I’ve never taken part in #snippetsunday before, but I thought I would share the first draft of the opening scene in my dual timeline novel, The Haunting of Kembleford Manor.
Here goes. I’d really appreciate some feedback.
Albert Kembleford strode across the office, turned the key in the lock and left it hanging in the door. When he returned to his desk, the letter from the bank that arrived in the mail earlier in the day taunted him. The body of it was bad enough, but did the institution have to humiliate him even more with the word FORECLOSURE stamped in red on the whitespace near the top of the letterhead.
He knew it would come to this. Six months ago, he re-mortgaged the house to pump money into his lumberyard after a deal he’d counted on to bring him back from the brink fell through. Albert never told his wife they were in financial trouble. It wasn’t done. Being the breadwinner and provider for his family fell on his shoulders. He couldn’t bear his family knowing he was a failure.
The time had come. Albert reached into the middle left drawer of his desk, pulled out his Smith and Wesson revolver, and ensured the chamber was fully loaded. He had one chance to do it and wanted nothing left to error.
His crystal decanter of single malt stood on a tray with matching glasses. He’d have one before his time on this earth was up. Dutch courage. One for the road. He poured three fingers into the tumbler — two wouldn’t be enough. A ray of sun coming in the window glinted off the cuts in the glass making it sparkle and illuminating the amber liquid so that it glowed.
He would miss this house and the town of Pike Falls where he chose to settle and make his fortune. Too bad it didn’t turn out that way. He gulped down the whisky and returned the glass to its proper place. Only then did he sit behind his desk. This same place where he completed paperwork for his lumber empire — ha! — many times.
As much as he wanted to burn the letter, he couldn’t. He needed to leave it for his wife Patience to find so she wouldn’t feel guilty thinking it was something she did to make him do what he was about to. Across the bottom of the letter he scrawled, I’m sorry, dearest Patience. Please forgive me. Love always, Albert.
Then, he cocked the gun, placed the end of the barrel against his temple and pulled the trigger.
So there you have it, my #snippetsunday offering. What did you think?
In due course, I’ll be sharing the cover image for the book, but in the meantime, watch for more #snippetsunday offerings.