TRICK OR TREAT D10: COMFORT UNDESERVED

Title: COMFORT UNDESERVED

Category: YA

Genre: Literary

Word count: 73,000

Pitch:

Amidst the confusion of his teenage years, seventeen year old Thomas Hamilton’s life is exacerbated by the fact he cannot fully embrace his time at boarding school.  His heart and mind are elsewhere as he is continually drawn into the fray of domestic violence back home.  In a story about bravery, cowardice, pragmatism and stupidity, Thomas finds he has a role and responsibility to his family, no matter where he physically is.

Q1: In your MC's voice, what costumed character do you most relate to and why?

Costumed characters are stupid.  I would definitely be Batman.

Q2: As an author, what makes your manuscript a tasty treat (unique/marketable)?

My manuscript is more of a trick than a treat, as I am hiding behind the mask of my novel.  I was a student at a boarding school who lived in a house filled with domestic violence; I am currently a librarian and teacher at a boarding school.

First 250:

Do not call me Abraham.
Ever.
Please, call me Thomas.

Abraham is my father, but I am not Ishmael, nor Isaac.
I am not cast aside, the first, yet unwanted child.
I am not displayed upon the alter, with the blade rushing forth.
I am Abraham Thomas Hamilton, Jr., and I have a recurring nightmare.
I picture a young bride, sitting at her kitchen table.  

Blood, dripping from her nose, falls ever so delicately onto her light, sky blue skirt.  

She sits, well past crying anymore.  She just sits there and watches as the bright, red blood falls and immediately absorbs into the fabric, creating sickly brownish purple circles.
She shudders as two circles overlap, resembling a heart.
“Love,” she mouths.  “What a notion.”
Sniffling blood, she wonders: How could I let it happen again?

Glancing at the calendar across the room, she returns a glazed stare to her lap and mumbles, “Everything changed today…”
She startles.

His presence.

Looming.
Bracing, she realizes he is here to talk.
Excuses.
Drivel.
She might leave him, she thought.  That is, until today.
Looking up, blood continues to run.

Down her chin.
Nothing stops it.
No one stops it.
Her hands cradle her stomach.
Blood continues to drip.

Tears swell - for pain, fear, or joy is not known.
“Abraham,” she says.  “I’m pregnant.”
As her words float out into the universe, with the gravity of a black hole, she sits.
Trapped, in mind, body and space.
Imprisioned.
Now, with a life sentence.