The following is chapter one of a novel I've recently finished and am planning on releasing in the next few months. One of the main topics of this novel has to do with the scars I just described. As I prepare to release the book -- the first of three planned for the series -- I'll drop a few more hints. I hope you enjoy!
MIRACULOUS BEAUTY
A LIFE'S STORY BEGINS-BOOK I
by: Mark England
Chapter 1 – Top of the First
Game one, top of the first inning, Shalene McManus's life, at the age of twelve, became an uphill struggle. The slaps and stings, cuts and scrapes, that she received in the early moments of action became a permanent part of her battle and the mark left behind perpetuated it.
Aaron Murphy's top of the first came at the age of nine and six years earlier. His scars weren't as visible but no less a reality. Neither knew they were destined to end up on the same team, but when it happened?
Well, maybe I should let their story speak for itself.
₪₪₪
Fifteen years ago, Reggie in the lead, Shalene made her way through the woods with the others, as quietly as possible. The light failing, dark shadows lengthened across the path. Crack! Everyone stopped in their tracks. Someone’s coming.Seven brothers and sisters ran for the trees to hide. Thirty yards deep, they stopped and waited. As the dark figures passed along the path, Shalene, Reggie and the others picked up bits and pieces of conversation and knew they had been caught.
After another twenty minutes, the kids decided to head back, except this time, well off the path. Almost home, they heard footsteps and began running. Near the edge of the woods, the branches thickened around them but the thought of being in trouble brought about a sense of urgency to run faster. Shalene and the others ducked and weaved, arms up to block the branches that whipped and slapped back with surprising force.
Shalene didn’t see the thick branch that grazed her right forearm. The sting of it, after so many hits, caused her to instinctively drop her arm into her left hand. Then it happened.
The darkness hid another branch that cut deep as she lifted and turned her head instinctively. The searing pain brought her to her knees, face down on the wooded floor among leaves, sticks and gumballs. She looked up to see, with blurred vision, the kids break through the last of the trees and head for home. Shalene turned quickly to see the men on top of her. At that moment, she relaxed enough to feel pain burn into her cheek. Then she felt the warmth of blood begin to ooze to the surface, dripping down onto her shirt and jeans as she sat up on her knees, the pain burning like fire.
₪₪₪
Every Friday night, at exactly 6:45pm, after a Weight Watchers dinner, Shalene McManus gathered her laundry and headed down eight flights of stairs to the basement where five washers and five dryers stood to offer their services for the tenants of Ontario Hills Apartments.After making her way down the closed stairwell, through the muffled commotion and noise of doors opening and closing in the hallways on the other side, the occasional shouting and laughing from those headed out for the night, she reached the coolness of the basement, the hard, grimy, black and white tiled floor and one exterior cement wall surrounded by paint-free drywall – one with a brown door frame. Eight spotlights shown from the drywall ceiling to splash light down upon the washers, dryers, foldout wood grain table and floor. In the shadows of one corner stood a green trash can filled with lint and fabric softener.
Sweet silence. Shalene enjoyed the quiet -- one of the main reasons for doing her laundry at this time. The coins scraped and clinked as she slid them in place. She dumped her laundry and detergent, and, finally, delivered the washer’s commission which set it into action.
Something different occurred this Friday, though. As she turned around, a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties came bouncing down the steps and practically tiptoed into the room with a light load. She smiled, her eyes bright and blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders.
“Hi, I’m Cynthia.”
Shalene kept her face sideways, only revealing her left side. She smiled politely and answered without thinking. “Hi, I’m Shalene.”
“Nice to meet you, Shalene." Cynthia pulled her bundle of clothes out of her basket to deliver them to the washer. She turned her head to see Shalene standing still. "I don’t remember seeing you around. Are you new here?”
Shalene shook her head slowly. “Been here for about a year.”
Cynthia stopped before dropping the last coin in the tray. “A year! Why don’t I remember ever seeing you?”
“I don’t get out much.” Shalene offered the explanation.
Cynthia laughed innocently. “Well, anyway, it’s nice to meet you. What floor do you live on?”
“Third floor, by the steps.”
“Third floor! That’s where I live. 315, halfway down. I can’t believe it. A whole year living on the same floor, and I can’t recall ever seeing you.”
Shalene didn’t respond as she began to turn and leave.
Cynthia started the washing machine, and looked behind her. “Shalene. That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to do something tonight? Doesn’t have to be anything major, just hangout.”
Shalene turned to face Cynthia forgetting herself. “Thank you but no, I’d just like to go back to my apartment and relax.”
Suddenly, Cynthia’s face changed -- just like all the others when they saw the scar. Cynthia didn’t say anything but her look said enough and Shalene headed for the steps.
Cynthia chased after. “Hey, wait, let’s walk up together!”
Shalene slowed. She felt the tension. Her mind and hearing clouded. Cynthia was saying something about the weather and Shalene could tell she was trying to be pleasant, but Cynthia saw the scar and everything would change from that moment. Shalene smiled and nodded when she didn’t hear quite everything.
Once Shalene reached her floor, she smiled, told Cynthia to have a great night. She ducked into her apartment where she’d stay until she felt certain the poor unfortunate soul had finished her laundry. Why do I have to live with something so hideous?
Every morning, she awoke and would stare at it in the mirror, wondering why something so ugly had to be a part of her. It seemed to hurt the most when someone commented on her beauty, only to take pause when they saw the scar.
So beautiful. Yeah, such beauty only if she didn’t have that hideous red tear that sliced the right side of her face from just above her ear to curl back near her mouth in the shape of a backward S.
When it happened, Shalene had been taken straight to the hospital where they cleaned and stitched the cut. So much pain, but not half as bad as the infection that occurred a week later. Eventually, it healed and the infection disappeared but not until the significant scarring ruined her face and caused a lifetime of pain she felt powerless to remove.
So beautiful. Perhaps, before the accident. After that, her beauty vanished. Boys would point and girls would laugh at her in school. The names: Bride of Frankenstein, Scar, or Beauty Now the Beast -- she couldn’t help laughing at that one when she was alone, before she began to cry.
High School came and went. No dances, no boyfriends, just school and home. Actually, one boy did ask her out but someone put him up to it, so it really wasn’t his idea. She refused.
Then came college when a boy did finally trick her into going out with him. She liked him a lot. He was handsome and liked to laugh. She thought he was going to be with her forever. That is, until two months into the relationship when he decided he could have someone more perfect looking. Last thing he said to her, “You need to get rid of that hideous scar because it’s killing you.”
The next week, she cried when she was alone. Then she was over it and found herself over boys. Why bother? Her internship led to a job at a bank when she graduated. Soon, she found enjoyment in everyday life. No need to complicate things. Just go to work, take care of the things she needed and get back home to watch baseball.
Boys had always told her that a girl who loved baseball like she did was just weird; but, then again, everything about her seemed to head that direction. So, she lived, worked and watched baseball on television. Life stayed good that way.
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About The Author: Parts of this story came from a past event that happened to me in high school. I pitched for my high school baseball team and, my junior year, I had been slated as the number one pitcher. On the way to a pre-game in which I was going to pitch, I was involved in a car accident. I survived the accident with a concussion that ended my junior year of pitching before it could begin. I also lost just about all of the second semester of school. I have no delusions that I would have, one day, been a great pitcher in the majors, or even that I had the ability to be a major league pitcher. However, during that time, I learned something that I've carried with me throughout my life. This left a scar of sorts in my life, but in the same respect, it also brought to me one of the greatest blessings I could have ever imagined: An incredible wife and two amazing children.
More to come......
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