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muchtooarrogantLJ Idol, Week Seven
I loved playing hide-and-go-seek as a child. Well, not so much the seek part, because as the youngest, my brothers, sister, and cousins could usually run faster than me to whatever base had been established as home, but I delighted in the opportunity to hide out. It didn't matter whether I was lying as flat as possible underneath a bed, had scrunched myself up inside a bathroom cabinet behind a clothes basket full of damp and smelly towels, or was curled into a ball at the back of a closet littered with shoes, tennis rackets, and someone's forgotten roller skates. I loved it! In fact, I came to enjoy hiding so much that I would occasionally sneak away to one of my isolated retreats, even when no one was looking for me.
One day, when I was around eight years old, I discovered that there was just enough room behind our living room sofa to allow a skinny and flexible child to gain access. Cautiously, I straightened up from the mouse's eye view I had been emulating, and examined my surroundings.
Momma was in the kitchen, separated from the living room by a counter and stools, doing dishes, and was humming along with some old people song on the radio. Toni, my sister, was hunched over one of her puzzles at the kitchen table, her right foot tapping a staccato rhythm on the linoleum floor. Even from behind, I could tell that she was, as my Grandma would say, "Not a happy camper."
I hurriedly crouched back down again. If she turned around and saw me, I was a goner. My two brothers, nicknamed The Twin Terrors by Toni and myself, had left with a group of their friends about an hour ago. Which left Daddy unaccounted for. Where was he?
The sofa tunnel was perfect. The opening in-between its top and the wall in back was very small, so much so that I figured someone would have to be lying on top of the gap using a flashlight before they would have any hope of seeing inside the hidden space beneath. The far end of the sofa was bracketed by another wall, which meant that, once I was inside my new hideaway, there was only one place marauding invaders could come from--or so I thought.
I peered into the tunnel's dark and inviting depths again, and decided that the one thing I needed to make it even better was a blanket. I had just started concocting an elaborate plan for stealing a blanket out of Toni's bedroom, when the back door to our house banged open. Quick as a shot, I slithered into the sofa tunnel. Whether it was my Dad or the Twin Terrors returning, blankets and other niceties would have to wait until later.
Once I was inside my new hideaway, I could almost imagine that I had traveled to another world. Noises from the outside were muffled by the sofa's fabric, making them seem remote and thoroughly unimportant. The carpet beneath my back and the sofa pressed along my right-hand side felt feathery soft, like clouds I might brush through during an aerial flight. The light filtering in from above was diffuse, a shimmering glow on the edge of my awareness, a dreamlike luminescence that hinted at other mysteries as yet undiscovered. Imaginary or not, I decided this was a world I could happily live in forever.
I slipped into a half sleeping half waking state then, the muted light and sounds from outside still registering on some level, though translated into ever more fanciful dream realms for my young mind's entertainment. I don't know what I dreamed about during that time, only that when I did finally wake, no sound at all remained. The Golden Oldies station on the radio, along with my Momma's humming, had gone silent. The hissing slide of my sister's puzzle pieces and the irritated tapping of her foot were absent as well. I strained to hear any ongoing conversations, but there were none.
With a start, I realized that everything around me felt different as well. The floor under me and the sofa along my side, once so soft they had made me imagine flying through feathery clouds, now seemed both rigid and confining. The wall behind my head, as well as the one along my other side, were oppressively close, and felt somehow as though they were pushing closer. Even the light above me had changed. The glimmering promises it had made earlier were gone, replaced with a dull reticence, a thin and sickly gleaming which could easily be snuffed out forever.
I struggled to wriggle free from the tunnel which had become my prison, and was horrified to discover that I couldn't move. My legs, my arms, everything was immobilized.
Overhead, framed by wan illumination which seemed on the verge of flickering out at any moment, a writhing shadow appeared. The remaining light dimmed still further, and then was sucked completely away, devoured by the blackness above. The absence of light should have made it completely invisible to me, but somehow it was still there. Snake-like, it whipped back and forth, coiled into menacing loops, and then struck, each lunge bringing it inexorably closer and closer to my prone form. I longed to scream, to scamper away like the mouse I had imitated earlier, to close my eyes and block out the hovering horror descending towards me, but I couldn't.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
When we finally touched, the darkness and I became one, young child and shadow melded together forever.
The nothingness lives inside me now, a constant companion I carry with me everywhere. Far from quiescent, when others around me feel emotions it feeds on, I can sense it stirring. The loneliness Momma suffers when Daddy's traveling for work; the hurt and anger that Toni feels when her best friend ignores her; the pain and despair Grandma endures when the arthritis makes it difficult to walk; the jealousy and growing dislike in-between the Twin Terrors because they have to share everything. All of these are emotions the darkness loves, and just as it did when I was trapped and terrified in the sofa tunnel hideaway, I can feel it writhing inside me, coiling itself tight, and preparing to strike.
