12. Aunt Maya informs me that I will be staying at her house for a while. “Just until your mother gets things settled,” she says. What she really means is just until she gets her mind back.
11. My mother faints, and deacons carry her away.
10. Perverted Uncle Earl finally finds an excuse to hug me.
9. My high heels sink into cemetery grass.
8. Vacant faces fixate on the cross above the alter as the preacher drones, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will feel no evil for thou art with me . . .”
7. Hollow eyes stare back at me from the girl who stands in the mirror. She wears the black, slip dress that I bought to wear on dates. This will be the worst date of my life.
6. Night comes. Mom crawls into bed with me and holds on so tight that I will find her purple handprints on my back in the morning. I fiercely cling to her in return. We are lost and I the dark.
5. The sun rises, but I do not. As I look out the window, the world fragments like a broken mirror.
4. I hold my mother as she sobs uncontrollably on the floor. I stroke her hair with each hitch in her breath. Someone has just poured a bucket of ice water over my brain. I can’t think. I can’t breathe.
3. She drops the phone screaming, “No, No, No . . .”
2. Mom picks up the phone. Her face turns ashen as she listens to the voice on the other side of the receiver.
1. My twelve year old brother picks up a gun at his friend Tommy’s house.
I liked this one because it was less conventional than what I'm accustomed to writing. I think it really got my point across.
ReplyDeleteI like that you took a chance with this, and I like that the narrative, such as it is, works in sch a fragmentary way. A lot happens between the entries, which is interesting. And while the "story" does come out, the source of much of the misery, there's still a lot that remains unexplained. Keep thinking about this form. Maybe it has some instructive value for incorporating flashback into longer work.
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