Hi RedBelle. Thank you so much for giving up your time to give me great feedback. I will definately use what you say and will go back and have a longer think about it. Thanks again, you’ve been an enormous help. :)
Novel Treatments / Stella Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club - Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1: FEET FAIL ME NOT – Eminem, Lose Yourself
**
Yes, of course she screamed. Actually it was more blood curdling shrill than a scream. The first was used to counteract the extreme impact with the ground. The second was used purely to exhale. Stella wiggled her way off her crushed suitcase and attempted to stand.
“Fuck!” That was a hiss
Now add to the list, a broken ankle.
She tried to balance. She looked at the case. She looked up from where she jumped from. She looked at the case again and conducted a silent cost benefit analysis.
Even if she’d landed unscathed, the suitcase was too heavy to run with. She’d just have to hobble her way out of the situation and hope she’d be able to hide long enough to think of a Plan B. Stella had found her exit but having her ride ready was an entirely different matter.
It was only a matter of time before he’d get her. She wobbled up. Now, her right leg would have do nearly all of the work.
She staggered down the side of the unit complex, past the clothesline, past the back windows of the downstairs car park and down to a dead end. She grunted. She huffed. She puffed. She blew the whole fucking house down.
She made it to the fence and clutched on to it. It was a brittle. She used her good foot to launch up on the first of the horizontal timber pailings. With both her hands wrapped uncomfortably around the top timber spikes, she managed to stand up quite successfully. Now for her next challenge; getting over without hurting herself.
“Brave little bitch!” Tommy screamed as he bound down the side of the complex towards her.
She climbed up to the second horizontal cross bar. She turned around and saw Tommy hurtling towards her. Stella strained to think of a clever way to jump over. It was always going to be a bold move.
As she took her last look at Tommy, she flew over the top and caught her broken ankle on the top of the timber spikes. Sorry, timber razors.
The fence shook as she kissed the ground.
“You can run…” she heard from the other side.
She just laid there. Exhausted. Her mother’s words echoed in her ear, “Know your exits; have your ride ready…” It had taken twenty-five years but Stella finally understood. But not before a further comment.
“You brave little bitch…”
Face down in the grass; she felt an electric surge of adrenalin flash through her body. She pushed herself up off the ground, and in the process, ripped opened some of her old bloody wounds. She looked down at herself and her mess of blood and grass stains.
Sharp pain crisscrossed in every which direction; tips of the fingers to the arms, from the arms, darting up to the head, from the head, firing down to her left foot, from her left foot, back through the centre of her torso and finally shot directly at her heart. But pain was quickly replaced with fear.
She got up and wobbled, using her aching arms to help balance the equilibrium. The last thing she wanted was to fall down again. The absolute last thing.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Stella looked up, standing with her arms out and her left leg up. She saw an older woman standing on a back porch, wearing a baby doll dress and adjusting the curlers in her hair. “You betta not’ve broken my fence!”
Stella looked behind and lost her balance again. She caught herself just in the nick of time but only with her broken ankle.
“Fuck!” It was an emphatic and extremely appropriate exhale.
“You better not have broken my fence!”
Now with adrenaline, fear and ambition, Stella bolted down the side of the neighbour’s house. Every curse word was accompanied with a groan. Every groan was directed at her disabled foot; then to her languishing body. To think, it was only thirty minutes ago she was happily strolling to the supermarket.
Stella weaved through the backyard junkyard of rusted car parts, used and abused children’s toys and sundry items that at no stage looked like they had ever had a real purpose. She ended in the front yard and found herself in an unfamiliar street.
Left. Right. Left. Right. She turned to her left but her left side was causing her the most grief. She turned right.
The right at the end of the street quickly turned into a left. The left then a right. The right to left and into a somewhat dead end. The left became a right. The right became another right. The right, the left and then another left. The jacarandas were guiding her. The full bloom purples and pinks had now become her large street signs.
Every heart beat pound through every blood vessel of her body. But it wasn’t only her heart that was ticking. Stella measured time with the sheer uncomfortable shudder of her ankle. Every grunt equaled a second and many seconds had already passed.
She concentrated on what she had. She had her slow moving and sorry body. She had her hearty exhales. She had her jacarandas. But at any stage, if any one of these ran out, she knew the end was nigh.
