type me? (read my creative writing)
Hi, everyone. I've vaguely typed myself again (aristocratic, Fe valuing, maybe) but I'd really like to hear input from some other people so that I know that I haven't tricked myself. I'm hesitant to fill out one of those long-ass questionnaires because I feel like I might subconsciously change my answers to fit the type I think I am, so instead, I've attached some poems and essays.
Thanks for reading- I'm pretty new to this forum, so, again, hi, for the first time.
This was written a year ago for an essay competition about an important life event (I admittedly fabricated some parts to increase emotional impact).
The dress my mother had forced me to wear was itchy and tight. Humidity crept its sluggish way around my upper arms to my neck; knives of sunlight refracted from the kaleidoscopic stained glass windows of the chapel and beat down upon the uncomfortable bun on my head. Sweat beaded on the foreheads of every person perched on the wooden pews facing the stone- faced pastor, who seemed to be the only one in the room unwithered by the heat. I often opened my mouth to complain about the warmth in the room to my mother. She hushed me again and again, periodically wiping moisture from her red- rimmed eyes with a tissue from her purse. At the time, I did not know why. An unobservant child of six years, I was only aware of the fact that I was attending a funeral, and that the funeral was held in the death of my grandfather.
My father’s father was a person of very little interest to me when I was younger. Grandmother was the one who took care of me when my parents were busy; my grandfather would read a book in another room, only coming out when I was leaving to pass money into my greedy hands. “For you, little child,” he would mutter, his wizened frame bowing just enough for me to see the glossiness of his eyes. I would forget about him as soon as I climbed into the car with my parents.
When my grandfather was re- diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, our family gathered at the hospital to comfort him as best we could. Even I could see that my grandfather was ill; his eyes, now vacant, flitted around the room, seemingly ignorant of its occupants. My aunts cried. My mother cried with them. My father was silent. I was confused and bored. Why were they so sad? Wasn’t grandpa going up to heaven like he was supposed to? Regardless of my bafflement, I tried to convince myself to be as mournful as them. Squeezing my eyes together as hard as I could manage, I triumphantly produced a single teardrop that rolled slowly down my cheek and hung off my chin, more a product of effort than emotion. I looked at my mother to see if she had noticed my success; she was holding my grandfather’s hand by his bed, sobbing loudly.
I did not bother to try to cry at the funeral. As I sat between my parents on an uncomfortable pew in an un-air-conditioned, stuffy chapel, swinging my legs to unstick them from each other every few seconds, I offhandedly considered my mother’s words as we left the hospital on the day of my grandfather’s death: “I know that you weren’t close with your grandpa, but I’m not crying just because I’ll miss him, you know. When I saw your grandpa on his hospital bed, I realized that we could have made many memories if we had spent more time together.”
I continued to ruminate over what my mother had meant throughout the rest of the funeral and our drive home. Was it possible that my grandfather was a person who did things other than give me money? The thought was shocking. Over time, I began to realize that I could have had a deeper and more profound relationship with my grandfather if I had tried. If only I had tried to hug him or ask him to talk about his childhood or tried to smile; I could have known him like my father and mother had.
This one is a continuation of 'The Interlopers' by Saki.
Fpeouw and Ksekruh were the masters of two households in the mountains north of the city of Gwoeirfri. Their families had feuded for generations and many a battle had been fought in the forest dividing their households.
Both were content to conflict until their families died out, but one winter, another powerful family from the East began to build an estate only a few leagues away. Worried about their futures, Fpeouw and Ksekruh agreed to strike a temporary alliance with each other against the third family and to meet in the forest to discuss their plans before telling any others.As their boot-clad feet trudged through the snow on the day of their meeting, Ksekruh began to speak of how exactly they would vanquish the threatening family from the east.
"I believe that we must invite them to our houses as honorable guests and treat them with the highest courtesy; then, when they are sated with good food and wine, our men will creep from behind and slit their throats!" Ksekruh was a rather devious sort.
"I refuse to aid you in such an ignoble act!" exclaimed Fpeouw, a man reddish of coloring and straightforwardly contentious of temperament. "I would rather meet them in combat out in the woods like our families have always done!"
"Do you wish to continue this cycle of conflict where there is no clear winner?" demanded Ksekruh. "My method is much more likely to vanquish the enemy!"
Fpeouw opened his mouth to respond when a snow-laden branch peeled away from its trunk and caught him and Ksekruh across their shoulders, pinning them to the frosty ground. He felt pain erupt in his collarbone. Ksekruh shrieked, for he was carrying most of the branch's weight.
After the pain had faded a bit, Fpeouw attempted to speak.
"Do not worry, comrade. Our men will surely find us when they realize our absence. It will only be a little while."
The two lay in the snow for a few blessed, hopeful minutes. A chill was beginning to settle into their bones, numbing their bodies and willing them to sleep. Ksekruh was comforted by the fact that he would soon suffer no longer. Then, an eerie howling sound was heard only a little ways away from the two men. Perhaps, Ksekruh thought wildly, they were the bays of his men's dogs. Or perhaps- he froze in terror, for there was nothing worse than wolves in winter when one was trapped in the snow. Fpeouw, having reached the same conclusion as he, began to cackle madly, panicked tears streaming from his eyes, the pupils of which were dilated into small pinpricks surrounded by webs of red. They were finished, thought Ksekruh. It struck him on how ironic it was that two former foes would die together with none the wiser of their reconciliation. He felt the need to laugh along; he shivered wildly with cold and hysteria as he reluctantly embraced his fate with arms blue as frost.
The wolves were upon them in minutes, which the two men had counted vainly. All the while they laughed and were laughing still when the first wolf of five clambered over a stray branch and sunk its glistening teeth into Ksekruh's exposed throat. A spout of blood burst forth, as crimson as the silkiest and most lovely rose.
Later, the two friends' men stared in horror at the tattered remains of their masters strewn over the bloodstained snow. A multitude of paw prints led from the corpses deeper into the forest. One man kneeled down and gingerly picked up a shred of clothing draped over a sharp branch in the snow. "Wolves," he muttered.
"Wolves, which your master must have attempted to train," snarled one of his rivals. "Of course, he must have been too daft to order them about properly and died a coward and an imbecile. As he should." The two groups of men scowled at each other. Both thought the other hated them dearly but knew themselves to be merely following their master's orders; they were all deeply loyal to their lieges and would never attempt an attack which could be possibly detrimental in any way towards them. So when one of Fpeouw's men made a violent move towards one of Ksekruh's, none hesitated to rush forward and strike his rival; they felt as if they were paying tribute to their deceased leaders, following a tacit final order they had thought they received. And so they fought, and their children and grandchildren fought, and no one ever knew what had actually happened in the forest. Except for the wolves, of course, but what do they care?
That's all for now. I have more if anyone needs. Please tell me any impressions you picked up- even one reinin dichotomy would be great- if a subsequent explanation is included. Thanks again for reading!
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Originally Posted by sullutac
