(no subject)
I have just posted my first entry to a story-writing competition on Gaia. =D
Admittedly, I have posted entries to story-writing competitions before, but only on crappy sites where stories about vampires and/or self harm were considered 'deep'. Anyway, here it is. Wish me luck.
p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Deny Me this Song
Jennifer was not exactly sure why she had chosen the church - it might possibly have chosen her - but she was glad she was here. The stained glass windows made her feel safe in a way, for they hid the bright sunlight, manicured lawns and perfect smiles of the town from her. Sometimes a beautiful world can be simply too beautiful. She lay back on the cool, smooth surface of the pew, relieved that nobody else was there, smiling softly. It was dark and cold. Jenny liked the dark and cold.
She could have fallen asleep right there and then, but there was a raging energy inside her that wanted to be let free, by any means possible. It would have to be released soon, she was sure of it. She would not be able to control it, it would just come spilling out of her - maybe she’d shout at her brothers. Or kick some unsuspecting animal. Or cry. Jenny hoped it wouldn’t be the last one, she looked ridiculous when she cried, like some overgrown snivelling child. She kicked her shoes off and watched them fly towards the rafters high above her head, then eventually fall back down into the opposite row of pews. She snickered, and was shocked for a moment to hear her echo laugh back at her. She sat up, as if to check that nobody else was really there, hiding behind some pillar. No one. And yet there was still a burning desire inside her to do something, anything. She got up, and began pacing up and down the aisle, unable to focus on a single thought. Vague images swam in front of her mind - the essay she handed in the other day that she thought had been worth at least a B, but wasn’t; being the youngest, ugliest bridesmaid at her older brother’s wedding; her piano teacher screaming at her for not learning her scales properly. A dreamy smile crossed Jenny’s face briefly, for it had been a very long time since she had taken piano lessons. She had been just a six-year-old kid under the impression that a few easy lessons would turn her into a genius. Boy, had that illusion faded fast.
Now she sat down again, but her seat was in front of three rows of white and black keys at the church organ. She studied them, scrutinising them as though she could work out what they sounded like just by staring at them. Carefully, she wiped dust off the keys and pressed a few experimentally. Random notes sounded, and Jennifer quickly took her hands away as she felt the ground beneath her vibrate. Silence fell. She looked around again, to check that there really wasn’t anybody else in the building, and then turned back to the keys. She had always been useless at playing the piano, which was a shame since musical talent seemed to run in her mother’s side of the family. Jenny could remember one Christmas afternoon when her mother had played a few carols on the piano in their dining room. That had been such a good day.
The first thing her mother had ever attempted to teach her on the piano came back to her now. Hesitantly, she found the right notes and traced them with her fingertips. She practised for a minute without touching the actual keys. It was just a simple sequence, really, but was just about the only thing she knew how to play, since she had given up with the piano lessons after only a month. There were no words to this song. Then, after a minute or so of this, Jennifer began to press down on the keys again, playing properly now. It was slow and the tune was monotonous, but the organ gave a beauty to the melody that could not be captured on the piano in her dining room. It seemed so much more spectral, especially in a dark, cold, empty church and the nostalgia that the song brought was overpowering, almost. Jenny was whisked back to a time when people had smiled at her simply for being a cute, if chubby, little child with frizzy hair and a big heart. It had not mattered to anyone then what her dress size was or how well she did at school - she was ‘our little Jenny’, that’s all. Her parents were just as pleased with any pictures she scribbled out as they were with her older brothers’ test scores. Everything had been better. Jennifer wished she had stuck at something; perhaps if she had kept drawing pictures she could have been an artist by now. Maybe if she had carried on with the piano lessons she could be top of music class. A lump stuck in her throat as she tried to think desperately of just one thing she was better at than everyone else. Her lip trembled slightly.
She began to play the tune again, but this time she used her left hand to play an accompaniment of chords. She was only just aware of her chest heaving faster than was really necessary, and her face screwing up as her vision became blurry. Anger overcame her, and it was all she could do to keep playing the tune as hot tears spilled down her face. Jennifer hated crying, if only because she knew her face would go red and her eyes would remain bloodshot for the better part of an hour. And yet someone was trying to intrude on her privacy now of all times, just now when she wanted to be alone the most. A shaft of bright light fell on the floor at the back of the church as the door heaved open, and the head of an old man, most likely the vicar, appeared. Wide eyes met Jenny’s tearful ones, and she knew she could not bear it anymore.
“I don’t care what you think! I don’t care! Just leave me alone, everyone else does!” She sobbed, and took her hands away from the keys, using them instead to shield her face and wipe her eyes.
The vicar was stunned. He had heard the stories, of course, about the ghost that played the organ in the church, but never once had he thought them to be true.
