Below is the next excerpt from my novel "Reverse Skate." If you have not read before, please read the post "The Preface" first and then "Karla Section One" before reading below. The "o's" below are supposed to be bullets to separate each body memory, but I couldn't figure out how to put bullets here.Remember, this is unfinished, just an outline. I look forward to your comments and ideas.
WAVE #1
“Mommy, Baby Alive is eating real food!” o banana seats are so slippery and so cool! o a pair of red clackers hitting knuckles! o Slip ‘n Slide in the backyard o
Mrs. Beasley doll saying, “My, what a sweet child.” o Mystery Date Game o the scent of roses o a little girl blowing triple and quadruple bubbles with Bazooka Bubble Gum o “Conjunction Junction, what’s your function?” o a Pong ball bouncing back and forth on a screen. o the rough concrete hurting the bottom of bare feet. o screams in the middle of the night that no one hears o Carol Burnett’s Tarzan yell o Vietnam veterans returning home in airplanes o blood dripping onto the bed, left by a disposable razor o puka shell necklaces o “Goodnight, Johnboy!” o John Denver playing Annie’s Song on his guitar o Sarah Coventry jewelry o Bottle Caps candy o Wacky Pack collector cards o a mother and daughter in a close embrace o
the smell of buttery popcorn,
the rough carpet scratching her knees…
1975… Babysitting assignment… 14 years of age…
Searching through the TV channels, no program seemed worth watching once “Saturday Night Live” was over. Nothing could top Chevy Chase’s Gerald Ford impersonations. Carefully cupping her hand down to the very bottom of the bowl so that her mood ring would stay clean, Karla grabbed the remaining kernels of unpopped popcorn. She dipped the kernels and the tips of her fingers into the greasy butter and brought them to her mouth. Man, how much longer are they going to be out? Sleep would come very easily, but Karla vowed to never, ever fall asleep on a babysitting job. She had heard too many horror stories of babysitters falling asleep and terrible tragedies taking place: a toddler falling down a staircase, a fire started by an electric blanket, a baby drowning in a toilet. No, it was best to stay awake.
It was the weekend, no homework, and she had written just about as much to her best friend as she could come up with. Besides, she would see her tomorrow anyway. The channel numbers on the television set had had faded long ago. With a turn of the knob, the “800 Club” appeared on the screen. This was a Christian show, where a minister and his wife interviewed other ministers or people of faith. Tonight they were interviewing a police officer who had become a Christian after having shot and killed a robbery suspect years ago. The officer was in plain clothes for the interview, sipping occasionally from a coffee cup as he spoke. This was obviously a morning show, taped and replayed at night, while everyone on the show was probably now sound asleep at home in their comfortable beds. Man, I’m ready to get in my bed!
The officer talked about how God worked through him, to help him heal by meeting with the family of the young victim. After the interview sometimes there would be singing, but ALWAYS there would be a plea for money. Karla just knew that this was bogus, that the ministers were using these donations for their own purposes. Why couldn’t the people in the audience see that? She might be only 14, but it was just so obvious! She didn’t trust anyone. She wanted to yell, “Keep your money in your pockets!”
But one thing she always noticed about the “800 Club” and every other program like it on TV was that at the very end of the show, the minister would talk softly to the TV audience at home, inviting them to think about what it “really means” to be a Christian, what it “really means” to live a Christian life. And tonight, just like other nights in the past, Karla was mesmerized by the preacher’s pre-recorded words, “Tonight, you can invite Jesus into your heart. We are all sinners.”
Karla knew that she, most of all, was a sinner. She had been sinning for years. “Tonight you can begin a new life, a journey with Christ, your Lord and Savior. Beloved, all you have to do is kneel right now – I’m going to invite you to kneel right now, right where you are, whether you are in your kitchen, or living room…” The man had a syrupy smile. “That’s right. Just kneel and repeat these words after me, either out loud or to yourself; it doesn’t matter. He will forgive you!”
Oh, God, please forgive me! Karla wanted so much to believe he would.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Karla was ready to repeat the beaming preacher’s words:
Dear Jesus,
I know that I am a sinner and that I have done wrong in your sight. I sincerely repent and turn away from those sins and ask you to forgive me, not because I deserve it, but because Jesus died on the cross to pay the penalty for my sins. Thank you, God, for making me your child.
Amen
Karla got up off the floor, feeling a bit shaky, whimpering like a puppy, the impression of the carpet stinging her knees. She faltered to the sofa and rested her head on a large, comfortable cushion. She heard “The Star Spangled Banner” playing in the background. She awoke to the “click” of a key in the door and white noise coming from the Zenith. Karla frantically tried to straighten her hair and to appear alert. Incredibly sad on the inside, Karla smiled at the parents of the two sleeping children entering the house. Maybe next time he’ll forgive me, she thought.
