Mary Beth

I'm such a fickle thing. If my muse could give me one gift...then it would have to be consistency. One day, inspiration hits me like a truck..then another day I feel dried up and just plain stupid.

This is just a kind of prologue to a deeper horror piece I've been "thinking" about finishing. Of course it will be much longer than a short story. But hit me with all you got-_^

Tell my your thoughts about it, and what needs to be changed.

************

Little Jane Sadeye, sitting in the woods
Black bird, Black bird don't be fool
Run away, run away little poor soul
the devil,the devil will steal your soul.....


The dank and cramped room Mary Beth was forced to sleep in stank with a hot infusion of cigar smoke, and rotten tomatoes. Dust covered the small drawer beside her bed like a sheet of woolen cloth. The small circular window which was her only light source in the room was tinted yellow, due to the thick growth of mold that covered it.

Sitting peacefully on her small bed, stencil designed with a fading Barbie princess, Mary Beth drew in a confident hand a dream that would never exist.

"Daddy is holding me in the air, twirling me around and around. Then mommy is handing me a hotdog, like the one I ate at the hospital," Mary Beth mused breathlessly, quickly shadowing in her mother's hair. "Okay....daddy you're almost done, let me draw in your hair!" Mary Beth giggled; selecting a crumbling piece of brown pastel to fill in her father's hair.

She continued drawing feverishly, glancing cautiously at a large dead cockroach lying in the layer of dust on her drawer. She had found it that morning when she had woken up.

She almost screamed when she saw it, but stifled it after remembering that daddy had come home that night. If daddy heard her, she knew she would get hurt. So to make herself feel better, instead of going out of her room for a drink, she stayed inside to draw.

Mary Beth loved to draw, it was the only comfort she had in the weekends. School was her first. It took her away from the pain, the abuse, the hell which little girls should be able to call home.

Mary Beth knew this, and accepted it. She was a smart little girl. She had to be smart she concluded one day. If she wanted to stay alive that is.

I mean...isn't that why I'm not as giggly as Tina at recess, Mary Beth thought, pausing from her drawing, is it really because I am worthless...is it true that I'm better off dead?

Concentrating on her life instead of her work, a hot tear suddenly fell and smudged her drawing. She looked down and saw that it had smudged her fathers face; the brown pastel melting around his head, forming an ugly ring around it.

She sniffed, and wiped the tears away with her hand. She wiped up her snot with her blanket. She knew that dirtier things than snot were on her sheets.

"Oh well," Mary Beth started, " I guess I'll just have to finish you-" THUD! Her door suddenly burst open, a small scream escaped her lips, and she cowered against her pillow in the presence of this force that entered her room.

Daring not to look to her side, Mary Beth quickly slipped her drawing under the crack between her mattress. Breathing in short sharp intervals.

"Well, well, well...looky here." her father sniggered.

She turned to him after this, looking pleadingly up to him. She was shaking now. She could feel it. Her arms, and legs were quaking involunatarily, her tongue feeling as dry as paper.

His eyes were so blank Mary Beth thought....not bright like her teacher Mrs. Lees. He stood for a few moments staring at her with his malignant eyes. He was wearing a stained t-shirt, and cheap thick jeans. He looked almost as destitute as the "hobo" that stayed near the garbage dump near the fire station.

She only stared at him, trying not to show her fear...her shallow quick breaths clearly piercing the air. He smiled wider, revealing his crooked yellow teeth. Unbuckling his belt he neared her, the air suddenly becoming danker, and a tinge of sweetness pervaded. Cologne mixed with stale tomatoes.

She whimpered, and screamed-but to no avail. He only laughed, and pounced, tearing the blanket off Mary Beth's frail frame.

"You hungry tramp?" he snarled.

******

Okay...that's it for now.

Tell me what you think.

Bit graphic no?

Wow! I thought that was a very good start, very intense. You did a good job of drawing the reader in right away. I especially liked the rhyme at the beginning. I only have one question how old is Mary Beth suppose to be? At first I thought she was very young like 6 or 7 then I got the feeling she was 10 or 11 and by the end I had no clue. I'm pretty sure you never mention an age so I'd like to hear how old you picture her as before I say anything else.

Yeah I really quite liked this, I enjoyed the description you put into her surroundings, you described things well, thats what I'm struggling with in my writing at the moment so I like seeing it done well.

The dank and cramped room Mary Beth was forced to sleep in stank with a hot infusion of cigar smoke, and rotten tomatoes. Dust covered the small drawer beside her bed like a sheet of woolen cloth. The small circular window which was her only light source in the room was tinted yellow, due to the thick growth of mold that covered it.

Although, maybe, instead of just having a block of description, you could intergrate the description into something she's doing, like you did with the bed, but then again it sets the scence well for the story and shows that all is well.


As regards to being to graphic, in this piece you show whats going to happen but you don't actually show it happening, if you get what I mean

I also like how you gave us hints to things that had happened in the past, like the hotdog at the hospital, you immediately wonder why she was in the hospital. And also how she included her mum in the picture so I'm assuming she knows what she looked like, or maybe she didn't, but it makes me wonder where her mum is.

