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Post by Eolith on Apr 14, 2006 20:08:17 GMT -5
I don't know if the title will stick... but in any case, my mom wanted me to write her a short story for her b-day present. I couldn't think of anything for the longest time until I considered a conversation we'd had together concerning the controversy surrounding Terri Schiavo (sp?). This is the beggining:
Carrie dropped her backpack into the trunk of her little car with a sigh, grateful that it was the weekend. It had been a tough week. Lots of tests and quizzes.
“Carrie!” someone shouted enthusiastically, running towards her. It was Lisa, her insanely hyper and always refreshing best friend. Lisa reached the car and stopped, slightly out of breath as she beamed at Carrie. “I’m so glad it’s the weekend. It feels like forever since we had any sort of break… even though we technically had a weekend five days ago.”
“Oh yeah,” Carrie said in enthusiastic agreement, pulling the trunk closed with a thunk. “Just think, only another month until school’s out. I’m so excited that we’ll be going to Spain together.”
They’d been planning the exchange trip for nearly half of the year now. It had seemed unrealistically far away before, but as the time passed, it became increasingly tangible. Neither of them knew what to expect, but they were both pretty certain that it would change their lives. Carrie herself was excited to see the famed baroque horses of Spain and their legendary talent. Especially the Andalusians. It had always been a romantic fantasy of hers to be able to ride on one of those magnificently pristine beaches that were always shown in the tourist brochures.
“Yech,” Lisa said, changing subject abruptly. “Why do Finals have to totally destroy the beautiful anticipation of summer? They’re like a stupid stone wall between me and my freedom.”
Carrie laughed, “Yeah, they are really frustrating, but just keep looking forward.”
“Mmhm,” Lisa replied, her attention having shifted again. She was used to Carrie’s sappy pep talks. “Well, I better go catch the bus… unlike some people who actually have their license and whose parents are awesome enough to let her use it.”
“It’s not my fault I was born pretty much a year before you,” Carrie countered with another laugh. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and jingled them teasingly as Lisa started off.
Lisa spun back around and stuck out her tongue.
They both knew the other was kidding. It had always been this way. Playfully antagonizing each other, even though it really didn’t make that much of a difference either way.
“I’ll call you tonight!” Lisa shouted before sprinting away down the sidewalk, key chains clattering in a huge mass of metal and plastic.
Carrie unlocked her car and got in, starting it up and carefully working her way out of the tight parallel spot she was in. The drive was fairly short. Not more than about twenty minutes. There was one intimidating road that Carrie disliked however. It was full of broad curves and perched on the edge of a ravine. When she’d still been a novice driver, her parents had made her stop about a mile away and let one of them take over. Now she could handle it okay, but it didn’t mean that she liked it any better.
Just as she was rounding another bend, brow furrowed with concentration, another car sped around to meet her. Carrie gasped, swerving away as the truck careened into her lane. She slammed on the brakes, but it did nothing to slow her. She was floating, moving as though in a dream. The car was flying off of the road. Carrie watched in silent horror, body slack as her vehicle slammed into the ground, rolling side ways and smashing into a large tree. Metal screeched its protest at being bent out of shape and glass shattered into a million glittering shards. Everything faded away.
* * *
“Hello?”
“Hey Mrs. Carter, it’s Lisa. Is Carrie there? I tried her cell, but it wasn’t on.”
“Oh, Lisa.” The voice sounded tired and mournful. “She isn’t here right now… she’s… she was… in an accident.”
“Oh my God. What happened? Is she okay? Where are you?”
“We’re in the ER waiting room,” the woman replied, her voice becoming too broken up with emotion to continue.
“I’m coming down. I’ll catch the next bus. Is there anything you’d like for me to bring?”
There wasn’t an answer, only a few muffled sobs that could have been an interference with the reception.
* * *
I need advice. I've never written anything but fantasy and whatnot. Also, I'm torn between giving it a happy ending and giving it a tragic one.
