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Beyond Blue 2

by Freebird 

Posted: 07 December 2009
Word Count: 1431
Summary: Next chapter
Related Works: Beyond Blue 1 • 

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CHAPTER TWO



“It was the sun,” explained Mum, “shining on the castle windows. He thought they were on fire.”
Aunty Jackie wrestled a plump arm round Andrew’s neck. “You great dafty,” she laughed. “Although, you can’t be too careful. My Great Uncle Tom thought he could smell smoke one night and nobody believed him until they woke up next morning and realised half the house had burnt down.”
“Jackie.” Mum glared at her sister.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” snapped Dad. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Mum sighed. “Have you got a better one?”
An awkward silence settled over them as they stood on the gravelled drive in front of Aunty Jackie’s cottage. A bird sitting on the fence whistled, low and slow, then trilled into a laughing note, like rain falling.
“Come on,” said Aunty Jackie, steering Andrew through the front door. “We can’t stand out here all evening. Although...” she peered up at the sky, “you might see our little bats tonight if you’re lucky. They’re out early this year. You don’t mind bats, do you?”
Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but Aunty Jackie ploughed on: “...because some people are terrified of them. Great Uncle Tom got one stuck in his hair when he was a young man and it frightened him so much, scrabbling and scratching, that all his hair fell out – every last one! Bald as a boiled egg, he was.”
Aunty Jackie propelled Andrew straight up the stairs that led from the tiny hallway behind the front door. The stair carpet was shabby and worn thin along the middle. When he reached the top, Andrew almost tripped over a cardboard box overflowing with books.
“Whoops! I need to find a home for those,” puffed Aunty Jackie. “Watch your step.”
Andrew caught his knee against an ironing board propped on the landing, then had to jump over a blue plastic washing basket that was spewing odd socks and brightly coloured T-shirts onto the floor.
“We’ll make ourselves a cup of tea,” Mum called from the bottom of the stairs.
“Lovely,” trilled Aunty Jackie. “Although, do watch the kettle. It doesn’t switch itself off any more.” She dropped her voice. “Great Uncle Tom had a kettle like that,” she confided to Andrew. “It steamed so much that all the wallpaper in the kitchen fell off the walls and Tom scalded his hand and had to be bandaged up for six months!”
Andrew was glad that the accident prone Great Uncle Tom was no longer around to wreak havoc. He wondered what had happened to him in the end.
“Straight ahead,” said Aunty Jackie.
Andrew stepped into a bedroom that was slightly smaller than a large cupboard. It smelled musty, like winter clothes packed away in the loft for six months. A single bed with a duvet covered in foxhunting scenes took up half the space, and a narrow desk and chair squeezed in alongside. A wooden shelf ran all the way round the room, just above the level of Andrew’s head.
“Great Uncle Tom’s old room,” said Aunty Jackie. “You look over the back garden, so it should be nice and quiet. Hopefully not too quiet.” She giggled nervously. “It can be too quiet round here. But you’ve got me to talk to. Any time. Anywhere. Any... anyway, I’ll leave you to settle in.” Aunty Jackie picked her way back through the obstacle course on the landing, still chatting to herself.
Andrew closed the door and looked around the tiny cube that was to be his temporary home. He thought of his own bedroom – the models of space ships he had carefully constructed, the computer on its purpose-built desk, loaded with games and music; his prized collection of insects and his instruments for studying them. Microscope, tweezers, special jars with tubes so you could suck a beetle from a leaf without hurting it. Or swallowing it.
