Writing Perfection (short story)

[Lady Asphyxia]

[color=blue][size=1]It shouldn?t have been that hard.

She was as obsessed with him as I now am with writing. Of course, it was a healthy obsession, and it was returned. They were married, and had two children together, plus the one child from a previous marriage. They worked well together; a proper partnership. They didn?t even fight. The closest they got were heated discussions, usually resolved within minutes. It was perfect.

Actually, that was probably what tempted fate. Perfection was always so hard to achieve, and it never lasted.

He left as he always did. He?d come back of course, as he always did. It was funny thing called work that took him away. I never understood it.. Of course this time, he?d be late. He was going to a conference, a meeting, honoring him; he?d been promoted.

She went about her business. The kids had to be dropped off at school, she had her own work to do. Everything went about normally.

That?s why it seems so surreal now.

I got home from school to see my mum cooking, as she usually did. It was roast lamb; one of my favorites. The smell of rosemary drifted wafted me, teasing the senses. A cliché, I know, but that?s what it did.

I, being the infinitely wise six-year-old I was, decided that I would stay up; the official reason being to wait for Dad, ulterior motive being to watch television. Everyone ate dinner. I can still now taste it. I remember it being one of the best meals of my life. Mum had made it especially for his promotion, but the children had to eat; bedtime was 7:30. I wheeled my way into staying up. I always was good at wrapping Mum around my little finger. The youngest, my brother, was three, and floated into the land of dreams, or nightmares, very soon after dinner. I was so excited I got to stay up.

I was so excited I got to answer the door.

I remember the knock. My Dad always knocked, just so that I could look out the peep-hole in the door. A game I suppose. Imagine my shock when it wasn?t my Dad standing there, but instead a police officer. But it didn?t alarm me; he was actually one of Mum?s friends. His name was Constable Kidd. He looked like a goat, too. I called out to Mum, and pulled the chair away from the door. I was to short to see without the help of the chair.

Mum was the one to open the door. I suppose she must have known that something was wrong as soon as she saw his face. She didn?t need to be asked to step outside. The door was closed in my face. And still, I felt no forewarning, only exclusion. To this day, I still don?t know exactly what she was told. I was standing there when where I heard the cry. I never thought I hear something like that from a human, but I knew it was Mum. She was led inside, carried inside, really. My sister knew straight away that something was horribly wrong.

She screamed.

All she could say was ?No, please, no. Not again! Oh, god, not again!? I had no idea what was happening. My mother had, by now, dropped onto the floor, wrapping her arms around her stomach. I watched, motionless, as my sister crawled over to her. Confusion swamped me. [i]What[/i] was [i]wrong[/i]?

They sat there for, what seemed to me, to be forever. They just sat there, sobbing, with my sisters arms around her mother. Finally, Mum spoke to me.

?Kathryn.? I?d been waiting for them to tell me for so long, it took me a while to realize she was talking to me. ?Kathryn. Your father?your father?s dead.?

But I was young and innocent. Death didn?t mean anything to me.

I?ve always wondered what I would have said if I?d been in that position. I?d certainly not blurt it out like that, make it sound so trite. I?ve finally realized that there is nothing to say that won?t sound trite in the long-run.

The constable had to explain death to me. It took me a while, and by that time both my mother and sister were calming down?or maybe they just couldn?t cry anymore. ?No,? I denied when I realized what was happening. ?You lie!?

And so I ran away from the liar. I know now that subconsciously, I was running away from what I perceived to be a threat to my happiness.

Obsession destroyed my mother.

She didn?t go anywhere for months. My sister took over care of us, taking us to school, making lunch, ironing, washing. But she couldn?t be there all the time. She was older, at a different school, so it was me they turned to when my brother started acting up.

At first it was just crying. They understood that, but only I could make him stop. So they pulled me out of my class to do it. Then the violence began. I got called in time and time again to make my brother stop throwing things, stop screaming, to stop kicking walls, to just stop.

The emotions almost killed me. Trying to help my brother, trying to help my brother, trying to help my sister, at the same time, trying to make myself feel better. Trying to forget the fact that my whole life had changed, had been destroyed.

It got better, of course. My Mum was pulled out of her all-encompassing depression when we were informed we could be taken away from her. She started again. New job, new university course, new house, new car. Everything was fine.

But for me, everything was missing. And I was left, trying to forget that.

