Yay! I caught the writing bug today.
I'm writing a short story for this prompt from Figment:
Great narrative moments often come from abrupt changes in circumstance. Write about a moment of profound, utter stillness and silence that comes directly after an extended period of intense, dramatic motion and noise. The story around the transition from cacophony to quietude can be anything, but be sure to really make your reader experience that shift.
I'm excited to post it soon.
Words Heard
Great narrative moments often come from abrupt changes in circumstance. Write about a moment of profound, utter stillness and silence that comes directly after an extended period of intense, dramatic motion and noise. The story around the transition from cacophony to quietude can be anything, but be sure to really make your reader experience that shift.
Whenever Alex's parents tried to whisper, they could never attain the volume they hope for. His parents, Italians by blood, were simply not capable of speaking sotto voce.
“—Don’t you deny it. She told me herself,” his mother Jackie said calmly.
Alex's father scoffed. “Well, she’s lying. You always said she’s a bit crazy."
“Quiet down! Alex is upstairs and—“
“Oh quit it, Jackie,” his dad jeered. “Believe me, he’s not going to hear anything new.”
Well, his dad was right for once. Alex wasn’t deaf. His room hovered over the kitchen and with the door open, all sounds from below could float in.
Alex knew dinner would not be coming soon. He didn't care really but he wished he had a soundproof room. The yelling always hurt his ears.
The internet would keep his attention. Summer always brought out the naked bodies, which Alex loved. During this time of the season, girls feel it’s necessary to show off the bodies, hot or not. No need for porn sites. Facebook sufficed. He leaned forward, squinting at an image on the screen. That bathing suit did not make Alice Fields look any better, Alex thought disappointingly.
Bruce tried doing what he thought could end this argument: give in. But he gave in with little regard to what would happen next. “Look, honey,” Bruce began. Alex imagined him reaching out a hand to her, trying to be the good guy in this case. “It only happened once.”
Alex snorted from his seat, wondering when his dad would learn not to be a fucking idiot. He clicked on a Twitter link that read “How to Write an Essay.” He had a 5 page history paper due tomorrow; he needed all the help he could get.
“I heard differently from your bitch,” Jackie said, slicing through his sickly sweet words.
“You trust her? C’mon—”
“And Candace. And Alexis. And freaking Tammy, who, as you might know, doesn’t ever have a clue about anything.”
“My god.” Bruce slammed hands or fists against the mahogany dinner table. He usually did some of his work in the kitchen. “You have your fucking spies all over the place!”
“Don’t”—Alex could imagine his mom leaving her place at the sink and stalking over to his dad with a steel pointed finger—“use that language with me!”
“Fuck you. Bitch. Cunt.”
"Why you –" She slapped her dish towel against the table.
Alex saw a photo album that his best friend Freddie just posted. They were from last night’s rager at Kelly McHinnon’s house. Naturally it got broken up within an hour of its launch, but they were still able to get great pictures. But of course Freddie was stupid enough to tag every underage kid in the album.
“Dumbass,” Alex mumbled and he began untagging himself. His essay for tomorrow’s history class waited to be finished.
"Don’t think you’re incapable of hypocrisy,” he heard his dad say, voice stark and brimming with venom. He always resorted to formal syntax when he got angry. Maybe it made him feel more self-righteous and educated. “How about you? Spending long nights at the Millers’ when Janice –supposedly your best friend—isn’t even home. What do you do with Steve, huh? Play checkers?"
A horrified gasp came from Jackie. "Oh, I can't believe you would even—you bastard! Turning this around on me. You're the one who decided to stick your dick into—"
And his dad was the one reprimanded for his bad language? Alex shook his head.
A chair screeched as it was pushed back.
His mom's voice rang out again: "Where are you going now? Don't walk away from me. Don't run away from a problem you started!"
"I’m done," his dad spat.
His mother laughed more loudly than usual. "What? You had enough, you coward? Well, if you walk out, you're not coming back. You're walking out on your family. Once you do that, trust me: We. Are. Done."
The door closed with such might that the paintings hanging on Alex's walls vibrated violently for seconds. The splitting crash of some ceramic against the floor or the wall reached his ears.
Alex stared ahead, past the computer screen. From his view of the window, he watched Nancy as she sunbathed with friends on the front lawn. Nancy had quite a reputation at his school, but her sexual escapades aside, Alex thought she seemed nice. Airheaded, but nice. She said something to Lyla, her sometimes best friend, and they both heaved in excessive giggles, clapping their hands. The next door neighbor, Cal, a prepubescent face acne-marred creep, peeked over his fence. Alex couldn’t see his hands, which made him wonder what the boy was doing as he peeped at the girls.
The willow tree outside his window had grown nicely since being planted six years ago. On any other day, the tree would always look tall and strong to him, but now all he could think of was how sad its branches looked as they dropped toward the ground. The wind picked up and the muted green leaves flittered in the wind like the wings of hummingbirds as they hone in on their sweet, decadent flowers.
In his peripheral, he saw his dad’s red Corolla disappear from the window pane. Alex promised himself that he would never watch his dad leave again.
Below him, his mom began to sob. She moved around pots and pans and slammed some onto the stove. Then, a sudden crack made Alex jump in his seat, and he guessed his mom just smashed his dad’s laptop.
Spikey, their annoying pet parrot in the kitchen, tittered away. “WhaaAAAHT? WhaaAAAHT?”
A few minutes later, Alex heard his mom's light footsteps along the stairs and he knew they were coming toward his room. Alex closed the Internet window and brought up his word document of his nonexistent essay. Three knocks on the door.