Andrew sat down on the bed. It sagged like a sailor’s hammock. He wondered when Great Uncle Tom had died, and hoped it wasn’t in this bed. Aunty Jackie had placed a photograph frame on the desk, near Andrew’s pillow. Mum and Dad smiled from either end of a family sandwich, with Andrew and Tara hugged into the middle. Tara was squinting into the sun and Mum’s arm was draped round Andrew’s shoulder. Behind them was the front of their house, ivy growing up the wall and threatening to block the windows. Tall bright flowers speared up from the garden like flaming fireworks.
Andrew turned the photograph face down and dumped his bag on top of it.
“Andrew?” Mum’s voice drifted up the stairs. “We’ll be off now.”
Andrew opened the door.
“Are you coming down to say goodbye?”
Andrew hesitated. Mum would want a hug. He didn’t deserve it. “Bye!” he called, trying to make his voice sound normal.
“Oh.” Mum’s voice had that familiar break in it. “Bye, then. You’ll have a great time with Aunty Jackie. Better for you. More settled.”
Andrew’s eyes smarted. A lump the size of a golf ball blocked his throat.
“Bye, Andrew.” Dad’s gruff voice was more distant, already halfway out of the front door. “Be good.”
“Of course he’ll be good!” tittered Aunty Jackie. “When is he ever anything else?”
If only you knew, thought Andrew. He knelt on the bed and opened the window. His room overlooked the sea of long grass that was the back lawn, but he could hear the slam of the car door and the cough of the engine round the front of the house.
“Give my love to Tara,” shouted Aunty Jackie as the car crunched out of the driveway and turned into the lane.
Moments later, Aunty Jackie’s footsteps came clumping up the stairs, accompanied by her wheezy humming. She tapped on the door and poked her head round. “All right, my duck? Do you want to come down for some supper? I do a lovely boiled egg.”
Andrew thought of Great Uncle Tom. “No, thanks.”
“Toast, then?”
Andrew shook his head. His tummy was still recovering from the car journey.
Aunty Jackie’s face fell. “I guess I’ll leave you to unpack then. You know where I am if you need me.”
Andrew waited until Aunty Jackie reached the bottom of the stairs, then he crept out onto the landing. Aunty Jackie had left the iron plugged in. Andrew bent and pulled out the plug. He looked around for more sockets, but there were none. He gingerly pushed open the door of the room next to his, where piles of junk littered the floor. An old lampshade lay on top of a heap of crumpled clothes and a stack of newspapers teetered by the window. Andrew ran his slim fingers over the keys of an old accordion that lay behind the door, toppled onto its side. A pile of ornate picture frames leaned against the wall. Andrew picked one up and turned it over to reveal a vivid painting of a beach dotted with rocks that glittered like jewels where the tide had washed them. The sea foamed with massive waves, drifts of white spray flying off the tips. And the sky was a colour so rich and deep that Andrew had difficulty describing it as blue. It was beyond blue. Andrew felt a sudden yearning to be home.
“Andrew?” called Aunty Jackie. “Do you want some hot chocolate?”
With a start, Andrew remembered where he was. “No, thanks,” he yelled. He replaced the painting on the pile, but something caught his eye. On the back of the picture, in the bottom corner was some spindly writing, so tiny it was difficult to make out the words.
Andrew wished he had his magnifying glass with him. He crouched close to the writing and screwed up his eyes. Someone had written in pencil:
He’s coming to get me.
“What are you doing up there?” Aunty Jackie’s voice was closer now, at the foot of the stairs.
“Nothing. I’m coming down.” Andrew thundered down the stairs.
“Are you okay?” asked Aunty Jackie, leading Andrew through the living room into the small kitchen. His eyes darted around. Toaster..? Off. Kettle..? He stood in front of it and casually flicked the switch. Off. Fridge..? He couldn’t turn that off. Could he? He imagined all the spoiled food, the water on the floor. Aunty Jackie would send him packing, back to Mum and Dad in the poky flat near the hospital. Andrew could almost see the disappointment in Dad’s eyes.
“Fine,” lied Andrew. “Everything’s fine.”









