“Don’t you wish you knew?” 1240 asked. Her hands gripped a lantern. The dim light illuminated her cheek bones, casting shadows into her eyes. Glancing over my shoulder at her, I wondered again if something had happened the night before. She looked as if she had slept even less than usual.
A clump of earth fell on my head. I coughed into my sleeve, waving her aside.
“You’re insane,” I said, my throat still clogged with dust. “Hold the light up where I can see it—Thanks.” The crusty earth gave way as I traced patterns, searching for the shimmer that would be a new gem.
“But don’t you ever wonder what your parents called you?” she asked, her voice wistful. “Somehow, hearing my name would be like hearing my mother. I think it would be a comfort.”
I turned to face her. For all she spoke dreamily, her cheeks were white and her lips quivered. My heart went cold. I opened my mouth to ask, but dread sealed my mouth like the grave. With a slight nod, she dropped her gaze from my face to my chest. One of her hands peeled off of the lantern’s handle, and she reached out to brush the numbers sewn onto my shirt. I wasn’t sure why she bothered, because no amount of scrubbing would have made them any cleaner.
“A number’s all I’ve been,” she whispered. “I’d like to have a name.”
The mountain over us felt like it was crushing my chest. “Your name will be the last thing you hear,” I said, my voice pleading. They would not give her a choice, but somehow her resignation made it worse.
“I know.” She smiled, faintly, as if at a memory. “I’ll cease to be before I’ve really begun.”
The hardest part about this was not being able to develop the story up to this point. I had to rewrite it a few times, because I kept trying to explain. But if it is supposed to be an excerpt of a larger work, I shouldn't need to tell the readers that the characters are in a work camp, etc., because the whole book would have been setting the scene.
ReplyDeleteVery nice job, Alyssa. At atmospheric piece that doesn't really need a whole lot of additional scene-setting. We have the essentials, and what's more important is the pathos embedded in the 1240's desire not just for a name, but a past and a mother. Her dialogue walks the line of sentiment, but I think it works here, mainly because of the ontological implications of her inquiry. Still, in order for the piece to feel a bit more "closed" at its present length, I almost feel as if it needs to come to an even broader, though still tentative statement about their situation. And I feel, too, like this should be something that comes from the narrator, perhaps something withheld. The strong description falters a little bit in paragraph 5, gets a little easy before picking up again.
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