story
OK..SO I WROTE A STORY. WELL, IM CURRENTLY IN THE PROCESS. I WANT TO WRITE A SCREENPLAY ON THIS STORY, BUT IM FIRST WRITING IT IN BOOK FORM SO THAT I CAN GET MY THOUGHTS OUT THAT WAY. FEEL FREE TO READ, IGNORE, WHATEVER. ILL POST EACH CHAPTER AS I WRITE IT, NO MATTER HOW LONG IT MAY TAKE ME TO FINISH THIS THING. ITS A STORY ABOUT LOVE, LOSS, ABUSE, AND ACCEPTANCE. YES, THE NAME OF THE GIRL IS KAT, BUT THERE IS NO REFERENCE TO ANY KATS THAT I MAY KNOW. OK.
PREFACE
She couldn’t cry at the funeral. She felt eyes on her, waiting for the tears to come, but they never did. She had never been the type of person to hold emotion in, but ever since the day her mother died, she had never once cried.
It had always been just the two of them, ever since she was an infant. They had lived together in the most beautiful of houses, in uptown Los Angeles. Then the car accident had happened, and Kat’s entire life changed.
Her father walked over to her, and rested his hand on her back. She shrugged it off, then turned away and walked towards the oak in the middle of the cemetery. They had been able to see the oak from their house, and her mother had always commented on that beautiful life growing out of a dead place. She loved that oak, and it had appeared in almost every one if the paintings she had made and decorated the house with. Kat caressed the wood, scraping her fingers gently on the rough edges. She willed herself to cry, to let out the unbearable feelings that were turning her insides cold.
She heard the end of the sermon, heard the sobs coming from that sad place where her mother lie. But it wasn’t her mother in that casket. Her mother had always been full of life and warmth, and had shared that with everyone around her. She had glowed with happiness every time Kat did something that made her proud. When she touched a canvas with her paint, she created life with the colors and expressions that flowed so naturally from her fingers. Her eyes had always sparkled with a joy so intense that any negativity was abolished as soon as she gazed at it. Kat’s aunt, her sister, had always said that’s why Kat’s father had run away. He was so full of angst and negativity from his childhood that he felt that he couldn’t live with a force so opposed to his own.
Personally, Kat didn’t care why he had left. She wasn’t like her mother, and couldn’t simply demolish the hate for him. The only times she ever saw her mother’s smile falter was when his name was mentioned. That was enough to cause the more volatile Kat to loathe him completely. And now, she was going to live with him. She had begged the lawyers to let her stay with her aunt, but they wouldn’t hear of it unless her father refused custody. He hadn’t. The one thing he could have done for her he didn’t do.
She felt the other funeral attendees leave, the cars nearly silently driving away. She knew he was waiting for her, and would until she decided she wanted to leave. The thought of this gesture infuriated her, and she decided she wouldn’t give him the smug pleasure of being kind. She touched the tree one final time, and walked slowly to the car. His beat up pickup creaked as she opened the door and hastily slid inside. They met eyes for a single moment before Kat drew away, surprised at the genuine loss and concern shown in his brown eyes.
AND SO IT BEGINS, PERHAPS THE LARGEST STORY ILL EVER WRITE. WHO KNOWS, MAYBE ILL GET SICK OF IT, OR GET WRITERS BLOCK OR WHATEVER ELSE. BUT AT LEAST I TRY