Wyndstar

This is an earlier story about the Lisael char from 'Rising'. I have several that occure through out her life at different stages of it. I've got one when she was eight somewhere, too, if I can dig it up...

A DISTANT WHISPER

Lisael drifted like a passing thought through the maze of dust and construction equipment that comprised her younger sister Ghladriel’s dream; a house she was remaking in her image.

When she considered her standing with Ghladriel, a passing thought was all Lisael really was.

One of the construction workers revved his compact bulldozer at her approach, as if it was an accurate representation of his masculine prowess.

He called her a little girl and asked her if she’d handled anything that big.

“Nope.” Lisael declared, raising her voice easily above the din “I used to handle munitions in the military, and you’re the biggest bomb I’ve ever seen!”

Once upon a time, her male coworkers asked Lisael what a woman like her looked for in a man.

She told them a man treating her like a personal image they wanted fulfilled instead of what she truly was, wasn’t one of those things.

Was respect such a long way to go?

Dismissing the worker, Lisael gazed back at the work being done.

The workers were focused on the back half of the carriage house, and the first floor back half of the main house that flowed down the slope that the 100-year-old house had been built into. The side kitchen on the first floor and the second floor was where Ghladriel and her family were staying during construction.

The third floor, where the home’s last owner resided during years of taking care of family living below her, an apartment in itself, had yet to be touched.

Ghladriel wanted Lisael to divorce her husband and live there above, like a bat, or a light in a tower.

Wasn’t that what the oldest was supposed to do for the younger? She was supposed to be a guiding light on the shore, as opposed to the distant star Lisael became?

The woman’s way of thinking had been her fault, Lisael concluded long ago.

Their mother hadn’t been very involved in their lives, and as the eldest, Lisael took up as much of the slack as she could until the other kids were old enough to make their own decisions. She was the one who got everyone up, got their breakfasts, saw them to school, reported to the guidance councilor when the kids had trouble, and was the support and the example. She had been a million things, despite being an age when those were the things she herself needed.

Eventually, however, Lisael had to go and live a life of her own. Unfortunately, she didn’t understand the bond she created, and the resentment born in response to an action seen as abandonment.

In Ghladriel at least, it caused an inability to acknowledge Lisael unless she was in her younger sister’s direct, physical orbit.

At 31 years of age, one year younger than Lisael, Ghladriel was frozen in a mindset that was a disservice to a woman who was old enough to understand and have a broader life.

That thought trailed Lisael as she traveled through the house, sensing each layer of its age being lifted, and she felt as if she was moving within a dream. The whole of it was too ephemeral to touch.

Lisael’s presence wasn’t substance, but smoke. She was a ghost, but she wasn’t sure of why.

At the top of the stairs, the heavy metal key chain Ghladriel had given her stirred. They sounded like solid manacles.

She unhooked them, unlocked the door.

This was the previous owner’s apartment, where she’d lived in Bostonian propriety; rigid class and utilitarianism.

It wasn’t without its charm and comfort.

The surroundings brought to mind an old, spinster schoolteacher abandoned to a life of knitting needles and quiet observance.

Lisael wafted further and crossed the threshold between what was public and a secret whispered through a cold, steel keyhole.

The door opened, Lisael took a step and closed her eyes.

There was supposed to be someone else drawn here. Flesh and sweat, with strong, tender hands grasping, enticing—Lisael could almost feel it, felt the urge to will it.

This bedroom of faded gossamer, silk, and softly perfumed satins was not the bastion of a life gone completely sterile, but one of desperate longing that went unfulfilled.

Desperation had waited here on the outer reaches of life, waiting for life, in vain.

Lisael opened her eyes, disappointed. She understood that no matter how hard she willed it, there would be no spectral memory of a lover skipping across time. Possibility as seen through her imagination was dashed by historic reality.

The woman who had lived here died bitter and empty. She had told Ghladriel just as much when she scoffed about waiting for love and dreams.

“So, what do you think? You’re the sister, right?”

“Among other things.” Lisael offered her hand to the very lovely blond who appeared in her 20s, but carried the look of a lifeless corpse. “And you are?”

