I have been writing non stop and have been considering how to approach the publication of my pieces I came to the conclusion to publish one chapter a month and once the entire of my novel has been published I will publish it complete on a separate page for anyone and everyone to read. I may even send it to some publishers but I have no idea how to go about it really so any advice would be appreciated!
I had some great feedback the last snippet I published so I hope this will be received greatly too. Although any constructive criticism would be welcome too. This is the first chapter of my first novel. I have been writing this for almost 6 years now its been a really long process because Ive been obsessing over it and have been changing it re-reading it over and over and I think Im 100% happy with my opening chapter.
What I can say is that this novel is a tragedy in reverse, it starts with the trauma and heartbreak but ends with new untainted love.
I have yet to title the novel yet but each chapter is titled this in particular I felt gave a phrase or meaning behind each element of the story.
So to you reader, I give you my first and hopefully not last.
Consumption.
In the darkness my body lay limp concealed in a cocoon of covers, the
night was still. The night was waiting for my throat piercing scream as I
arisen from the same psychological terror buried deep into my memory to slit
the night like a thorn piercing the flesh of a small creature clasped in twisted
weeds and the growths of the underground. But for the first time the evening
remained still as I lay in a dreamless slumber.
Dawn began to creep into the room, I opened my arms reaching for
saviour as I expected to tear my oesophagus with the usual sharp roar of my
terror. Looking over I notice the time it was 3am as usual. It was always 3am
when I woke up. It seemed that my body had gone into a state of routine and
systematically shock awoken me with the memory of him every night at
3am.
It had been two months, one week, three days, eight hours and ten seconds since I was ripped from the cruel hand of what man has been trying to understand since the dawn of time. Love. Looking over to the gleam of the wooden topped desk, I could still see his butterfly blue shirt crumpled at the edges as it hung to the surface. I grabbed the shirt pulling it across my shivering porcelain skin; it still faintly smelt of him. My senses tingled but I knew it was only a matter of time that the smell would fade as the night terrors had begun to. I knew inside that it would manipulate my soul into a twisted state of rage and exhaustion to know that one day I would accept that he wasn’t mine. He had become the lover of the cruel mistress of the universe. The heavens.
It had been two months, one week, three days, eight hours and ten seconds since I was ripped from the cruel hand of what man has been trying to understand since the dawn of time. Love. Looking over to the gleam of the wooden topped desk, I could still see his butterfly blue shirt crumpled at the edges as it hung to the surface. I grabbed the shirt pulling it across my shivering porcelain skin; it still faintly smelt of him. My senses tingled but I knew it was only a matter of time that the smell would fade as the night terrors had begun to. I knew inside that it would manipulate my soul into a twisted state of rage and exhaustion to know that one day I would accept that he wasn’t mine. He had become the lover of the cruel mistress of the universe. The heavens.
I feel his light touch as he would graze my neck with his palms. His
skin alive as the light from the windows bounced onto him. I remember those
windows, the wooden beams framing the invisible glass as ivy twisted across the
edges, how the drapes caressed by the window as natures sweet essence breathed
into the room. I remember that image very clearly and I pray to never
forget it. It was the last time we had made love and I remember how sweet his
kiss was on my lips when we would lay in the covers watching the drapes dance in
the breeze.
This memory led me to believe once again that he was not taken, that it was all a lie. I would turn over in the sheets and he would be there watching me sleep, smiling as he wiped mascara from the edges of my eyes.
It had been two months and everything had been destroyed. Every feeling, emotion, movement and sign of life in me had died. Then it became clear it was time and I had to start living again. I had been dead as him for the past two months and I had to be resuscitated to continue living. I was overshadowed by grief and I knew I had to be released from the capture of death.
Feeling the calm whisper of the mornings chill against my cheek I knew that he was there with the tips of his fingers running them against the ends of my hair as he often did when we spent the early hours of the morning talking. How gentle he would be, with a touch he could sooth every anxiety. This memory kept me alive for the next few hours as I began to potter around our house with an overbearing sense of being watched.
