III

On the long bus ride home the next morning, Mark pondered over the events of the night before. It had been awkward, at first, to meet Tim, but the two had eventually begun to foster a grudging friendship. To Mark’s surprise, Tim had seemed genuinely pleased to meet him, and interested in what he had to say. Now that he had met Tim, Mark felt he could forgive Lauren more completely for watching their movie with someone else. He knew what he had done had been just as bad—even worse. But he was still upset about the movie. Their movie.

The bus swung round a corner, sending Mark into the young woman next to him, and nearly causing a small child to topple over. Mark apologized hurriedly to the young woman, and sighed. Riding the New York City public busses really wasn’t very safe anymore. ( Did the drivers even get trained these days?Collapse )

Comments are welcome! I'm hard at work on Part IV. Plot is building up, I sweaaarrr...

I

His first sentence was a question. A sharp shrill cry that pierced the air, sending his mother down the long hallway, her long red hair flowing out behind her in a wave of glossy curls. She lifted him up in his arms, and hugged him tightly, tightly, reassuring him. He titled his head back to look up at her, and repeated the question, now in a whisper, voice so low it could hardly be held.

“Where is Papa?” he asked, eyes wide and ready to leak a never-ending stream of tears. Seeing her little son staring up at her like that nearly broke her heart. She wanted, more than anything, to lie, and tell him Papa was going away for a little while, and would be back soon. But somehow, she couldn’t lie. She knew it would hurt him either way, but somehow she couldn’t lie. So she told the truth, the cruel, harsh truth.

Stroking his soft wispy baby’s locks, as if to ease all the suffering and pain from her words, she told him. “Marky, my love, Papa’s gone.”

Not surprisingly, Mark didn’t understand. He just stared at her, questioning her words. He believed her, oh, he believed her. But he simply did not know what she was talking about. The question again, more demanding. He was getting exasperated now. “Where’s Papa?”

Now it registered with his mother that he had finally strung together a few words, even two or three, to form his first sentence. She beamed, and kissed his cheek. His frown changed to a joyful smile. He loved his Mama. Mark buried his face in her shoulder, and gurgled happily.

His question was forgotten, but she knew she would have to come up with an explanation sooner, rather than latter. She tried not to cry herself, as she carried him back into his cozy little wooden bed, painted with scenes from Greek myths.


Author's Note: So, what do you all think? This isn't all I've written so far, more will be coming soon! I hope to finish Chapter One tonight or early tomorrow. Please feel free to critique! =]

Here goes, NaNo had started!

To keep you all up-to-date on my word count, I've included an automatically updating NaNo progress meter. Check back here to see how I'm doing, and nag me if I'm behind! ;D



Good luck, fellow WriMos!

<3
Miry

To christen this journal, I'm going to post a bunch of NaNoWriMo memes and prompts, to get the ball rolling.

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