Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Wednesday Spiff (On Ghosts)

So, my short piece of writing. I don't want to call it a short story, because it kind of isn't; now that I think of it, it's more of a scene. I just wrote it to write. (In a way, it was a sort of writing prompt: just a way of saying, "look! I wrote something today!")

       The faint crunch of boots in snow and of children laughing were all that could be heard. Inside, next to the window sill, the little girl kept cutting folded paper into the shapes of snowflakes.

"Watcha doin' there, honey?" her mother asked. She bent of the little girl, watching her struggle with the big-girl scissors.

"I'm making art," she answered happily. Her dark pigtails bounced as she looked up at her mother.

"Mamma, do you think the Big People will sell them in their museums?"

"Sure they would," her mother lied. She changed gthe subject. "How about we go into the kitchen and make some hot chocolate?"

      The little girl stood up and walked into the next room, momentarily distracted from her work. A teenage girl, who had been standing invisible peered at her little sister's snowflakes still scattered about the floor.

      Among the clumsy paper snowflakes was a green one with an indistinguished pattern. On it was written "Chandra" in silver Sharpie. She picked it up, smiling at her sister's innocence.

"Mamma, can Chandra have some have some hot chocolate, too?" came the little girl's voice from the other room. Her mother's voice, when it came, sounded choked.

"Now, Clara, we know that Chandra isn't here, remember? I told you all about how God wanted her to stay with Him for awhile."

"Yea, but she's back! Mamma, I saw her."

      The overheard exchange left Chandra depleted. As her energy faded, her body did as well, until the snowflake fell through her fingers to the floor. She wished her mother could believe in ghosts: the faith kept her solid for awhile longer.

     The sound of Clara's footsteps clattered across the kitchen tiles and back into the living room, where her snowflakes waited for her. The invisible Chandra floated on light feet to the doorway. Her mother took no notice as she swept through Chandra's spirit and back towards her living daughter.

 It kind of feels representational of my voice, and I write using more or less the same voice in my novel-writing, so feedback would be nice (to avoid similar mistakes while I'm writing my novel). It looks a lot shorter in my post than it does on lined paper.

Anyways, have a blessed 1st Day of August (and a blessed Wednesday, for that matter). Don't forget to write! <3

I decided this post needed a picture. So I found a flower in the public domain, through Google/Creative Commons.


  1. Hi Danielle, I found your blog through Kirthi's and I think this is really, really good. I love how it's so ... I don't know. I can't find the words. The ending ,in particular the very last sentence, was very poignant. Something about its simplicity and the clear divide between the two daughters: the living and the dead. I write too, and I post my stories on my blog. Would you maybe consider entering the writing competition I'm hosting? Or just visiting my blog? I'd really like you to. Thanks (:

    My competition post:

  2. This was a lovely piece of writing :) And you did awesome at guessing my book contest. You have 41! And so far you are tied for first.