through an ancient-looking lamp (hurricane betsy)

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serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

0 posted 2002-07-16 03:21 AM

I never understood, until now, why such a thing would remain chiseled in a memory of stone--until now.

I never understood alot of things, and still I remain confused on much. And yet, there is an atmosphere of Hurricane, that even innocents understand. The barometer drops. Birds cease to sing. The family cat will disappear. When crows become silent, you'd best beware. I did not understand the weather reports--as little as they offered then--but I felt the static of aware...blonde hairs in rise on my forearms. There was more than consideration there, when grown-ups took the time to talk down to you.

Oh yes. There was something up. The neighborhood was quiet. The sky looked strange without the birds--summer was different with cool air. I watched my dad take his leather pouch, pounding boards, shutting out my sun. Of course, I asked. (I always asked.) And he said this was just a game. A pat on the head, and a skip of beads, hop-skotched. I knew it was not the same.

I will never forget the sunset that day--a fierce ball of fire, jetting sun, in purple hues, through jetties of cloud, pinks and blues...I watched my mother grasp my father's hand, as he stepped down from the ladder. He had slammed a board against every window of our home. He sankevery nail--against the advice of our neighbors.

My mother saw me watching her--she brought me inside to wash glass. She took down ancient-looking lamps--filled with red kerosene, and somehow, even as a child, that excited me. My parents hated candlelight--and just the thought that we'd need these lamps...well? It kind of thrilled me. I washed each globe under her careful eye...somehow a gravity followed me. I understood.
There was something important going on, and for once? I was a part of it.

Darkness comes early when you board out the sun. There was a certain party atmosphere. Adults spoke in tones too gay---and whispered in asides too grave. We had stuff to eat that day, that was reserved for "grocery day." Loaves and loaves of fresh white bread, and cold cuts, and sweet tins of ham. I truly didn't understand. Even once the rain began;it didn't matter. Everything remained the same. We watched the tv and complained that someone's head was in our way. Until the lights went out. Then they lighted dusty lamps--and strange light spattered on familiar walls--and without the familiarity of our own in-fighting--we grew frightened.

I cannot forget the sound of a storm in birth of a bitch. I will never forget the sound of train whistling down the tracks at me. I can never forget the sight of walls breathing air, like lungs. I will never forget my mother crying, and my father, yelling at her--"BEHAVE." I will never forget her apology, as she looked at me, her youngest, and then at him, and saying--
"I'm sorry."
I felt so guilty.

I watched my father nail the front door shut. It was heaving, as though alive and disgusted. He pushed the couch against it, and commanded us to sit on the couch and "shut the hell up." My mother said, "oh dear god, it sounds just like a train..."

There was evil whistling through the eaves of us, howling without reprieve. Exploding power lines gave us more mystery within the darkness of the boarded house. We were here. We were IN. We had to ride it out.

And then we heard a wailing--a birthing I cannot forget. It is the thing that still wakes me at night sometimes...it is the sound of waking dread. I saw my mom, look at my dad, I saw the look within his eyes.

"That was their roof." he said.

"DON'T YOU GO..." she clenched her teeth.

"I won't" he lied. "You stay here."

He went, instead, where we kept our sheets. And came back with an armful of folded linen. He proceeded to tear my mother's sheets into strips, and I watched my father weave a rope. He tore one sheet into a braid--and that he threw into the sink, soaking it in water. He called my mom, and said, "I need you..."

I really didn't understand. I watched him tie this "rope" to the sink--beneath the faucets onto pipes...I hardly heard him yell to her--
"Shut the door behind me--if you can."

Then he opened the door.

"DON'T GO..." my mother grabbed him, clutching.

I was shocked when I saw him slap her. I was puzzled at his sorrowed eyes.

I watched my mother push her weight against the door, weeping. My brothers ran to her side--and heaved their healthy shoulders against the onslaught of this bitch of storm.

He was gone.

