[stylist] Writing Prompt: Finding the Good in the Villian

[Judith Bron]

Great idea!  Actually, every person, no matter how rotten has some redeeming 
quality.  Hitler was one of the most wicked people who ever lived.  However, 
he loved children and dogs.  Human nature is hard to figure.  Judith
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Jewel S." <herekittykat2 at gmail.com>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Tuesday, June 01, 2010 4:07 PM
Subject: [stylist] Writing Prompt: Finding the Good in the Villian


> Hi all,
>
> So, I thought I would throw out another prompt for anyone interested.
> This is a prompt that can be used for fiction or non-fiction (memoirs
> and such().
>
> Think of someone in your past whom you didn't like: a bully in your
> elementary class, the principal who slapped your hands for blinking
> too much, an abusive neighbour who always gave his son a black
> eye...or make someone up. Now, give that person a "redeeming" quality,
> something good about them that you wouldn't expect. Perhaps the
> abusive neighbour is an avid recycler, the bully has a great green
> thumb, the principal...well, you get the idea. Now, write a short
> passage with this villian, including their "redeeming" quality. Below
> is mine:
>
> Jessica was eating breakfast, cold oatmeal that was clinging in clots
> to the side of the neon orange plastic bowl. Beside her, her sister
> Cary was stabbing at her own orange bowl of oatmeal goop, her nose
> wrinkled in disgust.
>
> "Mum," Cary whined. "Do we *have* to eat this gunk? It's pig sl-"
>
> Before she could get out the last of her complaint, her head swung
> sharply to the right as their mother flung a blow with her fist to the
> older girl's temple. There would be a knot and a bruise later, but
> Cary would cover it with her hair. She always wore her hair forward,
> almost covering her eyes, anyway. No one would notice.
>
> "How dare you complain! There are starving children in Africa who
> would eat your breakfast without a second to waste. If you don't eat
> it, I'll put it in the fridge, and you can have it for supper. You
> won't get anything else until you eat your oatmeal."
>
> And Jessica knew she meant it. She had once gone on a two-day strike
> after they wre served black lumps, supposedly ravioli. The raviolis
> had stayed in their neon green bowl, the designated color for dinner,
> for the entire two days. Jess finally gave into the hunger and ate the
> charred stuff, which by that time tasted like ashes. Her reward for
> eating it was the priviledge of eating what everyone else was having.
> That day, dinner was some burnt fish, which their mother called
> "blackened."
>
> Jessica was shocked out of her memory by a sharp blow to the back of
> her head. "Eat! I have to get to work. If I have to stand here and
> watch you eat, Jessica, I will be late, and then you'll pay for
> embarrassing me."
>
> Jessica dutifully shovelled the goop into her mouth, wondering when
> her father was getting home. He was out at sea again, a common enough
> occurence as he was a Navy sonar technician. He could cook, and more
> than made up for their fasting in his absence. Shrimp scampi, oysters
> on the half schell, chicken and sausage gumbo...her mouth salivated at
> the memory of her last gumbo five months ago.
>
> Her bowl clean, Cary nudged Jess, whispering "Hurry up...she's coming
> back," and Jess stuffed the last two bites in her mouth in one
> over-flowing spoonful. Jumping to her feet, she held out the bowl for
> Mother to inspect, then rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. A swat
> on the butt with the fly-swatter told her it was time to get to the
> bus stop.
>
> * * *
>
> Marie Landreneau wandered into her classroom, singing, "Mares eat
> oats, and goats eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy. A kid'll eat ivy,
> too, wouldn't you?" What she was thinking was, Not my kids...they
> won't even eat real food. They certainly wouldn't eat ivy. They are so
> ungrateful. At least my school children are not so ungrateful. I wish
> I could take them home and leave Jessica and Cary to learn what real
> life is like on the streets.
>
> It was a Tuesday, Mrs. Landreneau's favourite day of the week at
> school. Her children were not too wound-up from the weekend, nor too
> wound-up in preparation for the end of the school week on Friday.
> Tuesday and Wednesday were truly the best days in her Special
> Education classroom.
>
> A bell rang out, signaling that it was time for the students to get to
> their classes. Some of the Special Education children would be coming
> in with their aides soon. Others would come in the afternoon, having
> spent the morning in the 'regular' classroom.
>
> The door opened and Miss Mary came in with a five-year-old who could
> be Mrs. Landreneau's daughter, with her beautiful brown eyes and long
> chestnut brown hair in two braids. She could easily pass as a
> miniature of her teacher, though there was no Down Syndrome in Mrs.
> Landreneau's genes.
>
> "Good morning, Ellen!" she smiled gently at the youngling. Ellen
> didn't reply, but glanced at Miss Mary, then ran to her seat.
>
> "She's being a little shy today, Marie." Miss Mary explained.
>
> The other children filed in one by one, six in all. A large class for
> Special Education. But everyone wanted Mrs. Landreneau to teach their
> children. She was the best teacher the public school had. Her gentle
> nudging and kind patience brought out the best in each of her
> students, and every parent wanted their child to blossom under her
> direction.
>
> "Ok, guys, we're going on a little field trip today!"
>
> The shouts of glee were mainly Eric's, a seven-year-old with what his
> mother called "weak eyes." Eric had been born prematurely, and besides
> his blindness, his allergies to nearly everything under the sun meant
> regular tube feedings and the use of gloves and face mask. Despite his
> disabilities, Eric was the rowdiest of the bunch, and Mrs. Landreneau
> knew to keep a close eye on him. He may be blind, but he didn't let
> that stop him, climbing trees he couldn't get down from and squeezing
> into holes that he couldn't quite fit in.
>
> Grinning at Eric's enthusiasm, the gentle teacher showed the children
> a book about bugs. "Today," she declared, "we are going on a bug hunt.
> Miss Alexandria, do you have Michael's inhaler and Eric's face mask?
> They'll need them outside."
>
> "Right here," assured the young teacher's aide, who was in charge of
> three of the six. The other three were Miss Mary's charges, with Marie
> Landreneau watching over them all, guiding and encouraging. "All
> right," she told the class cheerfully, "here we go!"
>
> She led the group out ontot he playground to lift rocks and dig holes,
> searching for the bugs in the Big Book of Bugs.
>
> * * *
>
> What villian will you come up with? What is their redeeming quality?
> Go nuts! Enjoy!
>
> ~Jewel
>
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