Monday, May 12, 2014

1st 5 Pages May Workshop - Simpson Rev 1

Name: Melody Simpson
Genre: Young Adult Paranormal
Title: Break Along the Fault


If he shot me from farther away or an inch or two lower, it wouldn’t hurt this much. At least that’s what I keep telling myself to ease the shock. I don’t know anything about guns but I saw him raise his. Look me in my eyes and pull the trigger. The blood is seeping from my chest. The charcoal burning on the grill outside can’t be hotter than I am. If I hadn’t seen him aim the gun, I would have thought I’d been punched. I would have run for cover. There was no time for cover. There was no chance for me.

A boy I’ve never seen before shot me. On purpose.

The fall to the floor hurts. Bodies scurry around me, towels are thrown at my chest. My heart is throbbing so fast it might explode. The ice fading in the punch beside me isn’t fading faster than my senses. Cold dances around me as ice packs land on the kitchen tiles near my feet. My focus is blurry as the outline of the letters in my name draw out before me on my grave.

My grave. Mom and Dad and Jedediah will have to bury me. I’m only sixteen. This can’t happen now. I haven’t married...graduated…run my first marathon. I was training. Hard. I put my body through the ringer. I’ll never be able to run again.

“Take her to...” a voice trails off even though it’s the only thing I want to focus on right now. The pulsing in my ears quiet. I can’t hear a sound besides my fading heartbeat. All I want to hear is my father’s hearty laugh, my boyfriend’s favorite swampy tunes, my best friend’s triumph when she scores the best stadium seats. Never again.

The blood bubbling under my hands, the alcohol being held in a stranger’s by my side, I can’t smell. Will I ever be able to smell my mother’s tangerine scent again? Never again.

The weak, hairy arms pulling me up, I can’t see. I need to see my brother. Where is he? I need to see him one last time so I don’t forget his face. I need to call out his name one more time so I can hear the syllables form in my mouth but all that comes to mind is his nickname and even that’s too much to say. Diaho.

A girl’s long, auburn hair brushes against my skin, tangles in the red on my chest as she pulls me to the side or forward. I have no sense of direction. Is she moving me to the bathroom? Those few feet away feel like a million. In science or history or health, I don’t know, we learned you should never move an injured person. Call 911. Wait for the first responders.

They’re not waiting.

They’re killing me. Two hands, three, four are on me now. Dragging me up, up, up and I’m falling. Out of my skin.

“Karsyn Dale Grant, please step forward.”

The beanstalk colored walls of Moira’s kitchen were surrounding me less than twenty seconds ago. The sweat of a hundred people filled my nose a minute before. The Peach Smirnoff lingering on my tongue from a kiss is gone too. I can’t feel my chest, my toes, I can’t feel. All that stands before me is black. Where am I? Don’t freak out. Am I dead? Don’t freak out.

Somehow I manage to turn around and my surroundings come into focus. It wasn’t black. It was stars. They’re all around me. Oh my God, I’m dead. Really dead. Alone. From Mom and Dad, Diaho, Moira and my love. My first and only love. The stars stretch out for miles in every direction but there’s only me in between without a map.

No Disney marathon. No prom. No graduation. No trip to Paris, France. No more family reunions in Italy. No wedding. Kids. Who can live these memories with me? No one. Ever.

I’ve reached the end.

Take me back. Please, take me back now.

Turning around with a destination but no direction, four yards ahead sits a desk larger than any I’ve ever seen, even in courtrooms on TV, with the finest maple finish and three worn men perched behind it. All three could have walked right off the Mayflower but it’s the busy one in the middle who catches my attention. His voice thunders through me, holding me frozen in place. “Grant, move forward,” he says louder, still as dry but this time with less patience.

I was being carried away and now I’m higher than the planes I traveled on for half marathons around the country. Mom wanted to take me to see the world. I told her to save her flight attendant perks for when I’m ready for the marathons.

What happened? The words won’t come out.

Taking documents from the man on the left and stamping the papers individually before passing them to the man on the right, the working middle man doesn’t wait for me to come. “As of this moment, 9:52pm on Friday, June 23, 2017, the council is thrilled to inform you that you are officially a guide for the living.”


“For every violation of the moral system which you have committed in your sixteen years of life on earth, you are now required to right each wrong by assisting the living as they face similar conflicts.”


