VICENÇ

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: The Imaginarium


A mother who immerses herself in fading hopscotch outlines, and a tyrannosaurus that once belonged to her son before his unfortunate death.



Written for hullabaloo22's prompt. Enjoy, darlings.



Outside was a matter of slick stones and muddy waters. Drops of rain boring down mercilessly upon the heart of the small town, leaving that outline of faded hopscotch etched within the pavement like a ghostly shadow of what once was. Monserrat couldn’t tear her gaze away from what was left of the game. One that left an unwanted ache entwined around her ribcage, which pulsated alongside her beating heart.

 

Before tonight, there had been a passion for rain. One so in-depth that listening calmly to the whispering hum of precipitation that plummeted to the water-forsaken ground had become a routine nearly every time a storm rolled in.

 

Now, it left an atmosphere of nostalgia. Of butterfly kisses that once caressed the mountains of her cheekbones, followed by giggles of laughter that bloomed with joy. Echoed with the crackles of thunder, and flickers of lightning that lit up metallic hues.

 

Of  the creak of the very same porch swing that continuously sung a song in awe and protest due to her position upon it, only this time sat a intricately built tyrannosaurus beside her; propped up within the ash-blue blanket that once belonged to him.

 

Of happiness that surrounded a loving boy, one with ambitions and dreams of digging fossils from beneath the surface of  the Earth, yet no longer capable in following that path. Not since life had been stripped away; voiding the goal of finding dinosaur bones in future adventures beyond sandboxes.

 

As the wind roared and whistled, hollow beeps haunted the dark corners of her mind; repeating themselves in precise rhythm to that of a cardiac monitor that made its solace deep in her bones. They quivered, and quaked beneath flesh that had become blanketed with goosebumps from the brutal cold, along with the memories of previous nights spent in hospital rooms.

 

With a shaky hand, that tiny toy is taken within her palm, as glistening eyes so empty and void of emotion follow the perimeter of hopscotch;  a metaphorical image of her loss. Both angered and solemn with the matters of the universe, Monseratt delved herself in the melody of dancing raindrops, brisk winds, and claps of thunder; imagining each boom being her son mocking the eerie sound of a dinosaur’s threatening walk high above the grey clouds.



Submitted: February 11, 2018

© Copyright 2021 Ever A. Darling. All rights reserved.

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Comments

hullabaloo22

Ever, this was fantastic. Beautifully written with so much feeling!

Mon, February 12th, 2018 9:35pm

Author
Reply

Thank you!

Mon, February 12th, 2018 2:32pm

smircle

I love how this was in third-person; you don't get much of that nowadays, especially with pieces like this. With third person, it's much harder to capture the character's emotions without making it seem like a list of feelings - but you have managed to do it perfectly, and the fact that it is such a short piece makes that feat even more impressive. It was heartbreaking the read the effect the loss of her child has had on her; she seems a shell of a woman, as lifeless as the bones of the dinosaur skeletons he wanted to spend his life finding. Your descriptions were very well done and really tugged at the heartstrings; you didn't overdo her emotions, and the metaphor of the fading hopscotch worked really well, as we can all remember how easily the chalk faded but also all the fun we had playing it. Really good job with this; keep writing! :) ~smircle

Mon, February 19th, 2018 1:54am

LeParadisNoirPoetique

The way to get into the emotions sometimes is to talk about the person, or seeing their favourite toy now lifeless, because that child won't play with it anymore. Sometimes it is more effective in the way you have written this story, instead of describing the plight of the person until their death. I'm glad you took this approach, and without spoken words also, because this is as haunting as a lullaby as it gets. I love the emotions Monserrat has when comming into contact with the Tyrannosaurus, and how the weather outside is mimicking her son's sounds of playtime when he was making the Tyrannosaurus rule, just like in years past. It's very haunting, yet also a beautiful dedication to her child, because she will remember the moments he was alive, especially when the Tyrannosaurus is near. This is the best kind of story for pure emotion, because it is remembering what was alive, instead of the loss. Beautiful. A mini masterpiece.

Sun, February 25th, 2018 2:44pm

Author
Reply

Thank you so much for reading.

Sun, February 25th, 2018 9:49am

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