Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!

Full of Memories Trilogy: Part 3: Chapters 7-9

Part 3:

Chapter 7: The History of the Autumn people
“The girl turns around looking surprised
Her expression could not be disguised.
“The old woman who died in the abbey was my mother,”
my son said, as his wife was to be in anger.
And then he lightly kissed her lips
As he was on his way to get a cup to have a sip
Of wine
“What would be supper for us to dine?”
asks my son as he sat down
and drinking the wine, as he later became a clown. I
wanted to smack and yell
Before someone rung the bell.
Later that year, the Ashlars girl have gave birth
To a little girl who was not her father’s worth.
After his daughter’s birth, he killed himself.
By hanging in a room behind the bookshelf.”

This is what my grandma told me.
Of course, I keep telling my mother that I see a woman
who is in the pictures with her.
Which she doesn’t believe me.
The history of the Autumn people
started back a few years before the Europeans were appearing.
The Autumn people had good relations with the Indians.
And then war broke out between the Europeans and the Indians.
Of course, the Autumn people were on the Indians’ side of the battle. But the Indians and the Autumn lost that battle.

Now the lineage is lost, just barely.
I’m the last of the Autumn, acting like a Bedouin.
From what I know about my father, he was a banker.
For my mother’s stand point of view, my father looked ashy
But there’s no pictures of him and kids at my school see me as a Bengal.
According to legend, the Autumn people had powers from Ireland who were banning
Them and some were barons
And most were chieftains.
This for them was the axel
Of a turning point of a bramble.

None of this makes any sense to me yet
But right now I’m walking in snow that’s making me wet.
I’m walking home from school
And I had to sit on a barstool
For detention.
Man, I hate school and my classmates.
My people aren’t in the textbooks and my teacher dictates
That there were no such people called the Autumn.
Like my life isn’t gruesome.
This is the story of my fathom.

Chapter 8: Knowing the Daughter
None of this makes any sense to me yet
But right now I’m walking in snow that’s making me wet.
I’m walking home from school
And I had to sit on a barstool
For detention.
Man, I hate school and my classmates.
My people aren’t in the textbooks and my teacher dictates
That there were no such people called the Autumn.
Like my life isn’t gruesome.
This is the story of my fathom.
Now I’m living in Alaska
With my mother.
I have homework that the teacher wants
Us to write about our family history.
How I write about my family history if no one believes me?
‘Write what you will,’
I heard grandma’s voice in my head.
As I tread along in the knee deep snow,
I hear a whirring behind me and I turn to look
To Billy on a snowmobile.
He zooms past me drenching me in snow as if he were a cheetah.
I’m no babbler
But Billy daunts
Very blindly
On anything he could get his hands on to see.
I like my Churchill.
Until I go to bed.
But to do the family history, I might just have to borrow
Grandma if mother won’t bite the hook.
I don’t think mother is stable.
But then what do I know?
All I do is learn like a gecko.
I continue walking until I see a cabin
That mother had bought from an ax man.
I get near it until I smell fresh tomato rice bread.
Mother makes the best in blood red.
I race into the door feeling famished
And asked mother if I could get some fished
Seal soup and lamp chowder.
She nods as I put my belongings at my alter.
And there I sat eating dinner ‘til I had my fill
Until I went to start my homework was I thrilled.

Chapter 9: The Last Piece
But then what do I know?
All I do is learn like a gecko.
I continue walking until I see a cabin
That mother had bought from an ax man.
I get near it until I smell fresh tomato rice bread.
Mother makes the best in blood red.
I race into the door feeling famished
And asked mother if I could get some fished
Seal soup and lamp chowder.
She nods as I put my belongings at my alter.
And there I sat eating dinner ‘til I had my fill
Until I went to start my homework was I thrilled.
There I saw a family tree of the Autumn.
“Ok, grandma. I know you did this,”
I said, low enough for mother not to hear.
There wasn’t an answer from grandma.
I went to mother and asked,
“Did you give me the family tree to go for the family history?”
She nods without looking up from her book.
“That Billy of yours came to tell me that you got into detention.
And he told me about it and also your homework.
He left 30 minutes before you showed,” said mother, while still reading.
“Billy is boredom,”
I said, sounding so amiss.
I looked out the window and saw the snowy frontier,
Big enough for an outlaw
Who was masked.
The snowy frontier gave me a shiver down my spine in site of a banshee.
“So who was the crook:
you or the woman who wanted the action?”
I asked mother as a shadow came to lurk
In her face while her eyes seems to be barking.
“Your grandmother was,”
said my mother in a desperate cry.
Then I saw the claws
Of what took that little girl to espy.
“Now I get why you wouldn’t tell me,”
I said in surprise.
I wanted to know badly
But knowing how much my mother’s demise
For my grandmother but now I have the last piece
Now I understand
Of this timeless timepiece.
That has been in generations to be spanned.
I return to my room and I did my homework
As the darkness came to lurk.
Now our time in this story
Is over with my history.​

Comments

There are no comments to display.

Blog entry information

Author
Sydney
Views
22
Last update

More entries in Creative Writing 101

Top