"Ms Em," said Pinky, "are you okay?"
Slinging another page to the floor Em pulled a rapid intake of breath through nostrils flaring white, her chest expanding as if to burst. As quickly, she exhaled, dropped her shoulders and looking exasperated, flung her brush as a dagger toward an enemy neither seen nor present. The tinny sound of hollow wood clacking unyielding metal echoed between breath heavy and hum urgent. Pinky hovered closer. "Get away from me! Get away. Please, just leave."
"Ms Em--"
"Can't you see," cried Em, ripping the bandages from her eyes. "Can't you see," pointing to her swollen eyes.
"Ms Em, please--"
"Please what?"
Pinky froze.
"Please what? What?! Look at me. These eyes. What good are these eyes. What good?"
"Ms Em, I don't understand."
"He's gone. I don't expect you to understand. How could you? You're a mechanical."
35 comments:
dear tree
your blog is amazing! wow you are really gifted. i havent the time to read any of the entries but i sure wanted to share my sense of appreciation with you. lovely artwork. bless you. hope to return some day with greater time to do justice to so much of your stuff. meanwhile intend to bookmark it. keep up the creative process pal.
ps
Oh, I love the name 'Pinky.'
I think it comes from watching too much Happy Days as a kid.
I had like WAY too many stuffed animals named 'Pinky.'
I'd call out the name 'Pinky,' and half of my collection would perk their heads up.
The other half were named 'Leather.'
I had much love for the Tuscadero sisters. Still do.
That was freakin' amazing! your writing rocks and i truly enjoyed reading this particular piece. i hope (and think you will) go far with your writing so that many more people have the pleasure of reading your material. good work dude:P
LOL @ Strumpet :)
Love the title!
Once again an awesome first paragraph - my favourite line:
"Again, paper ripped from moor and sent fluttering to floor as spooked quarry before the angst of hunter foul, ink drying as hope shed, forgotten, abandoned."
More please :)
nice blog!
i enjoyed your writing.. and the name pinky
http://afishcalledveda.blogspot.com/
hi friend, that was cool blog man. i loved the way u have written and I like to wish u congrats...
I do love the pictures in your blog.
They must have been created by a great artist!
Wow!
I just found your blog, so I can't comment on the story up until now but I want you to know I'm going to start at the beginning and catch up.
Amazing.
Poet, your kind words have been noted and appreciated. Thank you.
Strump, you sure there isn't another reason you like "Pinky?"
Does twirl your pearl mean anything to you? :-D
Oh, and either will do, although I think I'd like to start with the yellow ones. ;-)
Artistically, thanks for stopping by. Kind words are always welcomed and appreciated. :-)
Miladysa, you make me smile, in more ways than I should say here. :-)
As always, I am thrilled to have you reading. :-)
Veda, Its My Life, Jaap and Ming, thanks for stopping by and thanks for taking the time to leave a kind word. Hope to see you guys around again. :-)
Won't be long before Melua's Thank You Stars needs extending. Love, love, love it!
Love, love, love the chapter too. My eyes were watering at the beauty of your writing and the image of Em, hurting, frustrated covering the sheets and tearing them off their mooring. From the second sentence, I felt much as I do when that home made video plays across the stage screen and one hears the accompanying music, an ache deep in my chest, a lump in my throat, as mountain stream inexorably gushes down to the valley below, pain flowed from heart to ink. With her bandaged eyes and her quickened strokes, a straight line from heart to ink, one can only imagine what creations were made, never to be seen, by anyone including herself, but one can only imagine every thought was clear. Ripping the page and tossing it like the changing wind tosses an autumnal leaf to the barren soil,, I can see this is going to be one of those chapters where my comment will end up being a series of quotes from the chapter for it is too wonderfully written to not to want to hold the individual pieces up for applause. thrust and parry is exceedingly descriptive, two gorgeous words when placed in succession as they are here and the flourish with which she rips the page becomes an extention of the movements made as she painted, almost like an energetic, frenzied rather dance of her upper body, and the ink splattering across the sheets only heightens that impression. It's almost theatrical, it is completely fabulous, love every part of the writing of that first passage. In a word, WOW!
And it continues too, as her nostils flare, her chest expands, her brush turns to a dagger, this chapter is such an excellent example of the vivacious nature, the bold and bright vividness of your writing. Really liked the way you used alliteration in the final sentences of your first paragraph, almost like it were signifying the end of the dance of above.