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Comments by other Members



Issy at 04:30 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
I was engrossed, mainly because of the mysteries surrounding the main character. I like how he got the fire wrong. And why he wouldn't give his mum a hug, which she wanted and he didn't deserve. Also liked the description and they way that it tenses, on arrival. So much can be done with the wildness of animals and the story of the bats contains a very telling description of Great Uncle. The hammock description also leaped out and I knew exactly the type of bed beind described.

You know how to tantalise the reader!


I get the strong impression that Great Uncle, though no longer with them, is going to play a part, maybe even a large part, in this story.

Only a few very minor points to make: "Mum glared at her sister" almost takes it the mother's pov - maybe Mum glared at Aunty Jackie - or am I nit picking - only mention it as it did stop the flow of the narrative and retraced to double check the vp. Also later, she giggled nervously, just wondered if the mc would assess that as well.


I wasn't expecting the parents to leave - this may well be me again, not picking it up. For some reason I expected they were all staying.

And the Beyond Blue of the painting is masterly.






Ben Yezir at 11:36 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
Hi Freebird,

Unlike Issy I don't like how he got the fire wrong. It reminds me of a cliffhanger ending that turned out to be a dream.

However the rest reads very well, over all this reminds me a lot of something Hitchcock would make - although I do get the sense that the story is treading water - that after that cracking opening it's only towards the end of the chapter that the spooky knob is turned up again. I think a bit of tightening would work a treat, if you keep the story taut for a while longer I think it would really hook readers.

The detail here is again wonderful, but as it stands chapters 1 and 2 are slightly at odds with each other.

Ben Yezir

Freebird at 12:54 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
Thanks for these comments. Yes, Ben, I agree that this chapter doesn't match the first in tension. But I do need to establish the characters as well. I guess this is something I can smooth over in the next draft. I also want the reader to realise that ordinary things don't necessarily keep spookiness away!

Interesting to see your differing reactions to his thinking that the castle was on fire!

freebird

Ben Yezir at 13:07 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
If this is first draft stuff then it is alreay in excellent shape, it is so good I assumed you were redrafting it!

Ben Yezir

NMott at 13:33 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
I liked the first chapter, especially the image of the pillar of gulls that fly off revealing the girl who had been wearing them like a cloak, and spinning on the beach in a carefree way. Exellent.

The 'castle on fire' I felt did not work as well because it was not set up like the girl and the gulls, and it meant the next chapter kicked off on a bit of an anticlimax. If you want to keep it (to explain the panic attack) I think you could end Chapt.1 on the panic attack and pull that last line about the fire into this chapter and spike it just as quickly with the adults saying it's the sunset. Or you could move the panic attack to chapter 2 because the Aunt is coming out with enough strange things to spark one off - maybe a bat flies out and frightens him, and prompts her anecdote about the man who got one caught in his hair?

I like the scene setting in the Aunt's house, and the character introduction of the Aunt herself in this chapter, as she sounds like a great character - a bit like the Limony Snickett books where the children meet a succession of strange aunts and uncles.

Andrew was glad that the accident prone Great Uncle Tom was no longer around to wreak havoc. He wondered what had happened to him in the end.
....
Andrew sat down on the bed. It sagged like a sailor’s hammock. He wondered when Great Uncle Tom had died, and hoped it wasn’t in this bed.


I think he would ask, rather than just wonder. It needs his aunt to tell him the man is dead to make more sense of the second time he's wondering about his death - it's not clear in that section if the man really is dead; he's just assuming he is.


Andrew hesitated. Mum would want a hug. He didn’t deserve it.


Why doesn't he deserve it? I think that needs clarifying or remove the reference to 'he didn't deserve it' and just leave the reader to wonder why he's hesitating.

His tummy was still recovering from the car journey.


'tummy' would be suitable for a younger readership, but I'd have 'stomach' here.

Aunty Jackie had left the iron plugged in. Andrew bent and pulled out the plug. He looked around for more sockets, but there were none.


A little confused by this line. What iron? When did she plug it in? Why, where, what for? Irons (of the sort that iron clothes) are normally in kitchens and he's upstairs in the bedroom isn't he. And why does he need more sockets?

so tiny it was difficult to make out the words.
Andrew wished he had his magnifying glass with him. He crouched close to the writing and screwed up his eyes.


I would delete this. If it's that small how would he see it in the first place? Maybe it's in faint silvery pencil and catches the light as he moves the picture.

His eyes darted around. Toaster..? Off. Kettle..? He stood in front of it and casually flicked the switch. Off. Fridge..? He couldn’t turn that off. Could he? He imagined all the spoiled food, the water on the floor. Aunty Jackie would send him packing, back to Mum and Dad in the poky flat near the hospital. Andrew could almost see the disappointment in Dad’s eyes.


Now I understand the earlier reference to the socket (although still confused by the 'iron' - maybe it's an electric fire?). Do you need the earlier reference? Also clarifies why he would think he didn't deserve it but I would still delete that phrase because there's nothing to back it up, and just keep the hesitation.


Good story.

