x_Squiddish_x
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- Posted: Sun, 12 Feb 2012 06:41:39 +0000
Hello, loves! I've been away from Gaia for a bit, but I'm back and what better way to welcome myself then by posting in a writing contest! (Whoooo... ?) Anyway, I just wrote this today and I'm quite pleased with it. It was actually just a short, short story that was done during a writing exercise / prompt / game thing at a meeting I was at, but I'm giving it to ya'll anyway.
For the writing exercise, we had to pick pieces of paper out of the hat that each contained one of the following things. These are the ones I ended up with, and I did my best to make it all work together:
Place: Snow Bird, Utah
Last Line: The silence wasn’t much of a comfort.
Character: Frank, recent widower and physics teacher in Chicago
Conflict: Not sure which rating to give a recent Netflix movie
It’s amazing how quickly one’s life can go from smooth sailing to complete turmoi. Frank still couldn’t completely grasp the concept that, when he woke up in the morning, Alice wouldn’t be there beside him. That, when he went to go get his cup of coffee in the morning, he only needed to pull one mug down instead of two. As a force of habit, or perhaps as a way to cope, he hadn’t stopped filling up the second mug every morning. Secretly he hoped that Alice would be following him out of the bedroom to join him at the table with their coffee.
But, every morning, the result was the same. He would finish glazing over the newspaper, randomly picking out a few titles and not much else as his mind wandered to other thoughts, he would sip his coffee in silence, and he would get up to find the full cup still sitting where he left it. Nothing had been moved or changed.
The house that he had imagined growing old in with his wife was no longer the comfortable, inviting atmosphere that he wished it was. It was no longer the place where he felt safe and at home. All of their pictures, their shared moments within those walls, were now nothing more than a daily, bitter realization that death was inevitable.
With winter getting into full swing and the stress of the current courses he was teaching, Frank found that the harder he tried to force himself into a routine the less productive he became. It was no longer easy to grab his bike and ride to the university in the morning because he knew that, when he headed home for the night, his wife would not be waiting there for him with dinner and a kiss. It was why he finally decided he needed to get away. He needed to get out—get air—and enjoy something that he’d always wanted to do.
Skiing, to most, doesn’t seem like that big of an adventure. But for Frank, it was something that he had never been brave enough to attempt. Despite all of Alice and his traveling, they had not once been to a ski resort like they’d promised. Now, on a Wednesday morning, he ignored the fact that his class was supposed to start in ten minutes and put Chicago in his rearview mirror. He resolved that he was going to do everything that Alice and him had promised. He would find some way to live up to her memory if it killed him.
Snow Bird, Utah. Maybe not the most well known ski resort in the world, but it proved to be a good enough place for a first time skier like Frank. Still uneasy on his own two feet, he relaxed as well as he could as his skis hit the snow when he slid off the ski loft. Damn, that was a lot steeper than he’d thought when he was riding the ski lift up. Death was sure to follow in the next few minutes if he actually attempted to try and ski down the incline in front of him.
Other thoughts. He needed to think something unrelated to skiing. Unrelated to the sure doom that was to come. What else was there at the moment? Instantly, memories about the previous night popped into his head. Sleep had become somewhat of a rarity since Alice’s death. More and more often he found that late night movies were an inviting past time and saved him from the nightmares that were guaranteed to be waiting for him. What was it that he had watched the previous night? From what he recalled, there was nothing overly thrilling about the film, but he had enjoyed it nonetheless. It distracted him and, in the end, that was all he wanted. Normally, he would go back online right away and rate the movies he got from Netflix. Push in the number of stars he thought it deserved and tell everyone his opinion. But as he stood at the top of the ski hill, it occurred to him that he hadn’t done that.
The thought bothered him. He always rated movies. He always went back. Why not this time? And, more than that, how would he rate it? If he thought about it, the movie wasn’t all that good. It was nothing he’d buy to put on his shelf and watch more than once, but it also did exactly what he intended it to. Was that worth a good rating?
Doubtful.
Taking a slow breath and forcing himself to focus as best he could on the task at hand, he was finally off down the hill. At least for a few seconds his mind was distracted from the fear caused by the mountain because of his trivial thoughts about movie ratings. Had he been paying more attention, however, he would have realized that this was not the trail he intended to take. It wasn’t the right way at all, as pointed out by the rocks and terrain that far exceeded his skill level. It didn’t take long before he knew he was in trouble.
The realization that he was not making it to the bottom safely set in as he felt his left ski give out and sent his body tumbling forward. Something sharp hit him in the back as he rolled, tearing his jacket and drawing blood. He finally came to a stop a few yards from where he’d begun. Once more, he felt a sharp sensation, a sickening crack filling his ears as he stopped rolling. Pain shot through his head almost instantly. What had he hit? Whatever it was, it had caused more than just a cut. No doubt there had been a rock or stone jutting out of the snow. Next time, he would have to be more careful.
Everything seemed blurry and dark for a moment and he realized, almost as quickly as he had realized he was on the wrong path, that he couldn’t feel his legs. He couldn’t move. The pain was still present, slowly throbbing through his skull and alerting him that he was in far more trouble than he ever would have expected. Apparently next time was going to have to wait.
Yet, as he lay there, he could only think about the movie; the unrated movie that still sat on his coffee table. Thoughts of Alice were almost completely gone at the moment, and Frank wasn’t sure if that was a welcome relief or a sad foretelling that she was becoming less important to him. The longer he lay there, alone and without any assurance that someone coming, he realized that this truly could be the end. Was it all going to end like that? Lying motionless in the snow while he could only think about what a proper rating for a movie was?
