Here lies the brother (359 hits)
Category: NoneRating: -1.22 on 10 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Ais (View user info) at 2007-05-06 05:52:05 EDT
Below is a section of the first chapter of my submission for my Writing a Novel Class. I'd value any constructive criticism. Any yes, I'm aware incest is an icky topic so please try to avoid stupid comments about it... Just in case you're not sure - the italics indicated a separate narrative voice - there has been some confusion over it.
Thanks in advance.
Here Lies The Brother
Here lies the brother, here lies the sister.
Here lies the father, here lies the daughter.
Here lie husband and wife,
Yet there are only two bodies in the grave.
Fragment of a 17th Century Poem, Author Unknown
Do you have that little part inside? That voice dripping poison through your brain and into your soul. I'm staring at myself in the mirror, while cold water drips from my hair like icicles and trickles down my spine. Stepping out from a scorching shower into a freezing room is always such a shock. I sink my nails into the toned flesh of my stomach. I have beautiful nails; they're always perfectly manicured, acrylic with a French polish done twice monthly. Appearance is vitally important in my business; my whole life is centred on the idea of visible perfection. Ripping my nails back across the skin, a new distraction appears before my eyes. Red, raised, rashy welts rise
from my hide; a pastiche of zebra print, red on pale gold. Zebra print; what a trashy, nineties phase.
I'm bleeding. Little droplets of crimson have rained on my stomach, glistening on the surface of the welts. They look like rubies when they're fresh, but all too quickly wilt like flowers. They fade to dull earthy ochre, from smooth jewels to craggy sand-blasted rocks. Richard would maybe like that. His obsession is rocks. He's a geologist. He works on an oil rig in some icy black, frigid sea. I imagine him perched, bird-like, on a tiny platform above the water; he's all alone when I lie in bed. Sometimes he's gone so long I think he can't cope anymore, that he's run away, but Richard's always been there. He could never, would never leave me alone. Just me all alone, forever and ever. He'd never do that.
My inner thighs are covered in little white scars, the legacy of a lifetime of self-destruction. Physical pain swallows the voices for a while. Distract them from their work. That's when I remember myself.
Sat at my dressing table, I attend to my toilette, painting my mask and preparing to face the world. Our bedroom is clean, simple, modern; beautiful. A piece of art, neutrals and curved lines weave a perfect harmony. My home is a prop, a theatre dedicated to my art and my business. The parlour where I entertain potential clients tells them more than words ever could. Golden, glowing wooden floors create warmth, drawing the eye into the room and inviting you to enter. Light beech furniture by Ercol provides a sense of space to linger, where clients often sit subtly stroking the soft green silk cushions. Smooth vanilla walls create a warm, welcome environment. It's safe and secure, not to bold or unfamiliar. Every sense is catered to on my stage; the nose is filled with passion by the delicate vase of lilies that sit on my desk. Only Richard understands my craving for total harmony and perfection.
Richard's more than just a brother, or a lover. Closer to my heart than anyone can imagine, he's everything I need. We share the deepest bonds; passion tinged with the limpid blue blood ties and familial love.
I'm dressing myself, now my little jewels have dried. Oatmeal linen trousers, cropped to three-quarter length, teamed with a biscotti angora wrap-around cardi. I'm walking through Summertown and towards the city centre this morning. The sun is shining and the name suits this place with light filtering through the emerald leaves of the broad oak trees that line its avenues. Oxford is such a beautiful city on days like this.
Incest is sexual activity between family members. It is considered taboo in the majority of current and past cultures, even those which are otherwise sexually permissive. Different degrees of kinship are considered incestuous in different cultures; however there exists an almost universal taboo against pairings between mother, father, daughter, son, brother and sister.
Incest has, by some psychologists, been suggested to fall into two categories: overt and covert incest. Covert incest is defined as an inappropriate emotional relationship between family members; overt incest is the practice of sexual intercourse, or other sexual contact between family members.
We moved here four months ago, to this green and lichen city, wide green spaces and cramped grey ones. The Dreaming Spires of Oxford. They sound like a fairy-tale. When I was little I used to ask Richard what they were dreaming about. I love the public gardens in this city. Sitting river-side in verdant, spring-green grass, my back cradled in the strength of a weeping willow, watching tourists punt along the Cherwell is the purest form of meditation.
She's there again. I'm in the city centre, walking along St Giles and she's there. With her red hair and her gleaming smile and her pram. She's always there, looking oh so smug with her perfect baby. Walking out of Borders Bookstore with a bursting bag of books. Probably baby books to read with her beautiful white blonde son. He looks so much like Richard, it almost breaks my heart. I thought we'd left her behind when we moved here, with all the hatred in that little narrow town. Torbridge has no open spaces, just narrow streets and narrow-minds. Dirty, unkind thoughts and judging eyes.