Dan
I loved playing hide-and-go-seek as a child. Well, not so much the seek part, because as the youngest, my brothers, sister, and cousins could usually run faster than me to whatever base had been established as home, but I delighted in the opportunity to hide out. It didn't matter whether I was lying as flat as possible underneath a bed, had scrunched myself up inside a bathroom cabinet behind a clothes basket full of damp and smelly towels, or was curled into a ball at the back of a closet littered with shoes, tennis rackets, and someone's forgotten roller skates. I loved it! In fact, I came to enjoy hiding so much that I would occasionally sneak away to one of my isolated retreats, even when no one was looking for me.
One day, when I was around eight years old, I discovered that there was just enough room behind our living room sofa to allow a skinny and flexible child to gain access. Cautiously, I straightened up from the mouse's eye view I had been emulating, and examined my surroundings.
Momma was in the kitchen, separated from the living room by a counter and stools, doing dishes, and was humming along with some old people song on the radio. Toni, my sister, was hunched over one of her puzzles at the kitchen table, her right foot tapping a staccato rhythm on the linoleum floor. Even from behind, I could tell that she was, as my Grandma would say, "Not a happy camper."
I hurriedly crouched back down again. If she turned around and saw me, I was a goner. My two brothers, nicknamed The Twin Terrors by Toni and myself, had left with a group of their friends about an hour ago. Which left Daddy unaccounted for. Where was he?
The sofa tunnel was perfect. The opening in-between its top and the wall in back was very small, so much so that I figured someone would have to be lying on top of the gap using a flashlight before they would have any hope of seeing inside the hidden space beneath. The far end of the sofa was bracketed by another wall, which meant that, once I was inside my new hideaway, there was only one place marauding invaders could come from--or so I thought.
I peered into the tunnel's dark and inviting depths again, and decided that the one thing I needed to make it even better was a blanket. I had just started concocting an elaborate plan for stealing a blanket out of Toni's bedroom, when the back door to our house banged open. Quick as a shot, I slithered into the sofa tunnel. Whether it was my Dad or the Twin Terrors returning, blankets and other niceties would have to wait until later.
Once I was inside my new hideaway, I could almost imagine that I had traveled to another world. Noises from the outside were muffled by the sofa's fabric, making them seem remote and thoroughly unimportant. The carpet beneath my back and the sofa pressed along my right-hand side felt feathery soft, like clouds I might brush through during an aerial flight. The light filtering in from above was diffuse, a shimmering glow on the edge of my awareness, a dreamlike luminescence that hinted at other mysteries as yet undiscovered. Imaginary or not, I decided this was a world I could happily live in forever.
I slipped into a half sleeping half waking state then, the muted light and sounds from outside still registering on some level, though translated into ever more fanciful dream realms for my young mind's entertainment. I don't know what I dreamed about during that time, only that when I did finally wake, no sound at all remained. The Golden Oldies station on the radio, along with my Momma's humming, had gone silent. The hissing slide of my sister's puzzle pieces and the irritated tapping of her foot were absent as well. I strained to hear any ongoing conversations, but there were none.
With a start, I realized that everything around me felt different as well. The floor under me and the sofa along my side, once so soft they had made me imagine flying through feathery clouds, now seemed both rigid and confining. The wall behind my head, as well as the one along my other side, were oppressively close, and felt somehow as though they were pushing closer. Even the light above me had changed. The glimmering promises it had made earlier were gone, replaced with a dull reticence, a thin and sickly gleaming which could easily be snuffed out forever.
I struggled to wriggle free from the tunnel which had become my prison, and was horrified to discover that I couldn't move. My legs, my arms, everything was immobilized.
Overhead, framed by wan illumination which seemed on the verge of flickering out at any moment, a writhing shadow appeared. The remaining light dimmed still further, and then was sucked completely away, devoured by the blackness above. The absence of light should have made it completely invisible to me, but somehow it was still there. Snake-like, it whipped back and forth, coiled into menacing loops, and then struck, each lunge bringing it inexorably closer and closer to my prone form. I longed to scream, to scamper away like the mouse I had imitated earlier, to close my eyes and block out the hovering horror descending towards me, but I couldn't.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
When we finally touched, the darkness and I became one, young child and shadow melded together forever.
The nothingness lives inside me now, a constant companion I carry with me everywhere. Far from quiescent, when others around me feel emotions it feeds on, I can sense it stirring. The loneliness Momma suffers when Daddy's traveling for work; the hurt and anger that Toni feels when her best friend ignores her; the pain and despair Grandma endures when the arthritis makes it difficult to walk; the jealousy and growing dislike in-between the Twin Terrors because they have to share everything. All of these are emotions the darkness loves, and just as it did when I was trapped and terrified in the sofa tunnel hideaway, I can feel it writhing inside me, coiling itself tight, and preparing to strike.
Dan
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Date: 2011-12-08 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-08 01:55 am (UTC)Dan
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Date: 2011-12-08 05:36 am (UTC)Why does he need to steal Toni's blanket? Is he not allowed a blanket of his own? Is this a blanket-free household other than Toni's room? (If so, I imagine Toni must make a lot in bribes during the winter. Perhaps she rents space in her room with a blanket by the hour... and then re-sets the alarm clock so everyone sleeps longer.) Should I assume Toni is fiendishly capitalistic, or just that she owns a wonderful blanket?
