a vestige of thought...
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Since coming home yesterday nearly all of my time has been taken up attempting to clean up the disaster site that is my room and unpack my infinite boxes of dorm room stuff. I have ended up going through piles of paper that I have not touched in years. It takes me longer than it probably needs to to get through everything, because I end up reading everything that I have stashed in these piles.
This past semester I took the class Narratives and Ideologies of Hollywood, in which our final project was to write a 15-25 page short story with a moral point. This was time consuming, although not too horribly difficult. While cleaning my room, I discovered that I have, in fact, been writing moral tales for quite a while. The following was a Superstory (story including all of that week's vocabulary words) I wrote in 7th grade at age 13.
"Sara!" yelled Kathryn for the thousandth time that day. Come get your stuff out of my room!"
"Yes your majesty," said Sarah, coming into her older sister's room to pick up her books. "I will grovel at your feet O reputable one. I will forever revere and honor you." She mockingly bowed before Kathryn.
"Oh, you're hilarious," said Kathryn sarcastically. "Now get your stuff and get yourself out of here." At that moment the door slammed shut.
"Kathryn," Sara said quietly.
"What?" snapped Kathryn, agitated.
"The door won't open."
"So turn the handle." She got up and reached for the doorknob, but the whole door ignited suddenly, causing both girls to jump back.
"I didn't do it!" Sara blurted out. She had expected a smart aleck remark from Kathryn, but one look at her sister's countenance told her that she was too terrified to say anything. Sara unexpectedly felt brave for a small second, but whatever courage she had diminished quickly when she saw what was on the other side of the fire. The small, stodgy looking woman seemed to come strait from some ancient Greek saga. But it was what was behind the stuffy character that scared Sara. There, standing in chronological order, was a gruesome creature for every argument that Sara and Kathryn had ever had. Some were massive things, tugging on their chains with fangs dripping with the venom of hate. These represented huge fights between the sisters. They had grown with the grudges the girls had fostered for days at a time. Others were small and bun-like. These had been born or disagreements started by fluctuating emotions in difficult times. All were seething with anger and clearly wanted nothing more than to destroy kathryn and Sara. The girls looked at each other, somehow knowing that the creatures had been their own handicrafts. They were astonished at the magnitude of some of their arguments. Sara edged toward Kathryn and whispered in her ear.
"What can we do to pall their hatred so we can get out of here?" Kathryn thought for a moment.
"That woman seems to be their maternal figure," she said. "Maybe she can somehow enchant them so we can leave." It was as if the woman knew what they said, but she was too far away to hear their whispering. She began to hum, low and soft. The monsters began to close their eyes sleepily, and the quiet songs made Sara and Kathryn groggy too. When it seemed that there was no energy left in either of them, they fell in a crumpled heap on the ground.
Sara woke up again on the floor in Kathryn's room. Next to her, Kathryn was stirring. When she sat up their eyes met. Neither said a word, but both knew that it would be a long time before either started an argument again.
Major bonus points go to anyone who can figure out which of the words in the story were from my vocabulary list.
This past semester I took the class Narratives and Ideologies of Hollywood, in which our final project was to write a 15-25 page short story with a moral point. This was time consuming, although not too horribly difficult. While cleaning my room, I discovered that I have, in fact, been writing moral tales for quite a while. The following was a Superstory (story including all of that week's vocabulary words) I wrote in 7th grade at age 13.
"Sara!" yelled Kathryn for the thousandth time that day. Come get your stuff out of my room!"
"Yes your majesty," said Sarah, coming into her older sister's room to pick up her books. "I will grovel at your feet O reputable one. I will forever revere and honor you." She mockingly bowed before Kathryn.
"Oh, you're hilarious," said Kathryn sarcastically. "Now get your stuff and get yourself out of here." At that moment the door slammed shut.
"Kathryn," Sara said quietly.
"What?" snapped Kathryn, agitated.
"The door won't open."
"So turn the handle." She got up and reached for the doorknob, but the whole door ignited suddenly, causing both girls to jump back.
"I didn't do it!" Sara blurted out. She had expected a smart aleck remark from Kathryn, but one look at her sister's countenance told her that she was too terrified to say anything. Sara unexpectedly felt brave for a small second, but whatever courage she had diminished quickly when she saw what was on the other side of the fire. The small, stodgy looking woman seemed to come strait from some ancient Greek saga. But it was what was behind the stuffy character that scared Sara. There, standing in chronological order, was a gruesome creature for every argument that Sara and Kathryn had ever had. Some were massive things, tugging on their chains with fangs dripping with the venom of hate. These represented huge fights between the sisters. They had grown with the grudges the girls had fostered for days at a time. Others were small and bun-like. These had been born or disagreements started by fluctuating emotions in difficult times. All were seething with anger and clearly wanted nothing more than to destroy kathryn and Sara. The girls looked at each other, somehow knowing that the creatures had been their own handicrafts. They were astonished at the magnitude of some of their arguments. Sara edged toward Kathryn and whispered in her ear.
"What can we do to pall their hatred so we can get out of here?" Kathryn thought for a moment.
"That woman seems to be their maternal figure," she said. "Maybe she can somehow enchant them so we can leave." It was as if the woman knew what they said, but she was too far away to hear their whispering. She began to hum, low and soft. The monsters began to close their eyes sleepily, and the quiet songs made Sara and Kathryn groggy too. When it seemed that there was no energy left in either of them, they fell in a crumpled heap on the ground.
Sara woke up again on the floor in Kathryn's room. Next to her, Kathryn was stirring. When she sat up their eyes met. Neither said a word, but both knew that it would be a long time before either started an argument again.
Major bonus points go to anyone who can figure out which of the words in the story were from my vocabulary list.
2 Comments:
reputable, ignited, stodgy, fluctuating, handicrafts, pall...
This is hard. What if you just had a naturally large vocabulary as a 13-year-old?
That's fantastic. I wish I spoke like Kathryn and Sara. Or at least, in the midst of terror, it would be cool to have a nervous habit of using phrases like "pall their hatred" and "maternal figure".
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