This is a weekly space for creative writing. Please check out the landing page if you're interested in what we've written already, and feel free to comment below (according to the request feedback level) with any comments or suggestions! This is the last one!
Prompt:
Author: Melissa
Requested feedback: a loud and hearty "welcome back!" (requested by Joe)
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"Goodbye, Garage Sunlight"
The Fall sunlight plays orange shadows across the garage door as Jean's hands hold tight to the kitchen doorframe.
When did her hands become so dry?
She would invest in a new lotion when she got the chance. She would have to go to Bloomingdale's when Vince had time off. She would never let him know how much money she would spend there. Maybe he'd wait in the car? Maybe she could even ask her sister, Josephine, what brand she used although Josephine would be obnoxiously smug giving a recommendation.
"Never mind that," she thought out loud.
"What's that?" A lazy voice from the other room calls to Jean. The television plays some god-forsaken program—nothing Jean was interested in, which is how she found herself in this kitchen, bracing the door frame, and staring out to the garage. She would leave today or else she will never get out and what about that Bloomingdale's trip?
"Oh. Nothing," she responds, startled by the out loud thought and the voice in the other room.
"You ok," the lazy voice pipes up again.
Jean could not connect the voice to a face. Josephine, perhaps? Except Josephine was never lazy in anything she did, especially not speaking. Her words were purposeful and direct. There would be no boredom in Josephine's voice. "There are no uninteresting things, only uninteresting people," Josephine would scold Jean whenever she complained of boredom. "Do you want to be uninteresting, Jeanie?"
"No, Josephine! I want to be interesting," Jean says out loud to no one except the faceless voice in the other room.
"I'm not Josephine," the voice in the other room sighs with annoyance. The television moves on to a different, louder station. Perhaps, the voice in the other room has turned the volume up?
Jean has had enough. "I'm leaving now," she yells from the kitchen. "Vince is going to take me to Bloomingdale's!"
"Ok," the voice lazily intones from the other room.
Why don't they care?
Josephine would care. Josephine cares about everything. "The simple act of caring is heroic, Jean. Never forget that. Are you a hero, Jeanie?"
"Yes, I'm a hero!" She says out loud.
The television in the next room switches to silent, or off, and Jean stares at her hands again. When did her hands become so dry?
"Mom-Mom?" a chubby young girl, with round rosy cheeks surprises her from her right. She stands in a doorframe Jean doesn't remember seeing before.
Jean smiles, remembering how Josephine's cheeks were so rosy. So round.
"Josie! Would you know a good hand cream I could use? Don't be smug about it, but, Jesus, Mary and Joseph these hands have gotten so dry."
"Um, er," Josie mutters and looks around. She's both annoyed and sad in the way only teenagers could be. But, Josephine is an adult. She's never embarrassed. She wasn't embarrassed when she was a kid and—"
"Mom-Mom, I'm not Aunt Josie. Why don't you come sit with me and we'll—"
"I can't. I'm going to Bloomingdale's," Jean's voice comes out harder and more stubborn than she even expected. The not-Josephine-teen's eyes water a little. Why is this child's eyes watery? Jean just wants to go to goddamn Bloomingdale's and not feel for this kid.
"Ok, Mom-Mom. Ok," the teen shrugs. Jean looks away. How could she confuse this child with Josephine? Josephine would never shrug. She would never cry, she would never look sad over Bloomingdale's!
Jean stares back out the glass door. The garage remains solidly white and there. A body shifts and moves away from her and into the other room. The television sounds return.
The Fall sunlight plays orange shadows across the garage door as Jean's hands hold tight to the kitchen doorframe.
When did her hands become so dry?
1 comment:
Hell yes!! Melissa is back. Thanks so much for writing this, friend. Blogging is not important, but it can be helpful, and I hope this exercise managed to be helpful to you in some way.
Impeccably written, as always. I have always had mad respect for your wordsmith skills, and it's the reason I originally wanted this A.S.S. Creative Writing Lab to take off, so I could learn something from you! If you are bored in 2025, go back and read through some of my A.S.S. writings and chop that shit up with a machete.
Lots that I liked here. The thing I liked the most was how cohesive it was. The bit about dry hands tied it all together, and is not something that a story like this can pull off without thinking about it beforehand. So I appreciate how tight it was.
Something that I've noticed in a lot of the A.S.S. writings this year was that a lot of it hinges on that one moment when everything clicks, when the reader goes "oh shit, THIS is what's going on here." You did really well with that here. The "I'm not Aunt Josie" line hit so hard. It changes everything, and demands a few more rereads. That's not really that easy to do, especially within this word limit. Good shit.
Also really well-balanced between the dialogue and the details between quotes. Everything flowed naturally. I also liked the choice to have all of Jean's descriptive words of others be negative ("smug," "lazy," "chubby"); they pile up and end up giving us more of a clearer picture of Jean herself.
Generally, I'd be really excited to see what you could do, given the time and energy and space, with like 100,000 words. I'd read that in a day. Thanks a lot for writing this, and for ending the A.S.S. Creative Writing Lab in style!
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