“You may choose to show yourself to the individual or push the idea into their mind. This assignment is expected to be completed in seven years time. It is essential this list be maintained. Revenge and, or other forms of closure you may have in mind are not encouraged. This is your closure.”

Who’s system? I push myself to speak. “What is this place?”

The middle man’s eyes cut deep. He motions for me to step closer. “You are not a guardian angel. You are not protecting anyone. The only being you are protecting is yourself. Here is your inventory of wrongs.”

Without giving myself permission, I reach for the scroll with both hands but find I only need one. The scroll isn’t heavy at all. This is it? I let my hand drop a little to confirm the weight.

Before I’ve opened the scroll, he begins again. “What you currently see on the scroll are your wrongdoings from the last month of your life. When you have completed month 198, month 197 will appear.”

I was shot and somehow I’m the one holding all the regrets. I begin to laugh, unable to sort out my emotions. I’m dead. “What happens if I don’t do this?”

He motions towards the scroll and I hand it back. He stretches the parchment all the way out as I lean forward to see the bottom of the scroll.

On Monday, June 23, 2024, upon completing her task as a guide, the soul of Karsyn Dale Grant will acquire peace for eternity. Upon failure, the soul of Ms. Grant will be bound to the Moneo plane to be consumed by her remaining faults until her soul breaks down. Time Remaining: 61,360 hours.

So the Peace in RIP has to be earned? No one ever tells you that. No one ever can. He hands me back the scroll. He grunts. “Questions?”

“Yes,” I say with force, deciding what to ask first. Who are you? Who killed me? Why me? Will I see my family again?


  1. Hi Melody,

    I love what you've done with this revision. Karsyn has been further fleshed out, I believe she's a confused teenager who has ended up in the afterlife.

    "“Yes,” I say with force, deciding what to ask first. Who are you? Who killed me? Why me? Will I see my family again? " This line really brings her to life. Maybe add something snarky in there. Like "And who made you king of the afterlife" or something better along those lines.

    Love this line : So the Peace in RIP has to be earned?

    Thank you for sharing. :)

  2. Hi Melody,

    This revision is so much clearer. I really like Karsyn so far and I understand her reactions a lot better. The part where she is being told about the scroll and what her task is, is believable for me. I really like what you’ve done with the revision!

    I am wondering if you need the entire first paragraph. I love the line: “A boy I’ve never seen before shot me. On purpose.” It’s so strong and it tells us exactly what happened in few words. It hooks me instantly.

    Then you can go into: The fall to the floor hurts. Bodies scurry around me, towels are thrown at my chest. My heart throbs so fast it might explode. Blood seeps from my chest. The charcoal burning on the grill outside can’t be hotter than I am. My senses fade as fast as the ice in the punch bowl. Cold dances around me as ice packs land on the kitchen tiles near my feet. My focus is blurry as the outline of the letters in my name draw out before me on my grave…

    There are a few times when you use passive verbs (is, was, had) when you could use an active verb. “My focus is blurry” could be “My focus blurs…” “The beanstalk colored walls were surrounding me” to “The beanstalk colored walls surrounded me.”

    I do think you cleared up everything that was confusing for me and I really like where this is going!

  3. Hi Melody,
    Jessica touched on the one thing that stood out most to me. "A boy I’ve never seen before shot me. On purpose." is a truly strong line to begin the story.

    The rest reads well. I look forward to your next revision.

  4. Wonderful revision Melody! You've done a great job of bringing us along with Karsyn. I can picture her now, facing these three, out of space and time, and understand her confusion. I do think she would also be terrified, and angry - as you touch on. She was murdered, the victim, and yet she has to correct a list of minor infractions? She could reflect on that more, or even comment on it. And she might wonder how difficult this task is before her - how often do people succeed and earn peace? Is it a herculean task? I would be terrified! I also agree you could start with "A boy I've never seen..." Also, I was confused with the line "The ice fading in the punch beside me isn’t fading faster than my senses." Overall, terrific revision and I can't wait to read more!

  5. Hi Melody,

    I really like this revision, it takes the story in a much clearer direction and I can start to feel Karsyn's feelings on being where she ends up. I too would have questions that need answering. I think a little bit more weight should be placed on the penalty for not completing the task she's assigned, I guess I just wanted to see if she could feel fear even when dead.

    Overall, I love the beginning of this piece. The imagery of your MC being shot and the movement of her body is jarring in the best way possible. And like everyone else I think, I too love that line!