How is this as a chapter as part of my book….. from the middle ?

please let me know what you think this is from the middle many thing u wont underrstand.

Merici Escobar, beautiful, clever but poor, born to two loving parents yet survived the ordeal and lived with only one; she was a being of happy disposition that amalgamated all unlucky events into her epoch. Merici saw the grass stretch and the clouds race atop Fort Street for nearly seventeen years, thirteen in which she recalled all events clearly and the first four in which she became the only child.

She was accustomed to living, something which was rather extraordinary in her family, yet miniscule it was in proportion to those who lived around her. Life, a simple passing of years was thought as nothing but the passing of time and innocence. She was rather extra ordinary in the sense that time had not snatched her childhood beliefs from her. She hoped endlessly that her long gone brother would return from the bottom of Hades pit and her father would take his place. Neither her brother nor her father did she really understand. Both had walked out on her life yet time had shown her the bright side of being a two year old. The year she learned to walk was the year she tore the only photo of her brother.

Her first gallant journey took her a quarter way across the rug that lay lifeless on the living room floor. With endless practice she mastered the art of the monkey. from crawling to walking to climbing she found her way on top of the dining table chair one day. The sights from atop were splendid the ground though was shaky. With both hands on the table while leaning forward she started jumping on the chair out of joy. The table shook and the photo that lay within the depths of its center began to move toward her. her feet thumped endlessly on the chair.

The last time she ever banged her feet on a chair was also her only time. The chairs had been removed and she was thought the mannerism of a young girl but the damage was done. as the photo slid into her hands she examined it carefully identifying all inetntifiables. Waiting for an unknown so that she may cease the tingling sensation she felt in her fingers. her eyes breezed past her mother’s smiling face. She then saw the image she was keen on seeing when she spent endless hours on her mother’s bed looking toward the mirrored cabinet examining her childhood brilliance. The face in the photo was similar yet not same. She was not walking or jumping happily. She lay motionless in her mother’s lap looking out of the picture at her real self. there she set eyes on something quite different the one next to her mother was certainly from not her breed yet he could stand. one of his eyes was covered by the tiny fingers that were rubbing it. from the other eye came out droplets of water that seemed to paint dark spots on his light blue shirt. He was an unknown to her so her fingers engulfed the corners of the photo and pulled them apart. The existence of space between objects by pulling two things apart was a new phenomenon to her so she tried to make a shape. Through endless turns and pulls she formed a semi-circle although not perfect to her excitement but she somehow had separated that unknown’s top from the picture. Only his dangling legs were nicely placed, stagnant next to her mother and his top half she threw on the floor.

The torn bit of the photo never found its place. Merici was taught not to ask who was torn out or who tore the little boy out. it remained a bottled bit on anxiety a piece of an idea. The worst of things that a human can possess is an idea. one that grows within the depths of the mind only to overtake all conscious thought later. She became a builder, one that built with her imagination what occurred with that boy. She knew well that he was related to her most certainly her brother. maybe he left with her father maybe he was forced to leave because her parents had separated.

Days alone were mundane repeating loops of life. every Saturday the women would talk to him. The father that left her. Merici never understood why her mother went through the pain to have a video conference with him every weekend. In the beginning they were not talks they were bits of speech. a little “hi, how are you” and that was it. but with the spending if time a bond was renewed between them. The talks became conversations and conversations become never ending notes of music. They would each rock to the rhythm of each other’s words seamlessly taking in all parts of speech.
Mrs. Escobar was killed on Sunday. Saturday went about as normal with Merici being no part of the plot against her mother. She sat in ropes of misery tied in thought of her brother who was sold so she may live. Sunday afternoon she spent on Almadad. Pondering over both of her family losses bond to an unknown location, her body drifted with the rhythm of the seas.

Yawn, I can't imagine anyone who would be able to stand reading that. you went on and on and on about what has happened to her. Give a brief description of her life, but don't over-do it, you lose the readers interest faster than it took for you to write what you have so far.

How is this as a chapter as part of my book..... from the middle ?