WE ARE THRILLED TO INTRODUCE OUR AMAZING GUEST, DEBUT AUTHOR, THE LOVELY NATALIE HORNER, WHO IS SHARING THE PROLOGUE AND CHAPTER ONE OF HER NOVEL, 'WINGS' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat
- 7 hours ago
- 10 min read
AUTHOR BIO
Natalie Horner lives in South Yorkshire with her husband, son and a cat called, Puss. When she isn't day dreaming about her stories and characters, she's writing about them instead.
She has lived in Barnsley all her life. Natalie loves reading, obviously! She also likes sports and has played soft ball and hard ball cricket for a while and was part of the team that won the South Yorkshire Championship.
Natalie's 9 - 5 job is a project coordinator in the Highways sector.
She loves walking and has completed the Yorkshire 3 Peaks Challenge last May. The proceeds went to a charity.
Natalie also loves watching, The Traitors Taskmaster and Bake off...to name a few!
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"Two men sat on a park bench...sounds like the start of a bad joke."
"Yes, you could say that, although the punch line would not be funny. Not in this instance." The man pulled his hat further down to cover his face. Not that it mattered;; neither could be seen by passers-by. To normal people, the bench was empty. Some might question why the town's folk didn't try to sit there; that was the beauty of their invisibility. It held a barrier around them that triggered the human instinct into keeping clear, when it was needed.
Both men watched the children as they played in the park opposite and were silent for a long moment. The laughter, the cool summer breeze,, and the happiness were perfect examples of His work.
The first man took a deep breath. “Ah, God's good air. Refreshing, isn't it?”
"Until it's tainted by scum."
"We were all together once." The first said.
"Long ago."
"And might be again."
"These are uncertain times."
“He has a plan." The first pulled the collar of his trench coat tightly around him. The warmth of the summer sun did nothing to keep away the chill the future would bring.
.
"Today, everything changes."
"What are we going to do?"
The second man turned toward the first; a hint of sparkle in his eyes told him all he needed to know.
"Has the plan already been executed?"" the first asked.
The second nodded.
"And what of the parents?"
"You know the mother well enough. Anything happens, she is to be extracted immediately."
"And the father?"
"The same thing that happens to all other abominations."
"This is risky, even for us. He will watch her grow; he will share her experiences. What's to stop the same from happening again?"
"Perhaps the latter is for the better.. She will soon have to choose, and if she chooses us, then all will be well."
"And if she doesn't?"
The second's grim look gave him his answer.
Twenty years later...
"Please take my dad away," I began.
I lay on the stone wall and looked to the sky. I hoped the heavens would hear me. I'd grown numb from the cold. Nothing mattered more to me than that moment.
"I'm sorry, it's me again, Charlie. I'm begging you for your help. We can't go on like this. We need to escape, my mom can't fight him anymore and I'm scared that soon he'll be too strong for me."
I sat up and let go of the breath I'd been holding. I looked out onto the Hudson River and toward Manhattan. A promised land that teased a chance of happiness. The city was just a mirage to me, a picture of hope that could never be reached. My dad's hold on my mom and me was too strong. We could never stray too far. Work, home and approved places with friends were our only times of refuge.
"Please take him away," I repeated as I followed the lights from the vibrant city bleeding into the night sky and the stars as they appeared overhead.
I'd had a different childhood from that of so many others. I got a job straight out of high school, although, with my grades, I could've gone to college. It was Dad's decision to keep me at home and provide for the family. A wage from the local bar, Ray's Place, didn't go far. He was a successful banker in the city and to everyone else, a model citizen. He kept his nose clean and provided for the community. A real devil in disguise. When he was home, the bourbon brought out his true colours.
"I promise, God, I'll do anything. I'll give you anything you want. Please do this one thing for me." I'd become desperate; I had to do something and turning to God was my last hope.
My brother left years ago. He vanished after Dad left him with a broken hand and a fat lip. When Mom refused to go with him, Sam decided to leave us. He'd been our protector, but he couldn't do it anymore. I wanted to hate him but I felt envious. I would've gone with him but I was too young and scared.
I remember the last words Sam said to me before he left;; I was nine at the time. "You are not alone, there is always someone watching over you." When I woke the next morning, he was gone. From then on it had been me acting as Mom's protector. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes I didn't. I found when Dad was on one of his benders, the best defence was to clear the area. I used to take Mom out or try and at least have someone around so he couldn't do anything.
Witnesses.
On other occasions, I wasn't successful. I just had to keep him away long enough to call the cops.. Not a lot they could do when no charges were made against him, and he could twist the cops around his little finger. Back home he came and repeated the cycle.
“Please take him away." There were so many things I could've prayed for but I needed Dad gone. Murder was not an option, only something I thought about often. I knew it was wrong to think it, but I no longer had any emotional attachment to the man that I had to - biologically - call Father. He was nothing to me. I just had to hope that someone up there had listened to me..
I checked my watch, a cheap pink one from my friend, Friday. It was so old the second hand no longer ticked. My cool breath fogged the face as I saw that it was time to go. As though the fates were listening, my cell buzzed and the screen lit up with Friday's name.
"Hey there, girlfriend," her voice chimed.
I laughed. "You're either drunk or high, you have never ever called me girlfriend...ever."
I heard her chuckle. "I'm just trying it on. What are you doing?"
"I went for a walk after my shift. I was just about to head back actually when you called." I checked the time again. It really was time to go home.
"Your dad home?"
I sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. I'm running dangerously close to curfew."
"He's such a dick.”
"Preaching to the choir. Twenty years old and still have a curfew."
