This is a writing exercise. I think I fled a bit (?!) far from the original settings of the Church Lady. These are her very words, describing the task:
Create and name a God. Describe him or her. This God has powers. What are they? Someone prays to this God's powers. Who? Describe this person.Is there a ceremony? In what kind of temple? What will archeologists find years later?
With no set word count limit, my entry was flowing away a bit. I've outlined it, written it in two goes, re-writing it once. It's got 610 words.
Here you go.
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- Are you there?
- Yes, well, I think I am.
- How old are you?
- Almost eleven. My name is Ewen. It’s warm outside and I’m kneeling beside the barn. I have company, my younger sister, Jenny. She’s five.
- Go on, Eric.
‘A day before my 11th birthday Argos died. Jenny was so upset she hardly spoke. She even did not talk to her corn-doll anymore before going to bed. Now, that was a sign, Mom said. She allowed us to bury him in the garden. Jenny wanted to spread flowers on top so I decided to make a tomb she can decorate.
We went to the meadow to get some earth to make the tomb.
- Come on, dig harder, we’ve almost done.
- But my spade is broken.
- Here’s mine, take it.
We kept on digging until the cart was full.
Jenny said we should top the heap off so that I could carry her back in the cart but I rejected.
- Think about Argos, you stupid.
- I’ll tell Momma.
- Just go ahead. Argos is big. He needs a big tomb. Go, get some flowers instead. I’m not carrying you.
I brought the cart beside the barn. There lied Argos, eyes closed. He has not moved an inch since yesterday. He was dead. Jenny returned with a basket in her hand.
- Look what I brought.
- All right.
- I’ve got daisies, lilies, dandelions, look, a whole bunch of dandelions.
- Mom will kill you for picking her lilies for a dog.
- No, Mom likes Argos, too.
- Liked. He is dead.
- No, he’s just….- Jenny’s voice was dangerously weak and trembling now.
- All right. Don’t cry. Argos will be all right.
Argos’s rag was placed at the bottom and we arranged him as if he were asleep. Dad allowed me to use some of those big stones to make a tomb around Argos.
- Ewen, when will Argos awake now?
- He will not.
- But, how do we know he’s all right? That he’s got his meat every day.
- He does not need food anymore, don’t you see? He’s dead.
Jenny shook her head in disbelief.
- But his favorite bone. He will miss it.
- Go and get it if you want.
When she returned I was almost ready. Jenny put the bone in and I shoveled the soil on top of him. Those large stones I carried here in the morning made a good stand. I covered them with soil, too. My body and forehead were hot with all that hard work. Jenny put the flowers there on top.
- But Ewen, who will take care of Argos, down there?
- An angel.
- Let’s pray to the angel to be a good master.’
- Mr. Rogers I think the memory is over.
- That is completely all right, Eric. I will be counting from five to one and you return to this very day. I’m starting now.
- Are you there?
- Yes, well, I think I am.
- How old are you?
- Almost eleven. My name is Ewen. It’s warm outside and I’m kneeling beside the barn. I have company, my younger sister, Jenny. She’s five.
- Go on, Eric.
‘A day before my 11th birthday Argos died. Jenny was so upset she hardly spoke. She even did not talk to her corn-doll anymore before going to bed. Now, that was a sign, Mom said. She allowed us to bury him in the garden. Jenny wanted to spread flowers on top so I decided to make a tomb she can decorate.
We went to the meadow to get some earth to make the tomb.
- Come on, dig harder, we’ve almost done.
- But my spade is broken.
- Here’s mine, take it.
We kept on digging until the cart was full.
Jenny said we should top the heap off so that I could carry her back in the cart but I rejected.
- Think about Argos, you stupid.
- I’ll tell Momma.
- Just go ahead. Argos is big. He needs a big tomb. Go, get some flowers instead. I’m not carrying you.
I brought the cart beside the barn. There lied Argos, eyes closed. He has not moved an inch since yesterday. He was dead. Jenny returned with a basket in her hand.
- Look what I brought.
- All right.
- I’ve got daisies, lilies, dandelions, look, a whole bunch of dandelions.
- Mom will kill you for picking her lilies for a dog.
- No, Mom likes Argos, too.
- Liked. He is dead.
- No, he’s just….- Jenny’s voice was dangerously weak and trembling now.
- All right. Don’t cry. Argos will be all right.
Argos’s rag was placed at the bottom and we arranged him as if he were asleep. Dad allowed me to use some of those big stones to make a tomb around Argos.
- Ewen, when will Argos awake now?
- He will not.
- But, how do we know he’s all right? That he’s got his meat every day.
- He does not need food anymore, don’t you see? He’s dead.
Jenny shook her head in disbelief.
- But his favorite bone. He will miss it.
- Go and get it if you want.
When she returned I was almost ready. Jenny put the bone in and I shoveled the soil on top of him. Those large stones I carried here in the morning made a good stand. I covered them with soil, too. My body and forehead were hot with all that hard work. Jenny put the flowers there on top.
- But Ewen, who will take care of Argos, down there?
- An angel.
- Let’s pray to the angel to be a good master.’
- Mr. Rogers I think the memory is over.
- That is completely all right, Eric. I will be counting from five to one and you return to this very day. I’m starting now.
Five. (That heap was one of the secret places in our family. As I grew older, I did not let my friends see it. I pretended not recognizing the tomb at all.)