And they carried our mom, back to the couch...and she was uselessness...I heard her wail, and it frightened me, much more than a hurricane's wind, or a train off track. I heard the sound of love keening--a sound that I cannot forget.

My father had tied a rope of his own making, around his waist. He tied one end to his own home. He took out into element and wrestled with the fence and WON. He grappled Hercules of wind as his neighbor pulled him in.

Our neighbors roof sat on our own...our neighbors? Could not believe their eyes. My father begged to tie the babies to his chest. He told them, "we can build a a bridge." He told them to come home with him; and they called him crazy...

"You can't go back--it's just not safe."

My dad untied the "rope" from around his waist--and told them that there would be a line for them to get through. He tied the other end to thier sink and he pulled himself back...to us.

I watched my mother die, inside, and come to life again. She was listening at the side door. I will never know how she knew the difference between the pounding of his fist to come inside, or the sounds of war that permeated, haunting, inside her mind. I will never know how she fought the wind, to open that door, against the suction of 155 mph.

She pulled him in. And then? SHE nailed the door shut.

[This message has been edited by serenity (07-16-2002 09:10 AM).]

Janet Marie
Member Laureate

since 2000-01-22

Posts 18554

1 posted 2002-07-16 01:04 PM

somehow a gravity followed me. I understood.
==========================
well of course you did

~~~~~~~~~

"When crows become silent, you'd best beware. I did not understand the weather reports--as little as they offered then--but I felt the static of aware...blonde hairs in rise on my forearms.

Darkness comes early when you board out the sun. There was a certain party atmosphere. Adults spoke in tones too gay---and whispered in asides too grave. We had stuff to eat that day, that was reserved for "grocery day." Loaves and loaves of fresh white bread, and cold cuts, and sweet tins of ham. I truly didn't understand. Even once the rain began;it didn't matter. Everything remained the same. We watched the tv and complained that someone's head was in our way. Until the lights went out. Then they lighted dusty lamps--and strange light spattered on familiar walls--and without the familiarity of our own in-fighting--we grew frightened.

I cannot forget the sound of a storm in birth of a bitch"
==================================

You built this up in a slow brew of storm so that the reader will be holding their breath..feeling the static and hanging on your every word...KA this is awesome in its capture of the event...in its story telling, in its imagery and impress. I didnt want it to end...

So...tell me, whats it like to have a hurricane in thy pen?

you kick poetic butt baby...
keep writing me prose ... fiction or not

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

2 posted 2002-07-16 01:50 PM

even if yer the only one who loves me?

IT'S ENOUGH.

NOW...let's go out and live some writing material!!!

blushing thank ye's.

wranx
Member Elite

since 2002-06-07

Posts 3689
Moved from a shack to a barn

3 posted 2002-07-19 11:10 PM

Aww, shucks. It seems to me that proseworkings go largely ignored. (pity). I've read this twice, Loved it twice

You have to admit, that WEATHER is enlivening. (unless, of course, it kills ya)

~wranx

I have great faith in Humanity...It's just most of the Humans, I'm not too keen on. E.F.Rose

pjtalty
Member

since 2002-07-17

Posts 111
W.A., Australia

4 posted 2002-07-20 01:36 AM

Congratulations on a fine piece of writing.

I'm not a profesional critic, but I can articulate feelings for THIS piece of passionate prose: in six words...I read it, I felt it!

From your opening paragraph you managed to create a palpable sense of foreboding, a sense that something very dramatic and pregnant with risk was going to happen and I wanted to read more because it was coming through the eyes, the heart, the soul of a child. I knew it would invite me, oblige me to vicariously share in the experience.

The story proceeded at an appropriate pace right up to the end and I was so confident that everyone involved in the drama (including me) came out it of a little wiser and much stronger.

I think you have a great talent for story telling. I hope to read more of your work.

Patrick Talty

[This message has been edited by pjtalty (07-20-2002 01:39 AM).]

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