Your matter-of-fact narration works very well in portraying an experience from your character's childhood as if told by his adult self, particularly when combined with the wonderful level of detail you have here. But there is a section where I'd like to see you use a little more emotion -- beginning when you wake up, and "with a start" notice that everything has changed.
You showed us how soft and inviting the tunnel was by comparing it to clouds. Do the same here; don't stop with telling us it's "rigid and confining". Show us. How rigid is it? What kind of confining?
I like this line: The glimmering promises it had made earlier were gone, replaced with a dull reticence, a thin and sickly gleaming which could easily be snuffed out forever.
You are your own best example; this is a wonderful way to show us what you're saying. *smile*
And then this paragraph transitions from your wake-up to the appearance of the shadow: I struggled to wriggle free from the tunnel which had become my prison, and was horrified to discover that I couldn't move. My legs, my arms, everything was immobilized.
I do think it works as-is, and you have some strong elements here -- particularly comparing the tunnel to a prison, and then detailing how much your character couldn't move. But I think you could try adding even more emotional detail -- how was he horrified? (Is he shaking with fright? In tears? Perfectly calm, as if in shock?)
I think part of why I would like to see more emotion here is that you do it so well in the paragraph following. The whole paragraph is beautifully detailed, but this stands out: I longed to scream, to scamper away like the mouse I had imitated earlier, to close my eyes and block out the hovering horror descending towards me, but I couldn't. This sentence really brings us into what the character is feeling.
And I love the way you've used the repetition of, "Closer." *smile*
Is this non-fiction or fiction? I've been reading it as fiction, but you've signed the entry, so I'm wondering if it's non-fiction....
You are certainly not obligated to use any of my suggestions, but I do hope they help whether you use them or not. *smile*
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Date: 2011-12-09 03:42 am (UTC)Nice work!
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Date: 2011-12-09 06:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 02:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 03:41 pm (UTC)"Is this a blanket-free household other than Toni's room?"
As a long vanished friend of mine used to say, "LOLLERSKATES!" This was hilarious. Honestly though, I just figured, as a little boy, he didn't think much about blankets until he wanted one, and then stealing from his sister seemed like the best option. It's what I would've done--and you can ask my sister if you don't believe me. LOL
The reason I didn't go with more emotion in the paragraph where he discovers he's confined is that I imagined him as still waking up. It's a gradual process he goes through before total terror arrives with the shadow above. First he notices that all sound has ceased. Then he realizes that he can't move. Yeah, he's starting to get scared, but he's still a little fuzzy in the head. "Is even this a dream? What's going on? Is it just that my feet are asleep?" Like that.
Sorry I didn't respond earlier, my end of year inventory took up almost all my time yesterday, the youngest kiddo had her Christmas choir performance at 6:00 PM, and then we went out to celebrate Lizbeth's birthday. Again, thanks for giving my story so much of your time. I don't feel comfortable changing anything now that the Idol deadline has passed, so when I ask for feedback in the future, I'll be sure to give you more time.
Dan
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Date: 2011-12-09 03:44 pm (UTC)Dan
no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 03:47 pm (UTC)Dan
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Date: 2011-12-09 03:48 pm (UTC)Dan
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Date: 2011-12-09 03:50 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading and commenting!
Dan
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Date: 2011-12-09 03:52 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for reading!
Dan
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Date: 2011-12-09 05:05 pm (UTC)Of course, I will assume this is a work of fiction and not recommend that you undergo soul retrieval. It is a compelling take on the topic.
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Date: 2011-12-09 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 08:04 pm (UTC)Dan
no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 08:15 pm (UTC)<< This is definitely fiction, although I've certainly included elements from my own childhood. I loved playing hide-and-go-seek as a child, and also had a sofa fortress, but fortunately never got eaten by a shadow demon. LOL If I had, I wouldn't need those special powers Gary's promised to hand out after the vote. >>
Thank you so much for reading, and I'm glad you thought it was a powerful entry. I take that as high praise.
Dan
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Date: 2011-12-09 08:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-10 02:05 am (UTC)Very thought-provoking. Thanks for sharing!
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Date: 2011-12-10 05:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-10 05:51 am (UTC)My brother says lollerskates sometimes! *smiley* I always steal the cat's; hers come pre-warmed from all the cat-naps she takes. *winking smiley*
No problem; I wouldn't have noticed if you had. I spent today doing house stuff. *big smile* We now have a tentative closing date for the first week of January.
You're welcome! Hopefully things with the house are settling into a less paperwork-heavy stage now, and I'll have more time regardless. I know I could have responded to you sooner if I had gotten online as soon as I got home.
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Date: 2011-12-10 06:25 am (UTC)Lol, I'm hoping we get something better than being munched on by monsters! Maybe an automatic cookie-generating power. That seems like something Gary would enjoy. *smile*
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Date: 2011-12-10 03:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-10 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-10 05:00 pm (UTC)I figure maybe it'll be something like bringing eliminated friends back from the dead. I know one person who's been eliminated that I'd love to bring back.
Dan