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- Thread starter Circle_One
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cablescavenger
Well-Known Member
I note a few people have mentioned the punctuation.
I may be preaching to the converted here, but there is an excellent book called "Eats Shoots and Leaves" by Lynne Truss
Yerda
Veteran Member
I really like that.
Eh, I'd say that you were right to keep the remembers. For me, it works. Gives it the meter and flow that I guess you were aiming for.
As for,
I remember all the how are you feeling todays and the would you like your shot nows and the just be a good girl and take your medications
That's a cracking sentence. I wouldn't disfigure it by rewriting. The style (I'm not a writer, the word might be register) makes me think of the routine nature of the phrases. Detached or something. Formalities, but no content, and the style grabs that notion I think. Why not just delete the apostrophes and leave it?
What did you go with on that?
Good work though. It's not often I want to read something again. Well done.
Eh, I'd say that you were right to keep the remembers. For me, it works. Gives it the meter and flow that I guess you were aiming for.
As for,
I remember all the how are you feeling todays and the would you like your shot nows and the just be a good girl and take your medications
That's a cracking sentence. I wouldn't disfigure it by rewriting. The style (I'm not a writer, the word might be register) makes me think of the routine nature of the phrases. Detached or something. Formalities, but no content, and the style grabs that notion I think. Why not just delete the apostrophes and leave it?
What did you go with on that?
Good work though. It's not often I want to read something again. Well done.
Circle_One
Well-Known Member
Thanks Jaiket!
I haven't sent it in yet. I'll enter it probably on Monday, giving me the weekend to just make sure I think it's as perfect as it's going to be.
As for that one sentence, I think I'm going to write it like each of the suggestions that have been made here, and then see what I think works best when re-read each time.
I haven't sent it in yet. I'll enter it probably on Monday, giving me the weekend to just make sure I think it's as perfect as it's going to be.
As for that one sentence, I think I'm going to write it like each of the suggestions that have been made here, and then see what I think works best when re-read each time.
Yerda
Veteran Member
Good luck, then.
Circle_One
Well-Known Member
Thank you muchly!
I agree, and it gives you as the author more control over the pace. It also lets you demonstrate fluctuations in the subjects emotions, which is hard to do in a first-person narrative.
Also, since the subject is obviously a disturbed person, the repetitive-phrase device is appropriate: it's actually a symptom of certain disorders, obsessive disorders in particular, which is (among other problems) what the subject is obviously suffering from. In any case, it gives the reader a clue that the subject is either building up to something emotionally traumatic, or is trying hard to hang on to her self-perception of sanity (in this case her memory), and that it's a constant struggle for her. The "I remember"s also underline her sense of isolation: this "They all said I wouldn’t, but I do" and especially this "And mostly, mostly I remember where I hid my butterfly jar. No one will ever find it." She obviously sees herself in a completely different light than everyone around her does, and she knows it (in fact, she's determined to).
I love it, C1. It's shocking, and disturbing, and immensely sad.
Last edited:
Circle_One
Well-Known Member
Ok, so I sent the story in today!
I made a few little tweaks over the weekend, so here is the end result. I took everyone's feedback in mind while I edited, so thank you all so much for your help!
Fireflies
I remember a lot about the day before they brought me here. They all said I wouldn't, but I do. I remember perfectly.
I remember the moving van pulling up across the street. I remember how the pink taffeta curtains that Mother had installed only days before felt against my skin as I drew them back to watch the new family moving in. I even remember the color of the car that pulled into the driveway behind the moving van: dark blue. But mostly, mostly I remember him.
They said I wouldn't remember, but still, after all these years, I do. I remember how the sun cascaded through the oak trees on the lawn and made his black hair sparkle with highlights of deep red. I remember his smile as he gazed upon his new home, and how his teeth seemed so impossibly straight. I remember how I gasped when he looked up to my window and saw me standing there watching him.
I remember his eyes. Those beautiful, emerald green eyes looking up at me with curiosity and wonder. I remember wanting to capture those eyes in a jar, as if they were fireflies that would light the darkness that suffocated me in the night. As if those eyes, the little fireflies, could keep me safe.
I remember staring at him for what seemed like hours, until he disappeared and Mother called me downstairs to meet the nice, new family from across the street. I certainly remember the way my heart beat hard in my chest as I took the long walk down the staircase to the front door. I remember the phrase 'dead man walking' repeating in my brain, like from that prison movie Father liked so much.
I remember Mother introducing us, though I don't remember his name. I was too busy staring into his eyes. I remember her telling me I should bring him upstairs and show him some toys. He was new in town and didn't have any friends yet.
I remember the sound of his voice and how it filled my world with sunshine. I remember how his laugh tinkled in my ears and how his eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled.
I remember the click of my bedroom door as it locked in place behind me.
I remember asking him if he wanted to play a game, and telling him to sit on my bed. I remember telling him how pretty his eyes were and that he should close them while I retrieved what I needed for our game.
