Blinding Wind
"No way, you can't be serious. Mum, I'm not coming with you. Haven't you heard the rumours? Everyone says that the girl who went missing last month was last spotted just two streets away from that row of government housing."
My mum darts me that familiar glare, the oh-you-are-such-a-snobby-twenty-first-century-first-world-country-teenager look.
"There's no proof behind that - and you know it. I expected something more reasonable from you, Mel."
I admire my nails in an attempt to hide my defeat. A painful essence of truth in her statement had struck me, but it was much easier to pretend not to care.
"Come on, we're leaving now. At least you can say you've volunteered before at your next job interview."
She flashes one of her taunting grins as I shoot her an affectionate scowl, grabbing several bottles of hand sanitiser and pepper spray into my bag behind her back.
***
Even from afar, the cacophonous multitude of languages shrouds me in confusion. What were they gossiping about? A lady hanging up her laundry takes a quick glance at me - then a few seconds later shouts something in some foreign tongue to her daughter behind her. A momentary fury swells within me as I imagine her making a racist joke - was it the colour of my skin? Or my mass of curly hair?
But as the young girl turns around she only appears two or three years my junior, albeit several centimetres taller than me. Where was her cultural dress? Everyone at school said that the area was extremely distinct because all its residents wore peculiar cultural dresses - almost like a fancy dress party, but daily.
In fact she was clad in a t-shirt and jeans, her white socks peaking peeking out through her ... Nike sneakers which I had been begging my mum for three months to buy me. I tug at my mother's hand eagerly, but she ignores me and starts searching for the other volunteers.
The young girl turns around on her sneakers and begins heading my way. Subconsciously, I roll my eyes in an exasperated sigh - I was too exhausted for a wordless exchange, facilitated only by universal hand gestures at ineffectively overcoming the language barrier. That's how all the movies showed two different cultures communicating, wasn't it?
"Hey, are you one of the volunteers? I think the others are meeting up over there."
She points to some unfamiliar location to no avail, as I recover from the shock of her perfect English. Why of course. She would attend the local high school, just like me. Maybe I had even seen her before?
As she turned around I tried to photoshop her silhouette out and drop her in the midst of our school campus ... surprisingly she would blend in well. Actually, there would be no indication whatsoever of her living in government housing. Where were the broken shoes, the greasy hair, the notable accents or stuttering of those who live here?
Author's Note: 520 words. haha, as you can see, I have not finished. and my bedtime is nigh. i almost need to go to bed. this one is pretty colloquial, I haven't actually gotten to the main point at all sadly :( i tried to intersperse the colloquial language with some heavier matter later, to show how their two lives are interlinked and stuff. but i shall leave that to a commenter's analysis :P i might actually keep working on this creative and post it on my personal page when done :) maybe.
well it goes on with how (in an extremely cliched manner - because I lack the creative juices to transcend this clichedness) the persona realises all the social and political stigma associated with not-as-well-off families. And something like this was meant to be one of those lines: "And it took only an instant for me to recognise the false stories, the false rumours, the false speculations. We had all been blinded by the suffocating wind of society and politics, our minds pushed to and fro into what we would like to be thinking." Then something about me being cleansed of the 'paint' and untrue (yes, trying to find another word for false --> consequence of limited vocab) perceptions which once plagued the persona, revealing her true self.
I know right. I invite anyone to challenge me in being the self-named queen of clichedness.
It probably isn't really belonging either, more CHANGE or JOURNEY. Good night! :)
change of plans, actually on to read Alicia's creative! :P
change of plans, actually on to read Alicia's creative! :P
FIRST OF ALL BECAUSE I HATE THIS MISTAKE: Please use "peeked" not "peaked". I swear I see that everywhere in stories so often now that I'm starting to feel as if I've learnt it wrong. But I Googled earlier today. "Peeked" means to expose a little bit of, whereas "peaked" is to have a peak, or look gaunt or pale from illness or fatigue.
ReplyDeleteOkay, angry nagging over. Sorry if it was a genuine accident, which it probably was.
Even though you say your story idea is cliche, I wouldn't say you wrote it in a very cliche manner. It was quite colloquial haha, but that's alright.
I feel as though you could develop Mel more, because I can't find myself empathising with her feelings, unless your aim was to make me think of her as a very snobby 21st century ignorant person, and dislike her. In which case you have succeeded!
Very interesting concept of the prejudice behind government housing. However, because you initially described govt housing as an "eyesore of a debilitated shack", you might want to contrast that with some description in the second part of what it's really like.
Bit of personal advice for that, I would have her portraying it as exactly how she thought it would be, pointing out all the negatives (even if it isn't that bad at all), and then later when she does her ultimate finding self, identity transformation, she realises her pessimistic view of life and sees it all differently.
But that's just me. To each her own!
You mentioned that it's an unfinished story, and yes I'll agree with you there. Your last paragraph would probably work better after Mel's cleansing of the paint and untrue perceptions which once plagued the persona. :P
This is a brilliant story in the making! If you're determined to say it's cliche, then I say that you have taken a cliche concept and changed it.
A personal note, that you and the others might not agree with...
Maybe try to just show that she has perfect English, because saying "as I recover from the shock of her perfect English"...is overused...
I do like how you've subverted the racist tension between the neighbourhoods. Instead of Mel waltzing in and sticking her nose in the air, she actually somewhat seems victimised by the foreign when she becomes the minority. You don't see that a lot in these stories. In those normal cliche stories it's usually the privileged girl/boy goes over and is really rude, or actually insulted in a language they understand. Whereas you've written it as rather implicit, which highlights the underlying sociopolitical tension better than any physical/verbal communication between the races could. :)
Interesting mother/daughter dynamics. I hope that if you carry out this story to its glory, you consider the influence of a mother on her daughter, and vice versa. It'd be interesting if Mel's mum was really into "the other" ladies, but Mel's still reluctant, because usually our values are very much influenced by our parents, as you've begun to touch on in the first part.
Ah I'll shut up now. Well done!
^ Oh my god I'm so sorry. I just pasted my comment into a Word document and it's 522 words long. 2 words longer than your actual story. D:
DeleteHaha it's ok! And thank you for pointing all those things out - sorry to disappoint you but I never actually paid much attention to peek and peak! I'll change it :)
DeleteI'll make amendments probably on my personal page when I have time :) and by the looks of things I have enough time to write my creative tonight!!
And how are you so good at pointing things out? Teach me! Everything you say makes sense but I would never think of it :( my brain .....