Rev 1: Tried to smooth out pronoun vs name usage
Rev 2: More show, less tell, and general fixes
If Ally had actually eaten the taquito, she doubted she could have kept it down. The room kept tilting like she was standing up in a boat, and if Michaela hadn’t been holding her up, she was sure she wouldn’t even be doing that much.
People and things around her were blurry like when you look at one of those magic picture books. You stare and stare at a bunch of random spots, until finally you see what’s hidden, and then everything snaps into focus. She was still lost in the field of spots. The snatches of conversation she heard around her were no help either, nothing made sense.
How did she—
Fun… horror show—
The blood… so real… staged—
Darkness was replaced by light, and she shut her eyes to the brightness. The words now lost beneath the beat of the music, and then she was floating. The air that had been cool turned warm. There was a chirping beep, a clicking sound, and then nothing.
When she eventually opened her eyes, she could see again. Michaela was sitting next to her. She patted her arm and said, “Everything’s going to be okay.” An engine started, and Ally realized she was seat belted in the backseat of a sedan. Michaela continued, “My dad thought it was a good idea for us to take you home.”
Her dad! She looked to the driver in alarm. His commercial good looks seemed intact, even in the small square of the rear view mirror.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” he said.
He might be legit, but she was learning not to put too much faith in appearances. “What happened to the boy that got bit?”
Michaela looked like someone lost in a fog, “Bit... I don’t remember….”
Ally shivered. She felt cold despite the warm night. “Blood on the floor?”
“I saw punch on the floor,” said Mr. Winters, “but we wiped that up.”
“Honey?” He looked at Michaela in the rear view mirror. “Do you think anyone put anything into her punch?” Michaela mouthed no, and shook her head. I’m right here. Ally thought.
They drove for a while in silence. Then Mr. Winters asked, “So, where’s home?” She gave him a street.
“Oh, over by the cemetery,” he said.
Her foot started tapping on the floor of the car. She forced it to stop. She lived on a long street. So when he turned onto it, she purposely stopped him about a mile from her home. “Here it is,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “Thanks for driving me here.”
He started to slow, but as she was reaching for the door, he accelerated again flinging her back against the seat. “Wait, you must still be out of sorts,” he said. “I remember coming by here now, to do some school thing with your parents. Your home is further down.” He continued to accelerate.
Ally couldn’t remember any time that her parents had met with Michaela’s father. “What school thing?” She asked. He remained silent, and continued to accelerate.
“Dad,” Michaela sounded annoyed, “you’re going a little fast. Kids might still be out trick-or-treating.” Ally couldn’t see the speedometer, but she was sure the car was going at least 45—too fast to jump out, and she couldn’t leave Michaela with him—if he was him.
“Oh, no one’s out this late,” he said. He made a low chuckle. The car flew over a speed bump and came down hard onto the street.
“Dad!”
The brakes squealed, and the car came to an abrupt stop. Ally was thrown forward only to be restrained by the seat belt. She reoriented herself and saw that they were directly in front of her house. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
“Would you like me to come in with you, and talk to your parents?” He unbuckled his seat belt.
Quickly unbuckling herself, she beat him out of the car. “Maybe Michaela could help me.” She looked at her pleadingly. Michaela scrunched up her face, but nodded slightly and got out.
“I’ll wait here then,” he said, leaning against the driver’s side door.
“No,” Ally was speaking too quickly and she knew it, “my father can give her a lift back.” She squeezed Michaela’s hand.
“It’s okay Daddy. I’ll be home soon.” She leaned in and gave him a hug. He looked at Ally over his daughter’s head. His eyes shone hard like dark marbles. He glanced down with a hungry look that would never be mistaken for parental. Slowly he licked his lips.
Ally intentionally stumbled and cried out, “Oh!” Michaela broke off the hug, and ran to her.
“I better get you inside,” she said. “Bye, Daddy.” She had already turned, but Ally glanced back to see anger rising off the man like steam. He got back into the car, gunned the engine, and roared off down the street.
