Keridwen

This is meant to be set in World War Two - not sure how well I portrayed that though.

Elizabeth's fascination with the closet was nothing to be trifled with. If anyone questioned her about it, her face closed up and she changed the subject. Her family were beginning to get worry that it would become an obsession. Elizabeth however, knew of no such word, therefore knew of no such concept. All she knew was that her last link to the life she had escaped was the closet. She had no idea how it had gotten from her home to the strange place she was thrown into like a rag doll after her parent’s death, and she didn’t particularly care. She was a child, after all.

She would sit for hours in her Uncle's manor with the closet, and saw her home in ruins. Tables upturned, upholstery ripped to shreds, blood all over the carpet. Her home in London had been peaceful, away from the hustle and bustle of the main parts of the city. At night, she dreamed of the night her parents were murdered. The men had come in, dressed in black; faces masked, and tore her parents apart before her eyes, then left just as quickly. Everyone thought that she had been with her brother at their friend’s house, that she hadn’t witnessed their deaths, but she was there. She hid in the Closet and watched in horror as her parents were disembowelled, their lives cruelly stopped in their tracks, leaving their two small children to fend for themselves. Elizabeth hadn’t seen her brother Alan since the day of the murder, when they had been out together at his friend’s house. She left early, after a quarrel with her brother. She had been told her brother, who was 5 years older than her, had been sent to boarding school where he would stay until he was 18. This was another blow for Elizabeth; she loved her brother fiercely and wished more than anything else that he was with her. She was 8 years old and all alone in the world, and this was a rather daunting prospect, even if she didn’t fully understand the ramifications of it.

Her Uncle was a wealthy man who owned a fair amount of land in the country, far away from London, her home. Uncle Andrew had land, and horses, but Elizabeth wasn’t glad of this at all. She wanted to be at home, with her friends, with her brother, and she couldn’t understand why this could not be so. She withdrew far into herself, and she became a mere shadow of who she once was. Her Uncle didn’t take much notice of her, she was just another mouth to feed, along with the other numerous servants and relatives who lived at the manor. People tried to engage her in conversation, and she politely and distantly begged her leave each time, and they gave up eventually. Her cousins and the servant children tried to either engage her in a tea party with their dolls or invite her out on an expedition into her Uncle's land but each time she quietly declined. The children and adults alike in the manor thought her dull and strange, when in truth she was neither of these things. She simply preferred her own company.

One morning, however, everything changed. She made her way into the spare room that housed the closet, as she did every morning. The closet was gone. A flurry of images flew through her head and her blood ran cold. She had heard the mutterings of her Uncles staff, they hadn’t bothered to keep their voices down when gossiping about their master’s niece because they thought she was dim-witted and wouldn’t understand what they were talking about. Elizabeth was far from unintelligent, and took in everything she heard said about her for future reference.
She was absolutely shattered at the loss of her one and only link to her family. She ran around in a circle, wanting to fall on the floor and cry, wanting to be hugged by her mother, leave it to her, and lividly angry all at once. But Elizabeth knew her mother was not going to help her. She was at a loss as to what to do. She fell on the floor and looked around her, as if she knew not where she was. She was bewildered. She sat like that for hours. She finally stood up, as if accepting that her mother was not going to come and make it all go away. This was her first testing. She would pass, she thought, and pass with flying colours. She would grow up.

