Homecoming

"You shouldn't have come back."

Brian knew that. He had fled into the night years ago, trying to forget this house, trying to forget this man. Time had passed, but the memory always remained. It stalked him, haunted him, filled his waking hours with anxiety and his sleeping with horror. He tried to forget. He honestly had. Brian went to counselors, made friends, even dated a girl or two, all the sort of things a man does when he tries to heal.

But he simply, couldn't, forget. That's why he was back, ready to confront his demons. His Demon. The old man sat with his back to Brian, fingers gripping the armchair, form distorted by the flicker of the television. He was as terrible as the man remembered, a Bogeyman of boyhood days. The old man would always sit there, illuminated by the screen's light, black and white playing across his features, the shine of the screen making his glasses glow. It was his habit to make the boy wait, standing behind, watching the play of shadows, dreading the beating that invariably came. He would watch, and the boy would wait. Brian couldn't lift his legs to walk, to run, to escape those horrible days.

He could, however, lift the knife to confront them.

"I know, Dad. But here I am."

The novel is progressing better than expected. I expected it to suck, to be honest. Maybe all writers think that, especially when they're trying to tackle an ambitious project. But here I am, feeling positive, like this can work. The characters are likable, interesting, different. I can spot a thing or two already that I'll need to change, but we'll worry about that in revisions.

For now, I'll just enjoy the experience.

The story's origin comes from the most recent Castlevania games (Lord of Shadows). There's something so very epic about a son coming home to confront the father. There's something primal in that. It worked for Shakespeare, and I suppose it works for me, too.