After navigating the suburban streets and many, many grunts later, she welcomed glorious intersection. It meant one of two things. A main road or an oasis. Really, either one would be okay.
She made it close to the lights and buzzed around for a taxi to scoop her up, and take her to anywhere. As she scanned the street, all she could see were yet another row of post war homes, a small corner store, and cars parked out the back of a Hotel.
“Jenny!”
Stella crossed the busy road, grimaced, and made her way through the car park. She pelted on the back door with so much emotion; she thought if she beat hard enough, the door would eventually crumble into little pieces.
Stella waited a minute. Nothing happened. This time she made as much noise as possible not only with her fists but with her voice. “Jenny It’s Stella! Open the door Open the door!”
In fifteen seconds, Harry, the Hotel’s bouncer, appeared. “Stella?”
“Oh. Harry.”
“What happened to you?”
“I need Jenny.”
He raised his hand to touch her. She flinched.
“Stella. It’s alright. You’re okay now.” He guided her in and up the internal back stairs. “What happened?”
“I… I… was…”
When they got to the top of the stairs, every ounce of energy vaporized from her body. Yes. She fell again.
“Stella!” Jenny screamed. “Oh my god! What happened!”
“I’ll call the cops,” Harry hurried.
“No Don’t call the cops. Please. Don’t call the cops…”
“Was it Jack… oh my god… look at your face… was it Jack?”
Stella looked up. Her conversations were going to be conducted in a whisper. “No. It wasn’t Jack… I need to go… Jenny, I havta get outta here.”
“Who did this to…”
“I have to go.”
“Stella. Who did this?”
“They know where you live.”
“Who knows where I live?”
“They… Jack… They know where you live, they…”
“So it was Jack?”
“No. No. It was Tommy.”
“Oh my god. When did this happen?”
“I need to leave town…”
Jenny grabbed Stella’s limp body and helped her sit up. “Harry. Can you get a shirt? And bring the first aid kit.”
Harry moved immediately.
“I need to leave town Jen.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know. You’re not safe either. They know where you live.”
Jenny shook her head. “They’ve always known where I live. They don’t want me. They obviously want you…”
“You’re not safe. I need to go.”
“I’m not letting you go until we fix you up. Now start from the beginning.”
It took only two minutes to recall the ugly ordeal. In the process, Stella showed Jenny all the prominent scratches, bruises, and swelling. Jenny pointed out marks Stella didn’t realize she had. Harry returned up the stairs with a large tackle box and shirt. Both girls frowned at his find.
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s the smallest one there…”
“Stella. Listen to me,” Jenny grabbed the tackle box off Harry, “You need to get to hospital if you’ve broken your ankle.”
“I’ve gotta leave town.”
“Take off your shirt.”
Stella looked up at Harry. He turned away and faced the downward staircase.
Stella slowly removed her shirt and struggled with getting her arms over her head. Jenny reached over and helped then pointed to Stella’s now enlarged black belly. “Oh my god. You must be in so much pain.”
Stella looked down and could have sworn she saw the indent of Tommy’s boot. “I can’t go to hospital. They’ll get me.”
“We have to take that chance. We’ll get the cops to protect…”
“No I just need to go! He said he’d kill me!”
“Okay Stella. Okay. No cops. Just fix your ankle. It looks really bad.”
“I’ll fix it when I get there.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll go to…” it was a legitimate question not quite ready for an answer, “Queensland.”
“You can’t get far on nothing.”
“I have to go. I have to get lost…”
Jenny got up. She walked to her desk, and fumbled around in her drawer as Stella adjusted the long sleeves of her shirt. Jenny came back holding a wad of cash and put it next to Stella. “It’s all I’ve got. It’ll get you to Queensland but it’s only enough for a week.”
“No. I can’t…”
“Look. There’s a lot you can’t do. Just promise me. Look at me…”
Stella looked right through Jenny’s eyes.
“Promise me, you’ll go see a Doctor.”
Stella thought about it.
“Stella. Promise…”
“Okay. I promise.”
Jenny nodded her head and mucked around in the tackle box. She picked up a few small bottles, read each label, put all but one down and randomly dabbed gold antiseptic liquid over Stella’s arms.
