Seriously rough first two "chapters" for the ghost story novel.
They are more like a prologue than chapters...
Grammar, punctuation and what not aside thoughts?
1999
“Dean, this place is so pretty!” Emily exclaimed as she spread the blanket out over the grass.
“I thought you’d like it.” He smiled at her as he sat down beside her.
“How did you find this place?”
“Oh, I got word about it from someone in school.” He winked as she giggled.
“I bet you bring all your girlfriends out here!” She looked up at the moss covered trees. “Did you know that Spanish Moss kills the host tree?”
“No, And no, I’ve never taken anyone here, just you.”
She crept closer to him, “So I’m special?” She kissed him, “it really is beautiful, and so peaceful.”
“Yeah, you’d never know what went on here…”
1811
“Who caused this?” The woman demanded as she poured water over the young man’s broken bleeding skin.
“Sir.” The boy replied, wincing as the elder woman poured a salve over his back. He could hear her teeth grinding as she worked, he focused on the sound, refusing to allow the tears that stung his eyes to fall.
Mami nodded, “There, rest, I’ll find some food.” The young man glanced at her and seen murder in her eyes as she pulled away. He tried to rise, but the effort only served to bring a fresh river of blood trailing down his ribcage where it spilled onto the dirt floor.
Mami watched in fear the doorway of the slave’s area, waiting for Sir to come back and finish what he’d started. She bit her tongue until she tasted the metallic bitterness of blood. She promptly put the Master’s supper on the table and waited, her hands clenched behind her ratty apron.
“John had to beat the mailto, he dared back talk him in the fields.” The master spoke to the Mistress. Mami chocked back a sneer, I bet he did, she thought. “Perhaps we should sell him?” The master continued, without looking up.
“That is your decision. We have been good to them, but they refuse to fall in line. Perhaps seeing him sold off will quell the ranks. He is light enough, he’d make a fine houseboy for someone with a firm hand if they chose to spend the time to break him, or in a few years he’ll be a strong back in the cotton fields. I’m certain he’d get a decent sum.” Mistress said, picking up her wine glass and sipping slowly, a cruel smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
That white witch speaks about my son as if I can’t still hear her. Mami seethed silently. I wonder what Mistress would say if she found out that that ‘Mailto’ was the Master’s half-breed son?
“That’s my adorable bride, always practical. I believe you are right, why waste the time and resources feeding and housing him. Let him become someone else’s problem. I’ll arrange for the sale at the next market.” The master said, raising his glass to her a broad grin spread across his face.
Mami’s heart skipped a beat, my baby!
She cleared the table, and stacked the dishes, for the younger girl to wash.
I won’t let them send him away. She told herself firmly. She removed the scarf covering her hair and socked away the few scraps she could before turning and hurrying out of the room.
Down the stairs, she crept, to the boy who lay face downward in the dirt his leg shackled to the wall with a great iron chain. She knelt beside the boy and fed him the small bits of food with her hands, her eyes locked on the angry weeping welts on his back. “As soon as you are strong enough, we are leaving here.” She whispered in her native language.
The boy’s eyes flew open, and he tried to move causing the chain to rattle loudly. “Hush, child, if they catch me here they will skin us both alive.” She glared down at him.
A week passed as she formed her plans, the few who knew of her plan tried in vain to warn her of the risks of being arrested.
“They’ll whip you, before quartering you,” Seema hissed, “leave me out of it, I have children to think of.”
“I am thinking of my child too!” Mami retorted gathering her skirts as she turned away.
That night, as she took her young son’s hand, she prayed, waiting for the proper moment, ready to act as soon as Sir’s light was blown out.
When off in this distance she heard the yelling of people, and the rhythmic pounding of drums. Her son opened his mouth, but she clamped a hand over it. She shook her head, a dire warning look etched across her face.
Sir’s light relit, and her spirit sank, “Run back to the quarters, wake everyone up!”
The boy picked himself up out of the bushes and went as fast as his spindly legs would take him.
Several weeks later, Mami was on her knees, sobbing, as she stared upwards at her son’s head perched atop the city’s gates. “They killed him! They killed my boy!” she screamed, as someone helped her to her feet. “I’ll get them, I’ll see to it that they pay for this. I’ll make them pay!” She screamed out in French, as she broke down and sobbed into Seema’s chest.
She watched as the executioner gathered the remains of the eleven who were put to death and carted them off to be buried in an unmarked mass grave.