Not sure, or rather not sure enough to guess what you meant in your hints below but presumably there is more to Trev being called to the Dyad than his medical training, perhaps we have an approach now of a deeper, or more abstract reason why Trev was overcome with those recent memories. I love (that must bring the love repetitions to about 7) how you hold us in suspense, how one is almost too afraid to guess, or at least to presume for seldom was a writer more adept at surprise or twists as you. This woman and unborn child, though we know not yet whether will survive or not, whether they will join our crew or not, brings such a sense of hope for lack of a better word, or perhaps that is the perfect word, coming after the death of Cait, coming after this mission failing one time already and the assumption that it was too late, even though 2+2=4 which means Ceru doesn't figure directly, Von's recent peace fills at least this reader with that same sense too, that whether they were reunited in life matters not so much as their being reunited. Like a mountain stream, I want to gush over this until the changing wind tosses an autumnal leaf, :-), but the playground is waiting. Before I stop though, I'd like to make it an even 10 and say a little more than after the previous chapter and I know with certainty a little less than the next chapter will cause, I love, love, love this story. Beauty in the written word, you Poppet, do this in a way that takes my breath away. Always do.
Sweetest, from time to time you lave a comment my way as to wash my soul with a warmth not known outside the bounds of love. This is one of those times. Stay warm, travel safe and hurry home. :-)
i just found you blog and all i can say is WOW! This is usually not my genre but you have a real gift and you have captured my imagination both visually and verbally. I will set aside time to start at the beginning.
Thanx for sharing your talent !
Q: Do you ever get creative blocks ? If so how do you work them out?
Coach Bliss, thanks for those very kind words. I would love to have visit again. As for creative blocks, I have them all the time, in fact, it seems as if 98% of my time is spent blocked and then there is the frantic 2% of inspiration, of which I am never quite sure from whence it comes. Having said that, I have found a couple things that help move me out of a creative block. First and foremost is music. Somehow music unlocks a creative side of my brain like a key. Uncanny how it works. Second, learning and using a new word. I am constantly working on my vocabulary and many times, a single word will inspire an entire chapter. Third, the images you see here. My whole story is built on these fractal images and, in fact, the story started with an image that led to some prose and it just kept going, one image after another. Last but not least, when all else fails, I just put the writing away and trust that when the time is right, I'll know what to write next. Forcing the story or the writing has never worked for me. HTH. Take care and hope to see you around again. :-)
Great concept...the image first then the words and does it ever work.
Lovely images and words to match.
S
Thanks Sandy. Your kind words warm my heart on this cold night. :-)
The image is entangled with complexity, as are Em's emotions during this time of turmoil.
Deb, I think Em wants what we all want--to be loved. Her intuition is telling her Trev isn't it. Time will tell but I would never bet against a woman's intuition, Hynerian or not. :-)
The metaphors are certainly used well and new. I never thought of it that way. The anguish of Em can really be seen. But what could she be drawing? Coming from all that pain.
Always,
Kate
www.walksaroundthevillage.blogspot.com
Kate, Em is an artist and I believe, when words won't do, expresses herself with the brush. What is interesting is, because she is currently blind, she will probably never see what she has drawn, nor will anyone else. Yet, the question is, and I think I know the answer, does it really matter? That is to say, as an artist, once the idea is in the head or heart, the manifestation in oil or word is an afterthought, anti-climatic, something extra so to speak. A true artist need not create or manifest, for to create is a second step, something other, something faint in regard to the origin. Or so says The Poppet. LMAO :-D
So very good to see you visiting again Kate. :-)
wow!
i don't know if you ever get tired of hearing how amazing this is... but i thought i'd tell you one more time. its just fabulous. its an interesting idea too (with the picture first).
i think i might be addicted
~PC
Passport, a kind word never, ever gets old, a lesson I try and remind myself of often. Thank you for stopping by. Thank you for the kind word. :-)
very interesting blog you have here.
strumpet and all of her stuffed animals were funny and my blog hopes to one day be as good as your blog.
JP, Strumpet is one of a kind, rubber gloves or not. :-D
Thanks for the kind words. One post at a time. That, and a lot of patience. :-D
I'm addicted to the pictures of your blog. They are so cool and dynamic in style. I never get tired of them.
Thank you Unknown. Enjoy. :-)
The way you described her anger through her painting--you can totally feel the hurt, the pain, the bitterness, and the outright unfairness she feels... another wonderful installment and a really heartfelt passage for a Sunday night.
I feel like I can really identify with your characters so, so much.
ttys :)
--snow
Snow, nothing compliments a writer more than the comment you just left of identifying with a character. What a wonderful way for me to wind down my Sunday evening. Thank you my elf of wonder and delight. :-)
Uh-oh.
Madame Storm is quoting mathematical equations.
I'm done for.
I've brought my gloves, Tree....
:-D
Yes. Yes, it means something. It means a whole lot of somethings.
Especially when you say it.
^_~
Did you find the pink ones or are we probing with primrose? :-D
rubber gloves?
are we talking the surgical rubber gloves or the thick rubber gloves that the haz mat people where?
JP, we're talking the kind you might find in the kitchen for washing dishes. No stinkin delicate latex here. Right Strump? :-D
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