5 posted 2002-07-21 02:09 AM

smiling here...and I must refer to the opening lines here--

"never understood, until now, why such a thing would remain chiseled in a memory of stone--until now."

And a slight explanation...I never knew, until now, how much of an impact, my father made on me as "grounding" and "safety"--until his death. I don't mean to be melodramatic---it's just the truth of the psychological thumbprint. I miss that, very much.

guess I'll have to learn how to braid a good rope, eh?

Thanks all...I appreciate you all so much..and yes, wranx...I will TRY to read more...I intend to die, like my dad--TRYING.

Poet deVine

Administrator

Member Seraphic

since 1999-05-26

Posts 22612
Hurricane Alley

6 posted 2002-07-21 12:31 PM

Because we are such good friends (think Venice), I wanted to give your story a thorough read and in doing so, I had some suggestions/thoughts:

=======

I never understood, until now, why such a thing would remain chiseled in a memory of stone--until now.

I never understood alot of things, and still I remain confused on much. And yet, there is an atmosphere of Hurricane, that even innocents understand. The barometer drops. Birds cease to sing. The family cat will disappear. When crows become silent, you'd best beware. I did not understand the weather reports--as little as they offered then--but I felt the static of aware...blonde hairs in rise on my forearms. There was more than consideration there, when grown-ups took the time to talk down to you.
I think the timeframe is a bit confusing in this paragraph. “I never understood” and in the next sentence “there is an atmosphere”…should it be was?

Oh yes. There was something up. The neighborhood was quiet. The sky looked strange without the birds--summer was different with cool air. I watched my dad take his leather pouch, pounding boards, shutting out my sun. Of course, I asked. (I always asked.) And he said this was just a game. A pat on the head, and a skip of beads, hop-skotched. I knew it was not the same.

I will never forget the sunset that day--a fierce ball of fire, jetting sun, in purple hues, through jetties of cloud, pinks and blues...I watched my mother grasp my father's hand, as he stepped down from the ladder. He had slammed a board against every window of our home. He sankevery (sank every) nail--against the advice of our neighbors.

My mother saw me watching her--she brought me inside to wash glass. She took down ancient-looking lamps--filled with red kerosene, and somehow, even as a child, that excited me. My parents hated candlelight--and just the thought that we'd need these lamps...well? It kind of thrilled me. I washed each globe under her careful eye...somehow a gravity followed me. I understood.

There was something important going on, and for once? I was a part of it.

Darkness comes early when you board out the sun. There was a certain party atmosphere. Adults spoke in tones too gay---and whispered in asides too grave. We had stuff to eat that day, that was reserved for "grocery day." Loaves and loaves of fresh white bread, and cold cuts, and sweet tins of ham. I truly didn't understand. Even once the rain began; it didn't matter. Everything remained the same. We watched the tv and complained that someone's head was in our way. Until the lights went out. Then they lighted dusty lamps--and strange light spattered on familiar walls--and without the familiarity of our own in-fighting(I don’t get this infighting reference it could be made clearer)--we grew frightened.

I cannot forget the sound of a storm in birth of a bitch. I will never forget the sound of train whistling down the tracks at me (sound of a train). I can never forget the sight of walls breathing air, like lungs(were the walls moving in and out? that's the image I get and having never been in a hurricane, wasn't sure. If they were this is cool!). I will never forget my mother crying, and my father, yelling at her--"BEHAVE." I will never forget her apology, as she looked at me, her youngest, and then at him, and saying--

"I'm sorry."

I felt so guilty.(not sure why YOU feel guilty)

I watched my father nail the front door shut. It was heaving, as though alive and disgusted (alive works but I’m not sure disgusted makes sense here). He pushed the couch against it, and commanded us to sit on the couch and "shut the hell up." My mother said, "oh dear god, it sounds just like a train..."

There was evil whistling through the eaves of us, howling without reprieve. Exploding power lines gave us more mystery within the darkness of the boarded house. We were here. We were IN. We had to ride it out.

