Week 8 Experimental Exercises

9 thoughts on “Week 8 Experimental Exercises”

1. 1. She’s never loved before—it was always meant for other people, for other lives, for other destinies—she’s only nineteen but she knows it, that love isn’t meant for her, that it would pass her by and it was one of life’s secrets that just wasn’t meant for her, but then one day chance sets off a series of events like a string of dominos and it sends her spinning, she gets the job offer, she moves to a new city, she finds a new best friend, he asks her to go to an event, and when she goes she talks to everyone there, all of them completely uninteresting, but all of them completely connected, so she goes and she smiles and she charms, and then someone walks in behind her and her whole body tenses with knowing, and when she turns around she doesn’t know if it’s love at first sight but it’s the closest she’s ever come to realizing it, she sees a girl with dark hair and dark eyes, sunglasses, and who even wears sunglasses to events that are inside, and she doesn’t care, she’s glowing, she feels it in her body, that this is someone who’s going to be important, that she can’t bear to leave without talking to her, that something, maybe everything was leading up to right now, and that she needs to know this person like she knows herself, and for someone who doesn’t believe in destiny she sure does believe in the certainty of this person, love wasn’t real and then it was, and it looked like her.

   2. To have known her mother was to know a force, to witness a natural disaster bound in a body. Her mother’s love had been violently fierce, something that took and took, rarely giving anything back. Perhaps that was cruel, but so was her mother.

   She sat on the train, remembering the last time she’d taken it, the last time she’d spoken to her mother. When she’d called her and said, I’m not coming home, and all her mother had said was goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, over and over again. The conductor had asked for her ticket, and she’d handed it over sobbing, knowing that home wasn’t home anymore, and it never would be again.

   Later, her brother had called her fifty times—every voicemail full of red hot vitriol, shouting from the top of his lungs. Underneath it all, she heard his fear, his terror at the fact that she’d left him alone with their mother. She never did overcome the guilt and call him back. How could she? Her oldest brother—the one who had protected her from their mother’s anger the most, the one who had helped her with her homework, always gave her the last bite of food. She’d left him, and in doing so, sealed his fate.

   He would then live out an entire life centered around their mother, waiting on her every whim, never able to have a wife, a house, or children of his own. She had escaped, but at what cost? He’d paid the price. She’d lived the life she wanted, and had ached for. She would do it all again, but she didn’t know if she could bear to face him, even still. Her brother had given his whole life to care for their mother, abandoned by his sister, and now he was left with nothing.

   To have known her mother was to know a force, to witness a natural disaster bound in a body. Her mother’s love had been violently fierce, something that took and took, rarely giving anything back. Perhaps that was cruel, but so was her mother. She sat on the train, remembering the last time she’d taken it, the last time she’d spoken to her mother. When she’d called her and said, I’m not coming home, and all her mother had said was goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, over and over again. Later, her brother had called her fifty times—she never did overcome the guilt and call him back. Her brother had given his whole life to care for their mother, abandoned by his sister, and now he was left with nothing. He’d lived an entire life centered around their mother, waiting on her every whim, never able to have a wife, a house, or children of his own. She had escaped, but at what cost? He’d paid the price. She’d lived the life she wanted, and had ached for. She would do it all again, but she didn’t know if she could bear to face him, even still.

   3. You took everything, she told someone once. I only took what you offered, they answered.
   Sometimes there was nothing left at the end. Openly, willingly, easily.
   She would fight to the death to prevent somebody from taking something from her, but if they asked nicely, she would lay down on the ground and let them have whatever they wanted
   She hated that, being overly sentimental. But she could also never let things go..
   Could I do it all over again? Could I take it all back? How much of what was said can be undone, she said?

