Ethan had felt terrible about it afterwards. He had even cried, and Evie had held him in her arms like she was their mother, and told him that he had nothing to be sorry about. The bullies had been hurting him, and would have done the same to her, he had every right to defend himself and his sister. He still felt remorse, she knew, but he stopped crying.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just wanted him to leave you alone,” he said as she cradled his head in her lap. They were sitting on the porch of the cottage, while their parents watched television inside.
“I know, Ethan. It’s alright.” She said, gently stroking his hair.
“But it’s not alright. Hurting people is wrong, I can’t stand it…” He sobbed.
“I know.” And she did. She had asked him once why he never defended himself from the attacks at school, and he said that to hurt them back made him worse than they were. He wouldn’t just sink to their level; he felt that he would become even lower, because he knew how it felt.
“To hurt someone else when you know how bad it feels is the worst thing I can think of. That means you’re doing it on purpose, fully aware of the pain you’re causing. That’s not just wrong. It’s evil.” He had said, closing the conversation.
Now, when he had finally lashed out, his feelings of guilt were genuine and fully understandable. She was trying to make him understand that he had acted bravely, saved them both from harm, and was in fact justified therefore, but being only eleven years old made that hard. She was a very sensitive girl, but that was not always enough to explain to someone that they shouldn’t feel guilty.
She was bright enough to be sure that the bullies wouldn’t have acted this way if their roles were reversed, and that made her brother better than all of them. She just didn’t know how to explain it to him. Ethan had been taught at school for years to believe that he wasn’t good enough, so how could his little sister possibly make it clear that he was better?
The Genevieve on Simon Lamb’s deck remembered the thoughts of her eleven year-old counterpart and smiled. Her brother was the best person she knew. But that look of rage on his face as he stood up to strike the bully, the fire in his eyes, that had been someone else entirely.
For a moment, as he wiped the sand from his face, Ethan had an expression, one she had never seen before or since, until the past few days. He had grinned, like an angry animal, or a madman, just before he struck. That sickly smile had been on his face the day they woke up on the other side of the mountain, and it had been there when Dan and Alexander dragged him away from the man he had beaten.
That smile terrified her.
9 comments
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November 15, 2007 at 8:36 pm
zombie penguin
Very nicely done. I’m quite interested to see where you take this. Not many people have the courage to place heartfelt religious belief in a story and not have it being the butt of a bad joke. A new twist on the end of the world. What’s next?
November 15, 2007 at 8:37 pm
zombie penguin
Very nicely done. I’m quite interested to see where you take this. Not many people have the courage to place heartfelt religious belief in a story and not have it being the butt of a bad joke. A new twist on the end of the world. What’s next?
November 16, 2007 at 1:52 am
Suzanne Francis
“She was a very bright girl, but that’s not always enough when you’re trying to explain to someone that they shouldn’t feel guilty. ”
This is telling and feels like a POV shift..
And to say something with finality implies the conversation is closed. Not sure you need to say it twice.
(Am I being too picky?)
Other than those two things, its really good. I especially like the last line.
November 16, 2007 at 9:57 am
nomananisland
I get what you’re saying about finality. That’s easily changed later. I don’t really see what you’re saying about the POV shift, the third person perspective knows as much now as it always has. Can you elaborate?
November 16, 2007 at 2:41 pm
nomananisland
To Zombie Penguin (cool name!)
Thank you for your interest and commentary, it is appreciated. I’d like to think I have the courage to press my own limits and provoke others to deeper thinking. Some characters are heartfelt, others will be shallow and some uncaring. Their different personalities will interact to create a (hopefully) interesting and thought-provoking story.
As for myself, I have deep and heartfelt spiritual feelings, and no religious beliefs. Some of that distinction is outlined in “Meet the Author” and for anything else, feel free to ask me. 🙂 I do, however, always search for greater understanding, and this book in many ways reflects the quest for wisdom.
November 16, 2007 at 8:21 pm
Suzanne Francis
I meant you shift from third person to second person. “She was a very bright girl” is third. “When you’re trying to explain something” is in second. To me its a little jarring, because it is as though the narrator suddenly addresses me directly, and that breaks the narrative flow.
(I once read a book that was written entirely in second person, and it was very weird, although thankfully not very long, more like a short story really.)
November 17, 2007 at 4:24 am
nomananisland
Got it. Thanks.
November 29, 2007 at 4:54 am
Bertram
This chapter and the previous one are very good, but there are times when you seem to explain too much; I think they would be even stronger if you can tighten them up. I guess in a way I am repeating what Suzanne said; it seems as if you are in Genevieve’s mind and then you are outside of it.
I love the last line.
November 29, 2007 at 5:43 am
nomananisland
Thanks Bertram — and that’s kind of the effect I want, like the narrator took you inside Eve’s memory and showed it to you, and then came back out to the rest of the story.