»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
The Card
| Passions in Prose |
|
The Card |
|
|
*Anna* New Member
since 2004-01-10
Posts 1 |
Hi everyone! I am new here. I don't write much, but I suddenly got "inspired"  and wrote this last night. It began as a true story, but it ended up totally different. I would appreciate any comments. Critisism is very welcome. I want honest opinions. Thanks for your time. Enjoy!I finally decided on Wal-Mart. It would only make sense because it had the largest selection of cards. And I had to get the perfect card. Why do I always have to be a perfectionist, even in buying cards? I mean, honestly, most people just count the money and scan over the words before tossing it in the trashcan. I am the only one of my friends who actually saves them. And, yet, on every occasion I find myself searching through hundreds of the various cards before choosing the perfect one. Everything had to fit. The colors, the type, and especially the words. Sometimes it could take hours to find the prewritten message that conveyed my feelings perfectly. So how could I ever choose one for her? She was almost 17, and I couldn’t believe it. It seemed like only yesterday she was the little girl I played dress-up with. I could never forget those big brown eyes. Those eyes that used to be so full of life, but now are so…empty. I let our story flow through my head as I continued to search through the racks of cards. We met in church, became best friends in kindergarten, and were inseparable for ten years. To our delight, we had several classes together in elementary school. She taught me some of the most valuable lessons a young girl could learn. How to do flips on the trampoline, draw stars, and hoola hoop. And of course it was Allie who taught me all about the birds and the bees. (Her mom was a nurse.) By the 7th grade we practically lived with each other. We went on each other’s family vacations and family reunions. We laughed all the time, but as we entered high school we learned to cry together. My parents suddenly got a divorce. She stayed with me and brought me chocolates when I was upset. Just a couple of months later, her grandmother died. It was my turn to comfort her. Gradually we both began to heal from the wounds life threw at us. In our sophomore year Allie decided to join dance line so I supported her every step of the way. I wrote encouragement notes, and came to every game to watch her, even though I hated football. I was so proud of her. It wasn’t ‘til a few months later I realized she was slipping away. She slowly began ignoring me, and then one day she told me I wasn’t wild enough for her. She wanted to have fun in high school, and I wouldn’t let her. We had always balanced each other, with her rebellious nature and my maternal instincts, but she no longer saw it like that. It absolutely broke my heart. I still loved her and I still tried to talk to her, but I had no doubt lost my best friend. It had all happened so unexpectedly. Just like everyone says. You get to high school and your best friend suddenly changes. “Stop, stop, stop!” I screamed in my head. I didn’t want to start crying in the middle of Wal-Mart, and the tears were already beginning to gather in my eyes. I reread the card I was holding, and took it, deciding that it wouldn’t matter to her anyway. I quickly paid and prayed the flood of tears would wait until I made it to my car. Later that night I sat at my kitchen table with a scratch sheet of paper, trying to decide what to write in her card. I scribbled, “Allie, I want you to know that I am always here for you and I love you very much.” No. Too cheesy for her. I marked it out. “I have missed you so much. I wish you would come back.” Nah. I sounded so pathetic. I scratched it out too. I forgive you? Will you ever be the same? Why didn’t you listen to me? Will you ever understand? Why did you have to change? What could I write to her? I tried and tried to find the words to say to my old best friend, but I just couldn’t get them. I went through two sheets of paper (told ya, I was a perfectionist) before I gave up on finding perfect words, and instead just inscribed a couple of lines onto the card before I had time to change my mind. I awoke the next morning knowing it would be the day. I wasn’t sure I was ready, but I knew I would go just the same. I didn’t even know what to expect. How would she be? Had anything changed? I cried in the shower. It’s a bad habit of mine. No one can hear me and I can’t tell my tears from the streams of hot water. Oh God, why do I still cry over her? I tried to push the thoughts out of my head as I slipped my clothes on and put on my make-up. I didn’t want to go, but I knew I had to. The car ride was awful. It seemed so familiar, like déjà vu, but I wasn’t sure why. I tried not to think. I was too afraid, and I didn’t want anyone to see me crying. Especially not where I was going. I parked and traced the words embossed on the front of my card one last time before I took a deep breath and got out of the car. It wasn’t until I opened the hospital door I allowed my mind to finish the story I had begun the day before. After she “dropped” me, I started worrying about her. I was afraid she would do something she’d regret, and I missed her so much. She ignored me, even at church. I cried myself to sleep for