2. 1)
   She runs and runs with a longing to be alone; the noise of the word is too loud and it makes her head pound, always, being let down, broken by the people that have betrayed her, broken by lovers that shattered her, tired from the weight of everything; she gags at the air, its too crisp too fresh; she’d grown accustomed to the dirty smog of the city; she didn’t know how to breathe this new air; the flowers that bloomed on the hills were too bright; they made her eyes strain from their eccentric coloring that exuded happiness; why was the world so bright so happy, but not to her; her mothers criticism rang in her ears, not good enough, lacking, disgrace; her father was somewhere, probably fucking happy but she didn’t know he left her, just like everyone else; so she runs further and further from people from hurt, to an oasis that must be real, or did she dream it; she just hadn’t found it yet, but she will, she has to before she is hurt again; or maybe she should stop running and let them crumple her; they were halfway there, what was a little more heartbreak; no, keep running, away from the evil from the people that were so nice she pushed them away; she couldn’t enjoy the love when she knew it wouldn’t be there forever, so she keeps running, alone , away into darkness.

   2)
   The girls ran down the street veering around the fire hydrant that blocked the sidewalk.

   The girls ran down the street, dodging the obnoxiously bright red fire hydrant, that sat like a hurdle in the middle of the sidewalk.

   3)
   Her flower fell down onto the grave now it was her turn, Goodbye my love. All of Bill’s “friends” had taken turns expressing their sorrow, while she angrily watched gripping her seat. His mother was fooled by the crowd of support that came after the memorial. The grandmas tossed their tissues into the trash, right next to Bill’s flower arrangement. Dead were the only words she remembered from his service.

3. 1) I knew I was in love with her the second I saw her in the hallway and wanted to take her to the athlete’s gala the day after we became lab partners – her laughter as light as a feather as we worked to write our lab report – the next week, I knew I wanted to be the best man she’d ever been with; I knew I wanted to date her after when I saw her at bleachers – cheering her heart out for me – at the homecoming football game; I knew I wanted to have a fun family with her after dating her for 7 months and I knew I wanted to marry her 3 years after that – I knew I wanted propose to her at our apartment the first night after she moved in – I knew I regretted it when she asked about the cost of the ring and knew I didn’t want to marry her when she decided to call 200 people and want a family with her 4 months after our wedding; I knew I wanted to leave when I found out she had been cheating on me with different men over the last 8 years while I was away playing football, and that’s when I knew: I didn’t love her anymore.

   2) Long Novel: The train passed by the beautiful snow-capped mountains of Switzerland. Staring out at the windows, Winona felt peace and calm. The white serene snow strangely felt like a blanket of warmth around her. A sigh of contentment left her body. All this time, these mountains had evaded her. They had been a dream of hers to visit these mountains. After saving for almost 3 years, she was finally here. When her phone began to ring, the calm shifted to annoyance. Ugh, him again. But that annoyance eventually gave way to joy and laughter. She was finally here.

   Short Story: The Switzerland trip had been in planning for 3 years now. Leaving him was the impetus she needed. Now, here she was in a train, looking at the snow-covered mountains. For the first time in a few months, Winona was happy with herself.

   3) “They’re lost.”

   They had gone all around the point, only the situation could have easily been summed up in 2 simple words. What do they mean? Nothing made sense to Amy anymore. As her mother and father stood before her as a collective unit, she knew they were going to deliver bad news to her. The fact that her father was helping her mother deliver the news was an ominous sign. Questions filled the mind of little 6-year-old Amy. She wasn’t particularly inquisitive or nosy, but silently curious. What could they possibly have to say to her?

4. 1. He stands behind her, swaying together till they almost touch- she doesn’t know he’s there, but can feel the tension coming from behind her- she turns her head as he vanishes back to the shadows, and gazes at her confused face looking pleased with how close he was able to come this time- he’s tried many times before, but she’s always been too paranoid and jumpy, feeling or hearing his advances before he could smell the vanilla of her skin- this time his eyes rolled back as he dipped his head into the junction of her shoulder and neck taking a deep breath- it’s amazing she didn’t feel the change in air, but the wind saved him tonight as it brushed the hair off her shoulders and distracted her sensitive skin enough for him to feel the heat radiating from her- it was a thought he had daily, smelling her, feeling her and yet she would never know him, and she would never let him if she knew who he was; he was terrifying, eyes that drew you in, height that towered over everyone, some knew his name, well it’s a name they made up for him as no one would be able to truly meet him or know him, he became known as “tall man”, his real name barely remembered by himself, no family to remind him anymore; he is known to watch, mostly from afar, but when he’s driven, he follows you, right behind you like a shadow even at night in an area with no light.

