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Sunday, October 10, 2010

The Dance of Revenge - Chapter Two, Part I

The Dance of Revenge - the saga of Sherrie, a french ballet dancer whose mother is about to marry an American...d*@khead. Yes. This is the story I wrote at age 14, which I thought very mature and interesting. I hadn't planned for it to be, well, funny.

We're up to Chapter Two already! If you haven't read Chapter One yet, never fear, you can read Part I and Part II and join in the fun!

Last week...Adam forced himself upon Sherrie, only to be timely stopped by Sherrie's mother returning home. Phew. 

Now, don't forget...I was 14 and a Sweet Dreams and Danielle Steele book lover at the time. Forgive me. 

Chapter Two
Part I

That night, Sherrie lay awake in bed thinking of her encounter with Mr Brair that day. It made her shake with fear when she thought of his cruel hands resting on her neck. She thought of his lips bruising her own with his kisses.

She had trouble explaining to her mother what had happened to her records that lay ruined on the rug.

“I slipped and fell on them whilst trying an arabesque.” Her mother had looked doubtfull [and maybe even doubtful] at the explanation.

“Try to be a little more careful next time, Sherrie. I can’t afford to replace them straight away.” Then she had excused herself so that she could go back to her writing. [Ah…a writer, hey?]

Sherrie’s mother was once a journalist for a major newspaper until its company went bankrupt and let Elizabeth go. It had been a very big threat to how Sherrie and Elizabeth were to live, but they had managed on a low budget pension. Sherrie’s grandmother payed [oh, Lord…PAID] for Sherrie’s dance lessons each week.

Sherrie could now hear her mother and Adam in the next room. Their moans and sloppy kisses [I’m quite certain I could have described that a little better] echoed throughout her mind. She pulled the flower-covered pillow tightly over her head and shut her eyes tightly. How stupid they were to think that she would be asleep. This often went on three or four times a week. [Let’s see…pre-marriage…yup.] How would her mother feel if she was to tell her that her boyfriend tryed [for goodness sake – what was my school actually teaching me? TRIED! Even my 6yo could spell that] to fool around with her daughter.

Sherrie sighed when the kissing stopped. She could not tell her mother about that day. Her mother would not believe her anyhow. She was too blind with love to worry about what her daughter had to say anyway.

How Sherrie hated her mother for bringing Mr Brair home that day in Spring. [Well, there you go…Paris/Wherever they are in France in the springtime…that explains it.] Sherrie knew from the start that he would be bad news, and she was right. Somehow she would free her mother from him, if it was the last thing she did.

She began to wonder what her father was like? She had never seen a photo of him, nor ever talked to him. His features she had never touched. [I’m not sure that last line works, quite frankly.] Sherrie had been told earlier that her father was killed in a car crash before her birth. A tragic misery. [I’m not sure “A tragic misery” works either. And - could this story get any more clich├ęd?] Sherrie wished her father was here. Maybe he was nicer than Mr Brair. Anyone could be nicer than him.

Sherrie tossed and turned until she could not stand laying [oh, Lord have mercy…laying?] in bed any longer. She got up, out of the bed and walked towards the kitchen. When she came to the spacious yellow interior she dived straight for the refrigerator or some hot milk. [Funny. I always thought milk was cold when kept in the fridge.] When she was waiting for the milk to warm [ah…yes], she noticed two slips of paper laying [sheesh!] on the counter. She went over and picked them up to study them. Airline tickets to Switzerland! Two of them. Not three. What did this mean? [Duh, Sherrie.] Then Sherrie heard footsteps on the floor and her heart stopped. The door to the kitchen flew open. There stood Sherrie’s mother. [Thank goodness for that. Don’t think I could have coped with another scene like last week if it had been Adam.]

“Oh, mama. You scared me.” Sherrie turned the gas off from under the milk. “You want some?”

“No thank you, precious. What are you doing up so late?” Elizabeth asked, somewhat anxiously.

“I couldn’t sleep very well.” Sherrie continued to pour the milk into a long glass. “Mother, what are these plane tickets doing here? We can’t afford a trip to Switzerland.” [Yes, Elizabeth. Besides – France is so darn close…you could, like, drive there!] Sherrie watched as her mother walked and sat down at the table.

“It’s not us who’s paying for them. Adam is taking me to Switzerland for our honeymoon.” Sherrie almost dropped her glass. Why would her mother leave her? “Aren’t you happy for me, precious?” her mother asked nervously. Sherrie turned hot with anger.

“NO! I’M NOT!” Sherrie raced from the kitchen back to her room and slammed the door shut. Her mother was so pathetic! So stupid. Why couldn’t she see the light? At this rate, Adam would be sure to take over their lives.

Stay tuned next week for Part II of Chapter Two. 



Maxabella said...

This just gets better and better... I am fascinated by all that sloppy kissing going on three or four times a week. x

x0xJ said...

I am loving this.

Katie said...

Thank you, teenager Jodie for writing this! :-D

Naomi said...

What can I say? It would be a tragic misery if I had never read this.
As for all that sloppy kissing and moaning... oh dear me.
This just keeps getting better! xxx

Thea Smith said...

Oooops, almost missed this instalment....now off to read the next one! :)