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Post by Georgie on Apr 15, 2006 23:48:54 GMT -5
so far it sounds pretty good.. i think writing about things that can happen every day are the hardest...
and it is tough to choose between a happy ending and a sad ending.. it's real tough... but just think of wat you'd like and go with that
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Post by Eolith on Apr 16, 2006 21:18:31 GMT -5
* * *
“Carrie has suffered a fractured leg and shoulder as well as a severe concussion… which is quickly becoming the most life-threatening of her injuries. She is experiencing Intracranial Pressure. Blood flow to the brain is being slowed, resulting in the suffocation of the cells. A brain scan has revealed two hematomas in the left side of her brain. She will be undergoing immediate surgery to relieve the pressure and to remove these. It still is unclear how she will recover mentally and physically… or even if she will survive.”
“How long will the surgery be?”
“We cannot be sure, Mr. Carter, but it is estimated to be roughly eight hours.”
* * *
What happened? Where am I?
There was only light, fading slowly to reveal a horrific scene. A girl lay in a hospital bed, surrounded by a fine netting of oxygen tubes, wires, and IVs. She was unconscious, head swathed with bandages and leg run through with a series of titanium rods. It was unnerving, it didn’t seem natural. It was her.
No, that couldn’t be right. She was her. If that was her, who was she? What was she?
She wanted to scream, she wanted to move, she wanted to understand, but there was nothing. She was nothing. It was too big an idea to grasp, stretching off into oblivion. A solemn procession of people entered the room. First a doctor, then her parents, and finally Lisa. All of them looked exhausted and concerned.
Carrie looked on powerlessly as she witnessed those she loved most mourn over her with more pain perhaps than if she had simply been dead without a doubt. Was this some sort of Hell? Was she really dead, and she was just being shown this as punishment for some wrongdoing?
I’m stuck. She realized. I’m not dead. I’m not alive. I’m somewhere in the middle, still anchored to earth, but yanked towards whatever… else there is beyond life. Where had that answer come from?
I want to go back. She said, though no one could hear her for she did not really speak. I want to feel the kiss Mom’s giving me now. I want to feel the enveloping warmth of my Dad’s huge hands around my small one.
* * *
What was happening now? She was someplace different… but she didn’t remember having gone anywhere. An older man sat with the local newspaper held up before him, displaying the most tragic headline of the week: Teen Lost in Coma After Severe Wreck
Another man approached and took a seat across from the other. “Pity what happened to that girl,” he remarked lightly. “She was probably high on drugs anyway though.”
Indignation welled up, threatening to overwhelm all else. I’m not like that. Don’t put me into the reckless category of brainless showoffs who deserve what they got! I had plans. I had a life that belonged to me.
The photo just below the headline was further revealed as the paper was straightened. What had been her car was unrecognizable, bent like a boomerang to partially encircle a grand old oak. The mangled vehicle was a sad thing surrounded in a fine littering of glass and extraneous bits of metal.
“She shouldn’t be alive,” the reader said as he folded the paper and set it aside.
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Post by vermilition on Apr 18, 2006 10:26:54 GMT -5
is th at a fragment how big is a whole story its quite ggod actually...
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Post by Eolith on Apr 19, 2006 6:34:00 GMT -5
I'm going for a fragmented style because she is not always conscious (sp?). Here's the next few little snippets:
It seemed as though time had passed since she had last seen herself. How did this work? Where was she when she wasn’t watching powerlessly? She didn’t remember actually being in her body. Her mother sat at her bedside, nodding off with exhaustion. Mom, you don’t need to be here. I’m not here… well, I’m not there. You’re tired, go home. Go to sleep.
She knew it didn’t do any good. Her mother remained where she was, making no recognition of Carrie’s weak try to convince her to leave. Soon her father came in with a bag of McDonald’s. He proffered it to her mother.
“Here, you need to eat. It won’t do us any good if you pass out from malnourishment.”
