A Song between Graves - May Spotlight

Blind Crow · Posted: Sun Feb 22, 2009 1:12 pm

Okay so this started out as a short story but some how I think I managed to turn it into the prologue of a novel. At some point in the near future I hope to take each of these paragraphs and expand them and add new paragraphs to them to really flesh out this piece. This is the bare bones. Judge me with that knowledge.

Hope you enjoy.
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A Song between Graves

I died in autumn and was forgotten in spring. My memory faded from the thoughts of my friends and family as the color runs dry in the leaves of the dieing trees. I had been of the opinion that my life had been an accomplishment, something to be remembered. Now I see that I was a fool to believe that.

Death undoes all the deeds of this world and puts them in a jar to be stored on the top most shelf in the pantry, the place where no one ventures unless they are in a mood to clean or rid themselves of clutter.

That is what my memory has become: clutter in the minds of those who were meant to love me. They do not recall past times with me for pleasure but by accident, the discovery better left undiscovered. I have become the unwanted guest that clings to his host in fear of being left forgotten in some room in the back of the house. No seat of honor for me. No place of respect. No one to remember and cherish the time spent in my presence.

Even my wife has given up the fight. She use to visit daily. Bringing me news of our children and grandchildren, gossiping about Miss What’s-Her-Name across the street whose son was arrested last month for possession of drugs – something our own children would never be caught doing, though they have had their moments that embarrassed us dearly. She would talk about the bills that aren’t being paid, the job that her stiffening fingers can barely do, but the job that she had to keep if she were to buy the medicine the doctor prescribes so heavily – more of a menace those men are than helpful.

She was lonely. I was the only one who cared to listen. If only she knew how much I need to hear her voice again. The daily visits slowed to weekend visits, and then those were cut to monthly rendezvouses. Now it’s special holidays that she comes to remember her dead husband. And they are not long stays, not like they once were. A few words. Nothing more. I don’t blame her. Death depresses even the brightest of moods.

My friends now are those that still linger as I do, not existing but not willing to release our presence on earth. Stuck in-between a hard place is what we call it when we have a chance to speak to one another, which is rare and far between as it comes to be. It is a task to move about and speak as one may do freely when one has breath in their lungs. We are the last breaths of our body and must take care not to evaporate to nothing with all the chatter.

When we are in the proper disposition, however, there is little that our old tongues won’t hesitate to say. From our births to our deaths we tell our life stories. Each one having a turn to speak, to sing their song of life.

It so happens that my turn has come to voice my history, to place my life in the tomes of the graves. What comes from this I do not know, but this urgency to tell my tale has grown and so I speak to the masses. Let my song begin.

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I'll walk hand and hand with my faith, step for step with my beliefs, and never fear the path unknown.

Band Geek · Posted: Sun Feb 22, 2009 1:26 pm

That was incredibly depressing.

But well written! (The saving grace)

I like that you narrated from the dead man's pov. There are alot (way too many) pieces from those who are still alive and their guilt/sadness/anger etc. but this was far more interesting.

Any particular inspiration for this?

I liked this line quite alot:

poggles · Posted: Sun Feb 22, 2009 5:17 pm

I quite liked this.

Criticisms:
"leaves of the dying trees"

Also, I did not like the overall phrase "as the color does run dry in the leaves of the dieing trees", it sounds awkward and out of place. I did like the metaphor though, so maybe if you change the phrasing it would improve it.

Compliments:
I really liked that it was told from the POV of the dead person. It's unusual and makes for an interesting story.

I feel sorry for the man's wife, even though in the story he's complaining about how she's losing interest. I really like how you manage to make her a real character even though we've never met her

Last, I LOVE the idea of ghosts telling each other their life stories. It's cool and different and it made me want to hear what he had to say.
_________________
"It's waiting for me... Here I am!"
I bet you can't beat my brute

Blind Crow · Posted: Mon Feb 23, 2009 1:26 pm

Maggie: Lol. I'm sorry it was so depressing. I promise if I continuous this I'll make some more up beat stories

. Thanks for reading it though! I'm glad you enjoyed it. That line was actually my inspiration. For some reason it just came to me one day and from there the idea developed. It's one of my best lines I would have to say.

Anna: Yeah I fixed that line. I've been reading a lot of Shakespeare and the "does run dry" bit is the result of it. I removed the does which should make it feel much more modern and flowing. The man's wife is a character, who If I continue will be seen more, that I thought would be someone to be pitied rather than hated for her not returning to the grave as often. And really her actions is something of a representation of moving on, which we all do. Yeah I really didn't know what the title meant until I got to that part in this. I've never read anything like it so I was rather surprised at my own ingenuity. I'm glad you liked this! Thanks for reading!

I'm just wondering if you guys caught any of the symbolism, irony, and themes that I put in here? Some lines I phrased certain ways and I put lines in for particular reasons. I'm just curious if any of them stood out.
_________________
I'll walk hand and hand with my faith, step for step with my beliefs, and never fear the path unknown.

poggles · Posted: Mon Feb 23, 2009 10:49 pm

None in particular. I like the symbolism with the jars at the start, especially because it links to my idea of the body being like a jar to keep the soul in...
_________________
"It's waiting for me... Here I am!"
I bet you can't beat my brute

Blind Crow · Posted: Fri Jun 19, 2009 6:18 pm

Thanks Anna!

I don't know who voted for this story but I guess it made it a Spotlight Release for May
_________________
I'll walk hand and hand with my faith, step for step with my beliefs, and never fear the path unknown.

poggles · Posted: Fri Jun 19, 2009 9:54 pm

well
Congratulations ^_^

_________________
"It's waiting for me... Here I am!"
I bet you can't beat my brute