Our first writing assignment for fiction writing class was to write a piece that was only 26 sentences long. Every sentence needed to start with the next letter of the alphabet. Also, we had to include one sentence fragment, and one sentence that was exactly 100 words long and grammatically correct. Here is what I submitted:
Always and forever–Wasn’t that what she was supposed to say, as tactful as a politician skimming a teleprompter, the default response programmed in her blood as though genetically wedged there through God or evolution or a combination somewhere between? Benefits outweighing consequences, gentleness outweighing fear, lies outweighing truths?
Chilly skin wasn’t warmed by hot chocolate tonight.
Dreary rain soaked the kitchen window. Endless coils of steam curled from the mug clenched between two hands, neither outfitted with a ring. Fog nuzzled the window glass. Glass spiderwebbed with cracks that, for once, captured and held down her mood more than the formerly-smooth pane ever had.
Her name was Helen, which was not important; no, “Helen” wasn’t, but her surname yesterday had been Rockefeller, and today it was still Rockefeller, and that’s the part that mattered. Ideal.
Jumping up, though still hunched halfway over with her dyed pink hair dangling in her eyes, because ducking beneath the level of the windows offered that extra layer of faux security, she clamped the hot chocolate mug in her hand and scurried from the kitchen, through the living room, across the strewn cushions and dirty bits of clothing, down the hall, up the stairs, into the lonely master bathroom, where she locked the door before she slammed it—harshly slammed it—and with her back flattened against it, slid down and landed her rump with a plop on the floor.
Kittens sang in the bedroom behind her, hushed a moment later by the mewling of their mother. Lawrence’s cats, several months old. Maybe she shouldn’t have accepted them even knowing what she knew about his home life and knowing what he hoped to coax out of her by offering them, but she couldn’t simply toss the creatures out in the rain and snow. Never mind the fact that her niece had already fallen in love with all of them.
Opening the envelop a second time hurt more than she’d expected, considering she’d read it last night and brooded over every memorized word all day.
“Popping the question” hardly covered it. Questions had been popped, yes, and answers had been received. Rude, shrill answers. She’d aimed her sharp tongue at his weakest point, hitting the wife he didn’t know she knew he had dead-center like a deer. Ten years ago, maybe her reply would have been different.
Until last night, it had seemed so innocent, all these kindnesses from her best friend. Visions of his kindly check-ins, once platonic but smeared forever now with poisoned romance, danced through her head and automatically urged her throat to constrict.
When can I see you again?
Xs and Os marked the bottom of the page. Your dear friend, if we can still be friends.
“Zip it,” Helen muttered, and threw the letter down.
Always and forever–Wasn’t that what she was supposed to say, as tactful as a politician skimming a teleprompter, the default response programmed in her blood as though genetically wedged there through God or evolution or a combination somewhere between? Benefits outweighing consequences, gentleness outweighing fear, lies outweighing truths?
Chilly skin wasn’t warmed by hot chocolate tonight.
Dreary rain soaked the kitchen window. Endless coils of steam curled from the mug clenched between two hands, neither outfitted with a ring. Fog nuzzled the window glass. Glass spiderwebbed with cracks that, for once, captured and held down her mood more than the formerly-smooth pane ever had.
Her name was Helen, which was not important; no, “Helen” wasn’t, but her surname yesterday had been Rockefeller, and today it was still Rockefeller, and that’s the part that mattered. Ideal.
Jumping up, though still hunched halfway over with her dyed pink hair dangling in her eyes, because ducking beneath the level of the windows offered that extra layer of faux security, she clamped the hot chocolate mug in her hand and scurried from the kitchen, through the living room, across the strewn cushions and dirty bits of clothing, down the hall, up the stairs, into the lonely master bathroom, where she locked the door before she slammed it—harshly slammed it—and with her back flattened against it, slid down and landed her rump with a plop on the floor.
Kittens sang in the bedroom behind her, hushed a moment later by the mewling of their mother. Lawrence’s cats, several months old. Maybe she shouldn’t have accepted them even knowing what she knew about his home life and knowing what he hoped to coax out of her by offering them, but she couldn’t simply toss the creatures out in the rain and snow. Never mind the fact that her niece had already fallen in love with all of them.
Opening the envelop a second time hurt more than she’d expected, considering she’d read it last night and brooded over every memorized word all day.
“Popping the question” hardly covered it. Questions had been popped, yes, and answers had been received. Rude, shrill answers. She’d aimed her sharp tongue at his weakest point, hitting the wife he didn’t know she knew he had dead-center like a deer. Ten years ago, maybe her reply would have been different.
Until last night, it had seemed so innocent, all these kindnesses from her best friend. Visions of his kindly check-ins, once platonic but smeared forever now with poisoned romance, danced through her head and automatically urged her throat to constrict.
When can I see you again?
Xs and Os marked the bottom of the page. Your dear friend, if we can still be friends.
“Zip it,” Helen muttered, and threw the letter down.
Also, the desks in our fiction writing class look like this and I forgot to mention that earlier:
They're pretty cool, I think. Comfortable too. They roll easily and the desk part swivels around. They're sort of arranged around the room in a half-circle, but you can move them easily back and forth. I haven't seen these desks anywhere else on campus, but yeah. They're nice.
Today also happened to be Utah State's first football game for the school year. So the buses stopped running early, and of course we weren't told. After waiting for a long time, I ended up walking home. Oh well. At least I got some good exercise.
