|Bound For The Dark Side (standard:action, 1386 words) [1/3] show all parts|
|Author: Brian Cross||Updated: Dec 28 2005||Views/Reads: 2623/1325||Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|opening chapter of novel in progrss - childhood events have turbulent repercussions in the life of Barbara Blandford|
1 BOUND FOR THE DARK SIDE By Brian Cross CHAPTER ONE A Saturday morning in April 1959, and rain begins to sprinkle onto the pavements of a middle class residential street in Chelmsford, Essex. A pretty eight year old girl is pushing her model pram and burbling to herself as the droplets begin to fall on her long black curly hair. As she nears home, the precipitation begins to intensify and a concerned mother can be seen at the gate of a spacious detached property beckoning urgently to her daughter. Barbara Blandford does not know it yet, but as she hurries along, this overcast and wet day would mark a beginning - a formulation of an attitude and outlook which was to have far-reaching effects not only on her own existence but that of so many others... ‘Barbara - I told you not to stray...' ‘Sorry Mummy.' Dark eyes widened appealingly within an angelic face, as she confronted her mother before turning away and pointing along the street, 'I was only playing with...' 'Yes well come inside, it's pouring.' Dianne Blandford rushed her young child up the broadening path, 'Look at your hair it's soaking wet,' she chastised, 'you're asking for another cold - up to the bathroom with you my girl and dry it thoroughly.' 'Alright.' A small hand stretched out for the bannister and running upstairs, she paused at the top, sneaking a glance back to ensure that mother had returned to her chores before enquiring eyes gazed to the left, to her parents' bedroom, where the door was ajar. Halting outside for a moment she knocked and pushed it cautiously open expecting to find her father who she'd not seen that morning. Empty - Perhaps after all he was downstairs. Though he always visited her room first thing in the morning, except that today he hadn't. She trudged through to the bathroom and duly obliged her mother by towelling her hair furiously. As she did so, Barbara heard the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by the recognition of her dad's voice, raised in greeting. Failing to hear a response from her mother the youngster flung herself hurriedly down the stairs and into his arms: 'Hey angel, steady on,' he hoisted her up, 'you'll be giving me a hernia the way you're growing.' 'What's a hernia Daddy - and where have you been - you always...' the girl stopped in mid sentence as the scullery door opened and her mother appeared, the look on her face looked severe to say the least, putting it mildly, she seemed cross, as cross as Barbara could remember. ‘I think you'd better run along to your play room angel,' her father who always appeared so in control, suddenly seemed worried. At that instant, glancing between them uncertainly, Barbara for the first time experienced an apprehensiveness, a curious anxiety was forming within and, though the sensation manifest itself in her dark eyes, Dianne and Martin Blandford were too enveloped in their own burdens to detect it. Barbara slipped silently away, passing through the dining room and heading for the conservatory to which her play room was annexed. But she didn't complete the journey - at least not immediately - because on her passage through she began to make out her mother's agitated voice as she made for the scullery closely followed by father. Barbara returned to the door she had just closed and hovered. She'd always been taught not to eavesdrop, but something was wrong in her organised and safe little world; she perceived it with all the keenness of her young mind. She could hear murmurings, but was unable to make them out. Her parents' voices weren't raised, she could never recall them being so, but nonetheless there seemed an intensity about the tones - mummy's voice sounded angry - Daddy's in contrast apologetic. They were returning. Barbara hurried through the conservatory and into her play room, closing the door. She could hear nothing now, but as she gazed out onto the carefully cultivated lawns, with their array of daffodil, crocus and tulip swaying in the strengthening wind, creating a cascade of colour, a vision of a different kind came to her - Click here to read the rest of this story (73 more lines)
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
Brian Cross has 25 active stories on this site.
Profile for Brian Cross, incl. all stories
For a quick, anonymous response to the author of this story, type
a message below. It will be sent to the author by email.