“Mommy, Baby Alive is eating real food!” o banana seats are so slippery and so cool! o a pair of red clackers hitting knuckles! o Slip ‘n Slide in the backyard o
Mrs. Beasley doll saying, “My, what a sweet child.” o Mystery Date Game o the scent of roses o a little girl blowing triple and quadruple bubbles with Bazooka Bubble Gum o “Conjunction Junction, what’s your function?” o a Pong ball bouncing back and forth on a screen. o the rough concrete hurting the bottom of bare feet. o screams in the middle of the night that no one hears o Carol Burnett’s Tarzan yell o Vietnam veterans returning home in airplanes o blood dripping onto the bed, left by a disposable razor o puka shell necklaces o “Goodnight, Johnboy!” o John Denver playing Annie’s Song on his guitar o Sarah Coventry jewelry o Bottle Caps candy o Wacky Pack collector cards o a mother and daughter in a close embrace o
the smell of buttery popcorn,
the rough carpet scratching her knees…
1975… Babysitting assignment… 14 years of age…
Searching through the TV channels, no program seemed worth watching once “Saturday Night Live” was over. Nothing could top Chevy Chase’s Gerald Ford impersonations. Carefully cupping her hand down to the very bottom of the bowl so that her mood ring would stay clean, Karla grabbed the remaining kernels of unpopped popcorn. She dipped the kernels and the tips of her fingers into the greasy butter and brought them to her mouth. Man, how much longer are they going to be out? Sleep would come very easily, but Karla vowed to never, ever fall asleep on a babysitting job. She had heard too many horror stories of babysitters falling asleep and terrible tragedies taking place: a toddler falling down a staircase, a fire started by an electric blanket, a baby drowning in a toilet. No, it was best to stay awake.
It was the weekend, no homework, and she had written just about as much to her best friend as she could come up with. Besides, she would see her tomorrow anyway. The channel numbers on the television set had had faded long ago. With a turn of the knob, the “800 Club” appeared on the screen. This was a Christian show, where a minister and his wife interviewed other ministers or people of faith. Tonight they were interviewing a police officer who had become a Christian after having shot and killed a robbery suspect years ago. The officer was in plain clothes for the interview, sipping occasionally from a coffee cup as he spoke. This was obviously a morning show, taped and replayed at night, while everyone on the show was probably now sound asleep at home in their comfortable beds. Man, I’m ready to get in my bed!
The officer talked about how God worked through him, to help him heal by meeting with the family of the young victim. After the interview sometimes there would be singing, but ALWAYS there would be a plea for money. Karla just knew that this was bogus, that the ministers were using these donations for their own purposes. Why couldn’t the people in the audience see that? She might be only 14, but it was just so obvious! She didn’t trust anyone. She wanted to yell, “Keep your money in your pockets!”
But one thing she always noticed about the “800 Club” and every other program like it on TV was that at the very end of the show, the minister would talk softly to the TV audience at home, inviting them to think about what it “really means” to be a Christian, what it “really means” to live a Christian life. And tonight, just like other nights in the past, Karla was mesmerized by the preacher’s pre-recorded words, “Tonight, you can invite Jesus into your heart. We are all sinners.”
Karla knew that she, most of all, was a sinner. She had been sinning for years. “Tonight you can begin a new life, a journey with Christ, your Lord and Savior. Beloved, all you have to do is kneel right now – I’m going to invite you to kneel right now, right where you are, whether you are in your kitchen, or living room…” The man had a syrupy smile. “That’s right. Just kneel and repeat these words after me, either out loud or to yourself; it doesn’t matter. He will forgive you!”
Oh, God, please forgive me! Karla wanted so much to believe he would.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Karla was ready to repeat the beaming preacher’s words:
Dear Jesus,
I know that I am a sinner and that I have done wrong in your sight. I sincerely repent and turn away from those sins and ask you to forgive me, not because I deserve it, but because Jesus died on the cross to pay the penalty for my sins. Thank you, God, for making me your child.
Amen
Karla got up off the floor, feeling a bit shaky, whimpering like a puppy, the impression of the carpet stinging her knees. She faltered to the sofa and rested her head on a large, comfortable cushion. She heard “The Star Spangled Banner” playing in the background. She awoke to the “click” of a key in the door and white noise coming from the Zenith. Karla frantically tried to straighten her hair and to appear alert. Incredibly sad on the inside, Karla smiled at the parents of the two sleeping children entering the house. Maybe next time he’ll forgive me, she thought.
Abraham Lincoln:
Common looking people are the best in the world: that is the reason the Lord makes so many of them.
Common looking people are the best in the world: that is the reason the Lord makes so many of them.
~I will be away from the computer for a few days. Peace
and love to you all.~
1 comment:
Hehehe...I read this about an hour ago...and, went to shut down my windows, and noticed I had never posted this! LOL!
I am enjoying reading your posts!...and, how exciting for your book! :)
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