Web Site: Outskirts Press
This is the first chapter of "Matthew's Hero". In this chapter you get to meet Matthew.
Mommy, tell me again why I’m your little hero.”
Matthew says as he climbs up into his bed. He
slides under the covers and then pulls them up to his chest.
Laying on his back looking up at his mother he waits
patiently for her answer.
“Okay baby.” Brooke replies. Brooke, Matthew’s mother,
turns on the night light then pulls the chain to turn the over
head light off leaving the ceiling fan on. She sits on the edge of
the bed and with her right hand brushes Matthews hair to one
side. Before she says anything her mind goes back to when
Matthew was born. She becomes overwhelmed by the
memories of Matthew under the oxygen hood he had to
wear because of being born premature. She remembers the
tubes that ran into his mouth and then down his throat. The IV
needle in his arm that with the tape covered his whole forearm.
Every appendage had a tube, wire, or sensor hooked to it, even
his little foot was wrapped with tape to hold an oxygen sensor.
She looks at Matthews innocent little face and says to herself,
“Thank God for you!”
Brooke then replies “You’re my little hero because for
years mommy and daddy tried and tried to have a baby and
couldn’t. Then finally I got pregnant with you. We were so
excited, but right after you were born your heart stopped
beating and you quit breathing. The Doctor and the Nurses
had to do CPR on you. A few seconds after you started
breathing, you stopped again. I thought you were going to
be with Jesus in Heaven. You were put in intensive care for
ten days. I couldn’t hold you for three days. The Nurses
said we couldn’t hold or touch you for the first few days
because it would stimulate you and at that time it wouldn’t
be a good thing for you. When we thought things were
starting to go good, then you got jaundice and had to be
under an ultraviolet light for a while. The last few days we
got to hold you and feed you with a bottle. The bottle was
attached to the tube that ran down your throat, but we still
saw it as progress. When we brought you home you were
the happiest baby. You would cheer me up when I would
be having a bad day. You could brighten any room we took
you into. You would always smile at people, even people
you had never met before. You are the best thing that has
ever happened to me. That’s why you are my little hero. “
Matthew looks over Brooke’s shoulder and sees his father
leaning against the doorway. “Is daddy a hero mommy?”
A tear wells up in Brooke’s eye. She wipes it away and
says “yes baby, daddy is a hero.” Brooke kisses Matthew
on the forehead and says “goodnight.”
Matthew’s father Dave, turns and walks up the hallway
as Brooke stands and walks towards the door. She pauses in
the hallway and looks at a shadow box on the wall. Inside
the shadow box is a picture of Dave, Brooke’s husband, in
his Marine Dress Blues. She looks at the ribbons and
medals and before walking away she looks at the last medal
Dave received. The only medal worn around the neck, the
congressional medal of honor. She wipes a tear away and
continues up the hall.
The next morning Brooke zips up Matthews jacket and
then holds his hand as they leave the house and walk down
the side walk to the park three blocks away. It is a cool
Autumn day. The leaves have all turned and are starting to
fall, some trees have already lost all of their leaves. The
blueish gray clouds roll and float by over head as a gentle
breeze blows. Brooke thinks to herself about how much she
loves days like this. After the park she wants to come
home, make a pot of coffee then drink her coffee while
reading a book on the swing in front of the house. Brooke
looks down at Matthew, even while holding his mothers
hand he tries to skip and jump around with excitement
about going to the park. Matthew is a brown haired five
year old with an investigative personality. His deep brown
eyes are like two marbles that sparkle every time he smiles.
He looks just like his father Dave. The only difference is
Matthew is very social and will easily talk to anyone.
Brooke is a little less social, she keeps to herself but is
always thinking about something. She also has brown hair
and the same beautiful eyes.
About half way to the park they pass a house with a
man and his wife sitting on the porch. The man yells out,
“Hello Matthew, how are you? When are you going to
The mans comment instantly sends shivers down
Brooke’s spine. Matthew starts to respond but Brooke pulls
his arm and gives him a stern look. She then quickly cuts
her eyes to the man on the porch. She doesn’t have any
proof, but her gut feeling tells her the man and his wife are
not as innocent as they try to appear. The man stands and
looks as they pass by. He can sense that Brooke really
doesn’t like him. The man continues to watch until Brooke
is out of sight. The man then turns and says to his wife
“That little boy is next!”
Once at the park Matthew asks his mother why he can’t
go to the mans house to play. Brooke squats down in front
of Matthew and says “honey, grown men shouldn’t want to
play with little kids, whether they are a boy or girl.
Especially little five year old boys. Some grown ups trick
little kids into thinking they are nice and then when no one
is looking they do mean things to them. I’m sorry Matthew
but I love you and I don’t want to take a chance on maybe
losing you, so please stay away from that man and his wife,
“Okay.” Matthew replies and then runs off to play on
Brooke sits at a picnic table and watches Matthew
swing. She feels a little embarrassed by the incident and
prays Matthew really does understand to stay away.
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|Reviewed by alex dihes (алик дайхес)
|you need an European style editor to work with you on the philosophy of the writing art. You present too many absolutely needless details. You drown a reader in them. As a saying goes, behind trees it is impossible to see the forest. The composition of the chapter is eclectic. It is difficuld to read. After moving through the chapter, I have not acquired a desire to force myself through the thicket of irrelevan information.
For a success with literary educated public the work must be cleaned up and polished.
On this site I, probably, alone to give you a critique. If anybody else would decide to comment on your work, it will be a panegyric with dripping saliva, because they expect the same from you. In simple words, they call themselves boxers, yet refuse to hold even one lightest punch.
good luck, persevere
|Reviewed by LadyJtalks LadyJzTalkZone
|This is a dear subject to me. It's been going on for as many years as I've had children and I had so many friends who just never got how easily these children are taken every year. More so at Christmas time when little boys make expensive presents to some very sick people. I hope your book brings much needed awareness to this sad tale. WElcome, Lady J|