Homework: Car Crash
Nov. 13th, 2012 11:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kasihyaDude in my class wanted a prompt that would force him to do realism (why, man, your stories are fucking fantastic, who needs daily life) so we all got the following: two people in a car, hitting a dog or other creature. No supernatural.
Mine's not finished. I was shaking so hard when I read it aloud that I could barely speak. I don't even know why! It was short, it didn't mean that much to me, I don't know why this prompt of all things made me freak out so badly. I'm going to blame the fact that I was freezing.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
"Mary Rutherford sent a mass card for Jim," says his mother. "It's for St. John's Church, so we'll have to go there in January, if you're in town then."
Matt nods. He looks away from the vacant road for a moment to turn on the radio, in the hopes that background noise will induce her to stop talking. Screaming guitars fly out of the speakers. He jumps in his seat and turns the radio off again, heart pounding. He'd forgotten that the stations would be different here. Silence descends again.
"Will you and Sarah be in town then?" asks his mother.
He shrugs. "I don't know yet. It depends on whether we make it to Nationals."
"I'm sorry she couldn't make it. I'd have liked to see her."
"I'll be sure to tell her," says Matt. Sarah is currently at home three hours away, packing their clothing and skates for the competition Tuesday; neither of them had seen the point in her coming to pay her respects to a man who hadn't shown her any in life. By that yardstick, he could have talked himself out of coming, but his mother had sounded so upset on the phone.
She doesn't sound much better now, either. "I know she and your father didn't get along, but all the same, I'd like to think it's the sort of gesture he'd appreciate."
Matt drums his fingers on the steering wheel and makes a noncommittal noise as they drive down the winding, wooded road to the funeral home. It would be cruel to point out that what she'd like to think and what actually happens are frequently two unrelated entities; but as far as he's concerned, it's cruel of her to try to make him feel bad when he doesn’t. He
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
I sent this to my mom to prove to her that she's not wasting her money sending me to college. I do not think that she was entirely convinced. Can't imagine why.
Mine's not finished. I was shaking so hard when I read it aloud that I could barely speak. I don't even know why! It was short, it didn't mean that much to me, I don't know why this prompt of all things made me freak out so badly. I'm going to blame the fact that I was freezing.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
"Mary Rutherford sent a mass card for Jim," says his mother. "It's for St. John's Church, so we'll have to go there in January, if you're in town then."
Matt nods. He looks away from the vacant road for a moment to turn on the radio, in the hopes that background noise will induce her to stop talking. Screaming guitars fly out of the speakers. He jumps in his seat and turns the radio off again, heart pounding. He'd forgotten that the stations would be different here. Silence descends again.
"Will you and Sarah be in town then?" asks his mother.
He shrugs. "I don't know yet. It depends on whether we make it to Nationals."
"I'm sorry she couldn't make it. I'd have liked to see her."
"I'll be sure to tell her," says Matt. Sarah is currently at home three hours away, packing their clothing and skates for the competition Tuesday; neither of them had seen the point in her coming to pay her respects to a man who hadn't shown her any in life. By that yardstick, he could have talked himself out of coming, but his mother had sounded so upset on the phone.
She doesn't sound much better now, either. "I know she and your father didn't get along, but all the same, I'd like to think it's the sort of gesture he'd appreciate."
Matt drums his fingers on the steering wheel and makes a noncommittal noise as they drive down the winding, wooded road to the funeral home. It would be cruel to point out that what she'd like to think and what actually happens are frequently two unrelated entities; but as far as he's concerned, it's cruel of her to try to make him feel bad when he doesn’t. He
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
I sent this to my mom to prove to her that she's not wasting her money sending me to college. I do not think that she was entirely convinced. Can't imagine why.
