WeWriWa 11.21.21

 

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors / Snippet Sunday!

Continuing on with my serial killer WIP. Where I last left off, my main character, Dennis, was talking about his relationship with his brother. 

That one Saturday, Derrick and decided to play a game of baseball, his friends versus mine. He kept calling us the cry babies. We were determined to beat him and we did. Derrick being the sore loser, took to the baseball bat. He urged his friends to hold me down. They refused, so he threatened to beat them with the bat instead. Complying they held me down as Derrick shattered my left leg with the baseball bat. Bones crunching underneath the wooden bat. I can still hear it sometimes. When he was done, he threw the bat and hit one of his friends square in the head.

When we were older teenagers, we used our fists. I was bigger and could hold my own finally, even though my leg put me in a slight disadvantage. Even with the shop yard, we fought all the time and he was still constantly mocking me - this time about my leg and whatever else he could find. I was glad he was finally gone. 

Thanks for reading! I'm not really sure where November went, its all a blur. I spent the last two weeks with Corona positive kids at home. I feel like I just woke up from a very long hibernation and don't know what's going on. Like the only thing I could focus on was taking care of them.

You can read more amazing authors here and here.

Enjoy your Sunday!

~Danii X

WeWriWa 11.o7.21

 

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors / Snippet Sunday!

Continuing on where we left off two weeks ago, this is more about Derrick in Dennis' pov.

Derrick. The older brother. We got along when we were little kids, best friends even, but once the excessive drinking started that was it. We each had our own way of dealing with constantly drunk and addicted parents, an abusive father who went down the line every night. First, it was our mother who took the worst of it, thankfully not feeling much of it because she was too trashed. Then there was Derrick. And by the time, he got to me, he didn’t have much in him before blacking out. 

Derrick dealt with by constantly pushing me around and mocking me for everything, even for the same ratty shoes we wore. He wore the ratty shoes better. Everything I did was never as good as him. I was small, insignificant, and like a ghost. He reminded me hourly of this. 

We lived in the desert town of Blythe, on the California - Arizona border, in an old shack for a house, surrounded by ghost towns and nuclear testing grounds. 

Thanks for reading! You can read more amazing authors here and here.

Enjoy your Sunday!

~Danii X