   3. He reaches home. Driving after a long day felt like hours while recounting what had happened. He finally got to leave his desk, but his boss forced long miserable days on them all. He had been working on a new project for the last 3 hours of the day. He luckily had a nice lunch prepared by his wife who he knew was waiting at home for him, where he couldn’t wait to be. He sits through meetings full of boring talk, but no employee is being heard. He clocks in knowing the long day of meetings and tasks awaits him. He pulls into work dreading it already, wanting to be home with his wife in bed like earlier that morning.

5. #1
   Just seven days ago we boarded the ship, my sister and I happily skipping up the boardwalk while our parents straggle behind, each lugging two large suitcases and a backpack, but we, being the unconcerned children we were, paid no heed their plight and instead ran screaming down into the boughs of the ship while flashing the shiny new keycard to any confused guest that looked in our direction; just five days ago we were having the best time of our lives, at least the kids were, because all it seemed like mom and dad did was argue, and sometimes I would grab my sister and turn away from them and pretend like they didn’t exist because it happened over breakfast, during our trip to the pool, even while we were on the starboard looking for whales that were hiding in the deep blue of the ocean that seemed to stretch as far as our eyes could see; just two days ago we were getting terribly homesick and terribly bored of the pool with tiny little waterslides or the cramped room we had to sleep in every night or even soft serve ice cream machine that would only serve vanilla or chocolate and wouldn’t even mix them together, but we didn’t have to ask twice because the very next day the ship’s engine stalled while we were in the middle of the pacific ocean with reports of a storm expected to hit in the next twelve hours; just one day ago our ship began flooding in the dead of night so we all had to evacuate into the lifeboats, but our dad got lost in the fray as people scrambled to get to the deck and our mom had to stay behind because there wasn’t enough space in this lifeboat, so now it’s just me and my sister stuck on a bright orange plastic raft in the middle of the pacific ocean with five other strangers and I miss home and wish we had never come on this stupid trip.

   …
   #2
   As she stood on that peak, finally overlooking the valley she had gruelled for three days and three nights to see, she felt complete for the first time in the past year. Exhale, inhale. The breeze carried hints of pine needles and wet earth. It was exactly what she needed – it was an escape. She reaches down and takes one last long look at the diamond ring adorning her finger before ripping it off and chucking it off the mountain with a ferocity that startled even herself. There, that would show him.

   She stood on that peak, gasping for breath but finally able to overlook the valley that she had spent the last three days and nights trying to see. As her eyes rove over the rolling mountains, still green from the late summer but with hints of brilliant oranges and reds peeking out in patches, she thinks back to her husband. Ex-husband, she quickly corrects herself. At least that’s what he should be if the divorce went through. She hopes he filed the papers three weeks ago like he said he would. There’s a glint in the corner of her eye and she realizes it’s her ring. She’s still wearing it, and as much as she wants to chuck it down the ravine, there’s a part of her that will be sorry to see it go. She may have caught him in bed with another woman, but he’s still her first love, the man she married at the tender age of twenty-three, the man she shares a name with. She sits on the rocky ledge below her feet for what seems like hours, just pondering. Moments later, her beautiful diamond rings goes flying through the air before clattering onto the rocks below.

   …
   #3
   My sister and I are stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Our only company are five other people and the fluorescent orange lifeboat we all cling to desperately. I think back to our parents, how the last time we saw them was two days ago, our mother desperately clinging to the railing of the starboard screaming how much she loves us, our father nowhere to be seen, lost in the fray somewhere below deck. Just five days ago, we were all crammed together in a tiny room inside the ship. Our parents would incessantly argue, but my sister and I were content just being on the vacation, though sometimes we would run away into some other part of the ship and pretend we were here alone. Just seven days ago, we were skipping up the boardwalk, ready to take our first big adventure together. At least my sister and I were excited, even if our parents were apprehensive. No one expected catastrophic engine failure, and now my sister and I are alone, surrounded by miles of deep blue as far as the eye can see.