"Call me if you need me, okay?"
"I will." Before I hung up I added, "Wait, what were you calling for?"
"Just to say hey." I heard the sadness in her voice and that was the one thing I hated. I didn't want to bring anyone down into my disastrous life.
"Oh, well, hey."
"I love you," she replied.
"Love you more," I said, and the line went dead.
I looked out across the river one last time, zipped up my jacket, and jumped from the wall, wincing as the feeling rushed back into my legs.
I started my journey home, hands deep into my pockets and my collar up around my face..
I lived in a small town called Echo Hill just outside of the city. I wasn't sure why it was called that; geography was the one class I'd hated at high school. It was the kind of town where everyone knew everybody and their business. Some people were pleasant, some people were ignorant. The town was ideal,, if you wanted to settle down, grow old and die.
It was my purgatory.
I could tell the town folk were in holiday spirits as Halloween drew near. I looked at each house and saw jack-o'-lanterns and skeletons decorating the porches, with fake cob-webs hanging down from the rafters. The windows had glowing skulls and spiders to add to the illusion of a haunted house. Some even went as far as to put up haunted or bloody-looking signs and had sound effects of screams and cackling laughter. It was a little tacky but it made me smile. We didn't decorate our house for Halloween; the kids skipped our door.
I'd left the salty river air and begun to smell the fall. Mounds of leaves were illuminated by the glowing streetlamps. I felt a little warmer.
Fall in Echo Hill was beautiful. The sycamores looked like pillars of fire in the sunshine, and everyone was in happier spirits as the holidays drew near and the football season began. The local coffee shops pumpkin spiced everything and it was more acceptable to wear over-sized sweaters.
We never followed the normal holiday traditions. Christmas was a push but I did it anyway and told Dad it would draw attention if we didn't do it. It was something that brought a little joy into my life, even if it was just a week or two.
Fall was my favourite.
Given my washed-out features and mousy-coloured hair, it meant I could pull off the seasonal colours of red, purple, dark greens, and burnt oranges. I hated shorts and tank top season; I was a walking milk bottle. I instinctively tucked myself further into my jacket.
I wasn't an outgoing person. I was more a ‘hide in the background and keep out of the way' kind of person. Perhaps, if my dad had been different,, I might have been more 'normal,' but that's the hand I was dealt and if I was totally honest with myself, I didn't mind it. I left the craziness to Friday.
Turning the corner onto Weller Street, I noticed some of the lamps were out.
"Great." I didn't like the dark. There were too many dangers lurking and waiting to pounce in the shadows. "Wow, Charlie Green, you've been watching too many horror movies." I could have turned and taken the longer route around but as I checked my watch again, I was ten minutes from curfew. I carried on, feeling brave. “Just keep going forward, one foot in front of the other."
I could see a house ahead that still had its Halloween lights on, which helped light up the street. I picked up the pace and was feeling pleased with myself.
Until I heard a second pair of footsteps.
I stopped, ears straining to hear any sound other than my breathing.
Stay calm, don't run.
I walked faster. Eyes focused on the house ahead. With each step I took bringing me closer to it, I heard the footsteps closing in on me.
Have they followed me?
I couldn't imagine Dad bothering with me outside the house,, not when he had free rein at home. The footsteps were getting louder and I began to panic. I couldn't help but set off into a jog. The steps picked up pace and I knew for certain they were following me.
I'd resolved to turn around and face whoever it was once I got to the house, which was close.
I ran and spun quickly around but was met by no one.
"Hello?" I called. I knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do but I was certain I'd heard something. I turned back and yelled.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”
He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.
I was instantly taken in by his bright blue eyes,, the colour of a clear morning sky. I was sure I was going crazy because for one moment when he stared at me, they looked like they sparkled.
"Have you been following me?" I choked.
He looked surprised. "No, I haven't, I've just come from Cross Street. You should be getting home though, don't you think? You don't know who's around at this time of night."
"I should say the same thing. I'm sure there's some guys around here who would love to tackle a young guy like yourself; makes them feel like a man." I didn't know where any of that had come from.
He chuckled. "I'm not as young as I look."
"Modesty, false but modest. Very nice," I grinned.
He held up his hands in surrender. "It's the truth, on my honour as a young looking man with an old man personality."
I was completely drawn in. Who is this guy? "Well, nice to meet you young old man. See you around," I said as I began walking away, goose pimples raised on my arms.
"See you soon, Charlie."
What?
I turned back around to find the street empty again. The warmth I'd felt had vanished.
Who the hell was that? And why is my heart beating so fast? Get a grip, Charlie. Was he a new guy in town? I had never seen him before and in a town like ours, where everyone talked and knew everyone, I would have heard about him, especially at Ray's. Maybe he picked my name up at Ray's.
I ran home.
As I came to Wicker Avenue out of breath, I saw Mrs Hughes standing at the end of the lawn. Living next door, it was hard for Mrs Hughes not to hear the many nights of fights and bust ups. She didn't say too much; she was too old to get involved.
I continued running as I heard her say, "You better get in there, Charlie."
"Phone the sheriff," I called as I ran past her. When I saw she hadn't moved I shouted, "Do it!"
I bolted up the stairs and threw open the door, not bothering to close it behind me. I ran down the hall and into the sitting room.
What I saw next, I hadn't expected.
My father sprawled on the floor, a deep gash on his head that bled generously toward my mother, who stood beside him holding a bloodied paperweight in her hand.
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COMING SOON: On Sunday, 26th April, we are delighted to welcome back our guest author, Elke Feuer, who is sharing an excerpt from her novel, 'The Trouble With Empaths'.
