If you don't understand what's going on very well its okay as I only want to know what you think of my writing abilities. Though I will give you a little backstory to work with :) The main character, Jacob, is an abused child with an alcoholic father. His brother was recently killed and since the death things have been different in the family. The mother became withdrawn and depressed and eventually denied the fact that her soon was even dead. She was taken to the hospital and Jacob and his father, Isaac, are just returning home. After fifty five minutes of constant pressure and fifty five minutes of attentive wakefulness Jacob was wrung out and exhausted. He pulled into the driveway and cautiously stopped the truck, making sure that he had correctly parked before easing his foot off of the brake. His father had passed out almost immediately after leaving Wellington, and now slumped against the window in deep sleep. Jacob woke him easily, being careful not to anger the man. “We’re here,†he said softly before nuzzling his shoulder. Isaac woke confusedly, and still slightly drunken, but soon gathered his senses and groaned as he wiped at his face. “Here are your keys,†Jacob said as he took them out of the ignition and threw them into his father’s lap. “Lock the car behind you.†He clambered out of the truck and into his driveway, shutting the door behind him. As he looked up at the house he was reminded of the demon in the window. Nothing was there now besides the blinds behind the glass, partially opened. Where had he gone? Jacob mulled over the question as he stared into his parents’ bedroom through the cracks of the blinds. The pool of vomit was still upstairs; no one had cleaned it yet. Psychogenic vomiting. Could that really be the cause of his mother’s sudden regurgitation? As obfuscating and as convincing as the phrase was, Jacob couldn’t help but doubt. His mother had been so… violent. Her jaw for God’s sake had cracked open, Jacob heard it. And the bile was almost pure black, gushing out of her like oil escaping from the ground. How could such violent behavior be classified so easily as a symptom of mental illness? There was something more to it, there had to be. You’re being overly paranoid Jacob, he told himself. You’re putting too much thought into this thing. I mean what else could it be? That damned barbed wired demon possessing her! That’s what else it could have been. Jesus, she was so evil, the way she spoke. You can’t pass that off as mental illness. You’re reading too far into this. Just calm down and think. Go to hell, he told himself. He entered into the house just as his father was exiting the truck. He closed the door behind him and sat down on the living room couch. The lights in the house had remained off since his last visit, and he sat in the darkness eyeing the room around him as he delved into thought. He felt uneasy, almost sick to his stomach. He was afraid. Not only because of the ordeal with his mother only hours ago, and not only because he feared being alone with his father, but because that thing, that demon was still out there. Isaac came inside, slammed the door behind him, and nearly tripped over the sudden dropping step just past the entryway. He stumbled into the living room with Jacob and sat down in the chair opposite of his son. They were silent for a time, each scanning the darkened room around themselves, not sure of what to say. Jacob was tense, as he always was when he was around his father. He had always been frightened by the thought that he might slip up or say the wrong thing around him. He was always so damned afraid to inadvertently make his father angry, scared shitless in fact. Just being around him made Jacob nervous, no matter what he was doing. He always kept his head low, never looking his father in the eyes when he spoke to him, and he always chose his words very carefully. Now he sat nervously twiddling with his thumbs, afraid of what his father might do. Finally Isaac broke the silence. “So what the hell did you do to her, huh?†His voice was still slurred. “Did you slip her some crazy pills or something?†“What are you talking about Dad?†Jacob didn’t look up at his father; he feared those cold blue eyes too much. “I’m talkin’ about what the hell you did to my wife.†“I didn’t do anything to her.†“The hell you didn’t!†Isaac said as he stood, gained his balance, and dragged himself into the kitchen. “I know it was you, don’t lie to me.†Jacob heard him pull out a beer from the refrigerator and snap the cap off of the bottle. Soon he reappeared in the living room again where he took his spot in the chair and began to sip his beer as he glared at Jacob. “So what’d you do to her, huh?†“I found her trying to kill herself dad, you should thank me for saving her.†Jacob said, still averting his eyes towards his feet where he was nervously pushing his toes up and down against the roof of his shoes.
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you are a really good writer. keep gtoing.
