Picture me in 1987: Twelve years old, seventh grade, short hair, bangs, glasses, and braces. Crushing on a boy named Joe who was fourteen and who failed seventh grade – not once, but twice. Dreaming of being a writer and changing the world with my amazing stories.
Today, for your reading pleasure, I have painstakingly retyped one of my earliest works of fiction. I have not fixed anything. Comments from me (today) are in red. Try not to laugh too hard.
I give a liesurely stretch and sit up. Where am I, I wonder? Something wierd is going on. I take a look around the room. Wow!! I’ve never seen so much silver and white in my life. All of a sudden, a nurse walks into the room. (A compelling opening paragraph, aside from a couple of spelling mistakes which my teacher underlined, and an extra exclamation mark which he did not.)
“Ah, you’re awake,” she says to me. (Notice my deft use of first person present.) “Welcome to the year 2005!” (No, I didn’t know you’re not supposed to write numbers as numbers in dialogue.)
“Say what?!” I cry. (It was 1987. “Say what?” was cool back then.) 2005! Who is she kidding?
“2005,” she repeats, smiling. “You’ve been asleep for about 20 years – some dumb sleeping sickness.” She motions toward a tray on the night table. “Hungry?”
“Yeah, yeah……. I am,” I answer. (Yes, seven dots, each one critically important to show my hesitation.) 2005! I still can’t believe it. This has got to be a joke. I’ll get whoever thought this up!
“Here, let me cut you a couple pieces of bread,” the nurse was saying, “and I’ll pour you a glass of decaffinated milk.” (Interesting how my teacher did not underline decaffinated.)
What?? (Because two question marks are so much better than one.)
I watched the nurse take a knife out of a drawer and begin to slice some very old-looking bread. (Okay, that present tense didn’t last long.) The knife slipped and she cut herself badly. So bad, in fact, that she cut her finger right off. I bit my lip, thinking of the pain the nurse must experience right now. I watched her face carefully.
She continued slicing the bread, until four pieces lay on the plate. The finger had fallen onto the floor – the nurse didn’t even realize she was missing her index finger! Another thought crossed my mind. Blood. There wasn’t any blood. Leaning slightly forward, I closed my eyes briefly before picking up the finger.
“My God,” I whispered, examining it. It wasn’t a human finger.
Looking closely, I saw hundreds of tiny little wires inside of it. The nurse must have noticed what I was doing, because she snatched it from me and hurried out.
I lay back against the pillow and thought long and hard. 2005. All of a sudden it hit me. Just like a fly on the wall with out a catcher’s mitt. (Say what?) I had to get out of here – fast. Calling on a reserve I didn’t know I had, I bolted out of bed and ran towards the bathroom. On the other side of the door hung a robe made of thin, shimmery fabric. I slipped it on. Heading back to the night table, I picked up the bread knife and cut off the hospital bracelet around my wrist. Then I crept towards the opened door and peeked out. The coast was clear. I stepped out cautiously. (I’ll give you a dollar for every cliché you count in this paragraph. Should be enough to buy you a Happy Meal.)
There was an exit at the end of the hall. I sprinted up to it, pushed open the doors, and ran outside, expecting sunshine to hit my face.
But was there sunshine? (Is this a rhetorical question?) No, it was dim and grey. (Guess not, since I answered it.) Fog covered the brightness of the sky, and there were dead plants everywhere. What happened?
“I can’t get over it, either,” a voice by my side said. I looked up to find myself standing beside a man of about 60.
“It was that stupid, crummy war. (Yes, war is often crummy.) Earth will be like this for a long time,” he continued.
“War?” I croaked. (I must have had a frog in my throat.) “There was a war?”
The man proceeded to tell me about a nuclear holocaust that had happened 3 years back.
“The only survivors,” he told me, “were the patients in the hospital at the exact time the bomb hit.”
“So that means me.”
“And me, sweet pea. We’re 2 of the 103 humans left in the world. The rest are androids.”
Androids. Androids!! The nurse…… (Yes, six dots.)
“My parents,” I mumbled, in a daze.
“Sweet pea, your parents are dead. You’re the only oriental human.” (Bwahahahaha! It’s even funnier when you consider that I’m not even oriental.)
“No!” I yelled. (Because my parents are dead, or because I just discovered I’m oriental?) “No!!!” (Because three exclamation marks are better than two.)
“Jenny, wake up!”
I opened my eyes, breathing heavily, but feeling relieved. It was a dream, just a dream. (Stories that turn out to be dreams are the best!)
“Jenny, you’ve had a nightmare,” Mom said. “Drink this. I’ll slice some fresh fruit.”
She padded downstairs to the kitchen and returned later with a knife. Then she began to cut up an apple. The skin was slippery, and the sharp edge of the knife sliced into Mom’s finger. I watched in horror as her finger fell to the floor. There was no blood, just wires.
THE END.
| Click to enlarge. |
We all gotta start somewhere. My teacher liked it, anyway. And that was encouraging.
Happy long weekend! Be sure to check back here on Tuesday……. because I have an extremely important announcement to make. Did I say extremely?
Extremely!!!! (Because four exclamation marks are better than three!)
Say what?
You are much braver than I. I remember the short story I presented to my elementary school teacher. When she handed it back, I thought it had been in an auto accident, there was so much red slashing through the pages.