weeks. I didn’t know what to with her or myself. I was lost without her. I tried to talk to her, but she had made new friends. New, wild friends. She began going to parties on the weekends. I knew her friends drank heavily, but even when I heard the rumors at school I couldn’t believe my Allie would do that. Not my Allie. But I was wrong. One night she called me crying. She told me how unhappy she was. She tried to tell me everything, but I stopped her. It hurt too badly. She did tell me how she drank and drove quite frequently. Though she was under deep conviction for some of her other actions, this one didn’t seem to bother her. She said she never drove when she was actually drunk. I made her promise to be careful, and she said she would. She lied. She never talked to me again after that night. I made new friends, too, and moved on with my life, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. I prayed for her almost constantly. Somehow I just knew that her actions would catch up with her. I knew she would wreck. I just prayed with all my heart no one would get hurt. I stepped into the elevator and pressed the “3.” I clutched the card I had bought the day before and closed my eyes as the memories began to envelop me. I remembered the phone call, her mom, how I fell to my knees… I had fallen asleep around 8:30, that night exactly 1 week and 2 days ago. I had had a migraine, and taken some Tylenol. The next thing I knew my mom woke me up, saying I had a phone call. I looked at the clock, which said 12:32, before I pressed the “Talk” button and said hello. I gave my mom a look but she was obviously not going to leave the room. It took a few seconds before I recognized the voice on the other end of the line. Karen, the lady I had called my 2nd mother was crying, and I could barely make out her words. I gasped when I began to comprehend what had happened. I said a quick prayer as I dressed, and raced to the hospital. That night she had been in a different room. I wasn’t allowed to see her, but I stayed with her parents. They weren’t sure she would make it, and they still weren’t. She hadn’t come out of her coma yet. I arrived at the familiar Room 311. It still made me gasp to see her with all the cords and needles attached to her. The face of my childhood friend was pale, but oddly she looked more peaceful than I had seen her in a long time. With a feigned smile I greeted her parents and asked how she was doing. They said nothing had changed from the day before. I handed them the Get-Well card with purple butterflies on the front and watched their faces as they read it. “Allie, Get well soon!!! I love you always, Elizabeth” I could only pray that someday she would understand all the meanings hidden behind those nine words. With tears in her eyes, Karen placed the card on a table with eight others. I stayed for about an hour before admitting I needed to go. I told Allie goodbye, though she couldn’t hear me, and closed the door behind me. I weighed my choices as I rode down the elevator. It wasn’t hard, but it was still a choice to be made. And by the time I reached my car I had decided- Wal-mart again. |
||
| © Copyright 2004 *Anna* - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Welcome to Passions in Poetry! And welcome to Prose my personal forum of choice I'm really glad to welcome you here and you've made yourself quite an entrance! This is a very well written story and though it deals with a theme that's been heard a lot before this manages to bring something fresh and new and that's something to be proud of. Just two little comments I have on the writing and these are quite small. In the fifth paragraph you have a parenthetical comment "told ya I was a perfectionist" that I feel breaks up the flow of the story by changing the narrative style and addressing the reader. I personally feel the story would be much more effective without this small comment. Also in the tenth paragraph you use the phrase "2nd mother" this is only a small point, but one I personally feel is important. In a piece of serious writing like this I feel "2nd" also takes away from the ambience, makes it seem to casual, I would use the fully written out "second" instead. Other than those two noticeably smalll gripes, I really enjoyed this little tale you've woven. Especially that last little paragraph and all the weight it carries. I like that kind of ending it speaks to me as a reader and makes me feel intimately aware of the character and her thoughts. I hope that you don't have a friend in this situation, I know how hard something like this is to deal with. Best of luck to you with the situation that sparked this. I hope that your writing will find its way here again! "Knowledge is far superior to Belief, for Belief is the way of the uniformed." - Scott Cunningham |
||
|
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Have to agree with Dusk Treader. He summed up my small nits as well. I enjoyed your cohesiveness of thought-process, and I think with a little work, we're all going to enjoy your fine talents in years to come. That this "Just came to you" is something you should really pay attention to. Your muse is speaking, and I think she's got a whole lot more she wants to say. Welcome to Passions! Karilea - if I whisper, will you listen? |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