6. 1.
   Rain fell in waves, not in drops as it should have, on the same acorn-lined street that they had left so many years ago: the street where they had shared apples and yogurt and honey and teddy grahams as kids after long soccer practices, the street where they had danced in similar rain, the street where their parents had moved next to each other without knowing their children would one day move away and come back; when they did return it was raining, and when they saw each other again for the first time in years it was still raining, waves roaring down the street, street drains barely keeping up, endlessly swirling, when they returned they were different people on the same street, but they were incomplete in the same way, never having understood why they had left each other behind, they had said goodbye, maybe it was just a growing apart, and when she raised a hand across the street, that flooding street that connected them and then watched them walk away in opposite directions, the street that cradled their childhoods and watched them reunite, she waved back, slowly, like she was still considering leaving again and not saying goodbye this time, although not saying goodbye would probably mean they would keep in touch, it wouldn’t feel so final this time; call me, she shouted across the street, you still have my number, you didn’t change it? No, why would I? You never answered, you never called, yes I did, yes I did.

   2.
   The birds whistled in the canopy of the forest out her window, and for a brief moment, she felt a sense of peace that she had not felt since late in the evening of the day before. She barely remembered getting home, let alone getting into bed. She was still wearing last night’s makeup– or, more accurately, her pillowcase had removed most of her birthday-themed eyeshadow, and was now adorned with pink glitter. Not the most responsible way to start being twenty-one, she thought. Alina would have considered herself to be a responsible woman most of the time, and a sensible one even more often, but she had partaken in a classic coming-of-age ritual: getting far too drunk as soon as she was allowed to.

   She woke up to the twittering of birds outside her window. She smiled, turning over her shoulder to bask in the sunlight that filtered through the poorly closed curtain, and as she did so, the pounding in her head returned, and she remembered with sobering embarrassment the events of last night. Approximately seven vodka shots, one for every three years she had been alive, to celebrate her twenty-first birthday. What a stupid idea– she was sure she herself had come up with it, maybe about four shots in? It sounded like an Alina-is-4-shots-in sort of an idea. Not that she knew much, since she had just turned twenty-one. The birds chirped again. She picked up her pillow to place it over her head, and, finding mascara on it, she groaned. She didn’t want to start her twenty-first year of life with laundry.
   3.
   We gathered around, assessing the damage. No one knew who had tipped it over, whose elbow was in the wrong place at the wrong time, just that it had made a loud crunch as it hit the floor. Juice seeped in line with the tiles, expanding and sinking in, staining. The peach cobbler lay upside-down in the center of the kitchen, still smelling of cinnamon and vanilla, just upside-down, in the middle of the floor. The top of the cobbler was browned in the oven, slowly filling the house with the warm, buttery aura of holiday baking. On top, butter, flour, and brown sugar were squished together by hand in a glass bowl, rhythmically kneaded and pressed between dedicated fingers. Inside, expertly sliced peaches mixed with cinnamon, sugar, and other assorted spices, stirred together, like the ritual creation of a potion.

7. 1)
   Shimmering lights bind their eyesight while bodies sway from one side to another as they look into their eyes – their eyes saying they love each other with deep admiration – and the lights twinkle against the disco ball that illuminates the blues and greens making students appear as aliens –maybe they were aliens, two distinct people and different—and two students stare at each other from the corner inspecting what the other would do wondering if one of them will make a move and approach the other and wait quietly until the girl moves forward and walks towards him with a twinkle in her eye as a slow song blares from the speakers and she wonders if he will walk towards her but he stays in his spot and she becomes concerned that it might all be in her head –probably overthinking—and then he makes a move towards her and her heart skips a beat just like the song while he gets closer to her frail small body and he begins to wonder if she is also interested in him and if she would accept this dance from him –perhaps yes perhaps not—and that makes him doubt his choice because he lacks confidence but that is what causes issues here because he retreats and she thinks he dislikes her and begins to feel ashamed for even moving forward in the first place but wants to be courageous and walks all the way to him, extending her hand and asking him for a dance, making his heart skip another beat to the song.

