Yul starred at the door with its small window, puckered her lips, sighed, and, throwing her head into the pillow, looked at the ceiling. White, she thought. Why is everything white? White, white, and frailing white. Frail me if I ever decorate a frailing room in frailing white.
Tapping her fingers on the crisp white sheets she reached, without looking, for her comm on the nightstand. She could find it with her eyes closed now, which is what happens when you pick the damn thing up a hundred times in as many minutes. And a hundred times the message was the same—nothing. She pulled her arm back as if to hurl the small object against the wall before remembering the incident with the phone and muttered under her breath with a sideways glance, Where the frailing frail is everyone?
Closing her eyes the words echoed through the halls of her memory. Where the frail is everyone, where the frail is everyone, where the . . .
The sun had set quickly and the addresses were hard to read. Yul pulled the note out of her coat pocket, reread the address, looked at the door and took a deep breathe. This was it. Just knock, that’s all, just knock. She opened the screen door and was about to knock when a small white object caught her eye—a note. Unfolding the paper she read these words: So sorry. Something has come up. Another time perhaps. Then she read it again and then again and again, reading without moving, reading without thinking, reading without feeling her feet on the ground.
Yul just stood on the old gray wooden porch, her head bent over, the note hanging loosely in her right hand like a leaf in autumn feeling the pull of gravity. She starred at the writing as if starring would reveal some hidden meaning, some explanation that would soothe the sickening feeling growing in her gut. But stare all she might, the house was dark, the door locked and this note was all there was. Silence never sounded so loud and although no one else was on the street she felt as if a hundred eyes were boring a hole in her back. Her neck tensed and turning her head, assuming she wanted to, became next to impossible.
Balling the note in her delicate hand she felt a wave of heated emotion rise from her tight chest to her glassy eyes, and as if her soul itself needed release into the cool night air, one tear followed another in an endless steam of repressed self-hatred. Why me?
Three hours later . . .
“Dad, can you hear me?”
“Yes Yul, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t find my keys.”
“Tell me where you are, I’ll be right there.”
One hour later . . .
“Dear, what happened?” asked Ms Yul.
“Get the little lying bitch cleaned up and in bed. I’ll deal with this frailing shiott in the morning.”
Yul lay on the ground in the fetal position. Her face was a mess. Her vision blurred and her clothes matted with a most foul smelling stain. Looking up she saw Aly, her eyes wide, in her pristine white nightgown. Nothing needed to be said. There was Aly and there was Yul. One standing and one on the ground. Seems this is the way it would always be.
“Turn out the light!” yelled Yul, trying to cover her eyes.
“Sorry Yul, but I thought you’d like to know you have a visitor,” said the nurse, dressed, of course, in all white.
Commentary Part 1
Commentary Part 2 with cameo from Maria
24 comments:
When I first saw that fractal above, it reminded me of ultrasound photographs. As though there was a young feutus lying with it's back to us, and all that was really visible in the cloudiness that surrounded was it's spine. White rooms signify both birth and death, though this has little/no direct significance here, other than the mention (which given my earlier thought on the image, reinforced that idea) of being in the feutal position and the fact that Yul is very ill in hospital.
Feelings of abandonment yet again rise to the surface this time with Yul, parallels too to the past as before with Kyra. Whatever it is that happened here, that we do not hear of, the strong memory of it suggests it is a key moment in Yul's past, part of the pain that shaped her into the Yul that revealed itself best when she told Rog about her sister. We see her father above her as she lays on the floor, but the rest gives us as great an impression of the injustice and the hurt she suffers. My mind is running riot thinking what could have happened to her, somehow I think it is at the more tragic scale of things. The question is the most poignant part of it. 'Why me?' The worst part of it, sooner or later the question would have quietened, maybe even held silent.
As always, through those moments of reading and beyond, I live inside your characters. Wonderful chapter. :-)
Gym vouchers for the weight gain delivered right to your door-step ;D
Okay, we have two videos of commentary as I learned the hard way that YouTube has a ten minute limit and my video was eleven. Enjoy the first outdoor shoot. :-D
Saffy, I knew I could count on you. Want to workout with me?
Sunshine, your comments always warm my heart and maybe even my buns too. I do miss a good Danish, like in the old days. :-)
Yul is quick to feel sorry for herself. Then again, she has had her share of hardship, especially at the hands of her father. In many ways she is the anti-Kyra. Still, you have to love Yul and the passion she brings to everything she does. I think Rog would attest to that--good and bad.
