Memoirs

I have read a few memoirs. I have read memoirs of a Geisha, and another that I forgot the name of. I love the way that you can get a vivid glimpse of someone's life through their memoirs. Some people have amazing stories to share and I view it as a blessing that we get to read their stories. Something that I would like to get out of this project is a new ability and new writing level.

Things I might want to write my memoirs on are:

• Growing up at my Grandma's house with my cousins.
• Ballet
• Gymnastics
• Traveling up to Washington to visit my family.

I will continue to keep this list in mind as we get closer to beginning our project.

Graced

       Though the recent news of my immanent death was weighing heavily on my mind, I went about my day as normally as I could despite being confined to my hospital bed with IVs dripping some medicated fluid into my arms. My wife looked at me with her sad and distressed eyes; I felt so bad, like somehow this was all my fault. I suppose it was… For years there were countless fights between us regarding my awful addiction to smoking and drinking.  We’d spend hours after the kids had gone to bed hissing at each other in harsh tones, calling each other things we probably should have apologized for the next day. Looking at her now, her face was forever marked with wrinkles from stress, age, and me. Her eyes were tired, and her mouth struggled to smile. Every beat my heart struggled to make was tinged with guilt. If I had made better choices, perhaps I would be outside of this medicated hellhole. 

            I glanced out of the window I had in my hospital room that looked out over the entrance; I could see my youngest son pacing back and forth outside of the doors, waiting for his four year old daughter to finish picking flowers out of the hospital’s flower beds. I smiled to myself. She was the sweetest little angel that ever was.

            “What are you smiling at? Are they here?” My wife softly sang from across the small room.

            “Yes, and it looks like Grace has found me some flowers.”

            “Picking flowers again, is she?” My wife laughed as she stood up from her chair and came over to stand by me. Her eyes lit up when she saw that the smile was still on my face, and she gently stroked my cheek.

            “It’s so wonderful to see you smiling.” She whispered in my ear.

            The moments like these are the ones when I realize my wife has truly forgiven me for the awful husband and father I was many years ago. And maybe the fact that my son was on his way to my hospital room all the way from Oregon, holding the small hand of my sweet little granddaughter was a sign that he had forgiven me as well.  It was not until now that I could feel my time running out, but I knew I’d be blessed with one more afternoon the second Grace ran into the room, her curly brown hair was bouncing with each step she took.  Her rosy cheeks were pulled up into a beautiful smile as she flew into my lap; wilted daisies clasped tightly in hand.

            “Hi grandpa!!!” She giggled, and she wormed her way up to my face and kissed my cheek. I was going to miss her.

NPR 3 Minute Fiction

I chose to read the story "The Egg". It was a rather quirky story. It was detailed in the that the characters interacted with each other, and had a rather intricate story. However, the reason I did not enjoy reading the story was because the characters were really underdeveloped. You never figure out exactly what they are, other than they can lay eggs. That narrows it down to any bird or reptile. Also, the story doesn't go anywhere. 









http://www.npr.org/2011/10/23/141622294/the-egg

OFF THE COAST OF CANADA

OFF THE COAST OF CANADA

By: Abbey Henning

            Lawrence sat in his dark and grey kitchen staring out the window early in the morning on a rainy day. He watched as the raindrops hit the window, lingered for a while, and then slowly rolled down until they joined with the pool of water sitting on the windowsill.

            Lawrence could faintly see his sad reflection in the dark window. His chocolate brown hair was tousled and stuck out in so many directions at once that one could almost assume he was sporting one of those messy hairstyles. But he wasn’t. His dark eyes were full of depression and gloom as they stared vacantly in a forward direction. His eyes were almost lost within the dark circle that told everyone he hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks or months… but in his case it’s been years; six to be exact.

            Many people would argue that what happened to him wasn’t at all as bad as he made it out to be… but he had loved her more than anything else in his life. And he still did. He always told himself that nothing could ever change the way he felt about Sophie.

            He had loved her since he very second his eyes had the ultimate pleasure of meeting with hers. Her eyes had been a soft golden brown color that reminded him of caramel, his favorite candy. Her eyes were perfectly placed within her elegant face that was perfectly framed by dark brown waves that spiraled down almost to her elbows at her sides. He couldn’t look away from her, and noticed a faint smile playing upon her lips. He thought the smile was directed at him so he smiled back even as he watched the dog happily bound up to her and into her arms. In that moment he could do nothing but be envious of that golden retriever. But even though her gaze quickly left his eyes and she probably had no recollection of seeing him, he had felt more alive in that moment than he ever had before.

            Six years ago almost to the day, Sophie had agreed to go with him on a date. He was so thrilled that he spent hours getting ready for the walk in the park with her. He put on his favorite nice clothing, dark jeans with a navy blue button-down shirt and a silver bow tie. He spent nearly twenty minutes on Google trying to figure out what the appropriate amount of cologne to wear was.

            When it came time to pick her up for the walk in the park which happened to be the first date had ever been on, he became very nervous and raced through his mind to think of the right things to say to her. Should he say, “Wow, you look nice?” Or should replace nice for beautiful. Would that be too forward? As he stepped through his front door and felt the soft warm air on his face and began walking down the front steps of his New York apartment building, he tripped on the skateboard his neighbor always left behind. Lawrence recovered quickly from his minor heart attack and continued on his way toward Sophie’s house.

