Kthaahthikha

I know this needs work, but is it basically effective?

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1.

‘Mum,’ said Kirin. ‘Mum, mum, mum.’

‘Yes dear,’ said Vanessa, humouring her daughter. The little girl displayed her vocabulary like an aegis, delighting in the responses that it produced in adults, although she was not entirely certain of why.

The car made its way up the Princess Highway through the last shreds of daylight. The horizon was golden and the road was draped in shadows, the mountains in the distance a series of small, dark juts into the sky.

She wondered about John. She had ceased to be angry with him – it had been too long to bother continuing to hold a grudge. It annoyed her that he should be so careless, and it annoyed her further that Marianne had not been available to look after Kirin like Vanessa had hoped.

To think that he lost his wallet.

Obviously, it had been pick-pocketed. From what her husband had told her over the phone, he had pushed through a knot of people in the doorway of the bar, and when he went to pay for drinks the patent-leather fold was gone.

Nonetheless, it was the least she could do. John had insisted that no-one would lend him the money for the train, but Vanessa had a faint suspicion that he had simply been too proud to ask.

Not that she was one to harp on it or anything. She left that to the professionals. But damn it, Jonathan, you spineless, concrete bastard, couldn’t you just swallow it down for one night and beg?

‘Mum. Mum, mum, mum. Moo!’ Vanessa swivelled her head – there was in fact a cow in the paddock along the way. Next to it, on the other side of the fence, stood a woman in a black coat and hat, with her thumb stuck out.

She drew the car to a stop and wound-down the window.

‘You right?’ she called. ‘Need a lift?’

‘Yeah thanks.’

‘Where ya headed?’

‘Just up into the city. Meeting a mate of mine on Bourke Street to go down to the Ding Dong.’

‘Hop-in. I can take you down to Flinders.’

Vanessa unlocked the door and pushed it open. The woman climbed-in, hooking her dark ponytail around her neck and tipping-back her hat. The car purred up to a steady rate as the woman nestled into the seat, working her legs slightly like a cat preparing for sleep.

‘So, who ya seeing? Or are you just going out for drinks?’

‘The Mess Hall. My friend likes ‘em. I’m more of a Blasko kind of girl.’

‘I can see where you’re coming from. You right with the radio?’

Strains of electronica filled the cabin, low but pleasant, ideal for filling the silence between Kirin’s non-sequitur outbursts. The hitch-hiker nodded her head and smiled.

‘I’m Vanessa.’

‘Amy,’ said the hitch-hiker. ‘Thanks a lot for the lift. With all the cars going past you’d think more’d stop.’ Vanessa chuckled.

‘People are like that sometimes,’ she said. ‘There’s some people who refuse to pick-up hitch-hikers because they’re worried something’s going to happen, and then there’s a whole lot more who are just bastards.’

‘I take it you’re neither of the two.’

‘I’d like to think not.’

Amy relaxed in the seat, her hands in her pocket. She had them plunged in deep and was focusing sternly on the road ahead.

‘Moo!’

Amy started. She turned her head round and noticed Kirin for the first time, sitting cherubic in the booster seat.

‘Is she yours?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Kirin. She’ll be three in a couple of months.’

‘She’s big for her age.’

‘She’s quite talkative, too. John – that’s my husband – I’m going to pick him up – he’s been reading to her a lot. It’s all nonsense to her, ‘cause all he reads is old pulps, but it might have something to do with it.’

‘You’re married then?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good guy?’

‘As good as any other. He’s a sweetie, but he’s a pain in the arse at times. Like tonight, I’m driving all the way up to Melbourne ‘cause he’s got his wallet stolen from him at the pub.’

‘Does sound a pain.’

‘Yeah. And I’ve got Kirin with me because the girl I usually get to baby-sit is at a party all night – a friend’s twenty-first. Can’t blame her – when I was a teenager there was some kid’s twenty-first every weekend.’

‘Still, I suppose it could happen to anyone.’

‘What, losing the wallet.’

‘Well, the crime thing more than anything else.’

‘Yes, I suppose it could. I’ve been burgled a few times. You?’

‘Nah. I’ve been pretty lucky like that. Could you just keep driving straight ahead till I tell you to turn?’

‘Alright,’ Vanessa laughed. ‘Melbourne’s not for miles yet.’

‘Just shut-up and keep driving and turn when I tell you to.’

‘Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are? I let you into my car and Jesus fucking Christ!’

Vanessa felt the cold blade’s edge on her throat. Outside, the sun had finally set, and the head-lights shot two fans of yellow through what might have been the depths of the China Sea. The woman stared straight ahead, her head immobile, and breathed shallow breaths despite her terror – frightened that the knife might cut her by a simple accident.

‘Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to,’ said Amy. ‘Otherwise I’ll cut your throat and jump. Do you understand?’

Vanessa went to nod, then stopped herself and whispered a yes.

‘In a kilometre there’s an exit. Take it.’

The music on the radio continued to play quietly. The hitch-hiker did not see fit to turn it off. In the back seat, Kirin made little yowling noises and began to yawn.

‘Why are you-‘

‘Shut up.’ The pressure at her throat pulsed for a second. Vanessa concentrated on the road ahead. Muscle memory took over as she considered her daughter. Oh Jesus, Kirin, what the fuck is going to happen to Kirin. Why me, why did I pick her up? You stupid fuck, you altruistic shit-head. Dead. Fucking dead.

