Blaine Turner

Here is the first page of my new novel. Is there any body out there that would flip the page????


Seven-year-old Blaine Turner stood by his mother racked with the pain of loosing a grandfather. Yet even this pain was nothing in comparison to the unforgiveness that was clouding his heart as he stood there.

The funeral home tent held only the immediate family, the pall bearers and the preacher.

Blaine looked around at what had to be at least three hundred people that had drove from everywhere to pay their last respects.

His granddaddy had once said, “When you die it aint’ important how many people a man knows. What is important is how many knew him.”

If there was a heaven and at this moment, Blaine had no reason to believe that there was one. If his granddaddy actually was there and looking down, he would have been proud of the crowd.

Even the mud from the night before rain hadn’t stopped them from coming.

What would they all think if they knew the man they thought so much of was nothing but a dirty low down liar?

The preacher was now saying something about dirt to dirt and ash to ash. It all just sounded muddled at this point. Blaine looked at his mother and thought. “You, mother dearest are the biggest liar of all. How could I have ever trusted you?”

There she set with tears running down her face holding his little sister Lizzy. He wondered how long it would be before Lizzy would realize that she had been born into a family of liars. Perhaps it was in their blood. Maybe she and him both would grow up to be liars. He remembered his granddaddy saying you can’t breed out bad blood.

Blaine wanted to turn and run. Yes, just run til he could no longer run any longer. Run until all the pain was gone. Somehow, he wanted to out run the lies and the hurt.

He would, but he had his little sister and grandmother to consider.

Somebody came, helped his grandmother up, and directed her toward a waiting car. The rest of the family followed behind.

Blaine brought up the rear so nobody noticed when he stopped and looked back at the casket one last time.

He whispered under his breath. Liar, liar you were never any thing but a liar. I hate you for the lie you told me.

Explore posts in the same categories: April 2010, life, life lessons, spirituel, stories, Uncategorized

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