We tried to run away, but she's followed us here. I can't escape her shining, fizz-free hair and shark-like smile, her perfect, Baby-Gap adorned cherub.
None of you shall approach anyone near of kin to uncover nakedness: I am the LORD.
You shall not uncover the nakedness of your father, which is the nakedness of your mother; she is your mother, you shall not uncover her nakedness.
You shall not uncover the nakedness of your sister, your father's daughter or your mother's daughter, whether born at home or born abroad.
You shall not uncover the nakedness of your father's wife's daughter, begotten by your father, since she is your sister.
Leviticus, 18:6
The Western prohibition against incest arises from the Biblical instructions against such acts found in the Mosaic laws of the Old Testament. However, in modern society religion has little bearing upon legal matters and other justifications for the taboo must be found. According to genetic studies, approximately 6 - 8% of children who are the products of first-cousin couplings have serious genetic defects, compared with 3 - 4% of the general population. For obvious reasons, there is little research into the products of closer genetic couplings, but findings suggest that for father-daughter, mother-son and brother-sister relationships the percentage reaches somewhere between 25 and 50%.
However, the legal prohibition against incest on the basis of an increased risk of genetic defects cannot be defended unless there is a similar prohibition against the reproduction of carriers of identifiable genetic diseases such as cystic fibrosis. Since this is morally untenable in the modern world, there must be another justification for the ostracism received by incestuous couples.
I dream about her golden-haired baby; dream about cradling him in my arms. Dream that he's mine; mine and Richard's baby. Dream about kissing his feet and the smooth skin of his cheeks, about rising in the middle of the night to feed him. No parent is ever alone, never unwanted.
We talked about the baby; our baby. But Richard doesn't think it's wise. He doesn't think it's fair to the child, to our little blonde angel, with his pudgy hands and white bright smile. It's not fair. Why should my baby be wrong? Her baby is perfect, his health a too bright sun, blinding me with envy.
I'm clothes shopping in Debenhams. Richard's coming home soon. Only a month to go and I want everything to be perfect. Bright and shiny and perfect, just for him.
I'm trying on a pale green silk sheath dress; spaghetti straps and a delicate mid-calf hem that perfectly complements my new high-lighted hair. Strappy beaten gold sandals with teetering heels complete the look.
I have his first night home flawlessly planned. Dinner at Chez Gaston, followed by drinks at Angel's Bar on Jerico Street. Then "King Lear" at the Apollo. Tickets booked, reservations made. Everything will be perfect. It has to be. But I just know she'll be there. Watching and waiting. Watching us.
User Reviews
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2007-05-06 16:04:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
I'm confused and a bit uneasy.
I suppose that's more of a comment on me than on your post.
Submitted by experima (user info) at 2007-05-06 15:56:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-05-06 15:44:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I don't think it's terrible, but I don't care much for it either. The separate narrative strikes me as obtrusive and doesn't add anything of interest. And I would rather give up beer for a month than read an entire novel written in the present tense. That's saying something.
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2007-05-06 15:05:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Also, after reading that first paragraph I question whether or not you speak english
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2007-05-06 14:38:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
please try to avoid stupid comments -- I refuse.
Do you have that little part inside? -- NO IM NOT GAY LOL
Sat at my dressing table, I attend to my toilette -- BUT UR TOILET IS IN UR BATHROOM I DONT GET IT
clients often sit subtly stroking the soft green silk cushions -- I BET DATS NOT THE ONLY THING YOUR CLIENTS STROKE LOL
Smooth vanilla walls -- HOW DO U KEEP DEM FROM MELTING I BET DER DELICIOUS
he's everything I need -- SO HE IS WATER FOOD SECURITY PROTECTION LOVE SELF ESTEEM STATUS RECOGNITION AND ACTUALIZATION LOL THATS MASLOWS HIERARCHY OF NEEDS HAHA
Eh, I'm spent
Submitted by Bohme (user info) at 2007-05-06 13:10:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
WTF?
Submitted by Maddog (user info) at 2007-05-06 13:00:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
"My inner thighs are covered in little white scars, the legacy of a lifetime of self-destruction."
I would suggest not masturbating with a pocketknife anymore.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-05-06 12:25:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Fartman (user info) at 2007-05-06 11:12:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
You fail.
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2007-05-06 06:35:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Below is a section of the first chapter of my submission for my Writing a Novel Class. I'd value any constructive criticism. Any yes, I'm aware incest is an icky topic so please try to avoid stupid comments about it... Just in case you're not sure - the italics indicated a separate narrative voice - there has been some confusion over it.
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Don't tell me what to do you pretencious little twat.
OMG TEH INZEST!!!!