He didn't have many things. The little rocking chair from his parents was knocked over in the corner. The garbage can was upended, its contents scattered around the kitchen. This violent disarray in a space so lightly lived upon was a cutting commentary on how shitty things were.
These bags were killing people all over town. We searched for them specifically.
He was opened up to me and I was a razor. This is why his things were lying around, why the blinds were crooked on the window.
I unclenched my teeth and released the end of his belt. "Armie up," I said, telling him to apply pressure. It was a joke. I pretended to be a nurse and that he was a little boy. We loved each other. We loved each other so that he raced home on his lunch break to slide into bed next to me. We loved each other so that I cried when he went away.
The rug was bunched up in front of the door. We dragged him into the hallway by his arms. He was blue. His lips were cracking at the corners. His eyes were unfocused. One of them crept sideways as he disappeared. He curled up like a baby and tipped sideways in his chair. He wasn't wearing a shirt or any shoes. I loved him.
The neighbors across the hall both worked in the same office; a man and a woman with matching khaki pants, pressed sensibly around the hems. They came up the stairs and had to step over his body carrying baskets of whites. They grimaced at the sight of me and shoved each other, hurrying to get inside.
I called an ambulance and the police showed up first. They flipped over the couch and went through the garbage. Someone held open the door so that little heads with clear eyes could peek in and whisper.
A paramedic announced, "Stand back, everybody, Lazarus is about to raise from the dead."
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This post is an entry at Trifecta Writing Challenge. The deal is that you have to write a piece using the third definition of a given word in 33 -333 words. It's fun. You should give it a try, too and link up here. This week's word was cutting.
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I also linked this post up at Story Dam where the prompt this week was, Write a piece, non-fiction or fiction, in which your character is figuring out what to do with their “leftovers”.
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Intense! I love your writing, gloomy but very good. :)
ReplyDeleteso intriguing. i agree, you always write so fluidly.
ReplyDeletei'm interested in learning more about this challenge. excercises would probably help me a ton in getting back into my writing goove.
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This is interesting... not sure where to go with this, to be honest with you, but it's interesting. Is this part of a longer piece? Is some of this in metaphors? I feel like I missed the precursor to this scene.
ReplyDeleteI think this is a larger piece. One thing that will help if it is - link this piece back to the other parts so we can get the back story. If not, maybe add a little narrative (from you or the characters point of view) that helps us get into the story a little. That way you don't lose too many people. Make sense?
I like your descriptions, though. That little piece on the couples' hems painted a perfect picture of them! Good job with that.
We'll see you next time. :)
Brandon, no, it's not in metaphors. And I think I lost you because your life experience is like... worlds different from mine. And that's okay. This piece is actually non-fiction. It's an interpretive account of an overdose I was witness to. I think maybe you were looking for something more straight-forward? Like a lady cleaning up after a holiday party and wondering what to do with all the uneaten fruitcake?
ReplyDeleteAnyway. Thanks for your point of view and thanks for welcoming me into your community. I don't often receive this sort of feedback. It's been very interesting to hear what you think of my pieces, coming from where you're coming from. :)
And this is why I don't like messing with poetry either. Some things that I do not have experience with (terminology, etc...) make me a little nervous to comment on. (Kind of like the whole, "how far along are you" mistake we make on occasion? LOL!)
ReplyDeleteBut, just to be straight side with you, unless I specifically state it in the prompt, I never "expect" a certain prompt outcome. I actually prefer when people take the prompts outside the box (or throw the box away altogether). That's how we grow as writers, and that is the only thing I expect out of this community other than courtesy---to learn and grow. :)
Thanks for submitting again this week, Amanda. This is another great piece; you nail it every week. It's not always the most comfortable reading, but it's always brilliantly written. We're really pleased you've joined us here at Trifecta.
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