His breathing, after a moment, became strained and he winced against the pain. Surely, someone would come. Someone would notice.
But, unfortunately, the sounds around told him the opposite. Voices or sounds from other skiers wasn’t present and he had to admit that the silence wasn’t much of a comfort.
For the writing exercise, we had to pick pieces of paper out of the hat that each contained one of the following things. These are the ones I ended up with, and I did my best to make it all work together:
Place: Snow Bird, Utah
Last Line: The silence wasn’t much of a comfort.
Character: Frank, recent widower and physics teacher in Chicago
Conflict: Not sure which rating to give a recent Netflix movie
It’s amazing how quickly one’s life can go from smooth sailing to complete turmoi. Frank still couldn’t completely grasp the concept that, when he woke up in the morning, Alice wouldn’t be there beside him. That, when he went to go get his cup of coffee in the morning, he only needed to pull one mug down instead of two. As a force of habit, or perhaps as a way to cope, he hadn’t stopped filling up the second mug every morning. Secretly he hoped that Alice would be following him out of the bedroom to join him at the table with their coffee.
But, every morning, the result was the same. He would finish glazing over the newspaper, randomly picking out a few titles and not much else as his mind wandered to other thoughts, he would sip his coffee in silence, and he would get up to find the full cup still sitting where he left it. Nothing had been moved or changed.
The house that he had imagined growing old in with his wife was no longer the comfortable, inviting atmosphere that he wished it was. It was no longer the place where he felt safe and at home. All of their pictures, their shared moments within those walls, were now nothing more than a daily, bitter realization that death was inevitable.
With winter getting into full swing and the stress of the current courses he was teaching, Frank found that the harder he tried to force himself into a routine the less productive he became. It was no longer easy to grab his bike and ride to the university in the morning because he knew that, when he headed home for the night, his wife would not be waiting there for him with dinner and a kiss. It was why he finally decided he needed to get away. He needed to get out—get air—and enjoy something that he’d always wanted to do.
Skiing, to most, doesn’t seem like that big of an adventure. But for Frank, it was something that he had never been brave enough to attempt. Despite all of Alice and his traveling, they had not once been to a ski resort like they’d promised. Now, on a Wednesday morning, he ignored the fact that his class was supposed to start in ten minutes and put Chicago in his rearview mirror. He resolved that he was going to do everything that Alice and him had promised. He would find some way to live up to her memory if it killed him.
Snow Bird, Utah. Maybe not the most well known ski resort in the world, but it proved to be a good enough place for a first time skier like Frank. Still uneasy on his own two feet, he relaxed as well as he could as his skis hit the snow when he slid off the ski loft. Damn, that was a lot steeper than he’d thought when he was riding the ski lift up. Death was sure to follow in the next few minutes if he actually attempted to try and ski down the incline in front of him.
Other thoughts. He needed to think something unrelated to skiing. Unrelated to the sure doom that was to come. What else was there at the moment? Instantly, memories about the previous night popped into his head. Sleep had become somewhat of a rarity since Alice’s death. More and more often he found that late night movies were an inviting past time and saved him from the nightmares that were guaranteed to be waiting for him. What was it that he had watched the previous night? From what he recalled, there was nothing overly thrilling about the film, but he had enjoyed it nonetheless. It distracted him and, in the end, that was all he wanted. Normally, he would go back online right away and rate the movies he got from Netflix. Push in the number of stars he thought it deserved and tell everyone his opinion. But as he stood at the top of the ski hill, it occurred to him that he hadn’t done that.
The thought bothered him. He always rated movies. He always went back. Why not this time? And, more than that, how would he rate it? If he thought about it, the movie wasn’t all that good. It was nothing he’d buy to put on his shelf and watch more than once, but it also did exactly what he intended it to. Was that worth a good rating?
Doubtful.
Taking a slow breath and forcing himself to focus as best he could on the task at hand, he was finally off down the hill. At least for a few seconds his mind was distracted from the fear caused by the mountain because of his trivial thoughts about movie ratings. Had he been paying more attention, however, he would have realized that this was not the trail he intended to take. It wasn’t the right way at all, as pointed out by the rocks and terrain that far exceeded his skill level. It didn’t take long before he knew he was in trouble.
The realization that he was not making it to the bottom safely set in as he felt his left ski give out and sent his body tumbling forward. Something sharp hit him in the back as he rolled, tearing his jacket and drawing blood. He finally came to a stop a few yards from where he’d begun. Once more, he felt a sharp sensation, a sickening crack filling his ears as he stopped rolling. Pain shot through his head almost instantly. What had he hit? Whatever it was, it had caused more than just a cut. No doubt there had been a rock or stone jutting out of the snow. Next time, he would have to be more careful.
Everything seemed blurry and dark for a moment and he realized, almost as quickly as he had realized he was on the wrong path, that he couldn’t feel his legs. He couldn’t move. The pain was still present, slowly throbbing through his skull and alerting him that he was in far more trouble than he ever would have expected. Apparently next time was going to have to wait.
Yet, as he lay there, he could only think about the movie; the unrated movie that still sat on his coffee table. Thoughts of Alice were almost completely gone at the moment, and Frank wasn’t sure if that was a welcome relief or a sad foretelling that she was becoming less important to him. The longer he lay there, alone and without any assurance that someone coming, he realized that this truly could be the end. Was it all going to end like that? Lying motionless in the snow while he could only think about what a proper rating for a movie was?
His breathing, after a moment, became strained and he winced against the pain. Surely, someone would come. Someone would notice.
But, unfortunately, the sounds around told him the opposite. Voices or sounds from other skiers wasn’t present and he had to admit that the silence wasn’t much of a comfort.