For the first time I began to hear the outside world I noticed it had just turned 9am and could hear church bells faintly echoing the sky it must have been a Sunday that was the only time the church bells were rung unless there was a wedding which where I lived was very rare as most couples were already married. I could also hear children laughing and starting a football game in the street, mothers were chatting to one another over their fences whilst putting laundry on the washing lines and dogs barking at postmen in their front gardens. I had entered civilization. Sitting in the kitchen I looked around to find that every cup and dish had been spotlessly cleaned and placed in the cupboards Joanne must of come by and tidied up recently whilst I hibernated in our room. The first few weeks after he died Joanne used to live with me to make sure I wouldn’t try anything stupid and would just be there for me when I needed another human to be in contact with. Mother also used to visit but eventually I grew tiresome of them catering to my every whim I told them not to bother Joanne still visited twice a week but mother has yet to see me.
I fiddled with the rustic door handle of his study until the door began to sway open and the dust lifted as all his work remained motionless on the desk it was as if the room had been preserved for hundreds of years and had been rediscovered. I could feel a shiver down my spine as I gazed around his desk, placing my hands just inches away from the desk I was afraid to touch anything I was terrified it would all just disappeared in an instant this was all that was left of his existence and evidence that he was once here. I noticed the jasmine on the side of the window it was weeping and like the study itself was dead. He always had a passion for Jasmine’s he adored the pureness they brought and how when they blossomed released a tantalizing essence which would seduce the nose and pleasure the eyes. His papers were slanted on a small pile on his desk drips of ink from his pen were smudged onto the oak surface.
My eyes began to smile as his handwriting was taken into me, he was on the last chapter of a novel he had been working on for the past two years I remember the characters and how he vividly spoke of them as if Jude and Lorraine were great friends of his and how they had told him of the antics young William had been up to, he also felt the emotions they felt when he spoke of them it was as if small parts of himself where developed into each character. William was the child of himself, Jude was the serious and hardworking aspect that he had when working on this novel and Lorraine was a passionate woman who had hidden agenda’s which he often said was a reflection upon me but I couldn’t personally see it myself. However just a few weeks before his death he had introduced a new character which would be introduced into his next novel, he was so frustrated developing this character he had to be just right in every action and word he spoke in the book and was going to twist the entire book within the last chapter.
I wish he had finished his novel I would so of loved to have made a copy for myself and publish it in his name to give the world his art. I skimmed through the last pages of where he had written up to Lorraine was heartbroken as she told Jude she was pregnant yet the pregnancy was not what she wanted, the phone interrupted Jude answered the phone and suddenly a deep voice spoke whilst sitting in curiosity Lorraine suddenly had the awful feeling that she knew who was on the phone and was watching Jude cautiously as if watching a car accident in slow motion. Jude dropped the phone and looked at Lorraine with tears in his eyes. That was all I think he was just about to introduce the new character and the next few pages would unwind the fairy tale notion throughout the novel and show the true colours of Lorraine and Jude’s relationship.
I suddenly realized that I had smothered the floor in these papers and was surrounded by his work I gathered up the papers and began placing them onto the desk top when my feet were grazed with an envelope which had escaped the piles of paper. His handwriting spelt out my name on the top, opening the envelope I could see he had written a letter to me my heart began to jump as my eyes scurried along the pages desperate to decipher the words.
The mistress of my nights, the angel of my desperate hours, the valentine I always dreamt of.
I know that you are missing me deeply and sorrow has taken your heart. I hope this letter does not bring you more and pray that you find it in your heart to forgive me and continue your life not upon reflection but to look to new adventures and seek the world and all its joy. You probably already know that my death was not sudden, I had been ill for many months and took all my courage to conceal my last days even though I knew in my heart I should tell you I could not bear you to mourn me before I am gone. I wanted my last moments on earth to be as normal as possible and just hearing your voice bless my ears each day whether you were angry with me or dripping sweet whispers of delight into my hollow soul I only wanted you to carry me through my last days. During May last year you were away visiting your mother after her fall I my self collapsed at home the doctors told me I was suffering from Systemic lupus erythematosus it eventually took control of my kidneys and heart and each day I grew weaker in my last months I informed the doctor to keep the cause of my death discreet I did not want you to know of my real cause so sudden you needed time to accept my death before you could know that I had not told you the whole truth. I know now you feel infuriated with me and will be cursing to the heavens, I feel that this is the only way I wanted to die if I had to leave you on earth alone then I wanted to do it with dignity I refuse to have you ponder to my needs everyday I wanted to just feel the warmth of your heart in mine and for I to give you my deepest unconditional love. You may find that I had not completed the novel and that is because I wanted you to decide whether you wanted to finish it and make it our novel since it is based on ourselves. However whichever you decide I fully respect if you wish to finish it with my original ending there are notes in the top left drawer of my desk with a general outline of the last chapter.
