Wednesday, September 15, 2010

New Short Story

I'm working on a new short story. This is what I have so far:

On Sunday, January 1st, 1950 Scarlet made one New Year's Resolution: to stop going to church. The minister had read than morning from Revelation 2 "thou sufferest that woman Jezebel... commit fornication... I will cast her into a bed... great tribulation... I will kill her children..."

"I was only going to be politer," she explained to her mother, "and if they can't extend me the same courtesy I see no reason to continue the hypocrisy.

"Besides," she added nonchalantly. "I've read Nathaniel Hawthorn and understand how all of that really works."

Honey had not read Nathaniel Hawthorn but neither had she read the Bible outside of a church building. She feigned scandalization with the appropriate signs of outrage and fear but she had never once denied her daughter any desire and was not about to start now that she was a smart, independent young woman. Honey insisted that her granddaughter continue to attend church, for decency's sake, and with that was able to keep appearances. Honey might not have any great confidence of her place in the Kingdom of Heaven but knew where she stood with the neighbors. Honey and granddaughter would continue to be polite for a few more decades until the neighbors stopped caring, died or moved away.

Scarlet only had one child intentionally: Angelica Pearl Elder, born in late December 1956. Angelica would eventually become the only sincerely religious member off the family since the Grand Old Thornburg but in the pleasant carefree Fifties she was her mother's precious angel.

Scarlet had intended to keep Angelica's father, as she had intended to keep every man she had married, except the first, of course. Still if any man tried to get one over on her she would tell him to go right to hell.

"Go to hell, you bastard," she'd say with her cigarette pointed like a gun at his head or heart or lower still. She'd flick a touch of ash in his general direction, turn around, drop his ring on the floor and walk away.

...

I pretty much know everything I'm going to say in the story. It is just a matter of getting the words down.

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