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 Posted: Fri Dec 29, 2006 8:45 pm
Author's Note: My mom is a member of Writing[dot]com. She joins a lot of contests there, and she usually winds up giving me the rules of the contest. I don't usually write an entry - and I never actually enter - but this one was incredibly cool.
The rules are simple. Make a list of overused literary phrases; black widow, silent shadow, haunted house, cool breeze, red rose, et cetera. Line them up, then pick a random number.Example Empty promises
Broken wings
Endless night
Silent fury
Hollow victory
Random #: 3 Example Empty night
Broken fury
Endless victory
Silent promises
Hollow wings
I wrote a short story with my list; it's in the next post. The phrases I came up with are from a list of twelve. I used six, which are bold in the post below.
If you want to give it a try, I urge you to post your work in this thread. Also, the more words you use, the more you have to choose from.
Enjoy!
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Posted: Fri Dec 29, 2006 8:48 pm
"Cassie, can you hear me?"
"Black."
The doctors say that black is nothingness in Cassie's new world. She either hears me and refuses to acknowledge me, or she is commenting to herself about how little there is in her world.
"Cassie, it's Beth. Do you remember me?" Cassie has forgotten my face and voice before, but she always remembers my name.
"Black hallway." Cassie says, her haunted eyes looking through me instead of at me.
I sit back on my heels by the low bed and let Cassie mumble to herself. When she's stressed, she speaks aloud in cryptic riddles. The doctors say it soothes her.
"Empty." Cassie tells me. She has trouble forming complete sentences now. She usually starts with a key word, then builds from there.
"What's empty?" I ask, though she is probably still ignoring me.
"Empty widow." She elaborates, still speaking in riddles. "I am the empty widow." Her hands are shaking a bit. The tremors are supposedly linked to increased brain activity. "Empty widow of your broken innocence."
She's used the term 'broken innocence' before. My broken innocence is the reason she lost her sanity.
"The pure moon gave blue promises, but her innocence broke, and now the promises are black." Blue is a good color. In Cassie-speak, something blue is something kind or well-intended. The night-watch nurse who reads to Cassie is the blue shadow. Pure moon is what Cassie calls me when she doesn't want to say my name.
I promised we'd go on a trip to Hawaii, just the three of us, and learn how to scuba. I can't keep that promise now.
"The innocence broke, and now his widow's empty."
The plane crash that killed my son Jacob - Cassie's husband - nearly killed Cassie, too. The severe trauma caused a miscarraige, and Cassie can no longer have children. That's what she means when she calls herself empty.
"Can you see them?" Cassie asks me, pulling me up onto her bed.
"See what, Cassie?" I ask. I play along, even though it may mean she never regains her senses. I'd rather my daughter-in-law live in her vague world of colors and riddles than force her back to a reality that took her husband and child from her.
"The crystal roses." Cassie points off towards the corner of her small room, where the nurses pile her toys and books, and the gifts deemed safe for her. "The hallway is black, but the roses shine like the innocence before it broke."
"They're pretty." I tell her, because anything that shines in Cassie's world is pretty.
"Crystal roses can break if you're not careful with them. You have to be more careful with crystal roses than blue daisies. I don't have a blue daisy."
Since all the children here are nice to Cassie, she calls them blue daisies. They let her play with them during free time, and give her old stuffed animals to play with at night.
"Empty widow can't have a blue daisy. Will the pure moon get another blue daisy?"
"No," I tell her. "The pure moon will be an empty widow, too, so you won't be alone. Do you want Stormy?" Stormy is her favorite stuffed animal, a big blue dog with floppy ears that a little boy with dyslexia and mild schitzophrenia gave to her to protect her.
"Stormy." Cassie agrees, holding her arms open to receive her faithful dog. There are tears in her eyes; she knows that when I give her Stormy, it means I have to go. "Want Stormy."
I hand him over, and Cassie immediately buries her face in his fake blue fur. I am black to her now, so I don't bother to say good-bye. She won't hear me, anyway. She's in Cassie's world, where promises are blue or black, and dead people are just broken innocence.
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Posted: Fri Dec 29, 2006 9:06 pm
I really like it Casiela. it can be a little tough to follow but, overall a nice story.
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Posted: Fri Dec 29, 2006 9:28 pm
How was it hard to follow? I'm not getting defensive; I'd really like to know, so I can maybe work on it. Was it becuase one of the characters is crazy, or because of something else?
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Posted: Fri Dec 29, 2006 9:42 pm
Not really hard, just that you had to go back and reread some of the meanings. That's not a fault at all, simply something that I mentioned in passing.
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 8:09 pm
Okay, so it's because one of the characters is crazy. Got it.
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 8:47 pm
Basically. I was tired so I got a little wordy on you.
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Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2007 5:01 am
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