I dare not speak its name
In 2012, I self-published a novel that haunts me. I hate it. I don’t just dislike it. I hate it. I’m ashamed that it will be forever associated with my name, at least until the zombies come and the internet becomes a thing of the past.
To the seven or so of you who read that book, I dare not even speak its name, I thank you for not immediately disowning me for wasting your time.
The book was rushed. It was technically horrid. Most of the characters were poorly-developed and even more of them were poorly-named. The cover is an eyesore.
But the story itself has always held promise to me. If I had taken my time with the book, it could have been something decent. Many times over the years, I’ve considered revamping it. I’d never be able to erase the original from my mind or the internet but maybe I could replace it with something slightly less shameful.
And so that’s what I’m doing.
It’s a work-in-progress and the new title is just a working one, maybe. I’m really not sure what my plans are with this beyond sharing it here. Decisiveness is not my middle name.
I hope you enjoy this teaser. ~ Kristen
The Progeny - Teaser
The wind off the lake was abnormally frigid even for November and she shivered, adjusting her scarf as her gaze lingered on the sleek grey marble flecked with white and black.
The memorial park was built over top of where the natural gas explosion had cratered the earth three years ago. The building that had once stood there had cracked and crumbled in chunks of concrete and bone that day.
Sean was waiting for her in the car. It was unusual of him to leave her alone when she was so exposed, out in the open for any length of time, but he understood her need to be alone. Especially here.
Lake Avenue ran up the coast for as far as she could see. The road and lake were separated by a white block seawall and just beyond that was the Lakeview Pier.
The dozens of boat slips were mostly vacant but the hangers-on clanged against the holds of their slips in the cold wind like ghosts tapping on their gravestones hoping to catch the attention of the living.
Sadie had only been there once before and there hadn’t been a memorial then. There’d been only smoldering rubble and police tape. A July day, the air had been as hot as it was now cold and beads of sweat had mixed with tears as she’d surveyed the carnage.
When the letter had arrived in the mail not long after, her life had been completely changed, yet again, in the time it took to read two paragraphs on a page.
That day had brought her to this point and she wondered what surprises were left for her as she squatted down, using her ragged fingernails to chip out gunk that had become lodged in the grooves of the names that were forever etched in the cold stone.
As another gust of air hit her, she straightened, pulling her jacket tighter around her, and she saw a figure approaching the wall in her peripheral.
The old woman came from seemingly nowhere, but when Sadie surveyed the immediate area she saw a black Towne car idling soundlessly at the curb adjacent the break wall.
The woman came to a stop about 10 yards away and placed a single white rose on the wall.
She crossed herself and then glanced at Sadie as she lifted her head. “Cold.”
“Pardon?”
“I say it’s cold,” she said louder this time.
Her accent had that hard-to-place, old-money tone that belonged more on the upper east side of Manhattan than it did there on the dank streets of Lakeview. Her dark hair was streaked with gray and her eyes examined Sadie with a curiosity that bordered on familiarity.
“Did you know someone?” The woman gestured to the wall. “Someone who died here?”
“Yes.” There was a terseness in her voice. The question was annoying. Of course she had lost someone. Why else would she be there. “You?”
“My son.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Sadie, feeling no remorse at all. She was out of empathy. Out of sympathy. “I lost my mom.”
“Oh, my.” The woman frowned and put her leather-gloved hand to her chest as she drifting closer to Sadie. “I’m sorry, dear. That must have been very difficult for you.”
“Yes.”
At the sound of a car door slamming, Sadie glanced over her shoulder to see Sean was making his way to them. Standing nearly six and a half feet tall, he was an intimidating figure alone or in a crowd. The sight of him was enough to unsettle most people, especially if his hawk eyes were trained on them like they were currently trained on the old woman, but she just glanced at him, seemingly unbothered by his approach.
“Well. Take care, dear. And don’t stay at this place too long.” She patted Sadie lightly on the forearm. “One should never dwell too long on that which one cannot change.”
As Sean reached them, the woman continued on toward her waiting car.
Together, Sadie and Sean watched it as the driver punched the gas. The woman was still looking at Sadie through the window of the back seat as the car hurried by them.
Sean blew warm air into his fists. “Who the hell was that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Come on. It’ll be dark soon. We should get you to the hotel.”
Sadie bowed her head against the wind as the first few snowflakes of the early-winter storm fell.
As Sean slipped into the driver’s seat, over the horizon of the hood of the car, Sadie noticed a man across the street. He was standing at the opening of the seawall just across the street, at the top of a set of stairs that lead down to the pier, and he was watching them.
Impeccably dressed in a suit, waistcoat, and tie, with an overcoat and scarf to stave off the cold, he stood out in the otherwise blue collar town.
As Sadie watched, he glanced up the street in the direction the old women’s car had gone. Sadie did the same and when her eyes returned to him, he was watching her again. He continued to do so even after she made it clear she was aware of his stare.
As the flurries and wind grew more intense, a beam of light shot out from the darkness behind him, pulling her attention away. It cut through the falling snow and slowly began to rotate.
It must have been about a mile out in the water, the lighthouse, and, as her eyes sought out the man again, he turned and disappeared down the steps.
