X Marks the Spot, My Novel, First Installment

X MARKS THE SPOT

Becket, in Western MA, on, June 1950. Brian ran down the mountain from the Quirk farm in corduroy pants, favorite checkered short-sleeved shirt, and orange sneakers, as fast as he could to meet his mother, Lizzie. That something was wrong could be told by the peculiar way his Swiss army knife bounced against his hip. He wore it everywhere. It had never dangled like that. It had been a gift from his father. Brian was 5 years old, of ordinary height. He was neither fat nor thin. His body had a fleshy quality from spending most of his time reading. He had little interest in exercise for exercise’s sake. Walking to the library was strenuous enough for him. His brown hair was neither short nor long. His father, Phil, took Brian on a mandatory trip to see his barber up in Pittsfield every week in the summer and every other week in the winter. Brian was very intelligent and his eyes burned with curiosity about the world. His mouth was almost too wide for his round face. He was an obedient boy who loved his parents over all else.

He reached his mother and hugged as much of her as was within his grasp. Extra hard this time. A drowning boy clutching to a life raft.