Sunday, March 29, 2015

Beautiful People Linkup: The March 2015 Edition

It's that time again-- I'm doing the Beautiful People Linkup!  You can find March's set of questions here.  Really it's quite past time, but at least it's still March.  I apologize.  It's nearing the end of the third term at school, which means a flurry of exams and projects which I, of course, left until the last minute.  I've hardly even had time to check my email the past two weeks!

Today I'm doing Bridget, the main character of my short story for Hymn-Provised, a Google+ community I'm part of.  My story is set in the WWII English countryside.  Bridgett's father is a soldier, and she and her brothers have been shipped out of London and off to the country.
1. What is their secret desire?  To go to college in America, even though she knows her family can't afford it.

2. What is the best and brightest moment they experience during the story?  She becomes friends with the hostile neighbor's girl when she gets the girl's little brother to speak for the first time.

3. What are the emotional places your characters are afraid to go to?  Bridgett doesn't like the knowledge that they haven't heard from her father in almost a year.  She doesn't want to think about what that might mean.

Brooklyn, 1947
via Pinterest
4. Is there a place/city/room where they will never go? Why?  Bridgett wants to see the world.  She wants to know everything, see everything, no matter how awful.

5. If they were permanently leaving town, what would they easily throw out? What would they refuse to part with? (Why?)  Bridget doesn't own much, since her family has never had much money; Dad never made much as a teacher and a freelance writer.  There isn't much for her to throw out except her small carpetbag of belongings, which she's brought with her from home.  One thing she would refuse to part with is her brothers-- she promise Mummy to take care of them.

6. What do they want (consciously and tangibly)?  She wants the war to be over.  She wants  everything to be all right on Uncle Jed's farm.  She wants her mother and brothers to live in a real home again. And could the neighbor's rooster-- for Pete's sake-- crow just a little more quietly?

7. On the other hand: what do they need (on the emotional, subconscious level)?  Someone to confide in.

8. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?  She wants to be good at putting her thoughts into words, like Dad.

9. What is the most humiliating event of their life?   Evelyn Stuart read Bridgett's poetry out loud during school. 

10. What things do they turn to when they need a bit of hope?  Dad's poetry journal.  Eventually, she starts writing some herself.

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Run Away

(I would have posted this yesterday, but our internet was being finicky again.  And it's been kind of hectic lately with the snow melting and everything flooding.  God has been good to us this year and our little "holler" hasn't been too bad as far as torrents of water goes.)

Hey all!  I'm entering Hannah's writing prompt contest over at A Southern Girl's Life.   I chose Writing Prompt #2 and Picture #2.   (My fellow To Kill a Mockingbird fans, you'll appreciate this. :) )
*Writing Prompt #2*
*via Pinterest* 

*Picture #2*
*via Pinterest*

Running away isn't nearly as easy as they say.

I stood, alone, waiting at the empty subway platform.  Wind rushed wildly through the tunnel, causing a chill to creep up my spine.  I shivered.  My heavy coat and scarf might be able to shield me a from the wind a little, but they couldn't protect me from the coldness of my own actions.  Was I really about to leave everything?

My knees felt suddenly weak as I thought about the enormity of my decision.  I put one foot in front of the other, trying to make it to the bench.  My footsteps echoed in the empty station.

I sat down.  The two sides of me were arguing. "I am running away.  I've come this far." But it's not too late to go right back the way you came. "I'm leaving, never looking back."  You're not Lot's wife, you know, you won't turn into a pillar of salt if you turn around.  "I have to leave." Why? "Why not? I'm eighteen -- plenty old enough."

"Couldn't help but notice you seem a little shaken up," This voice had not come from my head.  I turned, startled, to see a man sitting to my right.  He was tall, with strong shoulders that dropped a little, as though he were tired.  Large black glasses framed his eyes under his dark, prominent eyebrows.

"Who are you?"

"You can call me Atticus," he said.  The name sounded familiar.  "And you are, young lady?"

"Jess,"  I lied.  My voice had cracked; he knew I was lying.  Neither of us spoke for a moment.

"So... Jess... how's life?"  Not "What are you doing out here in the middle of the night" or "Where are you going"?  But somehow it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I'm visiting a cousin in Tennessee," I said.  Another lie.  I had a feeling he knew it, too.

"Family emergency?"

"Not really..."

He nodded.

"So do you want to tell me what's really going on?"  He definitely knew.  I swallowed hard.

"I'm... I'm running away,"

He nodded again. "Obviously.  But on what grounds?"

"My aunt Molly... she's an ogre.  She's got my whole life planned out for me.  She's making me go to college, but I just... I..."

"You don't want to?"

"I want to run a restaurant." I blurted.

"Have you told her?"

"No, because I know she'll laugh."

"You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view-- until you climb into his skin and walk around in it."

The screech of brakes bringing the subway to a halt made me glance away.  At the same time, someone was coming down the steps very quickly.  Something told me it was Aunt Molly, and that if I was going to do something, I'd better do it fast.

I turned to ask Atticus what that meant, but I never got the chance.  He was gone.   In his place on the wooden bench was a battered, dog-eared book.  I picked it up. To Kill a Mockingbird.  I smiled-- but was I losing my mind?

Slipping it into my satchel, I stood up.  The doors of the subway would close any second.  Aunt Molly was still a good distance away.  If I hurried, it wasn't too late to escape.

Maybe Atticus had been real, and maybe he hadn't.  Regardless, his words still rang through my head.  I looked at Aunt Molly's tearful face as she rushed toward me.  I knew then:  I couldn't run away.  I would take Atticus' advice, and give Aunt Molly a chance 

The subway doors closed with a his was Aunt Molly covered the last few yards between us.   She wrapped her arms around me, and I melted into her embrace.

After all, running away is overrated.

Monday, March 2, 2015

Sew Random

It's nine thirty at night and I just realized I neglected to post today!  I have no excuse, given that today was a snow day-- or rather, an ice day.

I took the opportunity to tidy up my room.  As usually happens, while cleaning I found some old stuff that I forgot I had.  This time around, it was my sewing supplies!  I realized I hadn't done hardly any crafting since I started high school... it was time to start again!  I just started with some basic upcycling stuff...

I turned a pair or old jeans with holes in them into a skirt:

And I made this sundress that fits no one into a skirt:

So yeah, that's what I did today.  :) I'll do a real post soon, I promise.