As I said before, I liked it, a bit dark for me, but its good.

I know this may sound very bad Clover Madison, but Mary Beth is actually only about 9.

I want to picture her as a very "disturbed", but eloquent heroine.

I don't want to give too much away now. But I promise to at least tell half of this tale.

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And yeah.....answering Dele....you know, I actually feel very akward writing explicit parts...so I guess I try to hint it rather than describe it.

The things done to poor Mary Beth is very bad....and that's why I like horror.

I freak my own self out

And I'll work on integrating my scenes with action parts more in the story. I am also very aware that I need to sprinkle out the scenes, and not put it into a big clump. Thanks for the tip.

This is still a prologue...a very long one at that.

I'm just here to critique the prologue though...so enjoy and tell me your thoughts^_^
*******

"Huhhhh....." whimpered a small naked lump sprawled in the small room's filthy floor. The body quivered faintly, it's dirty tresses upsetting the dust, and dirt littering the floor.

"Mommy...mo...mom....help me.....please...." she whispered, wrapping her bloody arms around one another. She winced sharply, spasming with a jerk, and coughed in pain after touching the deep slashes. It was so painful, she thought, even just touching it, as if she was being cut again. "Why...daddy!?" she questioned weakly, feeling salty hotness running down her cheeks, and finally opening her bloodshot eyes toward the ceiling. She didn't notice that the hot burning running down her cheeks was blood, and not tears until she tried to shield her eyes from the light in the room.

When she saw them, held up in the sunlight like a hand spread with thick red jelly, she screamed. A screeching maddening scream. A scream that daddy would hear, but not acknowledge. Letting go of her senses, the small girl, who her daddy called Mary Beth writhed in the grime of the floor in her room......tearing at her hair, and scratching her face.....trying with all her might to do something that would make her stop thinking of him.

The bastard that she called her father.

"I hate you" Mary Beth managed to wheeze, the blood pooling in her mouth hazing her speech. "I hate you, and mommy hates you," she continued, ignoring the maddening sting in her eyes, and trying as best as she could to get up and climb into bed.

Wobbling, and painful, Mary Beth slowly ascended. Her weak ravaged limbs spreading fiery jolts of pain throughout her body. "Ahhhhh....it hurts mommy...it hurts" she whimpered. Crawling, and dragging herself, Mary Beth reached for the sheets on her bed, grabbing the edge of the mattress, and hoisting herself up. She winced with this, gritting her teeth with determination.

Slowly but surely she rose, a joyful thunder rejuvenating her arms. After what seemed like hours of lifting, Mary Beth gladly fell on her sheets. She could smell the tomatoes...and that cologne...but all she could think of was the pain. Wrapping herself with the stained sheets as best as she could, she closed her eyes, and wept with fervor.

If only mommy would take me....mommy....why did you leave me? she thought, sopping some of the blood off her face with her small carebear pillow.

"Mommy...mommy....help me....hel...hel...me" Mary Beth said to herself, trailing off in exhaustion. After a few moments, Mary Beth drifted off. The room not only looked like a filthy basement, but one where they had recently slaughtered a pig in. Bloody trails covered the floors, now congealing in a thick, paintlike montage. The bed itself was soaked with crimson. The metallic vapors of the liquid filling the room.

A soft wind flew in through the window that night. It caressed Mary Beth's brow, and a faint dragging came from her bed.

*****

Whew, okay, I hope I freaked you out some more.

This is really good. Your detail is amazing. There are only a few things that bothered me - first just be careful with a character so young, don't make her too young but she can't seen too old either. A nine year old can only be so mature (so far I think your doing a great job since my two guesses were right between nine but just a warning).

"Huhhhh.....huhhhhhh...huhhhhhh..uhhhhh.." whimpered

All of the Huhhh-ing is just too much. It actually pulls away from the story. You might think it adds drama but it doesn't. One "huhhh" is okay but all of that is too much. You get that across easily with all of your detail. If you really want to add shock try something like: "She whimpered like a beaten puppy" or something like that. That draws sympathy and shock from the readers because they can compare the whimpering to something.

"Ahhhhh...oh....ahhhh...it hurts mommy...it hurts" she whimpered

Same with this one. Take out a bit of the Ahhhh stuff. Your writing is good enough that you don't need it, it just clogs the flow.
Great job I honestly can't wait to read more.

Ohhh..thank you very much.

Very good improvement. After rereading it, I saw that it was very akward...and one moan was definitely enough. I think I got carried away with it when I try to imagine myself AS the character. Sometimes I do melodramatize a bit too much.^_^

I'll have to post up another part soon, after I draft it.

Thanks for your input^_^. I appreciate you taking the time to critique it.

You have one disturbing muse, I'll give you that! Maybe you should get it checked out, Im not sure your muse is right in the head. That being said, this was very well done. I mean seriously, being a fan of horror myself I can vouch for the disturbing twistedness that is apparent here. Quite vivid description as well.

Well done.