Michaela grimaced. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
Rev 2: More show, less tell, and general fixes
Chapter 9
If Ally had actually eaten the taquito, she doubted she could have kept it down. The room kept tilting like she was standing up in a boat, and if Michaela hadn’t been holding her up, she was sure she wouldn’t even be doing that much.
People and things around her were blurry like when you look at one of those magic picture books. You stare and stare at a bunch of random spots, until finally you see what’s hidden, and then everything snaps into focus. She was still lost in the field of spots. The snatches of conversation she heard around her were no help either, nothing made sense.
How did she—
Fun… horror show—
The blood… so real… staged—
Darkness was replaced by light, and she shut her eyes to the brightness. The words now lost beneath the beat of the music, and then she was floating. The air that had been cool turned warm. There was a chirping beep, a clicking sound, and then nothing.
When she eventually opened her eyes, she could see again. Michaela was sitting next to her. She patted her arm and said, “Everything’s going to be okay.” An engine started, and Ally realized she was seat belted in the backseat of a sedan. Michaela continued, “My dad thought it was a good idea for us to take you home.”
Her dad! She looked to the driver in alarm. His commercial good looks seemed intact, even in the small square of the rear view mirror.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” he said.
He might be legit, but she was learning not to put too much faith in appearances. “What happened to the boy that got bit?”
Michaela looked like someone lost in a fog, “Bit... I don’t remember….”
Ally shivered. She felt cold despite the warm night. “Blood on the floor?”
“I saw punch on the floor,” said Mr. Winters, “but we wiped that up.”
“Honey?” He looked at Michaela in the rear view mirror. “Do you think anyone put anything into her punch?” Michaela mouthed no, and shook her head. I’m right here. Ally thought.
They drove for a while in silence. Then Mr. Winters asked, “So, where’s home?” She gave him a street.
“Oh, over by the cemetery,” he said.
Her foot started tapping on the floor of the car. She forced it to stop. She lived on a long street. So when he turned onto it, she purposely stopped him about a mile from her home. “Here it is,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “Thanks for driving me here.”
He started to slow, but as she was reaching for the door, he accelerated again flinging her back against the seat. “Wait, you must still be out of sorts,” he said. “I remember coming by here now, to do some school thing with your parents. Your home is further down.” He continued to accelerate.
Ally couldn’t remember any time that her parents had met with Michaela’s father. “What school thing?” She asked. He remained silent, and continued to accelerate.
“Dad,” Michaela sounded annoyed, “you’re going a little fast. Kids might still be out trick-or-treating.” Ally couldn’t see the speedometer, but she was sure the car was going at least 45—too fast to jump out, and she couldn’t leave Michaela with him—if he was him.
“Oh, no one’s out this late,” he said. He made a low chuckle. The car flew over a speed bump and came down hard onto the street.
“Dad!”
The brakes squealed, and the car came to an abrupt stop. Ally was thrown forward only to be restrained by the seat belt. She reoriented herself and saw that they were directly in front of her house. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
“Would you like me to come in with you, and talk to your parents?” He unbuckled his seat belt.
Quickly unbuckling herself, she beat him out of the car. “Maybe Michaela could help me.” She looked at her pleadingly. Michaela scrunched up her face, but nodded slightly and got out.
“I’ll wait here then,” he said, leaning against the driver’s side door.
“No,” Ally was speaking too quickly and she knew it, “my father can give her a lift back.” She squeezed Michaela’s hand.
“It’s okay Daddy. I’ll be home soon.” She leaned in and gave him a hug. He looked at Ally over his daughter’s head. His eyes shone hard like dark marbles. He glanced down with a hungry look that would never be mistaken for parental. Slowly he licked his lips.
Ally intentionally stumbled and cried out, “Oh!” Michaela broke off the hug, and ran to her.
“I better get you inside,” she said. “Bye, Daddy.” She had already turned, but Ally glanced back to see anger rising off the man like steam. He got back into the car, gunned the engine, and roared off down the street.
Michaela grimaced. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
#
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
