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trinsySo, I’m writing this short story for school. And, unlike my last one, I actually really like it (so far, anyway). I haven’t written the beginning yet, but I have written quite a bit of the middle. The following is an excerpt, and I must say, I’m really rather proud of it.
“I’m home!” Blayke called as she entered the house. “Oh, hey, Bree!”
Breena was approaching her, wearing an odd expression. It looked to Blayke as if the confusion filling Breena’s eyes was about to overflow and flood the whole room; and yet somehow her sister had never looked emptier.
“What’s up?” Blayke questioned.
“Blayke,” said Breena quietly, “Grandma and Grandpa called this afternoon.”
Blayke rolled her eyes.
“Great!” she said sarcastically. “What d’they want now?” But even as she asked it, she caught that strange look in her sister’s eyes again, and suddenly she knew that, whatever the answer was, she did not want to hear it.
“Blayke,” Breena whispered, “Dad’s dead.”
For a moment Blayke and Breena looked at each other, and Blayke felt herself being filled with an emotion she couldn’t identify. Was it anger? Happiness? Relief? Regret? She teetered on the edge of saying, “Good!” – but exactly how it was good, she couldn’t remember. Then she thought she might say, “I’m sorry.” – but just what she was sorry for, she didn’t know. Finally she asked simply, “How?”
“His car exploded,” Breena explained. She sounded numb.
Blayke gave a humorless laugh.
“Naturally.” She wanted to add that it served him right for pouring so much into an object – but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She thought, suddenly, of the poem she had written back in January – the one comprised of all the questions she longed to ask her father – and how she’d have to change all the present tense lines to past tense; all the dos to dids and all the can’ts to couldn’ts.
The silence filling the numb void between Blayke and Breena had risen to an unbearable pitch now. Blayke thought if she had to endure it a moment longer, her eardrums might burst.
“When’s the funeral?” she asked, but only to escape the terrible pain in the silence.
“Tuesday,” Breena whispered.
Blayke nodded. She turned away from her sister then. Her eyes were drier than they had been in months.
Breena was approaching her, wearing an odd expression. It looked to Blayke as if the confusion filling Breena’s eyes was about to overflow and flood the whole room; and yet somehow her sister had never looked emptier.
“What’s up?” Blayke questioned.
“Blayke,” said Breena quietly, “Grandma and Grandpa called this afternoon.”
Blayke rolled her eyes.
“Great!” she said sarcastically. “What d’they want now?” But even as she asked it, she caught that strange look in her sister’s eyes again, and suddenly she knew that, whatever the answer was, she did not want to hear it.
“Blayke,” Breena whispered, “Dad’s dead.”
For a moment Blayke and Breena looked at each other, and Blayke felt herself being filled with an emotion she couldn’t identify. Was it anger? Happiness? Relief? Regret? She teetered on the edge of saying, “Good!” – but exactly how it was good, she couldn’t remember. Then she thought she might say, “I’m sorry.” – but just what she was sorry for, she didn’t know. Finally she asked simply, “How?”
“His car exploded,” Breena explained. She sounded numb.
Blayke gave a humorless laugh.
“Naturally.” She wanted to add that it served him right for pouring so much into an object – but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She thought, suddenly, of the poem she had written back in January – the one comprised of all the questions she longed to ask her father – and how she’d have to change all the present tense lines to past tense; all the dos to dids and all the can’ts to couldn’ts.
The silence filling the numb void between Blayke and Breena had risen to an unbearable pitch now. Blayke thought if she had to endure it a moment longer, her eardrums might burst.
“When’s the funeral?” she asked, but only to escape the terrible pain in the silence.
“Tuesday,” Breena whispered.
Blayke nodded. She turned away from her sister then. Her eyes were drier than they had been in months.