Sir grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the cart, “See what happens when you try to escape?” He sneered, “I should fling you in the pit with the remainder of the trash for threatening to harm the Master.” He pointed to the open hole in the ground one hundred yards away.
Mami jerked her arm free and spat at the man’s feet.
1823
Mami concealed the small bottles in her pockets, as Mistress called from above for her to hurry up. They were headed to town, and she would have a few precious moments to herself as Mistress shopped.
Mami’s heart clenched as they passed through the gates, she looked up to the spot where her son’s head had been placed, and she shivered, feeling as if his eyes were staring down at her, warning her not to do what she had spent so many years planning.
Quietly she slipped off to the site of the grave, she said a quick prayer, calling upon the dead to do her bidding. Laying pennies in a hole she dug she collected the dirt, hoping she was able to get enough from the place for her trick, before covering the coins with dirt and pouring water over the spot.
She smiled, the last ingredient is mine, she thought. Those white devils are gonna get it now!
That eve, as Sir bent over her on his bed, his hand pressing her down while he loosened his pants, she slid the dagger from her pocket, when she felt his weight shift as he readied himself, she waited until he slid into her, and clamped her legs hard around him, in one smooth motion she slit his throat, laughing as his blood soaked her through. She waited until his body stopped twitching before pushing him off her. She stood facing down at him, his eyes wide in surprise with his pants falling down about his ankles. She took out a little bottle from her clothes and opened the upper side, she kept it in one hand as she sliced off Sir’s manhood catching the blood in the tiny vial.
She crept up the stairs of the mansion, the deathly quiet muffled by the beating of her heart. I hope the sleeping powder worked. She stopped by the door, listening with her ear pressed against the cold wood. After a few moments she turned the knob and quietly pushed the doors open, even without the moon’s light she could see they were sound asleep.
She opened vials, and quickly dispatched with the sleeping man and woman. She nearly skipped down the stairs, as she made her way to the slave’s quarters, where she did the same to them. Her heart pained as she killed her friends, she left gifts with each of them, asking them to follow her in their deaths.
The new moon was perfect for killing them, but she had to wait for the waning moon to finish the binding spell. Thankfully the processing season was over, and no one would come 'round looking for them anytime soon. She thought as she buried the vials around the property.
They are more like a prologue than chapters...
Grammar, punctuation and what not aside thoughts?
1999
“Dean, this place is so pretty!” Emily exclaimed as she spread the blanket out over the grass.
“I thought you’d like it.” He smiled at her as he sat down beside her.
“How did you find this place?”
“Oh, I got word about it from someone in school.” He winked as she giggled.
“I bet you bring all your girlfriends out here!” She looked up at the moss covered trees. “Did you know that Spanish Moss kills the host tree?”
“No, And no, I’ve never taken anyone here, just you.”
She crept closer to him, “So I’m special?” She kissed him, “it really is beautiful, and so peaceful.”
“Yeah, you’d never know what went on here…”
1811
“Who caused this?” The woman demanded as she poured water over the young man’s broken bleeding skin.
“Sir.” The boy replied, wincing as the elder woman poured a salve over his back. He could hear her teeth grinding as she worked, he focused on the sound, refusing to allow the tears that stung his eyes to fall.
Mami nodded, “There, rest, I’ll find some food.” The young man glanced at her and seen murder in her eyes as she pulled away. He tried to rise, but the effort only served to bring a fresh river of blood trailing down his ribcage where it spilled onto the dirt floor.
Mami watched in fear the doorway of the slave’s area, waiting for Sir to come back and finish what he’d started. She bit her tongue until she tasted the metallic bitterness of blood. She promptly put the Master’s supper on the table and waited, her hands clenched behind her ratty apron.
“John had to beat the mailto, he dared back talk him in the fields.” The master spoke to the Mistress. Mami chocked back a sneer, I bet he did, she thought. “Perhaps we should sell him?” The master continued, without looking up.
“That is your decision. We have been good to them, but they refuse to fall in line. Perhaps seeing him sold off will quell the ranks. He is light enough, he’d make a fine houseboy for someone with a firm hand if they chose to spend the time to break him, or in a few years he’ll be a strong back in the cotton fields. I’m certain he’d get a decent sum.” Mistress said, picking up her wine glass and sipping slowly, a cruel smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
That white witch speaks about my son as if I can’t still hear her. Mami seethed silently. I wonder what Mistress would say if she found out that that ‘Mailto’ was the Master’s half-breed son?
