Here is my newest book idea. The title is tentavilly set as "Voice," so please read it and tell me what you think.
Voice, chapter one:
"Emily, hurry up with those boxes!" my mother yelled at me, unloading some boxes herself. "Yes, ma'am," I said obediently, for I had learned that it is better to simply agree and do what she says, rather than contradict her and face the unavoidable consequences.
I began unloading the boxes faster, and, before I was entirely ready, I watched the moving truck empty before my eyes, eliminating any chances of leaving."They're supposed to send someone up for the truck in the morning," my mom was telling me. "You'll have to be the one to sign it out because I'll be at work.""Yes, ma'am." I sighed. That was so like my mother. She was obsessed with her work as a doctor. The only holidays she ever took were Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. I knew the only reason she liked to work was so that she could distance herself from her life, forgetting everything that hadn't gone as planned. We had spent the whole weekend moving, simply so that she could be up here to Maple Leaf in time for work on Monday.
It took a while, but eventually all the boxes were moved inside, to our new home. "Emily, you stay down here and unpack the dishes while Grace and I unpack the clothes upstairs, " my mother commanded.
I watched my mom and younger sister climb the stairs, stalling as long as I could. When I could delay it no longer, I slipped off my shoes and reluctantly reached for a box to begin unpacking it. Grabbing some bowls, I began putting them in the kitchen cabinets. I picked up a plate, ready to put it away as well. I gasped as the plate caught the light; there was a reflection of a man shining back at me. He was tall, with dark, angry eyes and dark brown hair; he glared at me with so much raw hatred that I shuddered.
I whirled around, determined to face the man who dared intrude in our home. My expression changed from fury to shock and I dropped the plate on the hardwood floor. It shattered, the shards flying across the room, some of them cutting open my bare feet.
"Emily?" my mother called from upstairs, no doubt having heard the crash and wondering if she needed to come down stairs and discipline me.
I didn't answer. I couldn't speak; my voice was frozen with fear. There was no man behind me. There was nothing behind me but the pale lonely walls of a house that has sat empty for too many years.
I could hear my mother's feet on the stairs, apparently having decided I needed a lecture. "Emily!" my mother screeched at me, annoyed that I wasn't responding. "Yes?" I whispered weakly, my voice slowly coming back to me. I knew she hadn't heard me.
I heard the thumping of feet and I knew my mother had arrived and was standing behind me. It was quiet for a moment as she stopped, assessing the damage. I braced myself for the torrent of swear words that would fly out.
I was right. "Emily, how could you? That was one of my best plates..." I tuned out, as I often did when she started screaming at me. The plate wasn't even expensive; it had been on sale for two bucks and we never used it. If I had pointed this out to her, however, not only would she not acknowledge it, but it would also earn me another ten minutes of being chewed out.
So, while she rambled on about how clumsy I am and what an embarassment I am to her, I focused my thoughts on other, more important things. Who was that man I saw? Why did he look so hateful? Had I even seen a man? Or was my overactive imagination simply playing tricks on me again.?
I mused over these things as my mother continued to scream at me for the next ten minutes of my life.
