Life is good. Creative writing class has opened up a little bit of a window for me as far as writing goes, see what you think---
The assignment, write a scene from our lives in which we were NOT the main character, or even a participant, but an observer who plays no part in the story. I wrote the following.
The assignment, write a scene from our lives in which we were NOT the main character, or even a participant, but an observer who plays no part in the story. I wrote the following.
The Birthday
The excitement lay in the air, as petulent
as smog that fills the eyes and lungs with a burning for action. There are a
dozen 3 and 4 year olds sitting at two rectangular tables the
perfect height to inflict a painful bump on the shin, if the walker doesn't
exercise caution. The tiny chairs look barely large enough to seat dolls. The
Learning Center Daycare is a small hair on the arm of Columbia South
Carolina, but it’s occupants are filled with prominence and anticipation today.
Dotie
squirms in her chair, or stands and paces a small space in front of it. Even
when she's seated, which is a rare thing, her legs are twitching and extending
and supporting her weight. The movement
seems almost involuntary, as she maintains a blank look straight ahead,
unfocused and unemotional. She is never more than perched on her chair, her
body weight is suspended in 2 inches of air above her seat. She is taller than
all of the others, yet her face seems younger, more juvenile.
Alexxis is wearing shoes that light up when she
stomps, and she seems to take this as an invitation to stomp frequently. She is
enamored with the blinking lights, perhaps encouraged that in this hectic
atmosphere, she is in complete control of the tiny blinks. A little boy named Jack ran up to and made
an abrupt stop within inches of running over her in his excitement. Jack was
definitely not using his inside voice when he shrieked, "Happy Birthday
Alexxis!"
Alexxis barely breathed out a reply, a
"Thanks" that you'd need a stethoscope to hear.
The teacher for the 3 year old class repeats
herself in a more than slightly harassed tone, "Please, everyone, sit down
and stay seated! We won't have any birthday snacks until you listen!" This
proclamation finally elicited a positive response, and all 12 children sat
obediently; except for Dotie, who remained perched with her legs in the spastic
motion of enthusiasm barely contained.
The special birthday snack was rice crispie
treats, with neon colored sugar sprinkles on top. Every little one ate them
differently. Several removed the sprinkles and ate them methodically first. One
or two removed the sprinkles and refused to eat them at all, appearing to be
slightly intimidated by the tiny pieces of colored sugar, as if they were not
to be trusted. Perhaps fearing they were broccoli or some other nutritious food
in disguise. No matter how much it was
asserted that the sprinkles were sweet and delicious, they were still regarded
with blatant distrust and shifted to the furthest corner of the plate, and
never touched again. Some separated them into piles of color and ate one color
at a time, a carefully constructed dance of eating that they alone understood
the choreography of. There were a couple who ate around the edges of their
crispie square, and some who took tiny bites to make the treat last. One little
boy took one bite and had a huge grin on his face as he walked the rest of his
square to the trash and cheerfully threw it away.
Only Dotie seemed unimaginative in her eating. She
simply finished her square, one boring bite swiftly following the next. She
didn’t even appear to swallow one portion before she energetically tore off the
next lump from her square. She managed to finish her snack before the others
had even started properly. Then the pervasive wriggling started again as her
excitement for the sugary snack had led to an infusion of sugar which made even
more hyperactive behavior follow. Within 45 seconds of finishing her snack, Dotie
ran aimlessly around the room like a hatchling on its first purposeless flight
as her teacher protested loudly while her classmates still worked on imbibing
their snacks.
One by one snacks disappeared into eager bellies,
and the teacher pleaded ineffectually for the class to sit down for story time.
There followed universal physical rejuvenation and general chaos reigned. Then
the screaming started. The cause? A baby lizard barely twice the length of a
quarter on the window. The INSIDE of the window. When that little tidbit of
knowledge was determined by the teacher, her behavior also became chaotic. 3
year olds running and screaming in mock terror cannot possibly outrank a grown
woman running and screaming in genuine terror.
There was a rescuer in this case, as there always
is when a tiny reptile is discovered in a classroom. The brave woman heard the
commotion and hurried to the rescue, releasing the terrible, terrified baby
lizard into the safety of the outdoors, with 12 pairs of tiny inquisitive eyes
watching in rapt attention from the windows, and one pair of frightened grown
teacher eyes downcast in horror as she attempted to recover from coming face to
face with her fear of reptiles, even tiny baby ones.
The excitement and horror of the birthday party
has passed, and 12 tiny 3 year olds gathered finally calm, huddled in a circle
to hear Inside Mouse, Outside Mouse read. Relatively calm at least.
Alexxis occasionally stomps her foot to see the lights, and Dotie is only
hovering over the floor, like an eagle who is ready for sudden flight, but has
not yet decided when to soar.
Totally unlike anything I've ever written. So very... IMPERSONAL. I loved writing it.
The next assignment was-- Take a factor or two from the previous story, and come up with a FICTIONAL story from a detail or two. I came up with this.
The Risky Reptile
The sense of comfort was quickly replaced with a sense of panic, as the
tiny green lizard awakened from a cozy sleep to taste a new environment on his
tongue. The darkness was interspersed with strips of light, through which
familiar hues and tastes filtered through. The ground underneath his feet was
unlike any ground he’d ever felt before. Warm, slightly moist, and soft, with
troughs throughout that felt unfamiliar to baby lizard claws. This terrain was
very familiar to 3 year old Jack, however, as it was his own sweaty palm,
folded carefully around the small fragile life within.