“Fuck!”
“Sorry darling, it’s gonna hurt…”
“Fuck!”
“Where you off to?”
Stella looked at the young girl’s name badge. Mary. Mary smiled her red lipstick smile that took up most of her perfectly symmetrical face.
“Where you off to ma’am?”
“Melbourne. The next bus to Melbourne.”
Mary turned to her computer monitor and frantically typed on her keyboard. “Return date?”
Stella saw Mary’s mouth move and looked deep into the young girl’s green eyes.
“When will you be coming back ma’am?”
Stella lowered her head and felt the tears. “Not coming back. I just need to get to Melbourne.”
Stella heard more furious typing as she looked down at the bright, glossy orange counter. To her left, she ran her fingers across what was an engraving of what looked like “Gonzo” but had later been scrubbed over.
“That comes to one sixty-six.”
Stella, still fixed on poor rubbed out Gonzo replied, “What time’s it leaving?”
“It leaves in twenty minutes. Right on eighteen hundred. Six o’clock.”
Stella dug into her pockets. She dug as hard as she could and counted out her wad full of cash and some lonely gold coins.
The typing stopped. “Window or aisle seat?”
“I don’t care.” Stella counted out the exact money.
“Ma’am are you okay?”
Stella raised her head. She pretended to smile. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. I’ve just had a bad day.”
Mary leant to her left and handed Stella piece of paper. “Just show this to the driver. He’ll take care of you.” The red smile returned.
Stella took the piece of paper, nodded her head and left the orange counter. One priority down, several more to go. Next. The toilet.
She made her way to the public toilets when a young girl holding a tiny baby came rushing up to her, “Lady. Have you got a dollar…”
Stella looked up.
“Lady. You look like shit.”
Stella maintained her speed and pushed through three sets of doors to the ladies bathroom. She surveyed herself in the mirror again; this time in the romantic glow of a public toilet blue light. Things really didn’t look that bad, in fact, it seemed like she was hurting for no real visible reason.
After Stella stared at herself for long enough, she touched her cheek with her middle finger. She ran her finger around the bottom of her eye from left to right and struggled with a hard bruise forming on her eye socket. She gently rubbed it. Her beautiful face had been given a hard knuckle reality and it was only now starting to show. Tears were on the verge. But there were more important matters. The toilet. The toilet and then the bus.
She took one step on the bus holding her ticket in her hand. It was only a matter of a few hours ago she thought she’d be holding Jenny’s sponge cakes. Not only was she spongeless; she was homeless. Well, actually, her temporary home was a forty-three seater bus that smelt like dry cleaned carpet, a little vomit and a hell of a lot of sweating.
It didn’t take long for Stella to acquire a travelling companion. In fact, it was four stops. First she saw him struggle with his carry on. Then she saw him struggle to count to row fifteen. All this time, she prayed he’d keep going past fifteen. Her luck had just run out.
The mid-forties balding man flashed a smile as he tried to shove his large bag into the over head storage compartment. As he managed to somehow squeeze it in, using grumbles coupled with steady pushes, the bus moved forward and jolted him back to rows sixteen, seventeen and eighteen.
He regained his balance and as the bus started to gain momentum, he threw himself to the safety of the seat’s constraints.
“He’s a bit rude,” he laughed as he came perilously close to Stella’s face.
She condescendingly smiled and looked out the window.
“I’m Philby.”
She looked back at him and nodded her head. “Stella.”
“Stella huh,” he looked up and paused for a moment, “that’s me cousin’s… wife’s… sister’s… neighbour’s name. Good name that.”
She nodded her head.
“Hey, what happened to your face?”
She instinctively touched her left eye.
“Oh. Sorry. I shouldn’t really ask. How rude…”
“I just fell down and hit my head.”
“You really did some damage to that eye.”
Everything was damaged. The split ends of her hair, the outer layer of her big toe, her bones, muscles, vessels, organs, white cells, red cells, left ventricle and right ventricle… They eye was holding up well.
“It’ll be okay.”
“You off to Melbourne?”
She nodded her head and took her hand away from her eye.
“I’m off to Wagga for me brother’s wedding. Bucks night.”
