I’ve decided that a nice way to celebrate the Christmas season would be to publish a story I wrote. So, I am going to be publishing on my blog a story I wrote called Moonlight Prayer. The story is somewhat long, so I’m going to post it in parts over the next few weeks–never in my life have I felt more like Charles Dickens!!!
This story, when I first started writing it, was suppose to be the sequel to The Amazing Gospelman, but since it’s been just over a year that I’ve been working on it, I kind of wanted a bit more freedom to allow the story to go in the direction it takes itself. So I’ve decided to not specifically label it as the sequel to Gospelman–in some ways it still is–but rather, I prefer to see this story as it’s own story. That’s why I decided to call it Moonlight Prayer.
Here is part one:
They were two bitter enemies.
Joyce wore dark navy jeans and a red tank top while Matthew had on a black suit and a blue tie. He sat opposite to Joyce on a fold-up chair. The lady who was there said as few words as possible in each sentence; you were gone in less than five minutes. Joyce remembered how Matthew thought he was some kind of super hero:
“Here’s your new room,” he said with a lot of pride. Matthew had his old study redesigned for Joyce. The designer he hired created the perfect room for any productive twelve year-old. It had mirrors, a walk in closet, a Jacuzzi bathtub: perfection. Joyce looked around for a few minutes and then told Matthew to go away. She sat on the edge of her bed until she got tired.
Then rolled out her sleeping bag on the floor and went to sleep.
Three years went by like that, where Matthew would make at least one attempt every month to buy her happiness; it never worked. She would hate Matthew even more.
“I’m going out,” said Joyce.
“When will you be…?” Joyce slammed the door before Matthew could finish his sentence.
Joyce left that evening, like she usually did, with a light blue winter coat and a long red knit scarf. She ran as fast as she could from the steps of the mansion, then took a bus to the mall. She got off and looked at the people smoking outside the mall. There was an old man dressed up in a black tuque and a long black coat, a bunch of older men in their late twenties swearing, and then there were a couple of elderly women in thick coats who stared at Joyce. She stepped into the mall, and walked in a straight path throwing quick glances into each store. Joyce stopped and noticed an eight-year-old girl yelling and screaming at her mother who would not buy her a colourful purse. She walked up to the little girl and said:
“Why don’t you get my mommy to buy you the stupid purse… she’s dead!” Joyce snatched the purse from the girl’s hands and threw it on the ground. The girl’s mother stood frozen with shock and stared at Joyce.
Joyce went up two escalators until she got to a food court where she sat next to a large fountain surrounded by palm trees. She sat, and starred. Looked around, threw a penny into water next to her; she just sat and killed time. As she silently hated her life, Joyce was not expecting a short girl her age to approach her and ask:
“Are you alright? Is everything okay? You don’t look so good. Do you want to talk about—”
“Go away.” was Joyce’s reply, but the girl persisted.
“I just want to help. Do you want to go over to the coffee shop with me and get something to drink?” The girl motioned with her hands in the direction of the nearby coffee shop.
“Would you just go away and leave me alone.”
The girl just took a deep breath and exhaled, sat silently for a couple of minutes and then gave Joyce a five-dollar bill.
“You can get yourself something to drink then,” said the girl as she got up and walked away.
When she was gone Joyce got up, and seeing that she was gone, went to one of the small fast food places and bought a pop. She hung around a bit longer drinking it until she decided to leave.
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