And then we heard a wailing--a birthing I cannot forget. It is the thing that still wakes me at night sometimes...it is the sound of waking dread. I saw my mom, look at my dad, I saw the look within his eyes.

"That was their roof." he said.

"DON'T YOU GO..." she clenched her teeth.

"I won't" he lied. "You stay here."

He went, instead, where we kept our sheets. And came back with an armful of folded linen. He proceeded to tear my mother's sheets into strips, and I watched my father weave a rope. He tore one sheet into a braid--and that he threw into the sink, soaking it in water. He called my mom, and said, "I need you..."

I really didn't understand. I watched him tie this "rope" to the sink--beneath the faucets onto pipes...I hardly heard him yell to her--

"Shut the door behind me--if you can."

Then he opened the door.

"DON'T GO..." my mother grabbed him, clutching.

I was shocked when I saw him slap her. I was puzzled at his sorrowed eyes.

I watched my mother push her weight against the door, weeping. My brothers ran to her side--and heaved their healthy shoulders against the onslaught of this bitch of storm.

He was gone.

And they carried our mom, back to the couch...and she was uselessness...I heard her wail, and it frightened me, much more than a hurricane's wind, or a train off track. I heard the sound of love keening--a sound that I cannot forget.

My father had tied a rope of his own making, around his waist. He tied one end to his own home. He took out into element and wrestled with the fence and WON. He grappled Hercules of wind as his neighbor pulled him in.

Our neighbors roof sat on our own...our neighbors? Could not believe their eyes. My father begged to tie the babies to his chest. He told them, "we can build a a (remove one ‘a’)bridge." He told them to come home with him; and they called him crazy...

"You can't go back--it's just not safe."

My dad untied the "rope" from around his waist--and told them that there would be a line for them to get through. He tied the other end to thier (their)sink and he pulled himself back...to us.

I watched my mother die, inside, and come to life again. She was listening at the side door. I will never know how she knew the difference between the pounding of his fist to come inside, or (should this be and instead of or?)the sounds of war that permeated, haunting, inside her mind. I will never know how she fought the wind, to open that door, against the suction of 155 mph.

She pulled him in. And then? SHE nailed the door shut.

=======

I loved the story!!! But what happened to the family next door! You can't leave us hanging.

[This message has been edited by Poet deVine (07-21-2002 12:35 PM).]

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

7 posted 2002-07-21 01:48 PM

Hey you...the time frame thing is under consideration...and the guilt thing? stays---the guilt was implied through my mother looking at me, and then apologizing. Children often feel guilt for things that are not necessarily their responsibility. I felt bad, because she felt bad--seemingly because of me.

And you psychic friend you, I was just mulling over another story that does indeed involve that family...y'see there was this offshore oil rig explosion---OH--you wanted me to WRITE it, huh?

HUGS YOU.

Allysa

Senior Member

since 1999-11-09

Posts 1952
In an upside-down garden

8 posted 2008-06-11 06:05 PM

I've always liked this.

Gaelynsgirl
Member

since 2008-07-18

Posts 175
Ont. Canada

9 posted 2008-07-23 06:59 PM

I'm glad this was brought back to the surface. A powerful piece of writing; gritty, clean, and roughly honest.

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

10 posted 2008-07-23 08:45 PM

well now.

I have a collection of lamps now (all inherited) and thanks for kicking this to the top.

This (and Dolly) reminds me that I need new wicks. (They aren't so easy to find these days...)

Thanks for reading...love to you both, and more love to all!

beautyincalvary
Member

since 2006-07-13

Posts 98

11 posted 2008-08-02 04:20 AM

compelling and beautiful.

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

12 posted 2008-08-02 05:21 AM

More than Hurricane Betsy, Camille, Andrew, George, Ivan, and the the worst witch thus far, Katrina (and her twin, Rita) this is the sentence that gives me the most pause now:

" I heard the sound of love keening--a sound that I cannot forget."

Nor can my mother...

A simple and good man died and an entire family fell apart.