Know that every whisper of the wind you feel against your skin is my touch and every tear you cry creates an eternity of weeping angels, show the world what you’ve got and give me warmth in my heart by finding another who brings love to you. You may refuse but in time I hope you find another not to replace me but to fulfil all I ever wanted for you, to be fulfilled in life with happiness. Know that when you find this other you are not betraying me and I urge you to live with as much passion as you had for our relationship.
In the envelope you will find another piece of paper inside I have written a poem for you it was the only piece of my work you had not ever seen so embrace it as you would any other work of mine and I leave all that I can in my heart and bare to you my soul as an eternity closes with us.
With my deepest affections and know that like the wind you cannot always see but you can always feel,
Your Stuart.
My emotions were none identifiable I felt warmth at his loving words to me, anger he kept his illness from me and heartache as his memory is alive once again as I yearn for him. What was there for me to do I wanted to cry and shout and smile all at the same time, I reached into the envelope and pulled out the paper unfolded the edges and read his last words to me.
This memory led me to believe once again that he was not taken, that it was all a lie. I would turn over in the sheets and he would be there watching me sleep, smiling as he wiped mascara from the edges of my eyes.
It had been two months and everything had been destroyed. Every feeling, emotion, movement and sign of life in me had died. Then it became clear it was time and I had to start living again. I had been dead as him for the past two months and I had to be resuscitated to continue living. I was overshadowed by grief and I knew I had to be released from the capture of death.
Feeling the calm whisper of the mornings chill against my cheek I knew that he was there with the tips of his fingers running them against the ends of my hair as he often did when we spent the early hours of the morning talking. How gentle he would be, with a touch he could sooth every anxiety. This memory kept me alive for the next few hours as I began to potter around our house with an overbearing sense of being watched.
For the first time I began to hear the outside world I noticed it had just turned 9am and could hear church bells faintly echoing the sky it must have been a Sunday that was the only time the church bells were rung unless there was a wedding which where I lived was very rare as most couples were already married. I could also hear children laughing and starting a football game in the street, mothers were chatting to one another over their fences whilst putting laundry on the washing lines and dogs barking at postmen in their front gardens. I had entered civilization. Sitting in the kitchen I looked around to find that every cup and dish had been spotlessly cleaned and placed in the cupboards Joanne must of come by and tidied up recently whilst I hibernated in our room. The first few weeks after he died Joanne used to live with me to make sure I wouldn’t try anything stupid and would just be there for me when I needed another human to be in contact with. Mother also used to visit but eventually I grew tiresome of them catering to my every whim I told them not to bother Joanne still visited twice a week but mother has yet to see me.
I fiddled with the rustic door handle of his study until the door began to sway open and the dust lifted as all his work remained motionless on the desk it was as if the room had been preserved for hundreds of years and had been rediscovered. I could feel a shiver down my spine as I gazed around his desk, placing my hands just inches away from the desk I was afraid to touch anything I was terrified it would all just disappeared in an instant this was all that was left of his existence and evidence that he was once here. I noticed the jasmine on the side of the window it was weeping and like the study itself was dead. He always had a passion for Jasmine’s he adored the pureness they brought and how when they blossomed released a tantalizing essence which would seduce the nose and pleasure the eyes. His papers were slanted on a small pile on his desk drips of ink from his pen were smudged onto the oak surface.
My eyes began to smile as his handwriting was taken into me, he was on the last chapter of a novel he had been working on for the past two years I remember the characters and how he vividly spoke of them as if Jude and Lorraine were great friends of his and how they had told him of the antics young William had been up to, he also felt the emotions they felt when he spoke of them it was as if small parts of himself where developed into each character. William was the child of himself, Jude was the serious and hardworking aspect that he had when working on this novel and Lorraine was a passionate woman who had hidden agenda’s which he often said was a reflection upon me but I couldn’t personally see it myself. However just a few weeks before his death he had introduced a new character which would be introduced into his next novel, he was so frustrated developing this character he had to be just right in every action and word he spoke in the book and was going to twist the entire book within the last chapter.
