Delightful! I was drawn right in and set the timer for 15 minutes. I have no idea where this came from or who the narrator is but it definitely intrigues me. Thank you! Here it is, misspellings, cliches, and all, without any editing:
The sudden clank and hum of the air conditioning unit muffled the sound of weeping. I cursed the ratchety machine that rattled impressively and delivered scant relief from the oppressive swelter of August. I had just barely been able to hear Audrey's muttering before the choked sobs began, not enough to make out any specific words, but enough to understand that she was upset.
Audrey is 15, such a fragile age, well beyond the ease of childhood but only catching random glimpses of the liberation---imagined or actual---of adulthood. Audrey is in limbo, suspended like prey caught in a sticky web, paralyzed but 100% aware with all of her senses of her predicament.
As a single mom, isolated, harried by the demands and pace of our lives, I'm on pins and needles, alert to every nuance of Audrey's moods. Is she sad to the point of serious depression or merely traversing a particularly swampy bit of hormones? Is she struggling with cyber-bullying from a phalanx of A-team girls or is she merely mooning over the lyrics of a teen tragi-ballad? I wish I had someone to ask, to bounce my anxieties off of. Instead, I strain to hear and sort my own choked sobs from the weeping behind the closed door in the room next door over the indifferent clatter of the ineffectual air-conditioner.
Huzzah!! And thank you so much for sharing your piece! It's fantastic...lots to be curious about and that's the gift of working with prompts. Who knows what's lurking about waiting to be transcribed? ;) xo
Delightful! I was drawn right in and set the timer for 15 minutes. I have no idea where this came from or who the narrator is but it definitely intrigues me. Thank you! Here it is, misspellings, cliches, and all, without any editing:
The sudden clank and hum of the air conditioning unit muffled the sound of weeping. I cursed the ratchety machine that rattled impressively and delivered scant relief from the oppressive swelter of August. I had just barely been able to hear Audrey's muttering before the choked sobs began, not enough to make out any specific words, but enough to understand that she was upset.
Audrey is 15, such a fragile age, well beyond the ease of childhood but only catching random glimpses of the liberation---imagined or actual---of adulthood. Audrey is in limbo, suspended like prey caught in a sticky web, paralyzed but 100% aware with all of her senses of her predicament.
As a single mom, isolated, harried by the demands and pace of our lives, I'm on pins and needles, alert to every nuance of Audrey's moods. Is she sad to the point of serious depression or merely traversing a particularly swampy bit of hormones? Is she struggling with cyber-bullying from a phalanx of A-team girls or is she merely mooning over the lyrics of a teen tragi-ballad? I wish I had someone to ask, to bounce my anxieties off of. Instead, I strain to hear and sort my own choked sobs from the weeping behind the closed door in the room next door over the indifferent clatter of the ineffectual air-conditioner.
Huzzah!! And thank you so much for sharing your piece! It's fantastic...lots to be curious about and that's the gift of working with prompts. Who knows what's lurking about waiting to be transcribed? ;) xo