"Walkaway", input wanted, sorry for length

[hmdarkprincess]

this story is the beginning to a book i'm attempting to write. i have more than this, but i'd like outside input. i'm sorry that it's so long, but i have to be descriptive otherwise it gets very boring to me. PLEASE READ ALL OF IT IF YOU'RE GOING TO RESPOND!!!!!!(i censor one or more letters in each swear word so the efect is given without the administrators beeping them. the effect ahs to be kept for that scene.)

 

The sky was clear as I stepped outside. My powder blue sweater was light but kept the dusk chill off, not that it was very cold. It was mid-July in Orange County, and I was in jean shorts, tennis shoes and a red tank top underneath the sweater. Dispite the weather, I shivered; not from anything other than what I was about to do.

 

All I had with me was a backpack, crammed full of anything I might need. Snack food, water, underwear, a flashlight, batteries, and money. Lots of money. A good chunk of my savings, in fact, that had totaled to over $300. On my person I had my Mp3 player, my cellphone, and less than $10.

 

This was to be the night I left all I had destroyed.

 

I seemed to be born into a train wreck, and messed up anything good I had with a single touch. It was either I leave or death. Starting over somewhere else seemed easier than suicide.

 

Had I told anyone that I was going to leave, they would've stopped me. They--my family, and the people that tolerated me, called my "friends"-- would've literally held me back, because they thought they cared. In reality, they were all sick of me. They denied it, but I saw the pain in their eyes to hear about my latest self-created problem. Suicide HAD been an option all along, but never a completely logical one. Why cause the ones I cared about more pain than they needed? Wasn't worrying about my fate less bothersome than knowing I had cut my life short?

 

I had always been told that if there is someone or something you don't like in the space you normally inhabit, then walk away. It ssolves your probem, at least for a time. Yet I've also been told that running never solves anything-- that your problem will follow you.

 

Which is it?

 

How is it that running-- which is faster-- causes your problems to follow you more quickly than walking? You put more ground between you and your problem with running. Is walking just a gradual fade out from your probelms? Maybe.

 

I've decided to walk. I'm not much of a runner, anyway.

 

I stood on the front porch for a moment, looking westward towards the ocean and the lovely sunset. THIS is what I'd miss in leaving. But there will be other beautiful sunsets where I'll be going. I started down our sloped front walk.

 

Halfway down the walk, I heard the screen door slam into the white stucco wall of the house. I turned to see one of my probelms, as I had expected. A man with a brown mullet and a stained white shirt stepped onto the porch in dirty bare feet, steadying himself on the doorjam, his other hand holding a beer bottle. He took a swig.

 

"You leaving?" my father asked, words slurring around in his mouth before he spit them at me.

 

"Yeah. I can't take this anymore." I eyed the bottle as he took another deep drink from his fountain of age. "I'm better off on my own."

 

He gave a rueful laugh. "Jessica. Jessi, Jess, Jessica! You know you can't leave," he said with a stupid smile on his face. When yu turn 18, you can do whatever the H*LL you want!" This seemed hysterical to him, so he continued laughing.

 

I stared back at him like the insect he was, studying him. I wanted to squish him, so I did. "I'll be 18 next week. I graduated this year, so no worries there, I haven't gotten a job, so no lost paycheck, and I can enroll in college once I get to my destination. By the time you figure out where I am, I'll be a legal adult and there will be no stopping me."

 

His happy black eyes turned to firey coals of hate as i said this. "You little B*T*H!" he screamed. I didn't flinch. I stared him down. "What, are you running from me?! FINE! But I'll get you-- I'll find you, you little WH*R*! F*c*ing b*t*h!" With that, he threw the beer bottle at me. I ran down the rest of the walk, the bottle landing where I had stood, shattering into a hundred pieces.

 

When I reached the sidewalk, I dove into our bushes to he couldn't see me. He still stood on the porch, still screaming obscenities in my name, but they were incoherent. He picked up one of our white plastic lawn chairs and threw it onto the unkept lawn. He audibly said "F*c*ing wh*r*" once more before I heard the door slam shut.

 

 

 

sorry for the length! i actually shortened it from it's original context!

~Luvvers~

~Cherry~

[savannahohsavannah]

Basic advice:

Never begin your story with a weather report.

It's best to begin with two characters in a conflict that shows something about both of them, and whose focus has a major connection with the theme of the book. U can do a character in conflict, ex...Darcy Steinke Suicide Blonde, opens the book with a drunk girl dying her hair blond cause she thinks it will help her keep her bisexual bf from straying. It was good, even though it didn't do direct conflict because it told us right away what her character wanted...

 

Also, take classes...

[PunkyMonkey]

Well I loved that!....It was awsome the length had many great details..... Whiched helped me picture the whole scene which is cool.... I loved it, if it got published I'd definatly but it................. Loved It! Keep writing! GL!! =D>