A while back I posted the prologue to The Night the Moon Cried. And then I posted Chapter 5 with the story in a story. Today I post Chapter 1.

In my novel a murder takes place and the reader is the ONLY person to know. That murder takes place in this opening chapter.

I have no grand illusions - this is nothing but a crappy beach read... but it's MINE!

Last week I interviewed and hired someone to read/critique my novel. I'd originally planned to engage her services for my memoirs, but I've not properly organized my journals. Gah. It's daunting. Overwhelming. So, I foisted my tired novel. Maybe she can resuscitate it!

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Chapter One


A floorboard creaked beneath the worn bedroom carpet.

Grace stirred, kept her eyes closed. In a voice blurred with sleep she asked, "Lucey, that you?"

"No, Mama, it's me, Dan. Remember? Lucey's in Colorado."

She combed her fingers across her forehead. "Of course. I must've been dreaming. What time is it?" she asked. "It feels early."

"It's near 5:30 Mama." He approached her bed with ease, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He knew exactly where he was going, knew exactly what he was about to do.

Grace stirred again, letting her sleep slowly fall away, not ready to stretch her body awake. The sun crept toward the horizon, hungry to pounce. A jagged pinkness pricked the distant hills and fields. "You've been drinking, haven't you?" She knew he had been. "Sun's not even up and you've been drinking. What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Yes, Mama, I have."

Dan had been a late talker--about three years old when words started to jerk from his mouth. He had a stutter that made words get caught in his throat like a fish bone that needed to be coughed loose. He was twenty-six now, and Grace knew her son had already started drinking. His words were smooth, unfettered.

He had a pillow in his hands, taken from his own bed. "I'm sorry, Mama."

"I know you are Danny Boy." Her eyes were still closed. He'd never again see them opened.

"No, Mama. I'm really sorry."

In the distance, a neighbor's rooster scratched up small puffs of dust, stretched its neck, and beckoned the whole wide world to wake-up, wake-up, wake-up!

He put the pillow over her face, pushed down hard. She barely struggled. "I'm sorry, Mama."

It was the third time he'd told her he was sorry, but he wasn't.

"Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up!" the rooster shouted again.

Dan had carefully planned his mother's murder. He knew an autopsy wouldn't be required. She was seeing Dr. Sakys and wouldn't take her medication.

After a short while, he lifted the pillow. It hadn't taken long. Grace had so little life to take away. He left the room to call his sister in Colorado, already rehearsing the panicky story he planned to tell her.

"Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up--now!" the rooster demanded.

But the whole wide world continued to sleep as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.