She didn’t see it, but she could just feel the cheesy smile. She nodded her head again. Nodding just made her head hurt even more. Something to do with the internal thumping. Everything to do with the fact she was trying to nod her way out of the situation.
“Actually I think she just got knocked up. Stella. Pool man they’re sayin’.”
Stella looked out of the window again and starred at the light rain streaking against the glass.
“I knew it was gonna rain,” she heard from her left. She kept her eyes fixed on the lights of a Service Station and a small cluster of shops as they flew past.
“So you’re travelling alone then?”
Her gaze was broken by a flashing yellow light from a road works truck when she turned to him. “Yeah.”
“Got family in Melbourne?”
“No,” she coughed, “No, just visiting friends.” Stella wriggled in her seat. “Do you mind, I just need to use the ladies.”
Philby laughed. “It’s not the ladies love. It’s just shit in a bucket.”
Stella got up and as she did, the bus started slowing down. “Excuse me.”
Philby looked down the aisle for a couple of seconds before looking up at her. “Boy, that’s really was a nasty fall you had yourself.”
“I know. I just need to use the…”
“Sure. Shit in the bucket…” He eventually stood up but making her work hard for her escape. She squeezed her body between the seats in front and his now erect penis. She shuddered when she eventually balanced herself in the aisle. Stella grabbed hold of row sixteen’s aisle chairs and gave her weakest smile to the occupants.
Just before she made it to the toilet, the bus turned a sweeping corner which threw her off balance. She fell towards an older man in row twenty and caught her upper thigh on the armrest.
She grit her teeth and dived for the toilet door. She pushed it open; rather it flew open and she locked it shut. She faced the bowl. She waited. She looked directly down. Nothing about this was going to be pretty. One, two and three. She threw up, all over the toilet seat.
“Love! Are you okay?”
The jolt of the bus woke her up. Her head was slouched on the side of a wall. All she could see was a dull light coming from her left. She grabbed a small silver railing and hoisted herself up. As soon as she moved, the crown of her head hit something cold and hard. She immediately retreated, took a deep breath and tried again.
“Love!”
“I’m okay!”
Even though she wanted to get to Melbourne as fast as humanly possible, she was glad the bus stopped. She looked down at the toilet and the ground and congratulated herself for getting some of it in the bowl.
She heard the shout from the other side of the door. “I’m getting the driver!”
“No! I’m travelsick. Just give me a minute!”
She looked up at the hand towel dispenser she’d just hit her head on. She started pulling down as many towels as possible in a frantic effort to clean up her mess.
After a minute, she opened the door to a burly bus driver thundering his way down the aisle. “Have you been sick?”
“I’m sorry… I’m not usually… I’m sorry…”
The burly driver walked straight up to her and lifted his nose. “We’re gonna have to get everyone off…”
“What do you have to do that for…?”
“We have to clean this off. This is your stop.”
By now, every single set of eyes were plastered on the back of the driver.
“No… But…”
He turned around. “Passengers, we’ll be stopping here for a bit. An unscheduled stop. Stretch your legs. Have a smoke. Servo’s open.” He turned back to Stella.
She looked at his larger figure, worked her way up to his eyes, and tried to focus. “I’m sorry… I’m just travel…”
“Save it.”
She focused on his name badge. Eric. Behind him, she saw a few people starting to pile off the bus while shaking their heads. Eric turned around to face the crowd again. “Come on people. The quicker we get this done, the quicker you’ll be in Melbourne.”
There was finally a hive of commotion in the cabin. Eric stood with each hand holding the aisle seats.
“Eric?”
He didn’t move. He waited until the last person was off the bus before turning back to her. “Look at me.”
She stared at him.
“Show me your arms.”
She still stared.
“Roll up your sleeves.”
Stella looked down at her promotional shirt and exposed her arms. The bruises had set in. She started to well up at the sight of them.
“Further. I want the sleeves up further.”
She pushed the cotton material harder up her arm and exposed her arms. His cold hands touched her shaky ones. “Look at me again.” He leant forward. “Breathe into my face.”
She pursed her lips and blew gently. After she exhaled for a couple of seconds, she used the rest of her air to whisper, “I’ve just been beaten up…”
He let go of her hands. “I can see that.”