I need to know more about what happened to Yul that fateful night. I need to know where she was going and what she missed and then what she did that caused her father to say what he said. Then again, Yul may never share. She has been hurt many times, most recently with the whole suicide note thing and Rog's reaction to learning that Yul was not Yul. Still, I think she has it within her to open and I think we will see that as soon as Rog returns. Stay tuned. :-)
As always my Sweetest most spectacular one, your comments are treasured. Sweet dreams. Coffee ready in a few. :-)
Yey, what a treat! Very, very nicely done, lots of smiles, we like that. :-D
The background on the personal experiences that insprired this chapter amplifies the emotions that Yul gave out a sense of that she was feeling. Do so enjoy, as I have said more than once, hearing about the process, the places in which you gain inspiration, gives us a better sense of what you intended to portray, or rather a different angle from which to view it.
Excellent stuff!
Thanks Sunshine. This chapter, as you can probably tell, was rushed in the writing and not one of my better efforts. I was anxious to get something up that I could do video commentary on, so I slapped the chapter up and then spent the next few hours working out the technical difficulties of posting said video. :-D
I think I'm getting the hang of the Mac and YouTube for that matter, although it would probably save me a lot of time if I would just read the manual on some of this software. Instead, I just jump in. :-)
Thanks for putting up with the videos. Once the novelty has worn off, I hope to do a better job and post some stuff worth the time to watch. ;-)
Even chapters rushed, make excellent reading, whilst fostering yet more of a sense of mystery. For every resolution, there is at the very least one new question of what happens next that gets posed, and more often than not, a couple.
These were most definely worth watching, very much so, and I rather like the relaxed tone of them, that said, I've been following along here for long enough to know that you are always able to improve, even when I cannot imagine how. LOL, sounding like the big fan that I am. :-D
Beautiful fractals which, of course, enhance your writings. Lately, I haven't been blogging as much as I'd like to, but I ALWAYS enjoy coming here for another chapter of your story.
the moment of relation is poignant in the sense that two born out of one womb can have such a different life and fate! One lying on the ground & one standing...that is so significant. The foetal position is significant too.It is an expression of extreme pain, where one likes to get back in the security of being unborn yet & still not willing to die. Just a little retraction into the comfort of the womb...
Deb, you are always welcome here. I've missed seeing you post your uniquely beautiful fractals but I also understand how life gets in the way of blogging. I've got a national meeting coming up next week that will occupy most of my time and almost all of my energy and I have no idea how much if any blogging I will find time and energy to do.
On a positive note, the meeting is in California, which is not a bad place to spend a few summer days. Maybe I'll even get to see the beach this time. :-)
Mona, I am always amazed at how different two brothers or two sisters can be. My own experience is night and day and you wonder how the same parents could produce such markedly different children. Yul and Aly are identical twins, both have the seed of death within them, which is the only reason "Yul" made it on Bravo instead of "Aly" who was suppose to be. Even in the end, their father chose the other, not Yul.
One thing I would like to explore in the story is the relationship between the two sisters, and how, as different as they were, they still formed a good strong relationship and that both could see the injustice their father perpetrated on Yul.
Mona, your comment strikes to the heart of this chapter heading "Not White." If Aly is "white" Yul is "Not White." So, all the white in the hospital room taps into her subconscious, stirring memories from a long time ago, and especially the memory and the image of her sister, standing above her, in pristine white as she laid in squalor, wanting as you say, to be back in the womb, to be anywhere but in the position of abject humiliation that she is in that moment, in front of her sister.
This is so fascinating...I particularly loved your video explanations of what moments in your own life inspired certain passages.
I've about 20something chapters written in my first book. I find the experience so cathartic just for that reason. I often reminds me of why so many of the greatest artists of our times...be they writers, poets, painters, actors or whatever...had this deep well of emotion to draw from...That and that there is just a single breathe between genius and insanity! :)
Hope you have a lovely time in California. It's been really hot here, and school is out - so if you head to the beach, go EARLY! Wishing you a grand time, and safe passage on our freeways! LOL
Grace, emotion, deep within, is something I have in spades, and it never seems to abate. I do not know the source, although I have my suspicions. ;-)
I've always felt that I would rather feel pain than to feel nothing. I cry very easily, especially at movies and often, if I don't want to make a fool of myself, I have to work to hold the tears back in. I see so much unnecessary pain inflicted by one onto another. I suppose I love my dogs so much because they never hurt me. In fact, they do just the opposite, which is, as all dogs, they give unconditional love and they give it 24/7. I often wonder why, we, and I use we in the royal sense, but why we as humans struggle so much to love and to love unconditionally and why we do so many things that cause pain and suffering in another. I suppose it is a universal question but it is a question not far from thoughts, often.
