Tuesday’s Tales #1 – John
I am trying my hand at short stories. I’d appreciate your critiques.
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A man wearing green flannel pajamas with orange polka dots lived in an underground house, the walls of which were lined with old rubber tires. He called himself John.
His parents didn’t give him that name. Mr. Twindle, John’s father, had no say in placing an appropriate title upon his son. Mrs. Twindle, without rising from her birthing chair, proclaimed her male offspring, Samuel Harrison Ignatius Twindle. Her sense of humor rivaled that of her mother-in-law’s, who had bestowed upon her son, John’s father, the glorious name, Stanislaw Howitzer Indigo Twindle. Stanislaw’s father wasn’t around to object or give Stanislaw his own surname, so Miss Twindle gave Stanislaw her maiden name.
Mrs. Twindle, John’s mother, like to refer to her son as The Little S.H.I.T. and her husband as The Big S.H.I.T. Miss Twindle, John’s grandmother, never did, but she giggled whenever Mrs. Twindle called her men The S.H.I.T.’s.
Mrs. Twindle did other things she found funny. She sent John to school with an empty brown paper bag for his lunch. She replaced his English essays with her love letters from old beaus. She sent him to the drug store to buy her feminine products. She castigated Mr. Twindle in public while John stood by, unable to defend his father who never defended himself.
Mrs. Twindle did other things too but John knew by instinct they should never be talked about with outsiders. He kept things to himself. He never attempted to bring anyone home. He hid what he could.
When he was eight, he began calling himself John. He would not respond to anyone if they did not call him John. This made Mrs. Twindle mad. Mrs. Twindle began beating John. She called him Little SHIT. He ignored her. She took the toilet cleaning brush, called him John and hit him so hard with the bristle end of the brush it left bloody dots where it landed on his bare skin. She thought her use of the toilet brush as a weapon to beat John funny. Mrs. Twindle wasn’t really smart enough to go beyond bathroom humor, but that didn’t stop her brand of discipline.
John ran away from home at the age of twelve. He didn’t get far. The town came together for the upstanding Mrs. Twindle to search for John. They found him at the bus station trying to buy a ticket with coins he had scrounged together for two years.
They returned John to Mrs. Twindle’s bosom along with twenty-three fifty in pennies, nickels and dimes, housed in an old sock. That night Mrs. Twindle used John’s running away money as a cudgel on his thighs and buttocks. When she raised heavy welts on his legs and the bruises pleased her simple nature, she sent John to the store to buy her douche. He had to pay for it with his own money.
Mr. Twindle died a few weeks later, followed closely by Miss Twindle. John’s grandmother left her entire estate to her grandson. She even mentioned in her will she did it to make Mrs. Twindle furious.
Mrs. Twindle contacted her lawyer. She planned to go to court and have herself made the executor of John’s estate. She began proceedings to have John committed.
That night, John crept into Mrs. Twindle’s bedroom while she slept, climbed on top of her, his knees pressed into her chest and placed a pillow over her face. She fought like a banshee but John, desperate, held that pillow down until Mrs. Twindle was dead.
John straightened up Mrs. Twindle’s hair and bed clothes, smoothed out the blankets and went to bed. He slept until eleven in the morning. He ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, dressed and walked to the police station. He announced to the officer on duty that his mother had died during the night. No one ever questioned Mrs. Twindle’s death. Mrs. Twindle left all of her money to a home for wayward girls specifically to purchase high heeled shoes.
John lived until the age of eighteen in a group home just outside of his hometown. When he came of age, he took all of his money from his grandmother and bought camping gear, a shovel and a piece of property in Montana.
John began collecting old car tires and digging a hole. When his hole was large enough to suit him and his dog, he lined the hole with the tires he had gathered. His home remained the same temperature throughout the year. He wore green pajamas with orange polka dots, slept in a sleeping bag on the ground and he never had indoor plumbing.
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Today is the third day of NaNoWriMo 2009.
Target word count today: 1,667 words.
Total word count so far 3,661.
My user name is goldennib.
If you are doing NaNo too, look me up so we can be NaNo Buddies.
I AM A 3 YEAR WINNER.
For novels completed in previous years, as they came off of my fingertips:
My 2007 Novel – Ancestral Head
My 2008 Novel – Ranee’s Revenge
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Just two more days.
JOIN
Nessa — John is an interesting character. His mother is an interesting character, and his grandmother is an interesting character. This is much too short a piece for 3 interesting characters. We don’t actually get to know any of them.
Not only that, you tell the story rather than showing it. This is more like a newspaper report than a story. Put us in John’s head and have us live this story as John lived it, then you’ll have a compelling story.
You write well, you pick excellent details, now you need to make us experience them, not merely read about them.
You do great short story. I always favored them. I remember about thirty years ago I heard that John Updike had written a new short story for Playboy Magazine and I paid the high price for a copy for the sole purpose of reading his story.
I liked this. Simple is refreshing.
hmmmm…we each have our styles. i agree with quilly in that we never really get to be in the story with John, but that may not have been your intention. i love the little random bits along the way, though they still tie into the overall picture. i like john as a character and can picture him well in his little abode…
If the intent was to make me spit coffee all over my keyboard, then I say SUCCESS!
Sandi
This is very good.
It was intended as a character sketch, right?
I found it funny to start with – the names then it became disturbing to read about a mother abusing her son, even if it is fiction, sorry m’dear.
I like the way you started and came around in a full circle, using the same details. Great progress with NaNo!
Great short story. I felt so sorry for John. He needed a new daddy. All that money and he lived in a hole. Just sad.
Could be the start of something big! What a start this kid has–so many details are just fantastic in this. I’d love to know what John does next, or what adventure befalls him, with a backstory like this.
His mother beating him with his runaway money, *wow*. The legacy for high-heeled shoes made me laugh out loud. I enjoyed the whole read…and wonder about the tires!
You totally painted a picture for me. It reminded me of “Lovely Bones”. Very simple. I was not compelled to read more after the names, but I did. Then after that, I couldn’t STOP READING. I’d like to know WHY he decided to live in a hole. You left your readers wanting MORE. Good job, Nessa. There could definitely be a part two in this. I’d like for you to grab your reader ’sooner’, but the fact that you could grab them at all – is a real testament to your writing skills. Looking forward to the next one. Truly.
Interesting! I was glad he killed her……so you wrote a good and nasty villian…..and I really liked that he had a dog:)
Comments…..
Oops. I pressed return! This first couple of paragraphs felt like an opening to a book. Lots of names and associations it was hard for me to track but I’ve never been very good at that…this seems like great material for a longer piece. Congrats on your word count and all your previous success!
much love
I really like this, Nessa. There was a really consistent feel to the story and a rhythm to it that was enjoyable, even if the subject matter was a little dark. I look forward to reading more.
Great word count! I’ve got to do some writing tonight, I’ve been gone most of the day and I’m afraid I’ll fall out of the habit.
Sorry I’m so late. I’ve just been so busy. This is wonderful. Buy high heels. I about died. Well done my friend. Can I have your autograph so I can say I remember when….