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_Shannon_
04-02-2011, 08:49 PM
Out in the Michigan sticks, on that horse farm, it was so early that May morning, it was still nighttime. Too early for birds. She sat outside on the dew covered grass with her arms wrapped around her knees. She shivered and looked down at her green pants. She thought the moon looked lonely. Here with her friends, she believed with her whole heart in the safety of numbers. Earlier that day she joked with her daddy that the paisley on her yellow shirt looked like an army of amoebas. Just a whisper of his aftershave hung on her collar where she had hugged him good-bye and then lied to his face about where she was going.

Nobody knew where those two guys came from. Only that they heard about a party out in the sticks, on that horse farm. They rode up in a beat up, old Detroit car; they parked haphazardly on the front lawn. So rock n' roll. Ancient at age twenty, rumors floated around that one of them was on probation.

Someone brought her more cheap vodka and orange juice from concentrate. Lips numb from drinking. The boy she really liked left hours ago. She didn't mind talking with all that alcohol pumping through her and all that wondering if he liked her. It couldn't be true. Without seeing anyone actually leave, everyone seemed to wander away out of the cold. She liked it there under the stars. One last friend remained. Safety in numbers.

Those two guys talked. A lot. Somehow, the way things go, she talked to the older one with long hair. Her friend talked to the younger, shorter one. She rambled about the books she loved. She said she wanted to be an English professor when she grew up. Lying down on the dew covered grass, she looked out at the infiniteness of the sky in those Michigan sticks, on that horse farm. More vodka and orange juice showed up from the darkness. She said something about waiting until she was married. And then she was swallowed by blackness.

When she came to, the odor of back seats and sweat and stale cigarettes overtook her. His hair hung in her face. Her leopard print underwear, which she always wore for good luck at track meets, dangled around one ankle. His entire body weight crushed her chest. She heard herself moan. "See, it feels good . Doesn't it", a voice only vaguely familiar instructed her. And because it did, she buried her face into the crack of the vinyl seat and fell into the shame of it. None of her friends were here now, not even the moon. Everything had dropped away.

"Hurry," the voice said, "I gotta get the car back before my dad calls the cops. I don't want to go back to jail." So rock n' roll. Her eyes could see nothing, but she knew by the change in weight on her body in the back seat of that beat up, old Detroit car out in the Michigan sticks, on that horse farm, that her friend had left the younger, shorter one and gone inside.

Unsure how she got dressed, she felt arms dragging her up to the kitchen door. When the screen door creaked, she looked up at the infiniteness of the sky. She thought the moon looked lonely. He let her go, and she fell to her face on the floor. She caressed the grit-covered smoothness of yellow linoleum with hands that didn't feel like hers. She heard a car start and drive away, gravel clunking as it hit the fender.

"Hey Shannon, where were you! Get up, girl. You want some chicken nuggets?" a jovial voice attached to warm hands chuckled, as they walked her into the living room to a cozy chair. Her head swimming, those hands shoved a paper plate into her lap. A bottle of ketchup appeared and splurted it's contents onto the plate. She ate like a hungry child and licked salty crumbs off her fingers. She fell asleep in that chair with that white plate, stained red, on her legs.

The late morning light filtered into her dreams around the drawn blinds, waking her slowly. Her eyes still closed, she felt her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth like it was covered in spider webs. As she blinked awake, she had the innocence of those first moments of morning. And then she remembered, and thought it must not be true. It couldn't be true. She shivered and looked down at her green pants, the paper plate had disappeared.

She pushed herself up out of that chair, with a pounding head she plodded to the bathroom. The puffy, cracked toilet seat exhaled as she sat down. Her leopard print underwear, which she always wore for good luck at track meets , dangled around her ankles. A brown blood stain told her what she needed to know. Pragmatically she thought, "I guess when I have sex now it won't hurt." She knew without thinking it, that her body was ruined forever. Safety was an illusion. She wadded up those underwear and threw them away.

Delta40
04-02-2011, 09:17 PM
A bottle of ketchup appeared and splurted it's contents onto the plate. She ate like a hungry child and licked salty crumbs off her fingers. She fell asleep in that chair with that white plate, stained red, on her legs.

A powerful metaphor here Shannon. I like how this is not an explanatory tale as it would detract from her fragmented recall the morning after.

Very well done.

_Shannon_
04-02-2011, 09:22 PM
Thank you so much for taking the time to read and comment. <3

hillwalker
04-03-2011, 02:34 PM
I enjoyed this, Shannon. You do a great job of portraying such of a pivotal moment in the narrator’s life – it packs a very powerful emotional punch.

I would suggest that it could be tightened up here and there – especially the opening paragraph where the reader has the choice to click the back button so it's up to the writer to convince them to read on. It would benefit from a little reworking (having 3 consecutive sentences start ‘She sat…..’, ‘She shivered…..’ and ‘She thought…..’ makes it read rather like a list for example).

But it’s potentially a promising piece.

H

MystyrMystyry
04-03-2011, 05:21 PM
The close has a dream like quality - of an incident in an altered state of mind, of seeming to matter less because it's only half-remembered - like so many half-remembered otherwise shameful moments that we choose to ignore

But the character grows - child no more, now in a fateful flash adulthood forced upon her by external reality, and she's left alone to deal with it, like we all are sooner or later to whichever degree by whichever cause

Ending it in the dunny rather than the shower was a poignant touch - though if she threw the undies into the rubbish bin rather than just 'away' might have been stronger,
though tying it all up was a little is this the end? is this the end?

In a classic short story the tale is told and the twist is left right to the last sentence - that's the hit - but you've built a secondary theme ready for exploration as a novel would have

All told well done Shannon - if a story keeps you reading to the end rather than feeling obliged because you've already read this much, I'd say it works regardless of perfection in form

Cheers MM

_Shannon_
04-03-2011, 08:04 PM
I really, REALLY appreciate all the feedback y'all! I haven't written prose in like two decades. I am gonna work on it this week as I have time and I'll post what I've got when I feel like it's "done" again. Thank y'all for taking the time to read and hash it out with me!

kittypaws
04-04-2011, 01:03 AM
Shannon ~ I think your write was very well done! It kept me reading and I could feel what the character was feeling..

Keep at it...you have great potential!

kittypaws

AuntShecky
04-04-2011, 02:12 PM
The subject matter is similar to that of "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" a short story by Joyce Carol Oates which formed the basis of an excellent, though regrettably obscure, movie,Smooth Talk starring Laura Dern. Since everything Joyce Carol puts on paper turns to gold --I swear her grocery lists will be published some day! You should consider the comparison as a compliment, Shannon.

I realize that the narrator wants to capture the speech patterns of an adolescent, but the sentences, at least in the opening paragraph, are a bit choppy. They'd sound better within a smoother rhythm.

The last sentence is okay, with its admirable attempt to express a sense of personal guilt in a subtle way, via tangible symbol. Still, I wonder if we can put a moratorium on references to female undergarments on the LitNet for a while, regardless of the chosen term. For the time being the next time I see a mention of bloomers it refers to spring flowers.

Oh, I kid. I kid ya, Shannon.