   2)
   Long Novel: A tall five-year-old girl entered the loud classroom. Children ran inside excitedly, some waving to their parents goodbye while others cried at their departure, not being used to the lack of parental guidance. The girl walked around the corner and looked at some of the tables trying to find the perfect spot to sit. She inspected each seat, which ones had gum, which ones had marker stains, and which ones had food crumbs until she found the perfect seat. A tall woman with curly hair stood at the center guiding parents into the classroom, trying to help children not fall on their faces. The girl watches the woman struggling, not understanding a word she says because the language sounds foreign to her. Her mother stands by the door, wiping a stray tear from her face and smiling at the little girl. The mother watched the girl swing her little legs that dangled from the chair as she would occasionally wave and sometimes tell her it was okay to go. Another girl walked into the room with long, dirty blonde hair and a flower-patterned dress. She looked awkwardly around the room and made her way to the tall girl. The tall girl smiled at her, saying hello in a different language and telling the blonde girl that her shoes were pretty. This was their start.

   Short story: Two little girls walked into a classroom. One was tall and the other was blonde. They were both five years old. Their parents had departed with longing as it was their first day of kindergarten. The tall girl had already sat at a table, observing her surroundings and inspecting the other children. The blonde girl, not knowing who to approach sat at the same table. The tall girl said in a different language, “I like your shoes.” The blonde girl, confused, stared down at her shoes and wiggled her feet as she got flustered.

   “Let’s be friends,” she said. And that is how it began.

   Their friendship lasted thirteen years, from having playdates, singing in the living room, baking, and riding bikes together, to reading with one another. They shared their childhood experiences with one another until it came to a bitter end when they were eighteen. As they say, people drift apart as they change over time.

   3)
   “Saeng il chook ha ham ni da” They scream collectively in the room. They chant the words as if in a ritualistic manner. Four students stand in a room staring at a whiteboard while one of them teaches “Happy Birthday,” in Korean. They explained to one of the four students that they were getting Korean lessons. One of the students had walked into the room momentarily before. They were getting food from a dining hall seconds ago, waiting in line for approximately five minutes, and were confused at what had happened. Before they had walked out though, they had been working on assignments next to the whiteboard that was now surrounded by people chanting Korean words in short, stumped, pronunciations.

8. 1) 8 am, Get Started; I have 11 hours to empty my pink ombre water bottle, Heading to cell biology, my first class of the day, hoping his slides make better sense and that he doesn’t mumble each time he ends a thought, unfortunately it doesn’t become true and I open my laptop to play the New York times connection game while I sip my bottle, 10 am, You’ve Got It; technically I reached it at 10:30 but that’s tomato tomato, rushing out of the class and onto the next, sitting next to the window and watching the leaves turn orange and red, 12 am, Keep Chugging; I will keep chugging and downing this inorganic compound, hoping that it will hold me over until lunch, 2pm, Never Give up; heading to my 3 hour lab, where everything is left outside, so I take a large swing and make it to Almost there, which is for 5pm, I finally leave lab and head to the dining hall, when suddenly a scurry of squirrels are heading my way and jump all over me, I’m trying to shake them away but they are everywhere, scratching and biting all over, then I trip and fall in a sewer hole, never making it to 7pm, You Did It; and never having a chance to refill it.

   2) Her journey is brief. She must walk up the highest mountain in Greece, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Olympians. Climbing 10,000 feet, hoping to eat ambrosia and drink nectar. She wants to know what it feels like to be a god and have all of humanity at her feet.

