Who Wants to See Some Hookers?

Today is Day 1 of the wonderfully named Hookers and Hangers Blogfest!  This one is hosted by the lovely ladies over at Falling For Fiction.  I decided to join in because I'm not at all confident in how I start and end my chapters.  I'm not expecting to have the best hookers and hangers out there.  Far from it.  My main goal is to get some good critique and see what everyone else has to offer.

Besides, look at the name of this blogfest.  How could I pass up the opportunity to have the word "hookers" in my post title?

I have a lot of WIPs, but I decided to go with one that I'm trying to edit for a compilation I want to do.  This is a short novel that I'm thinking of titling either The Great Divide or Divided We Fall.  I know, I can't even commit to a title, but I'll have to eventually.  This novel is supposed to be a memoir style thing written from the perspective of a man who has been persecuted his entire life and has somehow survived everything life has thrown at him.

Keep in mind, since I'm trying to do a memoir-style story, there are commentaries on life lessons learned from his past sprinkled throughout, along with some memories.  If the snippets seem like they're out of any logical order (difficult as it is to tell from one sentence), that's why.

Since I'm in the editorial process, some of these hookers will undoubtedly change, but this is how they currently stand.

A Note From the Author:  The events recounted here are real. 

Chapter 1:  The back of the delivery truck smelled stale, not sterile like I was used to. 

Chapter 2:  Being the youngest of eleven children, I repeatedly told myself my parents didn’t visit me in the center because they were so busy. 

Chapter 3:  As a new patient in the treatment center, I was small and scared. 

 

Chapter 4:  During my childhood, a Curable lived on the outskirts of town.  

Chapter 5:  Once the harvest was over, I worked most of my shifts in the kitchen helping to concoct preserves, salsas, canned soups, and anything else that would keep our food supply good during the winter months.  

Chapter 6:  The final days of the expedition found me feeling lighter than I’d imagined possible.  

Chapter 7:  I woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the window.  

Chapter 8:  We were wedged in the midst of late winter, and I was looking forward to spring.  

Chapter 9:  One thing I’ve learned from experience is that a picture truly is worth a thousand words.  

Chapter 10:  Lullabies tell tales of horror.  

Chapter 11:  The Charitable Mission, a subsidiary of New Visions Ministries, ran homeless shelters all over the Eastern States.  

Chapter 12:  The first time I was physically assaulted wasn’t in treatment. 

Chapter 13:  I ran as fast as I could toward the fence, agonizingly aware of how counterintuitive this action felt. 

 

Chapter 14:  I fell to my knees, the world reeling around me.  

Chapter 15:  Love does strange things to people.  

Chapter 16:  I sat beside the window of my little hospital room, watching soldiers in black uniforms march through the streets with rifles slung over their shoulders.  

Chapter 17:  Strategy meant everything in the world of treatment.  

Epilogue:  A number of years have passed since the war ended.