Whilst on Twitter, I heard of a writing competition starting up and encouraged an excellent short story writer (@th_mnmlst) to participate and in return he said he'd only do it if I would too. And so we set out writing but much to our dismay, the competition was only open to citizens of the United States but he insisted that we keep writing and under the same rules set out in the competition guidelines: that the story must not exceed 1000 words and should be on the topic of 'Overcoming Loss'.
Here is a link to his story.. we appreciate your feedback on both!
http://yahayder.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/fiction-1000-words-challenge.html
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The sun hung in
a sultry manner, inviting those who had not yet bathed in her warmth to do so
before she went into hiding again. It was a warm April evening, one of those
rare days where the population flocked the streets in an attempt to enjoy the
drastic change in weather. He sped up the motorway in a rush to beat the
traffic and hit home in order to get ready. Tonight was to be the night.
Everything was to be perfect, he knew it.
His meticulous planning assured him that even if she didn’t agree to
marry him, it would be a night that she would compare all other nights against
for many years to come.
Newly blooming
trees adorned the motorway, branches extending their arms and swaying to the
music of the light breeze. Green. Pink. Brown. Blur. There was little space in
his mind to allow him to admire the small flowers blooming on each branch. He
was thinking of his suit, the table at their favourite restaurant. He thought
of the ring, his grandmothers. It had survived two World Wars, a house fire and
the dog’s stomach.
He was already
above the speed limit, his disregard for rules shaming him slightly. The
vehicle behind him broke into his thoughts abruptly. The driver of the truck
seemed agitated, flashing his headlights in an attempt to make him speed up further.
I’m in the middle lane, he thought. He can change lanes if he wants to go faster.
The truck could have been yellow but the dirt that had accumulated from years
on the motorway almost obscured it in its entirety. The driver flashed his
lights again. Fine, fine. I’ll be the
better man and simply change lanes... The right lane is faster anyway. He
indicated that he wanted to change lanes, the blinking green arrow lighting up
his dashboard. He was already back into his own thoughts, wrapped in a world of
red roses, the perfect setting and her smile. He smiled.
The smile froze
on his face as he saw that the yellow van had changed lanes too and had begun
to speed up. The lurid orange from the driver’s shirt seemed to be closing in
on him. The reflection of his hazard lights bounced off the trucks grill.
Black. Black.
Black. Black. Black. Black.
* *
Anna
I looked down at him lying
there and I couldn’t help but think how pitiful he seemed. He had always been
my pillar of strength and it had become my turn to look out after him and give
back what little I could to return to him the life that he had given me. The
doctors had said that I could take him home soon but I didn’t see how that
could be possible since he was still heavily bandaged. They had attempted to
leave space for his fingers and toes to move and he would wiggle them
unconsciously while sleeping. I didn’t understand why they still hadn’t removed
the last bandage.
He seemed to register
my presence as he took a deep breath and sighed my name. I smiled in his
direction and took inhaled so I could respond to him but was promptly cut off by
the doctor entering. I was normally greeted by one of the nurses, a short,
round one with a singsong voice that was pleasant to the ears. This time
however, another agitated looking nurse and a doctor joined her.
“Good afternoon, Anna.
May I call you that?” he asked hurriedly, not waiting for an answer.
“We’re going to take
off the final bandage soon. We tried our hardest. Brace yourself Anna.”
I had no idea what he
could possibly mean so I just stood by his bed and took his hand. He squeezed
mine and I could see him already smiling with excitement as the nurses helped
him sit up and the doctor began to unfurl the last bandage slowly, deliberately.
The nurses stepped back and both walked to opposite sides of the room. Odd. The
doctor finished unfurling the bandage and stood back, a look of sorrow on his
face.
“Have you finished,
Doc? I still can’t see anything!” he said, beaming as he spoke.
The floor beneath my
feet seemed to disappear. I let go of his hand and stepped back, clutching the
doctor’s arm in desperation. His eyes were wide open, coated in a translucent,
milky white layer.
“Anna? Is the Doc
done? Doc?” His cheerful voice seemed distant. I took a step backward, then
kept walking away. His voice was growing more distant. I couldn’t hear him any
longer. I kept walking.
* *
Adam
No longer having the
luxury of consulting a calendar, I think I can safely say that it has been
several months since I almost made the biggest mistake of my life. I felt
around till I touched the handle to my bedside draw and took out the ornate
black box that they had found in my pocket the night of my accident. I opened
it and let my fingers travel across the band, over the protruding emerald in
the centre. My heightened sense of touch made it more beautiful that I had ever
thought it to be. The grooves in the metal were soft to the touch. The sound of
someone walking up the stairs broke into my thoughts. I may have lost my
ability to see but I have never been more alive, more invigorated by my other
senses. The maid walked in.