She gulped for another sentence. “I just wanna get to Melbourne.”
He nodded his head. “Go outside and get some fresh air.”
“But you can’t kick me off, I just need to get to…”
He sighed. “I’ll let you back on. You’ll sit in front with me.”
She smiled. For the first time in a long time, she smiled an honest smile.
“Now go and get some water and be last on the bus.”
He moved out of the way and gave her a clear path away from the aromatic smell of vomit.
She took her first step off the bus into a great wall of cold. She rolled down her sleeves, hobbled across the petrol station, and when she got to the shop, was greeted by an older woman, smoking a fever pitch. “You right then?”
Stella wiped her eyes and nodded her head. “It’s been ages since I’ve been on bus.”
“You should fly.”
“I will next time.”
Stella walked through the automatic sliding doors and into the warmth of the Kangaroo Café. She walked to the fridge, bought a drink and found herself a safe booth in the corner of the room.
After the call was made to get back on the bus, she walked up the staircase to an angry looking Eric. “You’re sitting behind me.”
She nodded her head and did exactly as she was told.
“Where you from?” Eric looked up at his rear vision mirror as Stella studied the road. The unbroken white line had become hypnotic.
“Sydney.”
Eric lowered his head and concentrated on the road. “Who beat you up?”
“My ex-boyfriend’s mate.”
“Why didn’t ya go to the cops?”
Stella shook her head.
“You have someone to take care of you?”
“I have a cousin,” she replied.
Eric laughed, “Don’t we all?”
Around eleven, Stella found herself dozing off. She’d been Eric’s second set of eyes and wondered how he managed to stay awake. First, there was the rhythmic sound of the tyres against the newly laid highway. Then there was the hum of the air-conditioning interrupted with the constant and intermittent sound of someone snoring behind. Stella looked at the rear vision mirror and could only see Eric’s eyes studying the road.
She reclined her seatand jammed her head in between her seat and the one next to her. It was no pillow. In fact, every time the bus suspension became a little weaker, it vibrated through to her head. But now, even that was sending her to sleep. The last thing she remembered was staring at the large fluorescent green clock that told her it was twelve past eleven.
*
“And she’s just sleeping it off.”
“Won’t be any trouble?”
“Nah mate. She’ll be okay.”
Stella saw Eric shake the new driver’s hand in the foggy morning. She looked at the clock. She’d been asleep for a little over two hours. Stella leant up in her chair and looked around at the bright lights of what she assumed was the Albury stop. It was the big sign that said Café Albury that gave it away. She made eye contact with the new driver.
“No long now love,” he smiled.
She nodded her head, looked around at the New South Wales / Victoria border, and knew that the next time she’d wake up, she’d wake to a very different life.
END
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lustgarten reviewed Version 1 -
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I’m curious to see where this will go. I realize a bad day and not much else. I guess it’s expected of a first chapter. The characters are easy to distinguish and it does feel very real, however the dialogue could use some sprucing up. There’s a lot of dialogue in there that is unnecessary and if it was edited more, the piece would read more fully. I hope this helps.
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artisticaspie reviewed Version 1 -
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I liked the way the action started straight away; Stella is obviously running away but the action revealed this, which is good.
Her urgency to get away is well played out as, despite her injury, she manages to clear the fence.
The grunts to describe distance was clever and the relief of finally reaching a safe place was comforting to both the character and the reader.
Jenny’s horror at Stella’s appearance obviously blinds her to the danger and the way Stella keeps emphasising her need to leave plays out well.
Jenny appears as both caring and and generous, in the way she offers Stella money and fixes her wounds and you’ve made it blatant without stating the obvious.
I like the line ‘her beautiful face had been given a hard knuckle reality, which describes her appearance creatively.
I loved this piece and Stella’s single minded objective, despite all the odds and physical pain.
It shows that women are a lot stronger than they’re given credit for.
RedBelle reviewed Version 1 -
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more blood curdling shrill // more a blood-curdling shrill ??