Jack was ecstatic to have found such a treasure, and he cradled it as if he
could sense it’s fragility and the importance of the rapidly beating heart
beneath his fingers. Not usually being a quiet boy, Jack surprised himself with
the timidity of his voice when he whispered out, “Hello, friend! I have you.”
The lizard was not at all comforted, yet Jack didn’t seem to notice. He was
engrossed in his prize as his mother came out on to the porch. She glanced his
way and said, “Jack, what have you got there?”
Jack’s proudly extended palm, with the terrified baby lizard held down with
a determined thumb, caused his mother to step back involuntarily. But she
wasn’t the type who ever stayed startled long, so she shrugged as if
unimpressed with her 3 year olds ability to surprise her daily and said, “Put
that poor thing down Jack, and wash your hands! They can carry disease, the
dirty things, crawling on the ground the way they do.”
“What’s disease?” Jack asked, while scanning the lizard to see if he was
carrying anything.
“That means it can make you sick, if you touch a lizard and then don’t wash
your hands. Germs, remember dear?”
Jack hesitated in his delight, he had the flu a couple of weeks ago and didn’t
relish the thought of this mysterious disease. Lizard transmitted or not it
didn’t sound fun. But he wasn’t quite ready to let go of his new prize so he
pretended to put it down while really stuffing it into his deep pocket with the
zipper instead. On second thought, disease sounds awful. Jack washed his hands.
Twice. With soap. Lots of soap. Up to his elbows. Jack really hated being sick.
Jack thought of his lizard as they drove to his school. He couldn’t wait to
show Melvin, he would be so jealous. The fateful word ‘disease’ fell out of
Jack’s brain for the moment; like the autumn leaves, light and carefree in
their expulsion. His bout with flu seemed an awfully long time ago. Now his
mind was full of baby lizards and an impromptu show-and-tell.
Marcus was indeed impressed, if slightly wary of the tiny baby lizard.
Especially after the word ‘disease’ had been uttered and explained. Marcus, like
Jack, currently feared illness as he’d suffered through the same flu Jack had
survived. Unlike Jack, Marcus was a very quiet, timid boy. He refused to hold
the lizard, and his large eyes had a look that was half envy and half
apprehension. The boys admired their reptile as the class ran in chaos around
them, small fights erupted, some tears were shed. Toys were played with and
book illustrations were eagerly examined, all a whirlwind of activity around
these two boys, who were too engrossed to add to the commotion, as they usually
did.
Finally the teachers voice sank in their conscious mind. She was talking in
that tone of voice that they recognized as meaning that she’d been repeating
herself for a while. Oops. “Everybody, come and sit down quietly! We are not
going to have snack time until everyone is quietly seated.”
Jack hurriedly replaced the lizard in his zippered pocket, and he and
Marcus headed to the tables to take their places for snack, As the rice crispie
treat was placed in front of Jack, he realized he was hungry. He picked up his
crispie square and took a big bite, even as his brain registered the fact that
Marcus was waving his hands frantically around. He chewed energetically and
gulped his mouthful down before focusing his attention on arm flailing Marcus.
Why was Marcus holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers so crazily?
Jack’s look of confusion gave way to a pale realization, I did not wash
my hands! Oh no! Disease!
Jack looked at his hands, even though Mom had said germs were too small to
see, he still had to look. If he had seen even a hint of a germ he may have
just thrown up. His hands looked perfectly normal, however Jack knew the truth.
They had lizard disease germs on them.
Jack didn’t want to have to answer any questions, so he stood up with a
smile. He walked non-chalantly to the trash can and threw away the crispie
treat that had looked so appetizing a moment before. It now just looked like
hours of tummy ache to him.
The next stop was the window. That was as close to outside as Jack was
allowed to get by himself, unobserved in his apparent innocence. The tiny
lizard was released, to its immense relief. As Jack was rushing to the nearest
sink to wash, the lizard was scrambling up the glass in an attempt to reach the
familiar light of outdoors. Instead of the feeling of comforting soil under his
feet, he slipped and slid on flat coldness in lizard confusion.
Jack had been in the bathroom, washed his hands up to the elbows, with
soap, three times, and come back out by the time the baby lizard was spotted
and chaos reigned supreme. Marcus enjoyed the show from a distance as he
completed his rice crispie treat, and waited to see if the teacher thought the
lizard may be diseased too. Their teacher didn’t get close enough to the lizard
to determine the degree of disease carrying possibility however, as she was too
busy screaming and running for help. Help quickly arrived and the baby lizard
was finally comfortable with the taste of the air and the feel of the rocky
soil beneath his feet. He ran swiftly to the safety of the tall grass, and a
general sigh of relief was heaved.
In all the excitement, Jack forgot the word disease. By the time the
teacher had read them a story, he once again felt hungry. By the time lunch was
served, Jack had nearly forgotten his exciting find, and his dangerous brush
with illness.
I was very excited to write these, they are incredibly simplistic, but a good start for me writing things that are for the writing only, and not as emotional outlets. because, lets face it, my life has calmed down so much that if I were to rely only on emotional fodder for writing material I'd be out of a hobby. This feels good, being able to write about fun things and not just personally meaningful things. I feel this class has taught me a lot.