“Sir, shall I set up
the easel beside the window?”
I nodded in affirmation.
I did not need Anna or my eyes. Nor did I need the job that made me work like a
mule everyday in my life. I felt my way across the room and seated my self in
front of the easel. I felt the brushes and picked out the finest one, dipped it
into the paint and pressed it onto the canvas.
Salam,
ReplyDeleteYour use of description is wonderful:) I will try to be as objective as I can-considering I'm personally not really into these type of stories.
firstly, I would've loved for this to be a little more realistic, I feel some of the incidents are a little too excessive, for instance, how he is so 'accepting of his loss of sight' ("I may have lost my ability to see but I have never been more alive, more invigorated by my other senses")-true enough when one of the senses is lost, others get strengthened, however, I would assume for most people, it would take quite sometime (at least a few years?) to be able to 'appreciate' that. There is little I can think of that is less tough than losing ones eyesight-so it it just seems improbable that he's recovering so well. Not to mention, his 'love' left him on top of it all. I personally feel the chain of events seemed a little too fictive.
Also, I feel the repetition of the word 'black', when he's crashed into, is exaggerated. Perhaps three times would've been enough?
Other than that, although as I said, I don't read these type of stories, your description is captivating and I enjoyed reading it,
and as I told 'yahayder' this is simply my personal opinion, so I guess it just boils down to taste:)
Loved it!!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
Deletesalaam,
ReplyDeleteOver the past few months, I've continuously been coming back and reading the passage over and over again. At first I couldn't finish it and stopped before you introduced Anna, I think it's because I just didn't want to read the rest. I couldn't. I brought a lot of baggage with me the first time I read it, the second time and this is either my third, fourth or fifth time reading it.
It's been a few months and my thoughts have changed, baggage not relieved but different and I finally finished it.
To me, I felt the story relieved me in the end. When Anna backed away and Adam started to paint, it felt like a new beginning and that a way to overcome loss is just to start again.
Eyesight is an incredible gift (and this coming from an aspiring traditional artist) but the loss of eyesight is an even greater one. There are people who would disagree with me but I hold onto my opinion. I'll explain.
For the last few days I've been reading 'The Letters' peppermintprose.livejournal.com, and I found myself questioning whether people would rather hear or see me. If my voice was important or my face. I asked my mother and of course, what kind of mother could answer that? But I definitely could answer the question. I would rather hear people. Hear their opinions, their questions, their comments. I mean, all I have from the Ahlul Bayt is their voice and desire to see their faces (iA soon, we pray for the quick hastening of the Imam).
Another reason as to why I think the loss of eyesight is an even better gift than having your eyesight is because you no longer have that ability to misuse the gift any more.
Might I remind the reader that Hadhrat Abbas had lost his eyes and to this day we praise him for his courage.
The reason I'm telling you this is because I feel you covered this transition of having eyesight and then losing it, negatively whereas there is nothing negative about this loss. It is what it is and one should be grateful for whatever they have. However, you ended it well as when Adam started to paint, it truly showed how grateful he was and how he had overcome the loss of Anna's presence as well as his eyesight.
I don't know if you tried to evoke any certain feelings in me but I didn't feel a strong emotion other than that I really hate Anna (That was unprofessional, but I really do hate her). Over all, well done. It gave me a sense of conclusion which is hard in a short story.
Peace.
Salams,
DeleteThank you for your feedback, means a lot to me. I presented the idea of losing an eye as a negative one because at the time of writing this, I thought long and hard as to what I had and what I would consider to be a loss if I had it no longer and the one thing that I think I would miss is my eyesight. In my view, it is a blessing and it is the way in which I initially perceive many things that I am faced with. I am not belittling the other senses but out of them all, I would feel misplaced without my sight.
I totally agree with your point about the loss of eyesight possibly being a blessing, but in the first instance, losing your eyesight would be a huge loss. And this is what Adam goes through- losing it, being faced with the reality of it and eventually overcoming it and embracing it.
Again, this was the first attempt in a long time to get back into writing so I realise there is room for improvement and your feedback is invaluable in doing this.
Salams :)
Definitely, I don't think I'd have the patience if I lost my eyesight.
DeleteBut we should be ready for anything, because anything can happen.
Look forward to reading and discussing some more!