I wish he had finished his novel I would so of loved to have made a copy for myself and publish it in his name to give the world his art. I skimmed through the last pages of where he had written up to Lorraine was heartbroken as she told Jude she was pregnant yet the pregnancy was not what she wanted, the phone interrupted Jude answered the phone and suddenly a deep voice spoke whilst sitting in curiosity Lorraine suddenly had the awful feeling that she knew who was on the phone and was watching Jude cautiously as if watching a car accident in slow motion. Jude dropped the phone and looked at Lorraine with tears in his eyes. That was all I think he was just about to introduce the new character and the next few pages would unwind the fairy tale notion throughout the novel and show the true colours of Lorraine and Jude’s relationship.
I suddenly realized that I had smothered the floor in these papers and was surrounded by his work I gathered up the papers and began placing them onto the desk top when my feet were grazed with an envelope which had escaped the piles of paper. His handwriting spelt out my name on the top, opening the envelope I could see he had written a letter to me my heart began to jump as my eyes scurried along the pages desperate to decipher the words.
The mistress of my nights, the angel of my desperate hours, the valentine I always dreamt of.
I know that you are missing me deeply and sorrow has taken your heart. I hope this letter does not bring you more and pray that you find it in your heart to forgive me and continue your life not upon reflection but to look to new adventures and seek the world and all its joy. You probably already know that my death was not sudden, I had been ill for many months and took all my courage to conceal my last days even though I knew in my heart I should tell you I could not bear you to mourn me before I am gone. I wanted my last moments on earth to be as normal as possible and just hearing your voice bless my ears each day whether you were angry with me or dripping sweet whispers of delight into my hollow soul I only wanted you to carry me through my last days. During May last year you were away visiting your mother after her fall I my self collapsed at home the doctors told me I was suffering from Systemic lupus erythematosus it eventually took control of my kidneys and heart and each day I grew weaker in my last months I informed the doctor to keep the cause of my death discreet I did not want you to know of my real cause so sudden you needed time to accept my death before you could know that I had not told you the whole truth. I know now you feel infuriated with me and will be cursing to the heavens, I feel that this is the only way I wanted to die if I had to leave you on earth alone then I wanted to do it with dignity I refuse to have you ponder to my needs everyday I wanted to just feel the warmth of your heart in mine and for I to give you my deepest unconditional love. You may find that I had not completed the novel and that is because I wanted you to decide whether you wanted to finish it and make it our novel since it is based on ourselves. However whichever you decide I fully respect if you wish to finish it with my original ending there are notes in the top left drawer of my desk with a general outline of the last chapter.
Know that every whisper of the wind you feel against your skin is my touch and every tear you cry creates an eternity of weeping angels, show the world what you’ve got and give me warmth in my heart by finding another who brings love to you. You may refuse but in time I hope you find another not to replace me but to fulfil all I ever wanted for you, to be fulfilled in life with happiness. Know that when you find this other you are not betraying me and I urge you to live with as much passion as you had for our relationship.
In the envelope you will find another piece of paper inside I have written a poem for you it was the only piece of my work you had not ever seen so embrace it as you would any other work of mine and I leave all that I can in my heart and bare to you my soul as an eternity closes with us.
With my deepest affections and know that like the wind you cannot always see but you can always feel,
Your Stuart.
My emotions were none identifiable I felt warmth at his loving words to me, anger he kept his illness from me and heartache as his memory is alive once again as I yearn for him. What was there for me to do I wanted to cry and shout and smile all at the same time, I reached into the envelope and pulled out the paper unfolded the edges and read his last words to me.
Isabelle.
Do not give into bitter sorrow,
Every tear you cry is a strike against my skin,
Continue loving for the day after tomorrow,
I take with me your sweet essence as I lie within,
Your hand grazing my neck as cupids arrow splinters sharp,
The opening of your budding lips as I embrace your kiss,
Wish you not to hence forget your touch upon tarp,
Know that in the heavens I am at peace but not in bliss,
It takes every strength within to part from us,
Know that the wind will eternally whisper to me Isabelle,
Do not give into bitter sorrow,
Every tear you cry is a strike against my skin,
Continue loving for the day after tomorrow,
I take with me your sweet essence as I lie within,
Your hand grazing my neck as cupids arrow splinters sharp,
The opening of your budding lips as I embrace your kiss,
Wish you not to hence forget your touch upon tarp,
Know that in the heavens I am at peace but not in bliss,
It takes every strength within to part from us,
Know that the wind will eternally whisper to me Isabelle,
Farewell.
