Thursday, September 23, 2010

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE TO GO BACK IN THE WATER . . .

I'M BACK! Yeah, you missed me, I know. I have the second sight. An intuition stronger than yours. No I can't tell you what color your panties are, or what the lotto numbers will be, but I can feel things. And I'm feeling pretty damn hungry. 'Tis been weeks since I've been properly fed. A brave soul sent me a wee morsel ... without further adieu

THE TAKER


Eva, my three year old daughter was kidnapped, three days, fourteen hours, and fifty-one minutes ago. It only took ten Mississippi’s and poof, she vanished into thin air. An innocent game of hide and go seek became my worst nightmare.

So many variables are involved in planning, plotting, and executing the abduction of a child. Eva’s taker methodically accomplished all of the above. Ten Mississippi’s. Count them out in your head. In that short amount of time, my world ceased to exist. For me, there was no life without Eva. None at all.

What scares me the most is that I am no one. I am a middle class mom from the City of Brotherly Love. I am actually lower middle class or upper lower class depending on how tips are for the week. I am an everyday Jane.

One who took her child to the park and smiled when no one was there. We had our own little world to play in. Her playground was mine. We slid and climbed, swung and hung. Pure paradise. I had two hours before my shift to do nothing but bask in the glow of my exuberant child.

I can still see her smile right before I closed my eyes to count. Black ringlets bounced, framing her face. Her little teeth gleamed with a gap in the middle. The dimple on her left side made her little birthmark stand out more. The giggle, that squeal, still echoed in memory. If you could think about a toddler’s voice, imagine the crisp purity, you have my baby girl, my Eva.

My hands shook as I put the phone to my ear.

“Hi, Mommy.”

I swallowed my fear but the tears fell free and fast.

“Hey, pumpkin pie. I don’t want you to be scared, okay.”

“I’m not scared, apple pie. You haven’t found me yet Mommy.” When she laughed, as if being tickled, my emotions betrayed me.

Relief coursed through me that she wasn’t terrified or being tortured. But the comfort in her voice, the complete sense of familiarity she had scared the shit out of me. How could she know to fight if she felt safe, thought they were still playing a game?

“I will find you baby. Mommy promises.”

“He says we’re gonna find you first.”

He. Eva said he. And they would find her.

“Who is he Eva, who is helping you play?”

“The funny man, he’s silly. He makes me laugh.”

“What does he look like, sweetie, the funny man?”

The other end of the receiver remained still.

“He says that’s cheating, Mommy. You told me cheating is bad.”

Think. Think. Think.

“Well, if you’re looking for me now, I get to know where you are. Can you tell me anything about where you are? A house, a car, inside, outside.”

Quiet again.

“Mommy. The funny man said to tell you where we are.”

For some reason her response did little to soothe.

“He said we’re in hell, Mommy.”
_________________________________________________________________

Eva, m My three year old daughter, Eva was kidnapped, three days, fourteen hours, and fifty-one minutes ago. It only took ten Mississippi’s and poof, she vanished into thin air. An innocent game of hide and go seek became my worst nightmare.

So many variables are involved in planning, plotting, and executing the abduction of a child. Eva’s taker methodically accomplished all of the above. I wouldn’t be considering any of this if my child had just been taken, its far too coherent for the mother of a missing child. IMHO, I’d lose it.

Ten Mississippi’s. Count them out in your head. In that short amount of time, my world ceased to exist. For me, there was no life without Eva. None at all.

What scares me the most is that I am no one. I am a middle class mom from the City of Brotherly Love. I am actually lower middle class or upper lower class depending on how tips are for the week. I am an everyday Jane. Takes away from the BAM, this can all come into play later, pulls from the action.

One who took her child to the park and smiled when no one was there. We had our own little world to play in. Her playground was mine. In the two hours I had before my shift began, I basked in the glow of my exuberant child. Without a care in the world. At the park we slid and climbed, swung and sang. The tinkle of her laughter still rung like bells in my ears. hung. Pure paradise. I had two hours before my shift to do nothing but bask in the glow of my exuberant child.

Black ringlets bounced, framing framed her vibrant, little gap toothed face. Her little teeth gleamed with a gap in the middle. The dimple on her left side made her little birthmark stand out more. The giggle, that squeal, still echoed in memory. If you could think about a toddler’s voice, imagine the crisp purity, you have my baby girl, my Eva.