Trying to forget that my family went from perfect, to broken.

So now I know. Perfection is always so hard to achieve, and it never lasts.

~Fin~

Mwaha! What do you think?[/color][/size]

[Juu]

[color=deeppink] [size=1]*sniffles* That was a really sad story...
but a really good one at that!

And btw... for the green text/size=1 thingy...

you have to put [color=green ][size=1 ][/color ] [/size ]

but with out the spaces... but [/color ] [/size ] at the end, and you can keep the beginning the same.. ^_-

Anyway.. Great story, I really enjoyed reading it... although it was kinda sad....[/color] [/size]

[Lady Asphyxia]

[color=blue][size=1]*falls on her knees and praises you* Thank you! I forgot how...sure sign I've been away too long. lol[/color][/size]

[Sara]

That turned out very well. Your writing style rather reminds me of my own; a bit disturbing, that.

[Lady Asphyxia]

[color=blue][size=1] Wow, [i]I[/i] have a writing style? :eek: lol...I was actually trying a different style this time, usually I'm less...erm...I dunno...involved, maybe. I was [i]trying[/i] to get emotion...I've been told I'm not emotive enough. So I tried...

Why is it disturbing?

*goes off wondering about her style of writing*[/color][/size]

[Sara]

A bit disturbing that I could see one of my writing styles all over that piece. ; ) But I did like it.

[Mnemolth]

That was nice. :bawl:

Of course, at this point I would normally start in with my comments, but I think I've decided to only comment on poems. I wouldn't wanna sound like an a**. What? Its too late?? Damn!! :D

[Lady Asphyxia]

[color=blue][size=1] Ohh...cool. I like your writing, well...what I've read of it. lol.

WHAT??? No comments? :bawl: fine, fine...*goes and crawls off into her corner* [/color][/size]

[Makai Kite]

Don't cry, Rae... I'll give you... A COMMENT! (Dun dun DUNN!) What the heck was that? Well, anyway, I really liked this piece. When I first read it, I almost started crying. Just a curious question from a curious person... Why do the characters have no names? I do the same thing, but not in all of my works. Some of my works are sort of like this as well. Well, I hope to read more of your work, Rae.

[Mitch]

[color=red] Ackk, I can't believe I missed this three months ago. You pulled off the characterization of a six year old wonderfully. This is only like the second thing of yours I've read, but it is much better.

Hmm, I just loved the way you fitted the character right into her age. Wonderful.

But of course, it could be improved, but that's only if you'd want to. It's wonderful the way it is.

And yes, you do have a writing style. All writers do, it's just that we have multiple ones. Some mimic others, and they eventually all meld together to become our own style.[/color]

[Lady Asphyxia]

[color=darkred]Wow, I can't believe you'd post in here. Basically, I consigned this piece to my folder of things I'll never touch again, for the simple fact that I dislike it rather intensely.

I know I could make it better, for all means, make suggestions. As for the character fitting, thank you. I like doing stories in the character's perspective if they're young. otherwise, people are too complex for me.

I know I have a writing style, I just didn't know it actually fit well. Now I feel all special and giggly ^.^

I prefer not to name people in these pieces, a quirk I have. However, I did name the little girl this time. Kathryn. [/color]

[Mitch]

[color=red] You'd never think I'd post here, eh? Do you hold that much to me? Well, even if you rather loathe this piece, it still [i]is[/i] a rather good story. And there's no denying that, even if you want to.

I wish you'd post more of your work, as I said before, it seems you have talent.

And don't worry, just because you may think you aren't that good of a writer. I'm still not good enough, I'm still searching for my better style, and my maximum potential.

Writing seems it could take an eon to master, but accept I will the time alloted.[/color]

[Sui Generis]

Wow I really like it. Of coures these are the types of pieces of writing that I truly enjoy!

Sure it could be better, but honestly anyone's work could be, but I still love it!

Hm...I'm not sure what your writing style is just because this is the only piece I've ever read from you, but I say stick with this one. Well don't stick with it but you know what I mean...

Hopefully...

[Lady Asphyxia]

[color=darkred]Actually, i was refferring more to the "Its been there for months so I didn't think anyone would bother looking at it," state of Mind I was in.

As for my writing style, I must confess, this isn't usually it!

And I can deny it as much as I want! I can also deny that the sun is a big ball of hot gas and fusiony stuff, though...[/color]