I hope that I can write this again someday, as a cautionary tale--not about storms and what evils might come with surging tides--but about how one good soul removed can prove the downfall of a mountainous legacy family.

It's raining Dad, and I always miss you when that happens. And because of this, there is something in me that still, even after Katrina, feels oddly compelled to complacency by storms.

* * *

I wish he were here. He'd know what to do...and my Mom? Well, she'd do something again.

* * *

I walked through a flood today.

* * *

Today was a good day.

Thanks good people, for helping me remember that I come from good people!

Sunshine

Administrator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-06-25

Posts 63354
Listening to every heart

13 posted 2008-08-03 09:22 AM

Yes, you do...

I think the part that struck me hardest was your father wanting to tie the babies to his chest.

It reminds me of what people will do, just to help others...

and how they cry when they fail.

I'll have to memorialize a true tale such as that...

I'm glad this rose like cream, because I hadn't read it before. How kind of the keeper of the words, as our archives are richly blessed.

fractal007
Senior Member

since 2000-06-01

Posts 1958

14 posted 2008-08-09 10:37 AM

This was beautifully written. You had me with you from the start, churning up everything from curiosity to fear and terror. I must say you are a very talented conveyor of emotion and experience.

The allusion to Hercules near the end was nicely done, as was the overall man against nature ethos drawn up in the entirety of the piece.

latearrival
Member Ascendant

since 2003-03-21

Posts 5499
Florida

15 posted 2008-09-24 04:08 AM

Oh, I am so happy I found this to read tonight. You are a wonder. So much talent and you still do not seem to believe it. love ya bunches "late"

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

16 posted 2008-09-24 11:43 PM

hey jo...

*poke*

love you

thanks

Alison

Member Rara Avis

since 2008-01-27

Posts 9318
Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy!

17 posted 2008-09-27 10:02 PM

SB,

This is amazing. I have never been in a hurricane - until today. I love your writing.

quote:
I cannot forget the sound of a storm in birth of a bxtch. I will never forget the sound of train whistling down the tracks at me. I can never forget the sight of walls breathing air, like lungs.

That is some writing. And, I absolutely loved the last line.

Alison

(grins .. I guess that your piece would not pass the censors today - I had to x out b-tch. Gotta love it.)

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

18 posted 2008-09-27 10:20 PM

*smile*

Alison? Once upon a time, I had two brothers and two sisters. We argued so much over memories that we once said we'd each write a family history, to be compiled in one tome.

It's too late for that...

it would have been interesting though, if only to ourselves. (My deceased sister, Cathy, actually slept through this...and oddly, she was the one who had fits of nerves every time it rained thereafter.)

But I've heard it said a baby will block out trauma by putting itself into a deep sleep. So maybe that's it?

I dunno...

Thanks lovie, for reading. *hugs*

And I have lost my love for storms.

latearrival
Member Ascendant

since 2003-03-21

Posts 5499
Florida

19 posted 2008-10-15 04:35 AM

"But I've heard it said a baby will block "out trauma by putting itself into a deep sleep. So maybe that's it?"
Serenity, I can vouch for the above. One of my grand children always fell asleep when his mom and dad were arguing and the dog always cowered under the crib. Love this piece, after the third read it is still powerful, "late"

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

20 posted 2008-10-15 07:37 PM

ah..Marty?

And I swear, I just seem to know when I do something RIGHT either.

This oblivious act of mine ain't no ACT.

Love you lady! *smoochies*

rad802
Member

since 2008-04-19

Posts 279
KY U.S.A.

21 posted 2009-07-30 09:34 PM

Wow I felt like I was there.
enjoyed
thanks

A worthy legacy is the irrevocable consequence of dreaming.
Rick A. Delmonico

JamesMichael
Member Empyrean

since 1999-11-16

Posts 33336
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA

22 posted 2009-08-18 06:47 PM

I sure liked reading this...James

adagio
Member

since 2005-03-19

Posts 449
Marrero, La.

23 posted 2009-08-22 09:22 PM

I WAS THERE TOO i REMEMBER
adagio

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