I remember how my secret drawer sounded as it slid open, and how the weight of my empty butterfly catching jar felt in my hands as I placed it on the floor by his feet.
I remember singing softly to him, a lullaby Mother used to sing for me. I remember knives, swift like the beat of a hummingbird's wings and screams that drowned out my song. I remember how sticky the blood felt against my hands, and the sound of Mother throwing her weight against my bedroom door, screaming for me to unlock it "this instant!"
I remember hiding my jar and the lovely fireflies it held, before I heard the crack of the door jamb as Father kicked it in. I remember more screams and lots of crying. I remember being shaken, and how my face stung when Mother slapped it repeatedly. I remember the sound of sirens.
I remember police officers with guns, and nurses with needles, and doctors who said things like "just tell us what happened, Lily." I remember my silence.
I remember all the questions like "how are you feeling to day?" and "would you like to talk now?" and "will you just be a good girl and take your medication?"
I remember that I've been here at the Asylum that they call a 'hospital' for 2937 days, and that today is my 16th birthday. I remember that my name is Lily Walker and that 8 years ago I accidentally killed a boy.
I remember that I didn't mean to kill him.
I just wanted his eyes; those big, green protectors of darkness.
But mostly, mostly I remember where I hid my butterfly jar. No one will ever find it.
Please, everyone, keep your fingers crossed for me! First prize is $350, second is $250 and third is $150. Placing would prove to me that I've done the right thing in trying to do what I've always dreamed of, so prayers and thoughts are welcome!!
Thanks everyone!
I made a few little tweaks over the weekend, so here is the end result. I took everyone's feedback in mind while I edited, so thank you all so much for your help!
Fireflies
I remember a lot about the day before they brought me here. They all said I wouldn't, but I do. I remember perfectly.
I remember the moving van pulling up across the street. I remember how the pink taffeta curtains that Mother had installed only days before felt against my skin as I drew them back to watch the new family moving in. I even remember the color of the car that pulled into the driveway behind the moving van: dark blue. But mostly, mostly I remember him.
They said I wouldn't remember, but still, after all these years, I do. I remember how the sun cascaded through the oak trees on the lawn and made his black hair sparkle with highlights of deep red. I remember his smile as he gazed upon his new home, and how his teeth seemed so impossibly straight. I remember how I gasped when he looked up to my window and saw me standing there watching him.
I remember his eyes. Those beautiful, emerald green eyes looking up at me with curiosity and wonder. I remember wanting to capture those eyes in a jar, as if they were fireflies that would light the darkness that suffocated me in the night. As if those eyes, the little fireflies, could keep me safe.
I remember staring at him for what seemed like hours, until he disappeared and Mother called me downstairs to meet the nice, new family from across the street. I certainly remember the way my heart beat hard in my chest as I took the long walk down the staircase to the front door. I remember the phrase 'dead man walking' repeating in my brain, like from that prison movie Father liked so much.
I remember Mother introducing us, though I don't remember his name. I was too busy staring into his eyes. I remember her telling me I should bring him upstairs and show him some toys. He was new in town and didn't have any friends yet.
I remember the sound of his voice and how it filled my world with sunshine. I remember how his laugh tinkled in my ears and how his eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled.
I remember the click of my bedroom door as it locked in place behind me.
I remember asking him if he wanted to play a game, and telling him to sit on my bed. I remember telling him how pretty his eyes were and that he should close them while I retrieved what I needed for our game.
I remember how my secret drawer sounded as it slid open, and how the weight of my empty butterfly catching jar felt in my hands as I placed it on the floor by his feet.
I remember singing softly to him, a lullaby Mother used to sing for me. I remember knives, swift like the beat of a hummingbird's wings and screams that drowned out my song. I remember how sticky the blood felt against my hands, and the sound of Mother throwing her weight against my bedroom door, screaming for me to unlock it "this instant!"
I remember hiding my jar and the lovely fireflies it held, before I heard the crack of the door jamb as Father kicked it in. I remember more screams and lots of crying. I remember being shaken, and how my face stung when Mother slapped it repeatedly. I remember the sound of sirens.
I remember police officers with guns, and nurses with needles, and doctors who said things like "just tell us what happened, Lily." I remember my silence.
I remember all the questions like "how are you feeling to day?" and "would you like to talk now?" and "will you just be a good girl and take your medication?"
I remember that I've been here at the Asylum that they call a 'hospital' for 2937 days, and that today is my 16th birthday. I remember that my name is Lily Walker and that 8 years ago I accidentally killed a boy.
I remember that I didn't mean to kill him.
I just wanted his eyes; those big, green protectors of darkness.
But mostly, mostly I remember where I hid my butterfly jar. No one will ever find it.
Please, everyone, keep your fingers crossed for me! First prize is $350, second is $250 and third is $150. Placing would prove to me that I've done the right thing in trying to do what I've always dreamed of, so prayers and thoughts are welcome!!
Thanks everyone!