[stylist] The Dark rewrite 1

[Ashley Bramlett]

Brenda,
Nice descriptions. I like this version better. It captures the seen of the 
room better.
Ashley

-----Original Message----- 
From: Brenda
Sent: Wednesday, October 12, 2011 4:22 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] The Dark rewrite 1

Thanks to everyone who gave me input on my project.    I reworked the
piece based on your comments. I probably missed a few of your
suggestions, but I wasn't deliberately ignoring them, there was just a
lot of flipping between emails and documents. I probably did not do
quotes correctly yet, but I can focus on that more in the future.
Hopefully this time the spaces after periods will show up.

The Dark

The recipe almost blew out of my hand as I ran into the house to show
off my very first cooking project for Home Economics.My mother took the
wrinkled paper, studied it and remarked "you probably won't like Rosy
apples."Snatching the recipe I stomped to my bedroom and slammed the
door.At thirteen I could not remember a time when my mother had not
decided how I felt or what I liked.It all started when I was a toddler
and my mother decided I was not afraid of the dark.

As a baby I could barely see the sunlight.Several surgeries brought
lights, colors and shapes into view by age two, but my world was still a
collage of sights and sounds.During the day I played with my older
brother outside in the bright sunlight.On rainy days we stayed indoors
where the sound of my mother cleaning the house or my baby brother
crying filled the air.When I heard "Time for lunch" or the honk of a car
horn I knew the shadowy figures in the room were my parents.My waking
world was filled with sights and sounds that guided me through the
fog.No monster would dare lurk in this bustling household.

At night my world was a dark, dreary place.My two brothers and I were
crammed into one small bedroom in our two-bedroom home.The silence was
only broken by the noise of the monster lurking somewhere.My brothers
were asleep in their beds, and I didn't know where my parents
were.Something had to be done before the monster came and got
me.Creeping to the bedroom door, I saw the glowing lamplight but only
heard a muffled hum."Oh no, the monster is here" I concluded.

Slamming the door shut I ran back to my bed and pulled the covers over
my head."Hey, open the door" shrieked my older brother when he awoke to
a dark room with no beam of light to comfort him. "Quiet down in there"
yelled my dad without moving from his chair.Thump, thump, thump sounded
on the basement stairs as mom came to see what the commotion was
about.Instead of yelling at me for upsetting my brother and not going to
sleep, my mother opened our bedroom door and remarked to my father
"She's not afraid of the dark because she can't see."

"The monster can't get me with my mom and dad so close" I decided and
fell asleep before my fear returned.

This story was told all through my childhood as proof that I was not
afraid of the dark.It would do no good to explain the terror I felt
inside.Just once, I wish my mother had been right.


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