“No,” her mother replied softly, almost inaudible. “I’m not hungry.”
“You can’t tell me that, all I’ve seen you eat in the last twenty four hours was a granola bar.”
Eat, mom. Eat.
“I don’t want it, David.” Her mother said more firmly, stubbornly.
Her father released a sigh of resignation, setting the bag down on the bedside table. He bent down to kiss his wife and then his daughter, still immobile and unresponsive. “Promise me that you’ll eat, Sarah. Please.” He departed without awaiting a response.
Just eat, mom. It can’t kill you. Please… please. Carrie focused all of her being on the subject. Ghosts got to communicate sometimes, didn’t they? That all depended on what one believed. But she was real. She was there. She wanted to tell her mom not to worry. She wanted to comfort her and tell her to eat.
Nothing worked. Spirits couldn’t communicate. She couldn’t knock the bag down, or make any noise whatsoever. She was useless. She had been locked away from the world, forced to watch as her parents suffered and unable to do anything.
* * *
“Carrie, someone has come to see you.” It was Lisa, with her backpack still slung over one shoulder. Someone came in after her. Ian. Ian? Why had he come?
The tall gangly teen was grim and somewhat shy, shuffling forward. His eyes traveled over Carrie’s sickly physical form. She had thinned. Her beautiful brown locks had been shaven off. She was pale, and half of her body was still held together with titanium rods. She felt ashamed of herself. She didn’t want anyone to see her in such a miserable state. Especially not Ian. He was and had been her crush for almost the entire junior year. Lisa knew that. Why had she brought him to see her now?
“Hey Carrie,” Ian said falteringly, his voice almost too deep for his lightly built form.
Lisa set down her backpack and stretched. “I’m going to get something to eat from the cafeteria. It isn’t half bad.”
Ian looked her way worriedly, as though unsure of what to do with the living dead form of Carrie.
“Just talk,” Lisa said as though assuring a child. “I’d like it… if I was in her place. I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to appreciate it, but it’s the thought that counts.” She departed in a moment, vanishing into the hall.
There was an awkward quiet for a minute or two before Ian sat down in the seat near her head.
“I’ve always admired you, you know. You had –have– spunk. I’m just an idiot for not having gotten to know you earlier when I still could. I mean, I still have a chance… but who knows how it could turn out.”
The words were painful. Who knows. I may or may not live, is that what you mean? Or is just that you wouldn’t be caught dead with me now that I’m bald and handicapped?
“I’m such a fool,” Ian went on. “The only reason I know any of the girls I do is because they push themselves at me. They’re all jerks because of it. But you were different. You didn’t try to track me down wherever I went… and you were always the one with the spare pencil or a piece of paper when I had lost mine for some reason or another.”
It seemed that he was finished. He didn’t say anything else, leaning forward on his elbows.
Lisa came back in and Ian stood, looking as though he had been caught doing something wrong.
“I… I’ve go to go,” Ian said, taking up his shoulder pack. “I promised my dad I’d help him fix up the old junker we bought just recently.” He brushed past Lisa, head bent down.
Lisa took Ian’s vacated place at Carrie’s bedside and picked up her hand. “Did he confess to any juicy crushes?” she asked with a little laugh. “I told you I thought he liked you but no, that couldn’t be, could it. Well, now I’ve proved it. He asked me to come see you.” She looked down, toying with Carrie’s fingers. “Your nails need to be cut,” Lisa remarked. “I tell you what. Tomorrow I’ll bring my stuff and give you a manicure. That’ll be fun. We’ll use your favorite polish. You know, the pale pink with teeny gold glitter. You’ll owe me a manicure though went you get better though.” She laughed again, but it was a hollow sound without the usual joyous ring.
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Trajet
Newbie
Poetry is my escape
Posts: 35
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Post by Trajet on Apr 29, 2006 1:57:44 GMT -5
Good stuff, Eolith. I just got finished reading what you have so far and I must say that I'm impressed. I like the whole fragmented style you have to show that Carrie isn't always watching from where she is, like she just sort of fades in and out and she has no control over it. Really cool story so far, keep it up.
