[stylist] Song writing prompt
vejas
brlsurfer at gmail.com
Mon Feb 11 20:58:48 UTC 2013
Bridgit,
I really liked your story. It was so realistic.
I felt you actually did a very good job of incorporating your
songddI also felt that you did well in showing, as opposed to
telling. I liked how you talked about the river.
Most importantly, I feel that you did a great job writing about
the emotions. The story starts out peaceful, and just as you
feel that it's going to have a bad ending, it ends very happily.
Keep up the good work.
Vejas
----- Original Message -----
From: Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com
To: <stylist at nfbnet.org
Date sent: Mon, 11 Feb 2013 09:26:58 -0600
Subject: [stylist] Song writing prompt
Here is my attempt at this writing prompt. I think my song
choice will
be pretty clear, grin. I'm a bit rusty; this is the first thing
I've
written from scratch in six months. I'm still in mommy la-la
land, so
forgive me for the subject matter, grin. It's rough, so comments
welcomed. It's only 880 words.
Somewhere over the rainbow way up high, there's a land I dreamed
of once
in a lullaby. I croon to you in dulcet tones as the moon hangs
low
caressing your sleeping form. You sigh and turn towards me, arms
extended above your head. I smile and snuggle your wiry frame.
Your
downy mound of hair tickles my face. My heart is about to burst
from my
chest, overflowing with love, with joy.
The weight of your body has been felt in my embrace for years. I
gasp,
unsure if this moment is real. The stillness of the night
creates my
heaven. My baby boy cuddles against me as I hold him close.
A river slides along breaking me into consciousness. Sprinting
into the
bathroom, I yell for Ross. Warm liquid gushes around me as I
feel the
tell-tell tightenings travel down my stomach. I feel no pain,
just
continual tightenings. His little body pushes up against my
abdomen. But
there's no pain; I'm unsure of what is happening. The pool of
water I'm
standing in, in the tub blares like a siren, and I shout, "Ross,
I think
I'm going into labor."
The morning is fringed with a hazy glow. My breathing is steady
as
people whip around me. Ross holds my hand as nurse's remark on
the
intensity of my contractions- yet I still feel no pain. I speak
to my
baby, my son. In a little while I will feel his tangible weight
in my
arms.
But the world falls around us. Rhythmic beating pulses,
emanating from
me. It shakes the world. They tell me you are showing signs of
fetal
distress, and that I can't handle a long labor. An emergency
Caesarian
is scheduled.
Numbness swallows me from the waist down. A nurse whispers in my
ear how
well I'm doing. Ross grips my hand. I'm lost, focused solely on
my son
as a slight pressure pulls at my abdomen.
They pull him from my body, bleeding and broken. Ross sniffles.
Everything is muted except my baby, but he makes no noise. Don't
they
cry? Aren't they suppose to cry? Nurses giggle about how adorable
he is,
yet no sound. Finally he gives one squawk before they take him.
I'm left
alone as the doctor stitches me up.
I feel disjointed. He's not with me. My mind hones in on his,
but this
fracturing feels wrong. Just a little longer and we will be
fused
together again, my sweet boy.
Ross strokes my long hair as the doctor explains the
unexplainable.
"We didn't anticipate this. We're not entirely sure what is
happening."
The doctor clears his throat. Papers rustle between the heart
beats.
"We're sure this will all resolve in twenty-four hours though."
The door
clicks shut and he's gone.
But it doesn't resolve in twenty-four hours, not forty-eight
hours, not
a week. Ross forces me to come home, to eat, to sleep. These
daily,
fundamental tasks allude me. I sit in your empty nursery gulping
for air
as my ragged cries fill the room. Tears drip in torrents down my
pale
face as I suffocate from the silence.
I'm terrified to name you, to claim you. I steal myself, not
wanting to
imprint you upon my heart, but it's too late. Your soul has
fused with
mine. Long ago I felt you touch me, claim me. Yet I'm
terrified, seeing
only darkness in the distance.
I wait each day hoping for good change for you, my darling baby
boy. My
standard reserve of strength threatens to run dry. I lock myself
away,
trying to handle my emotions as I deal with doctors, nurses and
your
precarious situation.
Darkness seems near the horizon. Your silent cries, from being
in
abated, shred my heart; my heart so swollen with fear and pain.
I am
brittle, fragile to the touch.
I will not lose you; I will not lose my strength. I will shatter
this
moment and throw it into the winds.
I pray the Lord, my soul to keep. Softly, gently, the words
shape.
Buzzing and humming, they breathe into the ebony silence,
chiseling
against solid darkness. Moonbeams puncture this drawn shade,
silver
filtering through shadows. Liquid silver laps my wounds,
embracing me
like a lost friend.
And you're there, smiling, always smiling. Ross drapes an arm
around my
trembling shoulders. You move closer, tip-toeing through
moonbeams.
We're together- all together, safe, near, a family. Our hands
graze, and
my heart expands.
In my arms, stroking my cheeks, you reassure my existence, and I
can't
contain my heart. It swells, pushing, arteries pumping liquid
love. From
behind, Ross wraps his arms around our bulk, cradling,
protecting.
Somewhere over the Rainbow trickles from my mouth. Ross strokes
both our
heads; experiencing his warmth inching through our veins. The
moonbeams
pixilated into silver drops, falling around us. Droplets moisten
my
cheeks as you kiss me. Sweet, golden kisses sealing our bond.
And you are well, my baby, my Declan. We are leaving, going
home.
There's no place like home. I embrace you as we leave the
hospital. The
weight of the NICU pushes against our backs. I feel the pull,
the
draining sensation of desolation. But we are gone, gone. We
follow our
road home.
I wished upon a star and have wake with the clouds far behind me.
Our
troubles have melted like lemon drops, and I have found you.
Starlight
grazes our rocking shadow. You sigh, arms around me, your head
nestled
into my neck. In this midnight tableau, we are cocooned with
wisps of
silver moonlight
Sincerely,
Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter, editor, Slate & Style
Read my blog at:
http://blogs.livewellnebraska.com/author/bpollpeter/
"If we discover a desire within us that nothing in this world can
satisfy, we should begin to wonder if perhaps we were created for
another world."
C. S. Lewis
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