   3) “You are my king,” says Nicholas, kneeling in front of the fallen angel, not understanding how this all came to be. With no recollection of his time in the world of the living, he begs to understand why he’s at the lake of fire. The prince of darkness grants him his plea, but not before warning him, “You shall remember your unrighteousness; however, you will be bestowed with your sentence at the end of your walk down memory lane. Or you may come and worship me.” Nicholas thought long and hard, but he must know the truth, must understand why this is happening. “I need to know, let me know my truth.” And so, with one swift motion of his hand, the father of lies, sent him to the recollection cave where he will relive his most wrongdoings. 1993, Nicholas is at the club, drinking and dancing the night away. Hoping to make some fun memories and have stories to tell all his friends. One shot, two shot, three shot, he’s feeling the vibration of the music, when across the room he sees a young woman. She is dressed in a tight short red dress, diamond earrings with matching heels, a tiny pearl necklace, white fur coat and her skin soft as a porcelain doll. Nicholas couldn’t believe his eyes, not only is she a beautiful woman, but one with money. With a drink and mischievous smile, he walks over to her and eventually convinces her to dance with him. As she giggles on the dance floor, all he can think about is a shiny gold rolex, a box of champagne, and cocaine. Twenty minutes later, she is on the floor of the custodian closet, only in her red dress. Six months later, Nicholas is back at the club, wanting another fun night. While chit chatting with the bartender, he finds out that the young rich woman was murdered that night. “They found her naked bloody body on the floor of the supply closet. Apparently, a deranged man found her and took advantage of her,” said the bartender. Nicholas, in shock, starts to lose his senses and stumbles out of the bar, and the bartender is yelling his name to get his attention. As he crosses the street, a car out of nowhere hits him. “GASP…AHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” Nicholas screams as he awakens from his memories. The Antichrist comes out of the dark corner and says, “Now that you know your truth, you are condemned to forever live in your sins.”

9. 1. One sentence story: I’ve been frowning for some time now, frowning, frowning, brow furrowed and lips turned down just slightly, my disgust justified only to me because I’m the only one who knows what’s actually happening and the people around me have no idea, but they don’t care to have any idea, no one’s ever tried to clue in on what I mean when my words are harsh and scathing because ignorance is bliss but not for me because the longer they all stay ignorant the longer I have to sit here frowning and frowning and as my disgust lingers and my resentment grows it morphs into anger and hatred and these people probably aren’t as oblivious as I thought because there’s no way in hell none of them have noticed by now, their actions are on purpose and of course it’s easier to stay ignorant, but ignorance isn’t really ignorance if it’s a front because I know it’s all chicanery, deep in my heart I know their true nature— it’s self serving and haughty, and the pity I once had has disappeared completely and the frown is becoming permanent, the harsh line between my eyebrows won’t ever go away and it’s not my fault because this didn’t start with me, that they can ignore that they caused this, that’s why we’re sitting here in a circle while they defend and mope and legitamize themselves and I know I’ll never have the chance because they won’t let me and as soon as the asshole in the center asks “Do you have anything to say to your parents?” I know this frown will never leave my face for as long as I live.

   2. Long novel: He noticed the chill of the cold mountain air first, the familiar bite through his clothing. This feeling was nothing new, and each year he returned it was always the same. The first time he visited, it frustrated him. The cold seemed to seep through the windows, the metal of the seats, into the attitudes of the train attendants that floated down the aisles. This visit was no different regarding the permeance of the cold; this time, though he wasn’t so upset. He looked out the window, not at the passing snowy landscape, but at the face in the reflection, in view with the setting sun behind him. Leaning closer, intentionally directing his hot breath onto the glass, fog spread quickly.

   Short story: The train ride was bumpy, slow, attendants giving curt and uninterested responses to passengers down the aisle. The temperature was uncomfortable; it felt like the glass held in no warmth from the train car. He rubbed his hands together, bouncing his leg, anticipating a coming arrival into the station he knew so well.

   3. End to the beginning short story (timer set for 10 minutes while writing): Ripples went rolling over the surface of the lake. Just moments before, it stood as still as a mirror, reflecting the stars and a moon so bright it cast shadows across the forest. Two heads bobbed together, quickly moving to the other side of the water. Prints of bare feet could be seen in the mud where they had jumped, a set of two; deep depressions were obvious in the soft ground, muddy from rain earlier in the day. Further back, the footprints took the shape of different sole patterns, and two pairs of shoes could be seen thrown haphazardly onto the earth. A shirt hung from a branch above, a dress softly fluttered with the leaves as a breeze swept through. Pants lie in the dirt, soaking up moisture from the ground, and socks were strewn about.