Admittedly, I have posted entries to story-writing competitions before, but only on crappy sites where stories about vampires and/or self harm were considered 'deep'. Anyway, here it is. Wish me luck.
p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">Deny Me this Song
Jennifer was not exactly sure why she had chosen the church - it might possibly have chosen her - but she was glad she was here. The stained glass windows made her feel safe in a way, for they hid the bright sunlight, manicured lawns and perfect smiles of the town from her. Sometimes a beautiful world can be simply too beautiful. She lay back on the cool, smooth surface of the pew, relieved that nobody else was there, smiling softly. It was dark and cold. Jenny liked the dark and cold.
She could have fallen asleep right there and then, but there was a raging energy inside her that wanted to be let free, by any means possible. It would have to be released soon, she was sure of it. She would not be able to control it, it would just come spilling out of her - maybe she’d shout at her brothers. Or kick some unsuspecting animal. Or cry. Jenny hoped it wouldn’t be the last one, she looked ridiculous when she cried, like some overgrown snivelling child. She kicked her shoes off and watched them fly towards the rafters high above her head, then eventually fall back down into the opposite row of pews. She snickered, and was shocked for a moment to hear her echo laugh back at her. She sat up, as if to check that nobody else was really there, hiding behind some pillar. No one. And yet there was still a burning desire inside her to do something, anything. She got up, and began pacing up and down the aisle, unable to focus on a single thought. Vague images swam in front of her mind - the essay she handed in the other day that she thought had been worth at least a B, but wasn’t; being the youngest, ugliest bridesmaid at her older brother’s wedding; her piano teacher screaming at her for not learning her scales properly. A dreamy smile crossed Jenny’s face briefly, for it had been a very long time since she had taken piano lessons. She had been just a six-year-old kid under the impression that a few easy lessons would turn her into a genius. Boy, had that illusion faded fast.
Now she sat down again, but her seat was in front of three rows of white and black keys at the church organ. She studied them, scrutinising them as though she could work out what they sounded like just by staring at them. Carefully, she wiped dust off the keys and pressed a few experimentally. Random notes sounded, and Jennifer quickly took her hands away as she felt the ground beneath her vibrate. Silence fell. She looked around again, to check that there really wasn’t anybody else in the building, and then turned back to the keys. She had always been useless at playing the piano, which was a shame since musical talent seemed to run in her mother’s side of the family. Jenny could remember one Christmas afternoon when her mother had played a few carols on the piano in their dining room. That had been such a good day.
The first thing her mother had ever attempted to teach her on the piano came back to her now. Hesitantly, she found the right notes and traced them with her fingertips. She practised for a minute without touching the actual keys. It was just a simple sequence, really, but was just about the only thing she knew how to play, since she had given up with the piano lessons after only a month. There were no words to this song. Then, after a minute or so of this, Jennifer began to press down on the keys again, playing properly now. It was slow and the tune was monotonous, but the organ gave a beauty to the melody that could not be captured on the piano in her dining room. It seemed so much more spectral, especially in a dark, cold, empty church and the nostalgia that the song brought was overpowering, almost. Jenny was whisked back to a time when people had smiled at her simply for being a cute, if chubby, little child with frizzy hair and a big heart. It had not mattered to anyone then what her dress size was or how well she did at school - she was ‘our little Jenny’, that’s all. Her parents were just as pleased with any pictures she scribbled out as they were with her older brothers’ test scores. Everything had been better. Jennifer wished she had stuck at something; perhaps if she had kept drawing pictures she could have been an artist by now. Maybe if she had carried on with the piano lessons she could be top of music class. A lump stuck in her throat as she tried to think desperately of just one thing she was better at than everyone else. Her lip trembled slightly.
She began to play the tune again, but this time she used her left hand to play an accompaniment of chords. She was only just aware of her chest heaving faster than was really necessary, and her face screwing up as her vision became blurry. Anger overcame her, and it was all she could do to keep playing the tune as hot tears spilled down her face. Jennifer hated crying, if only because she knew her face would go red and her eyes would remain bloodshot for the better part of an hour. And yet someone was trying to intrude on her privacy now of all times, just now when she wanted to be alone the most. A shaft of bright light fell on the floor at the back of the church as the door heaved open, and the head of an old man, most likely the vicar, appeared. Wide eyes met Jenny’s tearful ones, and she knew she could not bear it anymore.
“I don’t care what you think! I don’t care! Just leave me alone, everyone else does!” She sobbed, and took her hands away from the keys, using them instead to shield her face and wipe her eyes.
The vicar was stunned. He had heard the stories, of course, about the ghost that played the organ in the church, but never once had he thought them to be true.