Story in progress
Aug. 21st, 2010 07:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
americankitten Okay, so I've been writing something today, and I only have bits and pieces. I want to know if you guys can help. You can give me anything to work with. Plot ideas, questions about the story, whatever. But I'd like help with how to elaborate the prolouge. It doesn't really make sense to me either, I don't know what to say in it. Or whether, how to say what I want to say.
It'll make sense. Here.
PROLOUGE:
My mother always told me that everything starts with a choice. A simple, out of the blue choice could take me away on a journey for the rest of my life. One little choice convinced Hitler and Lincoln and everyone else. She told it to me when she was sick, like it was a bible verse I should live by.
Maybe she was trying to tell me something about how herself.
But every time I try to think about her I get angry, and push her face out of my mind.
And here is parts of the story.....
That woman called this the "tea room". I scoffed every time I thought about it. Why would you have to give the room a name? It was just another room in the maze of the mansion. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just another style of furniture in this little stuffy room. Green everywhere. Dark green and gold lacing. The chairs were fat and seemed like the people who sat on them weighed nothing. The table was small, just a few feet off the ground. The couch, opposite the chairs, was the exact same as everything else. Green, stuffy, and barely touched.
The most painful thing these days is seeing her drink. In the middle of the night she stands in the kitchen, in her fluffy white robe, her hair untied. The lights are off but the moon outside is always just right, so i can see the edges and shadows. They show me her hands holding a wine bottle and a wine glass. Pouring dark red liquid into the glass, and she sets down the bottle gently, not a sound. She leans against the counter and her head goes back in a smooth quick motion, draining that liquid like it's water.
And she picks up the bottle again. Repeatedly she does this, four or five times. Then when she sets down the bottle, you can hear it hit the counter. She looks around but I am hidden, behind the wall in the "tea room" where there are only shadows. Watching her destroy herself.
But I don't see her. I see mother. I hate the sight of it but every night I go back down to check and see, and she's there every night. The same thing, when she think she's hidden from us.
+++++
I know, conflicting POV's, but I'll fix that later. those are two different parts of the story. I feel I'm giving away too much of the story in the second part. I don't know. I need help please. Thank you. =]
It'll make sense. Here.
PROLOUGE:
My mother always told me that everything starts with a choice. A simple, out of the blue choice could take me away on a journey for the rest of my life. One little choice convinced Hitler and Lincoln and everyone else. She told it to me when she was sick, like it was a bible verse I should live by.
Maybe she was trying to tell me something about how herself.
But every time I try to think about her I get angry, and push her face out of my mind.
And here is parts of the story.....
That woman called this the "tea room". I scoffed every time I thought about it. Why would you have to give the room a name? It was just another room in the maze of the mansion. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just another style of furniture in this little stuffy room. Green everywhere. Dark green and gold lacing. The chairs were fat and seemed like the people who sat on them weighed nothing. The table was small, just a few feet off the ground. The couch, opposite the chairs, was the exact same as everything else. Green, stuffy, and barely touched.
The most painful thing these days is seeing her drink. In the middle of the night she stands in the kitchen, in her fluffy white robe, her hair untied. The lights are off but the moon outside is always just right, so i can see the edges and shadows. They show me her hands holding a wine bottle and a wine glass. Pouring dark red liquid into the glass, and she sets down the bottle gently, not a sound. She leans against the counter and her head goes back in a smooth quick motion, draining that liquid like it's water.
And she picks up the bottle again. Repeatedly she does this, four or five times. Then when she sets down the bottle, you can hear it hit the counter. She looks around but I am hidden, behind the wall in the "tea room" where there are only shadows. Watching her destroy herself.
But I don't see her. I see mother. I hate the sight of it but every night I go back down to check and see, and she's there every night. The same thing, when she think she's hidden from us.
+++++
I know, conflicting POV's, but I'll fix that later. those are two different parts of the story. I feel I'm giving away too much of the story in the second part. I don't know. I need help please. Thank you. =]
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