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Post by Eolith on Apr 30, 2006 18:47:21 GMT -5
Thanks! I actually finished it! Here's the rest. It is a little sappy though...
Ian visited the next day, disproving Carrie’s theory that he was simply doing it to be considered benevolent and caring among his friends. Lisa and Ian often had conversations between them, most being uncomfortable for the latter. Lisa was not at all reluctant to bring up topics that put the poor boy on the spot, making him nervous.
“You like her, right?”
Ian looked up, taken off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve had a crush on her.”
“I… uh… well… yeah I guess.”
“Well, since she’s unconscious right now and I know she can’t kill me for saying this, I’ll say it: She’s been crushing on you for a long time now.”
Lisa! Carrie screamed inaudibly, embarrassed beyond belief. I will kill you when I wake up… if I ever do…
Ian looked shocked, unable to respond.
“She made me swear not to tell anyone, but I don’t think it should count now… because I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I let you go on assuming that she didn’t care for you at all. That’s just tragic, and enough tragic things have happened. So what are you going to do about it?”
“I… don’t know… What should I do?”
“Show her you care… kind of like you already are. I don’t think flowers and chocolates and all that gunk matter as much to her as sincerity. Just be yourself. It’s not like you two are going to fall desperately in love and marry each other. You gotta take it easy. Being friends is first, and you may later find that being friends is better than being boyfriend girlfriend.”
“So… what… are you my personal love counselor now?” Ian asked sarcastically.
“Yep,” Lisa said intrepidly, clearly giving Ian another jolt of surprise. “At least when it comes to Carrie.” * * *
This time she couldn’t see… but she was thinking. She could tell that she was thinking because… she was. How was that supposed to make sense or be explained? She was just thinking. There was a faint red glow. Her eyelids? Why couldn’t she open them? Why couldn’t she move? Well, it had to be an improvement… at least she was in her body, right?
Her mom was there. She could tell because of the faint perfume that she always wore. Her mother was stroking her arm slowly. It felt so good. She heard her dad say something, and though it was not entirely audible, she relished in the familiar tones.
I’m on my way back.
* * *
Lisa traipsed into the hospital room, followed closely by Ian. Carrie’s parents were already there, standing at her bedside. Joy intoxicated the room, making everyone giddy and ecstatic. Home. Life. Finally, after so many weeks of annoying tests, needles, bandages, casts, medications, and whatever else the doctors saw fit to throw at her, she was going back.
The nurses carefully helped her out of the bed and into a mechanical wheelchair. Her arm was still healing, and it had been decided that this was best solution. Carrie had been made to practice operating the miniature vehicle several times previously, and now she had it down.
Carrie zoned out a little as the doctor gave yet another lecture on giving her medicine, attending the bandaging, and ensuring that she did not exert herself physically or mentally before she was ready. It was annoying, but it was apparently necessary. Her parents ate up his every word attentively… but then again, they wouldn’t be parents if they didn’t.
When they were finally permitted to leave, Carrie jammed her wheelchair into full speed down the hall… but full speed wasn’t really all that fast. The machine whirred softly as it carried her along. In the elevator, Ian stood by her. He held out a single white rose. Carrie took it as reverently as if it were the paintbrush that Leonard Da Vinci himself had used to paint the Mona Lisa. There was a small card attached. She detached it and opened it, reading the neat script: 'Dinner on Saturday?'
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Trajet
Newbie
Poetry is my escape
Posts: 35
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Post by Trajet on Apr 30, 2006 19:21:50 GMT -5
I thought the last part was sweet. I guess I'm just a sucker for romance. I liked this last addition, it was written very well. I especially liked the middle part, to give a sense of transitioning instead of just sticking her in the body and waking up immediately. Really good story.
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