She made her way to her Uncles study. She heard raised voices and stoped to listen. It was her Aunt arguing with her husband.
“There is obviously something more to it that what you are branding it as. I saw her before the war and she was fine, a perfectly normal child. Something has happened since then, and you take away the only thing she holds dear? She won’t talk to anyone! Something happened, I tell you, and if you are more concerned with what your servants are saying!” Marietta broke off here, realising she was hysterical. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
“If you are more concerned with what the servants are saying than your own flesh and blood then you are not fit to be her carer.”
“Marietta please! I know that if she continues with this accursed obsession she will be the worse for it! She need to get fresh air, she needs to associate with the other children.”
Marietta sighed, knowing she could not persuade her husband otherwise.
“Andrew, if you could just allow her to have it, sometimes perhaps…”
“Marietta, you are trying my patience! Its no use, I sent it to the dump this morning.”
It was at this point that Elizabeth opened the door. She was white, and shaking with fury. Being a contained girl, she kept her raging emotions in check and addressed her Uncle quite calmly, and quite contrary to how she felt.
“You took it away.”
Andrew looked at his wife, and she returned his glance with one of coldness and disdain.
“You took it away Uncle,” she said quietly, calmly. He shifted uncomfortably and stood up.
“My dear, you were becoming obsessed with it…it needed to be done, it was necessary!” he faltered to a stop, aware that he sounded arrogant and defensive.
“You have no idea," she said, stonily, a fiery calm settling over her like a blanket.
“Elizabeth, I…” her Uncle said, nervously wringing his hands.
Suddenly the dam she had worked so hard to build broke and all her anger and frustration came out.
“You have no idea!” She shouted, and then ran from the room, the manor. She wanted out of the miserable place with her miserable family and the miserable servants. She ran, pumping her strong sturdy legs across her Uncles well-kept lawn. Suddenly, she felt all the despair, sorrow and guilt that her mind had blocked. She vaguely heard someone say “Miss Elizabeth?” before passing out cold on the lawn.

Chris Miller

Hey Keridwen:

Great idea for a piece. A few grammatical errors, but your prose flows well. Nice development of the girl. The ending needs to be a little starker and more poetic (maybe more subtle) than her just passing out on the lawn.

You employ some good description. But you also have a tendency to tell (often via weak adverbs) than show. I wonder if this would have more impact written from the perspective of the girl herself? As it is, it is often very passive, having the feel of a done deal.

Hope you don’t mind a few edits:

When I read this I wondered if English was a 2nd language for you. Clearly not though.

Uncles=Uncle’s (a few places)

than

saying… [you need to end with elipses here]

It’s

__________________
the fairwriting blogs

Barcelona Review story: http://www.barcelonareview.com/64/e_cm.html

Hakeem

Loved the story Keridwen, it's really wonderfully sewn. Still, honestly, I didn't expect the ending to be like this. It was when Elizabeth started running across the lawn I expected something "WOW" to happen at the end. Anyway I really liked the story...

Chris, why did you wonder if English is a second language for him? The sentence looks correct for me, well unless it's something else.

__________________
"The great art of life is the sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain." -Lord Byron

Keridwen

I agree, the ending's a little weak - any suggestions?

Thanks, Chris Miller, that sentence was supposed to be "Her family were beginning to worry that it was becoming an obsession." Sorry to shame the English language! LOL

But if I wrote it from the perspective of the girl I wouldn't be able to show that she was becoming obsessed with it - as Elizabeth wouldn't recognise it herself, and even through the mutterings of the staff, I wouldn't have been able to effectively show that the family was worrying.

Thanks heaps Hakeem!!

Hakeem

Oops my bad! Then I withdraw my comment to Chris...

P.S: Guys, I'm feeling so stupid right now, I now I'm disappinting you and the english language as well, but would one of you PLEASE explain the fault in the sentence?

__________________
"The great art of life is the sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain." -Lord Byron

judysaidso

There are a lot of awkward sentances in there. I can tell from th writing tha you might just be starting out, and its not a bad start. There are some words in there that are a bit unecessary. The story needs more resolution, because her passing out doesnt have any meaning. It makes the entire story almost pointless. Remember, its a short story and not the first chapter to a novel. You mentioned that this took place during WW2, make a little more references to that. Because when people read this, they wont always have the heads up. Who during WW2 really had money or time for servants? What manors were left untouched? What is the point of the story? And ask yourself if you portrayed it well, because it isnt shown well. It needs to be stronger.

__________________
I am not a poet.

Keridwen

Thanks judysaidso.