“That’s my adorable bride, always practical. I believe you are right, why waste the time and resources feeding and housing him. Let him become someone else’s problem. I’ll arrange for the sale at the next market.” The master said, raising his glass to her a broad grin spread across his face.
Mami’s heart skipped a beat, my baby!
She cleared the table, and stacked the dishes, for the younger girl to wash.
I won’t let them send him away. She told herself firmly. She removed the scarf covering her hair and socked away the few scraps she could before turning and hurrying out of the room.
Down the stairs, she crept, to the boy who lay face downward in the dirt his leg shackled to the wall with a great iron chain. She knelt beside the boy and fed him the small bits of food with her hands, her eyes locked on the angry weeping welts on his back. “As soon as you are strong enough, we are leaving here.” She whispered in her native language.
The boy’s eyes flew open, and he tried to move causing the chain to rattle loudly. “Hush, child, if they catch me here they will skin us both alive.” She glared down at him.
A week passed as she formed her plans, the few who knew of her plan tried in vain to warn her of the risks of being arrested.
“They’ll whip you, before quartering you,” Seema hissed, “leave me out of it, I have children to think of.”
“I am thinking of my child too!” Mami retorted gathering her skirts as she turned away.
That night, as she took her young son’s hand, she prayed, waiting for the proper moment, ready to act as soon as Sir’s light was blown out.
When off in this distance she heard the yelling of people, and the rhythmic pounding of drums. Her son opened his mouth, but she clamped a hand over it. She shook her head, a dire warning look etched across her face.
Sir’s light relit, and her spirit sank, “Run back to the quarters, wake everyone up!”
The boy picked himself up out of the bushes and went as fast as his spindly legs would take him.
Several weeks later, Mami was on her knees, sobbing, as she stared upwards at her son’s head perched atop the city’s gates. “They killed him! They killed my boy!” she screamed, as someone helped her to her feet. “I’ll get them, I’ll see to it that they pay for this. I’ll make them pay!” She screamed out in French, as she broke down and sobbed into Seema’s chest.
She watched as the executioner gathered the remains of the eleven who were put to death and carted them off to be buried in an unmarked mass grave.
Sir grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the cart, “See what happens when you try to escape?” He sneered, “I should fling you in the pit with the remainder of the trash for threatening to harm the Master.” He pointed to the open hole in the ground one hundred yards away.
Mami jerked her arm free and spat at the man’s feet.
1823
Mami concealed the small bottles in her pockets, as Mistress called from above for her to hurry up. They were headed to town, and she would have a few precious moments to herself as Mistress shopped.
Mami’s heart clenched as they passed through the gates, she looked up to the spot where her son’s head had been placed, and she shivered, feeling as if his eyes were staring down at her, warning her not to do what she had spent so many years planning.
Quietly she slipped off to the site of the grave, she said a quick prayer, calling upon the dead to do her bidding. Laying pennies in a hole she dug she collected the dirt, hoping she was able to get enough from the place for her trick, before covering the coins with dirt and pouring water over the spot.
She smiled, the last ingredient is mine, she thought. Those white devils are gonna get it now!
That eve, as Sir bent over her on his bed, his hand pressing her down while he loosened his pants, she slid the dagger from her pocket, when she felt his weight shift as he readied himself, she waited until he slid into her, and clamped her legs hard around him, in one smooth motion she slit his throat, laughing as his blood soaked her through. She waited until his body stopped twitching before pushing him off her. She stood facing down at him, his eyes wide in surprise with his pants falling down about his ankles. She took out a little bottle from her clothes and opened the upper side, she kept it in one hand as she sliced off Sir’s manhood catching the blood in the tiny vial.
She crept up the stairs of the mansion, the deathly quiet muffled by the beating of her heart. I hope the sleeping powder worked. She stopped by the door, listening with her ear pressed against the cold wood. After a few moments she turned the knob and quietly pushed the doors open, even without the moon’s light she could see they were sound asleep.
She opened vials, and quickly dispatched with the sleeping man and woman. She nearly skipped down the stairs, as she made her way to the slave’s quarters, where she did the same to them. Her heart pained as she killed her friends, she left gifts with each of them, asking them to follow her in their deaths.
The new moon was perfect for killing them, but she had to wait for the waning moon to finish the binding spell. Thankfully the processing season was over, and no one would come 'round looking for them anytime soon. She thought as she buried the vials around the property.
