Sharing a new piece of work is frightening

They went to Los Angelos to meet his parents

The light faded as the Chevy moved through the desert.  Chewing on her nails, she watched Jesse from the corner of her eye.  Several times she had opened her mouth to speak but had closed it without making a sound - words where far away.

‘I love you’ Jesse said, glancing at her for a moment, before returning his eyes to the road.

She turned to face him. 

‘I love you’ he said again.

Tears fell down her face.  He stopped the Chevy, gravel crunched under his feet as he walked round to open her door.  Lifting her out of the truck he cradled her in his arms. 

‘She’s gone, sweetheart,’ he murmured as he rocked her, ‘Mama’s gone’.

‘Where Daddy? Where has she gone?’ her little voice whispered against his cheek.

‘Heaven baby, Mama is in heaven’ Jack answered.

‘I miss her Daddy.’

‘So do I.’ he said

‘Can Mama see stars in heaven, Daddy?’ she asked looking up to the sky

‘I don’t know baby.’ He said, as he looked up into the vast blackness that was twinkling with light

‘I think Mama can see the stars Daddy.’

‘I hope she can, baby.  Mama loved stars and she knew their names.’ Jesse said .

‘Will you teach me the names of the stars Daddy?’

‘I will.’ Setting her down on the ground, he pointed out the North Star and said that was the one they were following to the ocean. 

‘Why are we going to the Ocean Daddy?’

‘I’m taking you home baby, to where I grew up with Gramps and Granna on Leo Carrillo State Beach.’

-------

Jeff asked us to publish something that we have never shared with anyone today, as part of Day 4 of his series 15 Habits of Great Writers.  To practice to have a go and put our work out there.  I have shared with you a tiny story that I wrote in 15 minutes after reading this prompt on another of my favourite blogs, Joe Bunting's The Write Practice.  This is the second snippet of my fiction that I have shared with you.  (You can read the first here.) 

I let go mostly easily of my work - on my blog, in my scripts, in my published articles - because there is something inside of me that knows this is what I have to do.  That feeling is still there with fiction, but my tummy is full of butterflies, there's a slightly sick taste in my mouth.

I am pertified. 

What will you think of my words, of my story, of my dialogue? 

But I am letting go and giving this little story to you.  I really hope you enjoy it, tell me if you do or you don't in the comments.  

I have taken a deep breath and am shipping because that is the thing about writers - we have to ship, to let it go.

Let me know what you think.

That's it for now ...

Nics

Salt and Sparkle = Life Remarkable 

A story for The Write Practice

I was somewhere over Islamabad, when he was born.  Sitting on the edge of the bird, as it climbed into the air, flying into the flickering dawn.  Mirrored shades protected my eyes and my tears from both the harsh light and my buddies who were pumped up, ready for action.

We were headed into combat – we knew there would be fierce fighting. I wondered would I survive and the tears fell more heavily.

A tough guy in tears. Tears of desperation.  I'd received the message that Lou had gone into labour just before I fastened my flak jacket and walked out onto the sand towards the helicopter.  She was in labour I was at war – we were both in battle.

On the other side of the world a little boy called Jonah, who’s name means peace, came quickly into this life and took his first breath of air.  Would he forgive me for not being at his birth?  Would he care? Could I ever forgive myself?  How deeply I felt his presence, his existence, even though I had not met him.     

Months later, I was in the air again.  This time on a plane, heading west away from the rising sun.  I was going home.  Home to meet Jonah.  My son. My firstborn. My flesh and blood.  What would it be like to hold him in my arms?  Would I know what to do? Would he know who I was? Would he understand how much I loved him?  Would he know he was the apple of Poppa’s eye? Would we bond? These questions played tag in my head.  Eventually sleep came and the tag stopped.

When I stepped off the plane I was shaking.  By the time I saw them across the concourse, I was sobbing.  Then he was in my arms, how tiny his little body felt as I held him to my heart.  A physical pain unlike anything that had ever come before shot through me as tears fell - this reunion so joyful, was heart wrenching.

Nicky Cahill

April 2012

I have wanted to link up with Joe Bunting's fantastic The Write Practice since I first touched base with him through Twitter some months ago.  Today I have done it, and it is quite nervewrecking.  Writing non- fiction is so very different from writing fiction - I love it, but it's different.  I am sure there's a post in that comment right there.  Watch this space.  

The Write Practice premise is after reading a post about a certain topic, the reader is left with a prompt in which they have to write a story in 15 minutes, and then publish it immediately on their blog, and in that day's WP comments. 

The prompt for my write practice was a photograph from pinterest.  I chose this one.

Let me know what you think of my story.  I am nervously waiting to hear.

That's it for now ...

Nics

Salt & Sparkle = Life Remarkable