Writing helps. Almost as if getting the words on paper, or a computer screen, releases them, at least temporarily as child to the yard knowing, in time, they will return home. I've learned to open my arms and embrace them, to coexist with them and to cry when needed.
I would love to see some of your writing, assuming you would like to share. I like what I have seen on your blog. I read your post and I just want to put my arms around you like Kyra does with Rog in the post above this one. Hugs and kisses Grace. :-)
I love your dog, it is so cute and her name is so beautiful. :-D :-D :-D :-D
Poppy!!!! :-D :-D :-D :-D
Hey M! Maria say hi (woof, woof). :-)
Thank you for stopping by and leaving me a nice comment. :-)
Poppy :-)
And tell Cotton Baby I said hello. :-D
Another one that went to my heart. I too have felt completely alone and it was in the hospital in Oct 2005 when I was in ICU and through the night, I was isolated from my family and friends. I was not allowed a telephone and everyone had gone home since visiting hours were over. It's ironic that I have always identified with Yul and I believe this is another reason why. Kyra is another I understand; the love of her family and her honesty and caring.
Maria is a cute dog and she's doing a good job on squirrel watch.
Again, the videos add so much to the story and hearing what inspired you from times in your life. You're right - the first cut is the deepest. *HUUGS*
Karen, I believe that anyone who has ever spent time in a hospital can relate to those moments when it is just you and the four walls. I have to tell you a funny story. About three years ago I was in for surgery on my elbow. So I'm there all day and I'm watching the whole series on this reality show with comics. I mean, I've watched seven or eight episodes, maybe more and I'm on the last one. The nurse walks in, sees what I'm watching and says, I saw that, who would have imagined so and so would win. LMAO! Then she realized what she had just done. :-D
I didn't care, since I was very happy with the drip in my arm. :-)
Oh, those drips... they're awesome. The only bad thing is you have to stay awake to keep hitting the button ;-)
Oh yay, yay, yay! A lot of posts and commentaries to catch up on! I haven't read any of them yet, I just had to say, "Yay Trée!" :-p
Oliviah, just seeing you stop by brightens my day. :-)
First, I want to tell you how beautiful the fractals are. The contrast between them, the way Yul saw herself in comparison to her sister...the fractals speak volumes.
This chapter flowed so realistically it was painful. I could feel Yul's pain in a keen way. It reminded me of a song Trent Reznor did where he sounds so tormented, singing again and again, "Where is everybody?" I can't remember the name of the song or the rest of the lyrics but somehow I can imagine Yul would like his music for the angst and the defiance and self-pity.
Oh Trée, I think this was one of the finest sections you have written yet. If I only knew how to say that in a way that expressed all the thoughts this piece evoked. It was very powerful.
I am reading the comments now and I just read this: "This chapter, as you can probably tell, was rushed in the writing and not one of my better efforts." Wow. That was a surprise. If this was rushed & not one of your better efforts, that says a lot to me about your ability to write because this chapter was written so well, it amazed me. Your writing often amazes me.
I loved the commentaries, seeing Maria just made that even better. I am smiling now remembering that. Also smiling because there are MORE posts here I have not read and I must say, Yay again because I love them. :-) smooches
My Dear Beautiful Soul, your comments are most kind and generous. Thank you.
Some chapters I write as if I had a brush in my hand. I know I want to paint with words and I know what I want the canvas to look like. The chapter with John and Kyra having dinner was one of those. Then, there are chapters where I know what I want to say and I just say it without the brush so to speak. This was a chapter like that--no brush, just getting thoughts down on computer. When I see a chapter like this, I see all the holes, all the places I could have said more, could have said it better. I think knowing I was going to do the video and that the video would fill in gaps not in the writing perhaps contributed this this feeling I have for this chapter.
Now, that you liked it so much makes me smile and want to reread it again, to try and read it with fresh eyes. Then again, I'd just as soon as throw you on the bed and show you a different form of appreciation, one without words, or at least different words. :-D
Go grab some pillows and I'll show you how much I appreciate your warm soul and your beautiful comments. Like gifts they are to me. :-)
Post a Comment