Under the microscope
Author and lecturer James McCreet puts a reader’s first 300 words under his forensic lens
The Last Straw
Prologue
David’s feet flailed,1 occasionally catching kitchen cupboard doors,2 his trainers leaving black streaks on white melamine3 like car tyre skid marks.4 His thin bony fingers grappled with his dad’s strong-tendoned hands.5
‘You useless, stupid little prick,’ his dad spat in his face.6 The words forced out through snarling teeth.7 Barry’s face briefly resembled a rabid dog8 and momentarily,9 David forgot what it was he had done wrong.10 Black spots dotted his vision now.11 He felt like he was gargling his heart.12 His breathing stertorous.13 Barry’s iron-fisted grip was cutting off the supply of oxygen to his son’s brain.14
He had effortlessly picked him up by his neck and now dangled him as he yelled insults.15 Insults David no longer heard as he teetered on the brink of losing consciousness.16 He was vaguely aware of an animalistic cry17 that sounded18 far away, then suddenly he was released.19 He dropped to the floor.20 His feet skidded across recently washed lino, his shoulder caught on a drawer handle.21 He landed painfully on his hip and buckled knee.22 He closed his eyes for a second or two.23 When he reopened them, the floor around him was wet.24 Not just from being freshly mopped, this was a warm, sticky wetness.25 At first he thought it was his blood. He sat slowly up.26 Dazed. Confused.27 He mentally scanned his body.28