Well, here it is, the first scene in my new WIP. It is still a bit rough, of course, but I would love some opinions.
It is a paranormal horror piece and, yes, it is all told in this POV.
I better get this posted before I lose all my nerve.
Tentative Title: The Green Ones
I slide out the back door, looking cautiously at the woods behind the house. The whispers are silent today. I head over to Amos’ pen and quickly unlatch the door.
“Come here, boy!”
The black and white hound bounds out the gate and jumps up on me, knocking me to the ground, giggling. The newly cut grass is prickly against my bare arms and legs while his goofy face looks down at me as he licks the side of my face. I take a moment to look up at the puffy white clouds that float through the brilliant blue sky. It is a day to enjoy, a day to live life to the fullest. And I want to run around!
I struggle to get Amos off me, once more cursing the fact that although my mind is that of an adult, my body is still that of a five-and-a-half-year old.
He knows what I want. He backs off, still wagging his long tail, and allows me to stand.
“You’re a good boy, Amos.” I pat his back and give him a quick hug, his fur soft against my face, as I smell the doggie goodness of his body.
Suddenly, I hear it again. The whispering of the green leaves in the woods.
Amos jumps over my head and stares into the woods, growling. He must be able to hear it too, although no one else ever has. Certainly, Momma and Daddy have never reacted to it before.
Words start to creep through the breezy sounds, words I hear not just with my ears, but also with my heart.
“Scottie, come to us.”
“It is your destiny.”
“We are as you are.”
“You will be treasured among us.”
“You are the child we have been waiting for.”
“The child of prophecy.”
The words overlap and merge into a breathy kind of silence, yet they all reach inside of me, tugging at my senses. They seem to know how I yearn for acceptance for who I am, not the child my mother wants me to be, or the prodigy my father thinks I am. I am unique in every way, and I know that. There is something more waiting for me than just any average child.
I step away from Amos’ rigid figure and move closer to the trees. I want to enter the woods and surrender myself to the voices. I move as though in slow motion, each step careful, but strong.
I break into a run, charging toward the woods. Amos tries to get in front of me, but I push him out-of-the-way, my arms stronger than ever before. The old hound dog barks sharply, and then I feel warm, familiar arms sweep me up.
“Scottie, just where do you think you are going? Silly little guy. If I hadn’t heard you playing with Amos, I wouldn’t have known where you are!”
“Momma, please let me down. I want to go to the woods.” I look into her beautiful chocolate-brown eyes, pleadingly.
Her eyes cloud over with worry as she asks me, “Why, Scottie? Why would you ever want to go into the woods?” She holds me closer, and takes several steps backward, away from the trees and toward the house. She almost stumbles in her haste.
“The trees, Momma they call to me. I want to go into them.”
“Cherie, Scottie? Are you two out back?”
My mother sighs in relief as my father calls out from the driveway, and says, “Jackson, we are back here!”
Daddy comes walking around the corner of the house, his golden hair shining in the sunlight. His smile so bright, I can’t help but grin in return.
“What are my two favorite people in the world doing this afternoon?” Daddy’s voice is warm as honey and so inviting that I wriggle out of Mamma’s arms and rush to his side.
Just as he always does, Daddy scoops me up in his arms and holds me up higher than his head before wrapping me in a warm hug. He is my favorite person in the world.
“And just what have you been doing, scamp? Running around with Amos, I bet!”
“Oh yes, Daddy. And listening to the woods.”
Daddy’s eyebrows raise and he looks a bit worried.
“Listening to the woods, Scottie? That is an odd thing to say.”
Momma speaks up. “Jackson, I caught him trying to go into the woods today. I was just getting ready to take him inside.”
“Is what you mother’s saying true?”
“Well, yes, Daddy. The woods call to me. I want to walk under the green trees, smell the soil, and talk to the wind.”
Daddy’s forehead pinched together into a fierce line. He looks more worried now than before. I reach up and try and smooth it away.
“Daddy, don’t look so anxious. I would be okay. The woods want me there.”
He looks over my head at Momma, and they exchange a look they don’t think I can see.
“That’s not the point, Scottie,” Mamma says. “It is dangerous in the woods, and there are many hidden dangers there of which you know nothing.”
Her words are more formal than normal, almost as though she is reciting something she had memorized long ago. I looked at her, questioningly. There is definitely something she isn’t telling me.
“What do you mean? I know the woods won’t hurt me. They told me so.”
“Okay, let’s go inside,” Daddy says, carrying me to the back door.
I try to get down from his arms, but he holds me tightly, and refuses to let me down when I tell him to.
“Scottie, stop squirming!”
I stop moving, but frown as Daddy carries me inside.
okay, advice? criticism? does it hook? is it crap? give me something, dear readers!