- NaomiM

<Added>

I'm assuming he has a fear of fires, hence the panic attach when he thinks he sees the castle on flames, and why he unplugs everything. I wouldn't rush that; You have a whole novel in which to explore his fears. Maybe start with the unplugging of appliances and end with the panic attack in a later chapter when he thinks he sees the castle in flames - maybe the girl is with him at the time. A great set of characters; Looking forward to him meeting the girl.

ShellyH at 14:27 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
Hi Freebird, I really enjoyed this chapter. It's well written and you leave many questions unanswered which I like. Some great descriptions and I'm already warming to Andrew as a character. I liked the fact that he made a mistake with the fire, easy to jump to that conclusion if you have a fear of it.
Looking forward to the next chapter.

Shelly

Issy at 16:04 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
Interesting the pros and cons of whether or not the non-fire works. I know this is going to leave you with a massive dilemma Freebird.

So just to say why I liked it - because it is the character of the mc that is the driving force for me and he has made a major mistake. I am fascinated as to his problems,which suggest a mental instability and a strange and possibly unique way of seeing the world. I want to experience everything in his way (which is probably why I was a little thrown by the minute changes in POV)

And perhaps more importantly, this major error is endearing because it is embarrassing, and disruptive and the parents who obviously know about these reactions, don't know how to handle it.

The aunt seems as if she might be a kindred spirit. She has this slightly weird way of what she chooses to say. She is not comfortable with the mc, keeps offering him foodwhich he doesn't want, as she is trying to get to grips with how to deal with the mc herself, and this enhances my experience of him.

I haven't reread, this is all from my memory, and reflects the impact this has on me, as it several hours ago now. Its the mc having made a mistake which is a bigger event for me than a fire would be, with all its associated drama, but a bit too freely used in fiction. I suppose more could be made of the reaction to his error, but the parents are bound to be used to it, so it would have to come from the aunt.

But your call, Freebird. I admire your work hugely, whether humour or drama.


NMott at 17:47 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
I get the impression the aunt is the sort of person who wouldn't be fased by his odd/obsessive behavour - she's coped with Great Uncle Tom afterall - and so is a sensible choice of relative for his parents to leave him with if they can't cope.

Freebird at 18:55 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
Gosh, what a lot to think about!

Yes, Andrew is obsessive compulsive about fires and there is a good reason for this, which links in with his comment about not deserving a hug. I can see I need to clarify a few things e.g the appearance of the iron is too abrupt, but it's to show that he goes round pulling out plugs and switching things off, as part of his mental condition. Will look at smoothing that out.

As things unfold, hopefully the reader will question just who is the crazy one!

Glad you like the characters, though. I will save all these comments on my laptop and when I get to second draft I will read through the whole lot in one go, armed with your comments!

It's a strange book to write, this one. I'm experimenting with things that may or may not work so all your comments are immensely valuable.

Thank you

freebird

Issy at 19:01 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
I very much like what you are saying about experimenting Freebird. And the idea of exactly who is the crazy one.

I am very interested and keen to read on.

SusieL at 20:24 on 09 December 2009  Report this post
Not much more to add to the comments above, Freebird, other than to say that this is a gripping story. There are some wonderfully defined characters in here, and Andrew is a very sensitively-drawn MC. I was a little unsure about the whole castle-fire thing, and also the slightly full-on iron/socket thing up on the landing. Once Andrew had gone down stairs and was assessing the kitchen, that I felt worked better. But for a first draft this is brilliant. Looking forward to seeing what happens to Andrew next.
SusieL

NMott at 00:00 on 10 December 2009  Report this post
Just want to say I think you definitely have what it takes to get published, freebird. Keep the faith.



- NaomiM

Freebird at 11:14 on 10 December 2009  Report this post
Thanks, Naomi

that shall be my motto!

If it ever does happen, I will have all of you to thank. And if it doesn't.... hey, at least we've had fun!

freebird

Franci at 14:27 on 04 January 2010  Report this post
Hi Freebird

I have absolutely no formal training in writing, so I find critiquing extremely difficult.


I'm intrigued by Andrew and am already hooked as to why he's staying with his Aunt; why he felt he didn't deserve a hug, and the brilliant note on the back of the picture ... 'He's coming to get me'! I really liked the sun on the castle windows - and him thinking they were on fire. It said a lot about his character. Love the way you write - it's easy and flowing with lots of detail.

There was nothing I would change, which is possibly not a lot of help.

Franci
x


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