            As he walked, all he could think about was how beautiful Sophie was going to look on this summer day. He wondered if he was going to make a complete fool of himself, and if he did, would it happen right off the bat? He watched as several couples walked past him; he noticed that for once his depression did not get the best of him. He wasn’t full of infuriating jealousy like he always was. He now had a girlfriend. At least that is what he had thought.

            His mind came back from the flashback he’d been stuck in for the last hour or so. Her face always did this to him. The very mention of brown wavy hair, or gold trim on any object set his mind back to the beautiful Goddess that had broken his heart the moment he learned that she had given him a fake address after agreeing to the date. Suddenly he was filled with fury and anger at the thought of her being so cruel to him. But for some reason he was okay with it. At least she has spoken words to him; at least for a few days he felt as though she belonged in his heart forever. Now she was just a shadow forever cast over his heart and mind.

            He let out a loud, deep sigh that relaxed him enough to catch a few moments of sleep before walking outside to gaze upon the frozen ocean that surrounded his secluded private home off the coast of Canada. He tried to tell himself that she wasn’t the reason he banished himself to a god forsaken frozen island… but the truth is she was the exact reason why he was there alone.

            He was aware that this was how he started his day every morning, and would continue to be the opening scene to his depressing life for the rest of his days.

            

The Old Shed (Show, don't tell)

     As Michael walked through the dark musky alleyways of the broken city he currently resided in, he began to reminisce about the times he'd spent back at the farm house on the country side with his uncle. There was a time when he enjoyed these summers very much, and he'd spend all his free moments thinking about how happy he'd be once he returned. But now, just like this city, those memories had become dark... eclipsed by the new image his uncle burned into his mind so recently ago.
     He had returned to the farmhouse in search of his uncle so that he could begin the joyous summer he'd been looking forward to all year. As he walked, he enjoyed the sounding and feel of the gravel and dirt crunching and shifting beneath his weight. He also enjoyed the way the smells of the nearby forest mixed with the scent of tractor exhaust and gasoline. It was the perfect combination of nature and man, Michael had always been fascinated with the way man's creations seems to coexist beautifully with nature, but at the same time looks foreign and unwelcome.
     Michael neared the old shed that his uncle was found working on his old Model-T cars in, Michael always hoped that his uncle would someday let him drive one. As Michael stepped through the threshold of the old shed he immediately felt that something was different. Drastically different. The air was cold, musty, and damp with a strangely sweet metallic scent. It was a smell that Michael knew he had never smelled before but felt somehow familiar with it. A little too familiar.
     With crippling confusion paralyzing his brain he continued on into the old shed and set his eyes on a horrifying sight. A strange puddle of something he knew the name of but was too scared to admit was pooling around a motionless lump of something soft of the floor. Michael stared at the scene for what seemed like hours as thoughts raced through his mind. What was this on the ground? Where was his uncle? Why is the ground covered in red?
      Michael stepped closer to the puddle that he finally admitted to himself was blood, and got a closer look at the soft lump that was lying motionless in the middle of it all. The soft lump was his dog he'd grown up with and shared so many hardships with. His dog's name had been Bogey, and Bogey was the only living thing on earth Michael could admit to loving. Farther back in the old shed Michael could make out a hunched figure in the darkness who's shoulders appeared to be heaving and relaxing. Heaving, and then again relaxing. It was his uncle.
      "Why is Bogey dead?" Michael asked slowly and quietly.
      "Bogey? Your dog? Bogey is bad. Bad dog." Michael's uncle replied. Michael had never heard his uncle talk like this. Like a scared child.
      "Yes... Bogey. Why is he dead? Did you do this?" Michael was determined to get the story from his uncle.
      "That dog. Bogey. Bad. Bad bad Bogey..."
      "What did Bogey do?!" Michael's eyes began to fill with tears as the realization of his life long friend being dead set further and stronger into his mind.
      "He was in the way... That Bogey. Bad." He uncle continued.
      "In the way of what?"
      Michael had been stepping closer and closer to his uncle during their frustrating conversation and finally got a good look at his uncle. His uncle's eyes were void of any emotion. His face was drained of color and his teeth were chattering from his vicious shaking. Michael had never thought he'd see his uncle like this. His uncle had always been loving and kind. With a kind jolly face and wise eyes. All of that was gone.
      "In the way of what?!" Michael repeated with anger tainting the words he was trying to keep calm.
      "In the way of that..." His uncle pointed across the shed to another corner of the old shed where there was a larger, darker shape hunched over on the floor. Michael's legs began to grow weak as he made his way to the newly discovered shape. An awful stench filled his nose, a stench that filled his mind with the worst of thoughts about his uncle. And as Michael stepped over the shape and saw the twisted face of death that stared back at him, he suddenly knew the truth about his uncle.

Welcome?

I'm not sure exactly what we're supposed to be filling this space of our first blog with, but I remember Mr. Fox asking us to make a welcoming note or something. So, welcome to my blogger page, here you will read the things that I write from my mind. Some things will be happy and sunny, and sometimes my writing will go into a dark stage. This happens a lot. I tend to write poetry more often than anything else,  but I really want to learn to write a well written short story. Thanks for reading this first blog.