Welcome, friends! Come in, and let me tell you a Story A Day, all May long…or get days behind, then try to tell them all to you in double-quick time!
In June and July, I’ll be drafting two new Kifo Island novels. I know something about 5 of the 6 point of view characters, and I’ve got a sketchy idea of the plots – but I need to learn more about these people and their stories.
So, in May, I explore. Every day, I’ll follow the prompts in A Month of Writing Prompts 2016. I’ll play while moving through my planning efforts. Some of these stories may become part of the eventual novels, but my goal is simply to invite these characters to show me who they are and what they want – and how their lives might fit together to make a novel.
I’ve been writing my story each day, but I slipped behind in my posting. It was a busy week of Life, and that comes first, when it comes to being a wife and a mother. I’m hoping to catch up within the next few days, a little at a time, and hope to be all caught up and back on track by the 20th.
Week One’s theme is Limits, and Day Four is a First Person Story. I chose to use the character of Ubunta, whom you might remember from Day One, “Aftermath”.
Warning: Potentially triggering and rated R for hints of sexual violence.
11:43 pm, Wednesday
“Take a breath, sweeting. Before we look at this, take a breath.”
I stare at her. Why is she telling me to breathe? I do that without thinking about it, as the wind blew over the plains of my village, the first time he claimed his right to my body.
Why do my lungs ache with longing, even as my stomach turns?
I gulp air; retch it back. “I can’t. I have to know, first!”
She looks like she will insist. No! I need to know. Now. No more waiting. No more breathing, until I knew what breath was filling inside of me.
I grab the stick from her hands; I have to know. But my vision swims in fears and hopes and the disgust of what I feel.
I can’t read it. I shake, and retch, and it falls from my hand as I gulp more air and more despair.
Theresa picks it up and holds it.
“Tell me!” My whisper is fierce in the night, almost loud enough to wake someone else.
“I think we’d best go outside, first, sweeting.” She urges me, and I can’t refuse. I need to know, and she is the path to knowing. To my future, this way or that, this path or that.
But, as we open the door, he is there, and, silent but for the blows of his breath, he pushes me back to the bed, leaving Theresa clutching my future in her hand.