Four. (The guilt was there. A loss and denial of our beloved Argos. Argos? What a fine name.)
Three. (The guilt has almost gotten me. Not knowing what it was about I felt terrified. I am fine now.)
Two. (I will always have a special place in my heart for Argos now. I will remember him.)
One. (I am fine with my memories. I am here.)
You are here. You are in the present.
16 megjegyzés:
What a great construct. Memories through hynposis.
Very well done!
Excellent stuff Szelsofa. The final bit with the count-down out of the trance is an excellent touch.
Ewen
Jason,
that the scene should take place in the frame of a hypnosis introduced itself into this particular piece during re-editing. I did not resist the calling.
I'm happy that you liked it.
IllMan,
that final countdown thing really is an important part of the story. I needed to get that just right. -I think my not being really far away from the world of paranormalities, have helped me to make it so clear.
A very moving piece. I had to read it over a couple of times before I made sense of it. The two things in my way--Mr. Rogers and Argos. I now assume Mr. Rogers is the hypnotist. But in the U.S., there was a very popular childrens' television program called Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, and Fred Rogers would often deal with issues of feelings. He even did a week of progarms about death. So at first I thought of this as part of a Mr. Rogers episode. Argos was a more personal matter. I had a dog named Argos when I was a teenager. My mother had named him after Odysseus's dog in the Odyssey. But unlike the original Argos, mine was anything but loyal. The Argos of your story is obviously more like the one in the epic.
This doesn't detract from your story--just a couple of personal blocks. Jenny's incomprehension of death reings very true.
Steve,
Yes, Mr. Rogers is the therapist. I had absolutely no idea about that tv-character you mentioned. It is a sign that everytime I pick a name I should check whether there are some false/misleading ringing to it to my readers.
You see, to me, a Mr Rogers is just a name. I could have chosen Mr. James/Mr. Smith, whatever.
I wanted to suggest that he is some kind of an authority, whereas Eric/Ewen is more close to the reader.
I had no idea that it might be a block.
I will have to check my names in the future to avoid obvious blocking/misleading names.
Argos?
I used to have a girlfriend and she had a dog named Argos. He was a mighty English setter and I think this piece serves a bit of a tribute to him. Even if I have chosen the name unconsciously...
Jenny?
thanks!
This is a great take on a writing exercise that seems like it was quite open to all sorts of different interpretations. I didn't understand the 'are you there?' bit at the beginning but by the end it made perfect sense - very clever. :]
Oh, yes that 'Are you there' might be quite misleading. Aso the 'how old are you', and that he calls himself Ewen while Dr Roberts calls him Eric.
It is all confusing I suspect, but I also trust it makes sense very soon.
Well, the exercise was quite open to all sorts of writings.
Totally off-topic, Szelsofa, but I'm hoping to do some posts about November Saints, and three of them have connections to your country. St. Martin of Tours (Nov. 11) was born in Savaria (Szombathely), Pannonia. Of course there's Elisabeth of Hungary (Nov.19 in the Anglican calendar, Nov. 17 in the Roman Catholic). But tradition says that Margaret of Scotland was born in Castle Reka, in southern Hungary. Do you know anything about this tradition? Many thanks.
P.S. Margaret's day is Nov. 16--I believe in both Anglican and Catholic calendars.
I knew that St. Martin was born in the area of the present-day Szombathely. He is celebrated by the Catholics here and by Waldorf communities. I have some serious objections against him: he killed pagans and one of his 'great actions' was that he destroyed a Holy Tree of the Pagans. Talking about religious tolerance, heh?
Elisabeth yes, was also born in Hungary and the year 2007 is also a Memorial Year in her rememberance.
Margaret of Scotland... I don't know.
We have a St. Margaret but...I'll have to look that one up.
I hope I was of some help.
To Steve:
I'm not a Catholic, you see and my knowledge is quite biased in this field.
Oh, yes. Google is my friend.
St. Margaret of Scotland was really born in one of the Sourthern hills of Hungary at a place called 'Rékavár', which literally translates to 'Réka's castle'.
It is also called Rákvár, which means 'Crabcastle' - a potential reference to the edible animals found in the nearby rivers?
She was a grand-daughter of the first Catholic king of Hungary, St. Stephen.
Margaret lived here until the age of 12.
Then they moved to the British Isles, but then her father was killed and her mother had to escape to Scotland with her two siblings.
The young king of Scotland took a liking in the pretty and witful young lady and soon they were married.
The rest is yours :)
Thanks. I know that Martin did cut down a pine tree sacred to the Druids, and that he destroyed pagan shrines. But I've never heard that he killed pagans (except when he was a soldier in the Roman legions and not yet a Christian). In fact, as an old man he made the trek from Tours to Treveris--modern-day Trier, Germany--to prevent the emperor from killing heretics at the behest of church officials.
I assumed you were Catholic because of your earlier comments about saint's days, so that's why I thought you might know about Margaret of Scotland. Sorry.
Thanks for your research, Szelsofa.
I did not take assuming me being a Catholic as an offense, Steve, don't you worry!
And it was fun to seek and find information about St Margaret/Margit of Scotland.
Well, perhaps St Martin did not kill pagans, I'm unsure about that, but killing a tree, preventing pagans from practicing their religion counts just as much a sin in my book -
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