rio

"This is fictional story that attempts to capture a moment in the life of a domestic in a third world country. Enjoy".

Finally, it rained. The light breeze brought a sense of calmness and relief from the dry heat of the summer season. The house was quiet and baby Anthony was taking his daily nap. The long living room connected the bedrooms to the dining room. A big backyard separated the servant corners from the dining room.
Aunt Stephanie was in her room sorting out the laundry Dannie had cleaned the day before. My mom was sitting at the head of the dining room table enjoying a novel. There were so many cousins and nephews living in my house at the time, that our long table surrounded with benches made our dining room look like a high school cafeteria. Sitting next to my mom, facing the living room with my back to the backyard, I was immersed in an algebra problem, that had eluded me for hours, when suddenly I was snapped out of my concentration by a loud and unforgiving voice calling, ”Dannie, Dannie, Dannie.”
Dannie worked for my aunt but was never paid. It was an arrangement between her mother and my aunt that should have guaranteed Dannie’s safety and maybe a chance for a better life in the city. For two meals a day and an opportunity to attend night school, she worked from sunset to sundown cooking, cleaning, and taking care of little Anthony. Dannie was five feet four inches and was very quiet and timid. She rarely talked or offered any sign of discontentment. She seemed to have come to terms with her dire situation. At twelve years of age, her frail and skinny body was on the verge of puberty. Her soft and fair skin with accentuated features made her attractive.
Aunt Stephanie walked toward me dragging what seemed to be Anthony’s bed sheet in her left hand. I turned around to the faint and soft voice of Dannie as she ran in the rain across the yard to meet Stephanie in the dining room. By the time Dannie reached the doorway, Aunt Stephanie was standing right in front of her at 5 feet 2 inches; a forty year old woman who carried her overweight body with pride. In this town, appearance was everything and the bigger you were, the wealthier you purported to be. She walked even closer to Dannie, who backed herself against the wall, and said, “didn’t you hear me calling you. What is wrong with you? Are you deaf or what?” That was a rhetorical question that Dannie knew better not to answer. She lifted the sheet up and asked, “Did you wash this sheet last night? Did you, did you?”
Before Dannie could answer her, she shoved the sheet into Dannie’s face banging the back of her head against the wall so hard that the sound resonated throughout the room.
“Then tell me why it smells like this!”
Shocked and unprepared by her reaction Dannie hesitated for a moment and stuttered, “Ahhh…, Ahhh…I don’t know, non, Madam”
Aunt Stephanie smacked Dannie across the face, handed her the sheet and said, “Wash it this time and make sure that it doesn’t smell like you.” Without a drop of tears, Dannie slowly turned around and proceeded to walk back into the rain. In rebellion, for the humiliation she just suffered, Dannie instinctively muttered a couple of words as she crossed the doorway. At the sound of her voice, Aunt Stephanie shouted, “What? Did you say something? Hey come back here!”
Dannie turned around to meet her in the same position. She asked again, “Did you say something?” Without warning, she pinched both of Dannie’s perky breasts between her thumbs and curled index fingers and lifted Dannie up until her toes were barely touching the ground. For the first time since I can remember, I heard Dannie wail as loud as she could as if to exhale the unbearable pain of Aunt Stephanie’s nails piercing her skin. I turned around to look at Dannie’s head slumped to one side with a look on her face that begged for pity and forgiveness. The picture was so vivid and so similar to Christ on the cross that at any moment I was expecting her to say, “please forgive her God, forgive her for she does not know what she does.” As she raised her head to lean it against the wall behind her, she looked at me and smiled. And in that brief moment, I connected with Dannie forever. I will never forget those eyes full of kindness and hope.
My mom and Aunt Stephanie argued for weeks over the incident, accusing Aunt Stephanie of being mean spirited. To avoid any further problems, Dannie was returned to her mom and I never saw her again.•

demonic_harmonic

Hm, for some reason the writing seems mature until you say 'baby Anthony'. You might want to check that out.


This sentence could be broken up a bit.






I can what you are going for here, but it's not quite doing it's job. Perhaps break it down a bit, or allow this part of the scene to go for a few more sentences. I think it might be lacking some detail, but right now there's no suspense or shock factor coming out.




This sentence seems more awkward than anything else. I can see that you are going through what alot of writer's do- take time to detail the unimportant things, and then rush through the actiony parts. Don't worry, I think we've all done it...



Heh, the term mean spirited should be replaced with something stronger.



I don't know if I see where you are going with this yet. I'm thinking maybe you follow the story of Dannie? Whatever it is, make sure there is a reason for this part to your story. If it has to do with the other girl staying with the aunt, it could even be put in as more of a flashback.


Other than that, I think if you sort those things out, you should have a good beginning.