She looked up from where she jumped from // She looked UP to where she jumped from ??
cost benefit //cost-benefit
It was a brittle. // cut “a”
“timber” in two sequential sentences. Consider revising one.
adrenalin // adrenaline
her old bloody wounds. // This means she was suffering from injuries BEFORE the story actually began? While this would work on film/tv, as a reader I find that a bit disconcerting, as if I “missed” something.
every which direction // cut “which”
She got up // She stood ??
Now with adrenaline, fear and ambition, // you mentioned a ‘surge of adrenaline’ just a short time earlier. Also, I’m not certain this phrase is necessary at all. That she bolted is probably enough.
Every heart beat pound through // heartbeat pounded
post war homes // post-war homes. I’m assuming you mean post-WWII, but you might want to specify.
I found the dialogue exchange immediately after Stella arrived at the hotel (with harry and with jenny) a bit cliche, redundant and overly long. I would suggest trimming it to its bare minimum and moving on.
rubbed out// rubbed-out
The mid-forties balding man // mid-forties COMMA balding
“Boy, that’s really was a nasty fall you had yourself.” // cut “Yourself”
My biggest suggestions would be to enrich the scene with sensory information. Describe the characters – Stella, Jenny, Harry, etc – with much greater detail. Also, tighten up all your dialogue. People in books speak much more efficiently than in real life. Nothing unimportant. Also, there are portions where I feel you’re rushing the story. When she arrives at the hotel, suddenly there’s the doorman and then she’s with Jenny. How does the doorman know her? Why is he leaving his post to help Jenny take care of her? How did she get from the hotel to the bus station? Did Jenny drive her? Taxi? Would Jenny really allow her to go alone? How was she feeling while waiting for the bus to leave??
There is potential here, but I’d suggest taking some time to really dwell in Stella’s situation and bring the reader there too. Good luck!
Dauna reviewed Version 1 -
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reclined her seatand – seat and
This piece was very powerful and riveting. You also left me wondering why she was beaten.
The story moved well and held my interest. Nice job.
February 06, 2007
Deleted User
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Ok, I think this has all the makings of a very interesting story. I would like to see more of it soon as I am already wondering what happens to her next. In her new life, does Tommy hunt her down? Does she succeed in staying hidden? Does she really have a cousin waiting in her new destination? I am interested in the story. Though I thought it strange to begin the first chapter so abruptly, it did pull me in rather fast. You may want to consider adding a little more of the fight/struggle history before your first sentence. But that is only a suggestion. The language does not bother me, personally, but I think that there would be many who would second guess the purchase of a book that starts off with the “F” word as the first dialog written. That is just my humble opinion. I suppose that depends on what market you are trying to target. Other than these two things, I thought it was great and holds a lot of promise to be a great story.
Good luck and take care!
lynsey reviewed Version 1 -
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I think you write very well but your opening just doesn’t do you justice. It just didn’t hook me in and if it hadn’t been for your impeccable prose I wouldn’t have continued reading.
Apart from that, I loved your dialogue and I thought the piece flowed well. I loved the way you used repetition and the line ‘she blew the whole fucking house down’ was great.
However, I was left with questions at the end of the chapter e.g. why did her boyfriend’s best friend beat her up? where was the boyfriend? Maybe this was your intention to create some mystery but I felt I wanted some hint as to what the story what had happened right in the initial opening.
Dr_Z reviewed Version 1 -
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This piece does have a raw, streetsy feel. Also cool to have an Ozzie vibe for once.
However, I would advise you to consider whether or not the narrating voice should curse as well as the characters.
Good stuff otherwise.
freeverse1786 reviewed Version 1 -
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This is a well put together chapter. The storyline is very well constructed and the character developmet was awesome
bbillycurtis reviewed Version 1 -
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You are good at portrying the action and pain and deperation that Stella feels. The language is clear and interesting. A few small suggestions:
One line begins: “Now with adrenaline,” just a couple paragraphs after her adrenaline was pointed out.
Watch for the use of the word had when you don’t need it: “pinks had now become her large street signs.” is less passive as “pinks became her large street signs.”
I really loved the line: trying to nod her way out of the situation. AWESOME.
Finally, my boggest suggestion is that I really want to know what put her in this predicament. I felt a little cheated when she explained it to Jenny and Harry but I as the reader was left to wonder what happened.
I’ll be sure and check out the next installment.
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