“Ahm---Joy.” The woman answered, looking at Lisael as if her gesture was an unnatural act “Your sister wanted to make sure you wanted all the original furniture. You are staying here, aren’t you?”

Lisael looked around. There were still pictures on the dresser, on the walls. They were of old, dead relatives.

There was nothing of the world beyond the house.

There was nothing of the woman who had lived there.

“Here.” Lisael handed the woman the keys “My sister can renovate this place with the rest of the house. She can make it hers…”

…But not me…

She walked out of her sister’s dream house.

Lisael would not return again until the whole thing was completed.

It would not be her spirit trapped in this house.

“Ahm—excuse me, but, is it too late to apologize?”

Lisael turned into the afternoon sun to see the construction worker from earlier outlined within it.

From his present proximity, a certain intelligence shone from clear, green eyes gone contrite.

“Listen, I misjudged you for your sister.” He went on to say when she did not indicate he do otherwise “Let me make it up to you and buy you a beer.”

“Even though I’m married?”

The man grinned in an infectious sort of way.

“Nothing in the rules that say a lady can’t hang with the guys. Besides,” He mentioned with a slightly reverent air “Something tells me there’s a lot to learn from a person that can pack heavy artillery. And unless you check out, you lose out, know what I mean?”

“Yeah, well, let’s not make it too educational.” Lisael requested, catching his side as he strode towards Ghladriel’s husband Sonny and the other contractors “After all, what’s life without fun?”

The daylight was fading on Ghladriel’s dream, and Lisael could swear she heard keys drop to the floor.

There was no one to pass them to, and Lisael had better things to do than contemplate ghosts.

Or become one…

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Old enough to know better, young enough to think I can still get away with it.

aishac81

i love this one too...she's just a really interesting character with the sort of personality i totally relate to. One question though, I'm Pakistani, so i don't know where you are getting these names from? When I was younger and would write, because of a lack of exposure to eastern literature, and a completely western education I would name my characters western names which always felt unnatural but naming them pakistani names felt even stranger. It's funny that this has changed completely with age, and now I would never compromise on my cultural heritage in my writing...so just curious, sorry to go on, about the origins of your characters names?

gohn67

Hey Wyndstar,
This one has a slightly different feel than the other one. Less poetic, more straightforward. Well Written.

One thing I notice is that you have use a lot of one line paragraphs(nothing wrong with that, just an observation) or do you just do that to make it easier to read?

I really liked this line.

The only thing I'm not quite sure about is the whole deal with the house. So some old lady died, and they are selling the house to Liseal? Or is it for Ghladriel? If for Ghaldriel, how come Liseal came? Or is she staying in a room, that her sister let her live in?

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Wyndstar

Thank you Aisha, I'm really flattered that you like her. I will admit that many of her circumstances I tried to make as relatable as possible. I never planned on her as a main charictor though, because I always saw the stories (experiments in charictorization for other stories) as somewhat trivial. That she is a really likable char is an accident, though her personality was deliberate.

As to the names, I made them up. Lisael's grandmother was a dreamer and got to name Lisael and her mother (grandmother is Larimar, mother is Lamar) while the no nonesense, rather neglectful mother named the second Gabrielle. Again, grandmother held sway and gradually changed it to Ghladriel---this is convered in the story when Lisael is eight.

gohn, as we go back in time with Lisael, the story line is less poetic, because she's developing that lyrical, poetic personality. It hasn't completely been polished. Ghladriel for example, sees her sister as a crutch. She buys a house (her dream) and wants her sister to move up in the old apartment of the owner who sold it to her to do exactly what Lisael did when they were kids; to take care of her. This is one of the rough stones that helps polish her. Liseal however, didn't particularly like what happened to the owner who had done the exact same thing btw.

And yeah, its easier to process the story in the short paragraphs. Lisael has one of those minds that can flit from subject to subject in a blink. There's one story where I just wrote her thought process as it actually is and it confused the HECK out of my gf. This way just makes it easier for me and the reader.

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Old enough to know better, young enough to think I can still get away with it.