Sweepings of the Street [EXCERPT]

Chapter 1: The Factory

Hi readers! I am so excited to share this excerpt of my debut novel, Sweepings of the Street, with all of you. Sweepings of the Street is available for preorder on Barnes & Noble and Amazon, and it will be officially released on December 10, 2022. External link is at the end of the chapter. In the meantime, enjoy the first four chapters! You can also watch the official book trailer above. 

Sweepings was published by Double J Press, with a cover design by me and 100 Covers. 

 Please be aware that this book contains physical violence and injury, child abuse, and references to suicide and alcoholism. Themes of grief, abuse, trauma, depression, abandonment, and poverty are prominent in this novel. These warnings are included in the published edition of the novel and any other format where they are necessary. This excerpt includes scenes of child abuse and physical injury. 

Enjoy!

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PART ONE: AUTUMN

September 1816

Chapter One: The Factory

Sarah let go of the lever, ran a blistered hand through her matted blonde hair, and wished for the thousandth time that the power loom had never been invented. The machine was one of many grotesque assortments of gears, ratchets, and rollers that lined the factory floor. Sarah snuck a glance over her shoulder to ensure that the overseer was not watching her, then neglected her tasks to flex her sore fingers and let her mind wander.

Her mother loved to weave, and she had passed many a day that way, sitting at her own loom and passing the shuttle back and forth with a gentle scraping noise. Her father and Thomas had returned from the fields of Norfolk every evening with ample energy to eat dinner as a family. Sarah had spent her days teaching Abigail to read and winding bobbins for Mother, and her nights listening to Thomas read poetry and watching the starry sky. If not for the power loom, these would be Sarah's reality rather than her memories. Instead, she found herself in the midst of a twelve-hour work day, moving levers and rollers until her arms ached in a cramped London factory.

"Star," said a familiar voice. A smile spread across Sarah's face at the sound of her childhood nickname, and she turned to face her brother. At fifteen, three years Sarah's elder, Thomas Lee was tall and lean, and his muscular build had long since given way to the thin look of malnourishment. His round face was pale and studded with pimples. Sweat plastered his blond bangs against his forehead, and he staggered under the weight of the three boxes of heavy tools in his arms. Thomas hoisted the boxes higher and flashed Sarah a lopsided grin.

"How do you do?" he asked, raising his voice above the whirring of the machines and the clamor of the workers. Some, like Sarah and her mother across the room, worked on the looms, while others carried boxes or stood on tall ladders against the walls.

"Sore as always," said Sarah, picking at a blister on her palm. "But I'll be fine. You?"

He shrugged, shifting one of the boxes. "All right. Happy to be off the looms for the day. Where are Father and Mother?"

"Mother's on a loom across the floor, and Father's working the ladders, I reckon."

A man passed behind Thomas, and Sarah glanced between them, trying to give Thomas a silent warning. The overseer made rounds on the factory floor every few minutes, and he hated idleness.

"We were just getting back to work, sir," she said, returning to her work and keeping her gaze from lingering on the cane in the overseer's hand.

"Of course," the man sneered. "See that you don't leave it next time."