It’s about time I included an excerpt from the novel I’m about to publish. This selection was chosen from Part II of “Elmer Left.” I won’t explain the context of the scene…that’s for you to find out when you read it. 🙂
The Bookkeeper allowed a too-long silence to pass. The Hopefuls stared guiltily at Nathan, at his thin naked body, at his outspread arms poised as if ready to be nailed to a cross. “And so,” the Bookkeeper interrupted their thoughts, “you will confess and you will do so humbly and willingly. And in front of your peers. Oh, yes. Your confessions will be public. Any funny business and well…” he nodded towards two of the guards—one beefy and short, one tall and lean—and they strode mechanically toward the prison room. Without speaking, the tall guard selected a weapon off the wall—a long, gleaming blade that looked like a machete with a hook at the end. The beefy guard placed his broad hands on Nathan’s shoulders and yanked them back so his flat chest became convex and vulnerable, like a desert dune in front of a sand storm. The tall guard stood to Nathan’s left, raising his weapon slowly and theatrically so the audience in front of him had time to gasp, had time to watch the muscles in Nathan’s chest grow taut and hard, had time to take in the gleam of the blade, the deadpan, emotionless face of the guard who held it. This scene had been rehearsed—it must have been. It was performed too effortlessly, too smoothly. The little ballerinas had practiced their pirouettes and grand-plies over and over until they were ready for opening night. Ready for the stage.
The Hopefuls watched in rapt horror. They had hoped the Bookkeeper was bluffing. They had hoped it was a big charade, that none of it was real, that they would open their eyes and the Bookkeeper’s chamber and the hidden room and the thick-necked guards would all evaporate into the lost world of forgotten dreams. They now knew it was real. There was proof in the blood, in the humming blade as it sliced across Nathan’s chest like a skate across ice. There was proof in his scream as it ripped out of his chest and spun across the chamber, filling it with the steely vibrations of expressed pain. The Hopefuls cringed and covered their eyes and drew in their breaths. They fought the urge to run to him, to cradle him in their arms and kiss his forehead and tell him everything would be ok. Everything.
Above the din of their whirring thoughts, the Bookkeeper laughed.
Author: KateBitters
Kate Bitters is a Minneapolis-based author and freelance writer. She is the author of Elmer Left, Ten Thousand Lines, and He Found Me. One of her proudest/nerdiest moments was when Neil Gaiman read one of her short stories on stage at the Fitzgerald Theater.