Maybe she won’t do it. Maybe she’s not going to kill me. But then what?

Car theft.

Child theft.

Rape.

A prank.

Maybe it’s a prank. Yeah, that’s it. She’s just playing a joke. Any minute now she’ll tell me to pull over, jump out of the car and run of laughing.

‘Turn-off here,’ said Amy. Automatically, Vanessa turned the wheel. The car glided down the road towards the small town that formed a knot of luminescence a short way along.

Maybe someone will see us when we go through town.

‘Turn here again,’ said the hitch-hiker again. A barely-visible strip that might have been a drive way if it weren’t for the asphalt. It led out into the darkness and both the highway and the town dwindled away to rear. Against the purple of the night sky, the mountains were showing themselves as infinite black.

How to get away, though Vanessa? Elbow her in the stomach? She though of a movie she had seen on television many years ago, where Rutger Hauer was knocked from a speeding car through an ajar door.

The warning light was dead. Vanessa cursed herself for an idiot. The car emitted a steady, irritating beep whenever someone failed to properly close a door.

The road was a yellow-wash tableau through the window, barely seeming to change as they made along it. The asphalt merged imperceptibly into rutted dirt and gravel, and a few trees reared-up overhead from time to time. She guessed they were near to the mountains.

I’m going to die. This woman is going to kill me. Calm down, damn it, everyone dies eventually. I don’t want to die. Oh shitfuckdamnnoidontwanttodie!

Kirin. You selfish bitch. What about Kirin? She wouldn’t do anything to a child, would she? Why are we so far out in the darkness. She must be going to keep the car. Oh damn it, she better not lay one hand on my baby or-

‘Stop the car.’

Vanessa eased her foot on to the brake and drew the car over to the verge.

‘Get out.’

‘But-‘

‘Get out. Open your door and climb out of the car. Don’t try to run or I’ll kill your daughter.’

‘Please.’

‘Do it!’

‘But why…’

‘Get out of the fucking car!’

Vanessa quivered, turning her head to stare at the hitch-hiker. The hitch-hiker pushed her knife into Vanessa’s neck, forcing the head around and drawing a line of blood. The woman grabbed Vanessa’s hair in a bunch and forced her head into the window. Vanessa tried to struggle. The hitch-hiker opened the door with a free hand and pushed at it, found it locked, jammed Vanessa into the corner between the door and the seat with her knee and pulled-up the stud. Vanessa tumbled out into the cold night, lying sprawled on the dirt with the trees swaying overhead. She got-up to the sounds of Kirin crying, but the door was closed and locked when she scrabbled at the handle. There was the sound of a door slamming and Vanessa was grabbed by the back of the neck, thrown down, half-dragged screaming and kicking and grabbing at the ground into the deeper layers of shadow that rested beneath the trees across the road.

Kirin sat crying in the back of the car, banging against the glass. She watched the shadows moving under the trees and listened to the occasional scream that would break out of the muffled grunts, only to die-off again quickly and be overlaid by another voice muttering and cursing.

Kirin fumbled with the back door. She managed to unlock it, but it wouldn’t open. The little girl began to howl, kicking at the door. A foot bashed into the window winder and the glass slid down a few centimetres.

From under the trees came the continued screams and groans. The glass moved down a little further as Kirin flailed at it. She peered at the winder, then at the gap between the rubber and the glass. She began to push it around, slowly, and the window dropped down millimetre by millimetre. Soon the glass sat at eye-level, and Kirin began to grab at it, dragging herself up. She used the door-handle to prop her foot, and soon hung out of the window gurgling and hooting, her cries drowned by the sounds from under the trees.

There was a thud as Kirin hit the ground. She broke into tears, and sat in a heap rubbing her head and calling for her mother, who unfortunately could not answer. Along the way a pair of lights appeared, and Kirin looked at them, her mind confused, and rose stumbling towards them. The road was quiet except for her self-indulgent babbling and the purr of an accelerating motor-car.

The writing is very unlike you! It's a great read though, keeps you hooked. What was the effect you desired to induce upon the reader?

Whatever the effect of the opening chapter of a cheap thriller usually is, really. I've always wanted to write a murder-mystery, but I keep using shambolic fantasies as a crutch.

Well yeah, cheap thriller effect was definitely achieved. These murder mysteries are passe is what I say. I'm sure you can waste your time on more frivolous things!

You have slighted my dreams!

It seems to work well enough and who am I to question antoher man's dreams. I will offer a few specific remarks, hope they're helpful:

Child theft is often called 'kidnap'. ;)




The paragraph that begins 'Vanessa quivered' is trying to say too many things per sentence. It was very hard to take in what was being described.

Some of the more purrple sentences and phrases seem out of place, given that you're shooting for a more clipped thriller style here.

I don't like the phrase 'self-indulgent babbling'. It seems like a needlessly judgemental statement from an overall neutral authorial voice, and consdering that the tot is likely about to die, a little sympathy would be nice!

Cheers and good luck.

PS: You need to do something about increasing the line-spacing on some of these posts. At presennt, reading some of the larger text boxes is a bit hard on my eyes!