Like you, I was a MacGyver when it came to spelling. A few bits of duct tape, a vowel or two, plus a reasonable amount of consonants and a whole lot of hope — presto, great spelling!!! (See I used your quota of exclamation points.)
Even then, you showed promise. Roland
This is the cutest thing EVAH! A++ and everything, jeez, you were a superstar even as a kid! I love the fact you're the only Oriental person left on earth – what a dilemma!! 😀
Nostalgia is hilarious. Great work.
That's fantastic!
Loved, even though I must admit I don't understand, "Just like a fly on the wall with out a catcher's mitt."
I actually read that you were an ornamental human………….
OMG, Jenny, cannot thank you enough for posting this. I'm laughing…….with you. Decaffeinated milk? Where can I get me some of that??????!!!!! You rock. Seriously.
This is AWESOME; thanks for sharing! I may need to borrow your idea for an upcoming blog post of my own………… =]
Hahahahahaha!! That was friggin' awesome!!! I love it, love it, love it!! 🙂 🙂
I do remember a story you read me once at your Mississauga house when I slept over.
It started with a girl in the bathroom stall of her high school. I think she had either walked by her crush or caught a glimpse of him and hid there to contain herself.
I remember being in awe because the story was amazing! Do you still have that one? Admittedly, that story was a big inspiration for me!
hahaha…so funny.
"War?" I croaked. I must have had a frog in my throat.
Buuahhhahah. Laughing with you, not at you 🙂
Seriously, though, it's pretty cool to see the then and now of your writing. I too have a short play from 11th grade I've been thinking of posting. Can't wait to analyze it. In any event, even with all those "mistakes," spelling and tense errors and so on you got an A++ LOL Who was your teacher?? Hmm…
Awww…crap, Two Melanie's in a row?? LOL, Okay so I'm MellyMel (from AW) just to differentiate.
Hi other Melanie *waves enthusiastically while cursing under my breath that I'm not the only Melanie in the entire world* LOL 🙂
Ok then … I'm Smelly Melly … did I just say that? Ok, how about Smellfunny instead??
I'll end my comments in "Cuz", since I'm cousin Melanie! 🙂
"Hi!" back other Melanie, *staring back ready for a gun draw …* 🙂
I love reading back on my old stuff! Next time I visit my mom, I'll have to pull some of my angst ridden teenage lovesick poetry and post it. Maybe a story…… or two. This is SO great! Say what?? We were all cliches and extra exclamation points back then. Probably because our milk WAS decaffeinated. We hadn't lived enough yet to write more than that. Look at you with your young imagination! Thanks for sharing.
Roland: Thanks for the saying the story showed promise. Of course at the time I thought it was AWESOME! Looking back now, it's so easy to spot the technical mistakes, BUT, in defense of my 12-year-old self, I think the storytelling was sound.
Caitlin: I was crying with laughter yesterday when I read the "oriental human" part. Where did I come up with that stuff? I don't think I have half the imagination now that I did then.
JB: I'm guessing that was an attempt to reference baseball in some clever way… FAIL.
Joann: I'm glad you had a good laugh! I did when I was retyping it!
Milo: Borrow away! I'd love to see some of your early stuff. It's fun to see how far we've come.
Smelly: I'm pretty sure I know the story you're referring to… it will a blog post next week!
Melanie: Ha, my teacher was pretty generous. I remember him pretty clearly — Mr. Newcombe. He was gruff but very encouraging. I remember he sort of looked like Tom Selleck from Magnum P.I.
Jennie: It's good to revisit the past, for chuckles, and also for nostalgia's sake. Would love to read your angsty teenage poetry!
What say you, blog peeps? I dare you to dig up something old and post it on your blogs!
Hahaha to the other Melanie…I grew up with that stupid name too. Of course I didn't smell, but kids will find any way to make fun of your name, heh? I also had a fairly decent sized butt "for a white girl" so I was also called melonbutt by the guy in my hood.
Sorry Jen to digress off the topic 🙂
Tom Selleck??? ZOINKS! How did you get anything done in that class? 🙂
You said it, we all gotta start somewhere. If we were judged based on our first works, nobody would get published.
My favorite line:
" Just like a fly on the wall with out a catcher's mitt." The young you knew what you meant.
You are far braver than I am. I shredded all my old stuff years ago.
I hope I can find the poem you wrote for me in grade 9. I know I have it somewhere. Just you wait!
"Ode to Mich"
"…with your goofy grin and 3 holes in your ear…"
Melanie: I didn't find Tom Selleck all that good-looking back then (too old), but my mom was a fan of Magnum P.I. and they had the same mustache.
Theresa: I am sure that line made sense then. Wish it made sense now! LOL
Adam: You really shredded your old stuff? Too bad. It's fun going back through it. I have every diary I've ever written. Filled with lots of boy angst, of course.
Mich: Oh please find that poem. That would just make my day.
Your running commentary throughout the prose had me crying with laughter the entire read.
In spite of the early writer errors, you shined in your imagination, your wit, and your willingness to delve into unknown literary devices with nary a hestistant step.
Methinks someone was a writer all along! (Should I add two or three more exclamation points? – Damn, now how about the question marks?)
Greg