Yeah we've established the ending's crap... I was never any good at ending things, I always have them throw themselves off cliffs or something...

I guess I am kinda 'just starting out', I've been writing for a while but I'm only 15 so there's time...

What exactly do you mean by awkward sentences and what can I do to recitfy that?

Ok, more references to WW2. Hehe I'm not exactly an expert on the subject but I thought because he was heaps rich that he would have servants...perhaps I should set if further back in time??


Hakeem: "Her family were beginning to get worry that it was becoming an obsession."
If it was "her family were beginning to get worried that it was becoming an obsession" it would be ok, but you can't physically "get worry", especially in the context of the sentence. Damn I can't explain it very well. [/i]

anetjie

Okay...
Nice job with ze spacing! see it works a miracle! PEOPLE WHO READ THIS STORY, READ THE AUTHORS OTHERS! THEY ARE AMAZING! ESPECIALLY ATHENA (sp??) 'S WISH!

okay back to this one.
The first sentence was great in my opinion. I immediately wanted to continue reading whereas i normally dont bother if the opening sentence doesnt grab me. This one did.

>>"she was thrown into like a rag doll after her parent’s death"
I like this. I can really see it. Its a good sentence.

>>GREAT story idea and in my opinion, you did it well. The ending...well you can make it better but i like it the way it is anyway. Continue writing!!! I love you and your writing!

--Anetjie

__________________
What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems? I told you time and time again, you sing the words but don't know what it means

judysaidso

She had no idea how it had gotten from her home to the strange place she was thrown into like a rag doll after her parent’s death, and she didn’t particularly care. She was a child, after all.


That is a bit of an awkward sentence. I wish I had a tangiable version of this story to write on it, then it'd be easier. But not a bad start for 15. I started writing when i was 16, but it was mainly vulgarities, but people liked it. Keep at it, as soon as you can, go join a creative writing class.

__________________
I am not a poet.

gohn67

I aslo think this is an excellent idea for a story you have here.

I liked the dialogue aslo, you did a good job writing it. It didn't sound forced.

I'm not sure of the connection of this story to WW2.

And I agree with Chris that you do a lot of telling in this piece.

__________________
The Frowning Dog Blog

Supreme Radness

I liked this piece a lot, despite the obvious first chapter quality present considering that there is no climax. I also think that there were some awkward sentences, which a few people have pointed out.

Here are a few I noticed:

For some reason this just struck me as hard to comprehend. It almost seems as if you are moving from revolving around Elizabeth to Marietta, particularly because it is one of the only sentences describing another person's thoughts without the screen of Elizabeth's perception. Perhaps change it from her realizing it to just saying that she sounded hysterical without a source of the thought, and doing something different with the sentence afterwards.

Maybe change carer to... caretaker.

Overall, great job. I would like to see a followup.

__________________
I'd feel far too individual without a unique signature.

Keridwen

Hey thanks everyone! It still gives me a kick to have people read what I wrote (however bad it is... ), before I came here no one would give it the time of day!! Hehe...

Thanks for the advertising anetjie! Yes the Athena one if my fave too...and the spacing does look better.

I finally understand what you mean about it having a 'first chapter quality' and read it over again and you're right. I can see more stuff happening.

Connection to WWII, I'm not entirely sure either, but I just thought it was a feasible explanation for her going to the 'country', and for her parents' murder, (and her brother, who isn't at boarding school...which was what I was angling at but I didn't do that too well.) but it doesn't necesarily have to be set then.

I think I'm beginning to understand, judysaidso, is it awkward because its too long? If I scrapped that 'ragdoll' part would it be better? Thanks for the advice - I might look into one of those creative writing courses.

You're right, supreme radness, about that marietta sentence, its a little out of place. And caretaker? Makes her sound like an animal, doesn't it? But oh well. Thanks, I think I might actually have something I wrote as a followup.

Hakeem

Hey, I liked the story, and a follow up would be also great. Make it a bit longer...

__________________
"The great art of life is the sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain." -Lord Byron