“Yeah?”
His mom poked her head in. She smiled slightly at him. Alex smiled back, nerved by her nonchalance, given what he just heard.
"Dad’s gone?"
She nodded.
“For good?”
His mom pursed her lips then sighed heavily. Alex thought the wrinkles on her face made her look older than her forty-nine years.
"Dinner will be ready in an hour,” she said.
“—Don’t you deny it. She told me herself,” his mother Jackie said calmly.
Alex's father scoffed. “Well, she’s lying. You always said she’s a bit crazy."
“Quiet down! Alex is upstairs and—“
“Oh quit it, Jackie,” his dad jeered. “Believe me, he’s not going to hear anything new.”
Well, his dad was right for once. Alex wasn’t deaf. His room hovered over the kitchen and with the door open, all sounds from below could float in.
Alex knew dinner would not be coming soon. He didn't care really but he wished he had a soundproof room. The yelling always hurt his ears.
The internet would keep his attention. Summer always brought out the naked bodies, which Alex loved. During this time of the season, girls feel it’s necessary to show off the bodies, hot or not. No need for porn sites. Facebook sufficed. He leaned forward, squinting at an image on the screen. That bathing suit did not make Alice Fields look any better, Alex thought disappointingly.
Bruce tried doing what he thought could end this argument: give in. But he gave in with little regard to what would happen next. “Look, honey,” Bruce began. Alex imagined him reaching out a hand to her, trying to be the good guy in this case. “It only happened once.”
Alex snorted from his seat, wondering when his dad would learn not to be a fucking idiot. He clicked on a Twitter link that read “How to Write an Essay.” He had a 5 page history paper due tomorrow; he needed all the help he could get.
“I heard differently from your bitch,” Jackie said, slicing through his sickly sweet words.
“You trust her? C’mon—”
“And Candace. And Alexis. And freaking Tammy, who, as you might know, doesn’t ever have a clue about anything.”
“My god.” Bruce slammed hands or fists against the mahogany dinner table. He usually did some of his work in the kitchen. “You have your fucking spies all over the place!”
“Don’t”—Alex could imagine his mom leaving her place at the sink and stalking over to his dad with a steel pointed finger—“use that language with me!”
“Fuck you. Bitch. Cunt.”
"Why you –" She slapped her dish towel against the table.
Alex saw a photo album that his best friend Freddie just posted. They were from last night’s rager at Kelly McHinnon’s house. Naturally it got broken up within an hour of its launch, but they were still able to get great pictures. But of course Freddie was stupid enough to tag every underage kid in the album.
“Dumbass,” Alex mumbled and he began untagging himself. His essay for tomorrow’s history class waited to be finished.
"Don’t think you’re incapable of hypocrisy,” he heard his dad say, voice stark and brimming with venom. He always resorted to formal syntax when he got angry. Maybe it made him feel more self-righteous and educated. “How about you? Spending long nights at the Millers’ when Janice –supposedly your best friend—isn’t even home. What do you do with Steve, huh? Play checkers?"
A horrified gasp came from Jackie. "Oh, I can't believe you would even—you bastard! Turning this around on me. You're the one who decided to stick your dick into—"
And his dad was the one reprimanded for his bad language? Alex shook his head.
A chair screeched as it was pushed back.
His mom's voice rang out again: "Where are you going now? Don't walk away from me. Don't run away from a problem you started!"
"I’m done," his dad spat.
His mother laughed more loudly than usual. "What? You had enough, you coward? Well, if you walk out, you're not coming back. You're walking out on your family. Once you do that, trust me: We. Are. Done."
The door closed with such might that the paintings hanging on Alex's walls vibrated violently for seconds. The splitting crash of some ceramic against the floor or the wall reached his ears.
Alex stared ahead, past the computer screen. From his view of the window, he watched Nancy as she sunbathed with friends on the front lawn. Nancy had quite a reputation at his school, but her sexual escapades aside, Alex thought she seemed nice. Airheaded, but nice. She said something to Lyla, her sometimes best friend, and they both heaved in excessive giggles, clapping their hands. The next door neighbor, Cal, a prepubescent face acne-marred creep, peeked over his fence. Alex couldn’t see his hands, which made him wonder what the boy was doing as he peeped at the girls.
The willow tree outside his window had grown nicely since being planted six years ago. On any other day, the tree would always look tall and strong to him, but now all he could think of was how sad its branches looked as they dropped toward the ground. The wind picked up and the muted green leaves flittered in the wind like the wings of hummingbirds as they hone in on their sweet, decadent flowers.
In his peripheral, he saw his dad’s red Corolla disappear from the window pane. Alex promised himself that he would never watch his dad leave again.
Below him, his mom began to sob. She moved around pots and pans and slammed some onto the stove. Then, a sudden crack made Alex jump in his seat, and he guessed his mom just smashed his dad’s laptop.
Spikey, their annoying pet parrot in the kitchen, tittered away. “WhaaAAAHT? WhaaAAAHT?”
A few minutes later, Alex heard his mom's light footsteps along the stairs and he knew they were coming toward his room. Alex closed the Internet window and brought up his word document of his nonexistent essay. Three knocks on the door.
“Yeah?”
His mom poked her head in. She smiled slightly at him. Alex smiled back, nerved by her nonchalance, given what he just heard.
"Dad’s gone?"
She nodded.
“For good?”
His mom pursed her lips then sighed heavily. Alex thought the wrinkles on her face made her look older than her forty-nine years.
"Dinner will be ready in an hour,” she said.
Wow...
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