I can still see her smile as right before I closed my eyes, as I did before I began to count.
<!--[endif]-->

The phone shrilled in the silence. My eyes popped open as I dove for it, palms slick with fear, heart racing with hope. My whole body shakes hands shook as I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mommy.” I swallowed (swallow-we are in the present, I hope?) my fear but the tears fell fall free and fast.

“Hey, pumpkin pie. I don’t want you to be scared, okay.” Would she say that right away? Would it not scare a child for the parent to be telling them not to be scared?

“I’m not scared, apple pie. You haven’t found me yet Mommy.” When she laughed, as if being tickled, my emotions betrayed me. SHOW ME THIS

Relief coursed through me that she wasn’t terrified or being tortured. How does she know? She can’t see anything! But the comfort in her voice, the complete sense of familiarity she had scared the shit out of me. How would she know to fight if she felt safe, like thought they were still playing a game?

“I will find you baby. Mommy promises.”

“He says we’re gonna find you first.”

He. Eva said he. And they would find her.

“Who is he Eva, who is helping you play?”

“The funny man, he’s silly. He makes me laugh.” Is there any other noise in the background? Is she clutching the phone? Is there anyone there with her?
“What does he look like, sweetie, the funny man?”

The other end of the receiver remained still. Silent?
“He says that’s cheating, Mommy. You told me cheating is bad.”

Think. Think. Think.

“Well, if you’re looking for me now, I get to know where you are. Can you tell me anything about where you are? A house, a car, inside, outside.”

Quiet again.

“Mommy. The funny man said to tell you where we are.”

For some reason her response did little to soothe. She held her breath, and waited.
“He said we’re in hell, Mommy.”

___________________________________________________________________________________
That was ... well, bloody delicious if you must know! Now, onto serious matters. The premise is great. I'm hooked. But there are times in the short narrative where I feel the author is more omniscient than it ought to be. As if the author is telling us things we need not yet know. I'd add a few more grounding details so we get a sense of where the woman is, perhaps even have the caller ask for her by name before the child is put on.
However, since this little morsel was sent into JAWS anonymously, I must wait to see where the story goes!
Dive in my little barracuda's. I've missed you

7 comments:

  1. I wasn't sure I'd like this story, kidnapped kids scares the bejeesus out of me. But once I started reading, I was hooked. I agree w/ Ms. Jaws, as a mother my reaction would have been balistic. When the phone call came in, I'd be asking where the child was, not taking time to call by a nick name. Where is the mom when she took the call, btw? More show of POV, less telling us that she has fear. We know she's scared. Do her stomach contents want to hurl from nerves? Palm slippery on the phone receiver? Cell phone or land line? A really great beginning.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wow! When someone posted on one of my writer's groups about this blog post I had to make a quick swing by since my suspense novel TAKEN was recently released as an ebook. There's an excerpt on my website. http://www.debralee.net

    I think you did a great job critiquing this author's opening. Sounds like a great start to a book I'd like to read, if only it had a different title.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Oh my goodness, Debra! I do apologize. I took liberties with this piece, and changed the title to TAKEN. It was actually titled, THE TAKER. I assure, tis but a coincidence. Thank you for stopping by, I shall have a look at your release!

    Mart, always good to have you lady.

    Mika, I agree. A bit more grounding will rock this.

    ReplyDelete
  4. great crit AJ. And to the anonymous writer- this story gives me the willies- in a good way. I want to know more. I agree with Aj and Mika, as a mom I'd be in momma bear mode. I'd be freaking out and hysterical but I'd also be plotting the bastards tortuous demise in my head. I think she needs to be more panicked. Awesome stuff!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Here's my two cents: What I found intriguing about the tone of this first person narrative opening was that it didn't feel "written by a writer." I would push that even farther. For first person to work well, the narrator's voice has to be really strong. The reader should be able to actually hear her speech idioms. Study a novel like To KIll a Mockingbird, an adult story told by a little girl.

    The leap for the phone, heart pounding suggestions, took the answering the phone scene in a whole new direction as there was something really nice about the economy of the storytelling. However, reinterpreted in the voice of the waitress/mother, those suggestions could be awesome,

    Kidnapping stories are a really tough read for a lot of women, but one of my GH sisters just sold one to Harlequin Intrigue.

    Take that narrative voice to the next level. Dare to be great. Good luck with this!

    ReplyDelete
  6. I have to agree with Gjillian, I normally don't do first person, I just can't get drawn in, but wow, this short piece pulled me right in as a reader... Awesome

    ReplyDelete