at me. I follow the sound to a dirty vacant lot where some tweeking crack whore has abandoned her misbegotten offspring. Even covered in filth its the purest thing I’ve seen tonight, the closest to true white this grey world can offer.

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Tomorrow is the last post in this serial blog.  I hope I kept your interest.  Thanks, as always, for stopping by.

Sin Eater (5 of 7)

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Would be John number three hits the pavement hard. The looker with the eyes scoffs as she bends down to relieve the man of his valuables. In her stilettos she cuts quite the backlit silhouette pocketing her treasures. She never hears me as I wrap her in my embrace. There’s no need to whisper in her ear she’s already asking herself if it was worth it. I bet…our answers differ.

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Did you think it would be the woman or the man after yesterday’s post?  Hope I have kept you interested.  Thanks for reading!

Sin Eater (4 of 7)

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The jazzy music slides over her skin like smokey silk. Her practiced smile barely hides the animal hunger in her deeply kohled eyes, but all the poor sucker on the stool beside her sees is the come hither in her bold touch and shy words.

I see blind leading blind.

He’s no angel. It’s not to gently escort her home that he takes her arm, and she knows it.

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Sin Eater (3 of 7)

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I walk away as if nothing happened because nothing did. The corpse behind me is further diminished with each step, but the discord it represents is not. This one calculated strike has not, cannot, rebalance the scales. So I continue on. My measured footfall upon the concrete is steady, and the building thunder threatening a torrential downpour reassuring. Let the heavens weep for humanity.

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Hello, this is part three of of a serial blog which started on Monday the 17th.  Thanks for reading.

Sin Eater (2 of 7)

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I lean in closer looking at the world reflected in his ruddy mess. Never had the dark stains upon him been more clear than in that moment. He gave nothing to the greater good and all it cost him was everything. His one and only gift was color to this grey place, and not even that did he give willingly.

The moment passes, and the puddle becomes nothing more than the tacky ink of a poorly drafted life.

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If you are still with me from yesterday yay, if not then go back one post to better understand this post 🙂  Happy readings!

Sin Eater (1 of 7)

All rights to owner: Sin City cityscape

I see a world of greys masquerading as one of blacks and whites. This pompous man beneath my knife is cloaked in the white of innocence because there is no chargeable wrong in his past. I cannot connect him to any criminal findings, but innocent…I think not. I watched as the small sins of this arrogant man piled up into monstrous mountains that rival even the most heinous of offenders. My knife falls and the world around me lightens. Crimson.

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This is part one of a story which I have broken into seven pieces.  I will be posting each of these parts on consecutive days.  This is the first time I have truly serial blogged so…I hope you come with me on this journey.  Also, that I make it worth your wait.  Thanks for reading!

Becoming one of my little secrets

I don’t exist, well…technically I don’t exist.  What I mean to say is that no one who has ever met me would admit to it.  Which is basically the same thing.

It is an interesting state of being, namelessness.  It offers amazing amounts of opportunity to those creative enough to make use of it.

Let me explain.  People notice things, but not a lack of the same thing.  For instance…your car being repossessed surprises and upsets you, but its lack of repossession elicits no response.  Now more specifically dead bodies, when found, cause quite a stir.  Question after question. Was it natural, murder, suicide?  Who was this person, and how did this happen?  Who could have done this, and why?  These questions can echo out into unforeseeable situations.  However, if no body is found then no one reacts.  Of course there are exceptions, but the number of people who make as many waves by being missing as they do by being dead is relatively small.

I make the latter happen.

Do you regrettably, have a little problem that needs disposed of?  I just might know of an open grave that could be of service, a foundation ready for concrete, or a half full barrel of sulfuric acid.  And for the right price your little problem can become one of my little secrets.

So if you find yourself in a sticky situation you better wish upon a star that I find you and your bank account worthy…because Jiminy Cricket ain’t got nothing on me.