As promised in my last post from October, I hereby like to share a short snippet of The Journey of the White Dahlia’s first chapter. Please be advised that this concerns an unfinished draft and may be subject to change.
The candlelight danced up and down, with candle wax nearly half burnt. It should be enough for a few more hours of light John estimated. His hands were curled above the flame like a dome, providing some heat to his frozen fingers. He did not like winter. No matter how some people dressed up this period of the year, it remained a period he would prefer to skip. This winter in particular had proved tougher than any other winter in his young memory. It was not just the cold and darkness, but especially the deterioration of his mother that worried him this winter. Her smile and comforting words that all would be well began sounding emptier by the day. Food was scarce and his torn clothes could no longer be so easily mended or replaced as they used to. There were no more trips to the theatre or the market and fewer and fewer people came by the house. He wondered how long his mother could put off paying the rent. Even though the landlord had been a friend of their family for years they had never before found themselves in this peculiar situation before. His usual good morning started to sound increasingly less cheerful. But that could also be his imagination. This candle was one of the last items he had managed to take from their old house. The beautiful country side mansion he grew up in was gone forever and he missed it dearly. Especially the large fireplace during this time of year. John cherished the large silver candle holder and the wax pillar in it as a sacred object. A last object from a better time. He followed every movement of the flame and traced the intricate shadows it painted on the walls and ceiling.
So there it is, a short glimpse into the start of John’s rather discomforting situation. More to follow soon. For now I would like to wish you happy holidays and a fantastic New Year.