Writing time!

Ok so I received one story suggestion that I write about blades of grass putting up a fight against a lawnmower using flexibility and superior numbers.

I have never written a story even remotely similar to this one so it'll be a challenge but one I'm excited about. It's always fun to try new and different things. Because I'm a little behind on schedule I'm going to give myself  a week from now to publish the story here. So next Wednesday *hopefully* I'll have it done.

So check back in a week and be thinking of a story idea for my next round of suggestions.

It's that time again.

Hello again, readers.

I've been gone for a while but I'm back now and ready to write! Today is the day of the week that I take story suggestions.

For first time readers here, the story suggestions need to be just one or two sentences so I can write a one to  three page story.

I'll pick one of the story suggestions and write a story on it that I'll post on Saturday. It'll be open for comments and constructive criticism.

So now it's your turn. Let the story suggestions flow. :)

I'M BACK!

Did ya miss me?!

So after a few weeks of busy-ness, procrastination and laziness I have finally finished my story and am happy to present it to you!
If you haven't read the first part please go back and read it first! Here is a link to the post with the first part of the story:  http://melswritingcorner.blogspot.com/2012/07/sundaaaaay.html 

 I'm going to post a little bit of it with this second part for those who already have read it but might have forgotten.

For anyone who's completely new to the blog, this is my third or fourth story and the topic is telling the story of a slave in 19th century Louisiana from the point of view of a white person who is neutral on the topic of slavery.
Since it's hard to write a story about absolute neutrality, I made the "white person" struggle with the topic of slavery in his own mind trying to figure out if it's morally right or wrong.

Anyway, here's part two. I hope you enjoy it and please please leave feedback!

“Were you singing negro songs to my little girl this morning?” Mother asked succinctly.

 Hannah nodded, still refusing to look up.

“I do not want my child’s head full of your nonsense songs, understand? You will go the rest of the day without eating and if I ever hear you sing around my little girl again your punishment will be much more severe.”

 “Yes, missus,” Hannah mumbled, sinking into a deep curtsey. She scurried from the room and Mother looked down at Louise who seemed completely unaware of what had just occurred.

“You must never sing that song again, darling. It is quite bad and you must put it out of your mind. Can you do that for me?” Mother asked, in a sickeningly sweet voice. Louise looked up at her and nodded.  Mother continued eating muttering something about having words with Sarah later on.

  I stabbed at the peas on my plate and thought about what had just happened. Were the slaves in fact abused and downtrodden as the Israelites had been?  Hannah had just been told not to eat for the rest of the day which was surely a form of torture. Mother had always said the slaves were lesser humans so perhaps they needed to be trained by harsh punishments and beating as one would beat a horse or a mule into submission. Sighing, I tried to put these confusing thoughts out of my mind and focus on eating my peas.

  For the rest of the afternoon I sat in the parlor with my mother and sisters while Emilie worked on her needlepoint and Louise practiced writing the alphabet. Mother had bought her a small chalkboard where she could write each letter over and over until Mother decided it was perfect.

  I sat at the table by myself fiddling with my chess set. It was not as much fun now that Father had passed on and Mother did not know the rules of chess nor was she interested to learn. Emilie had asked to play but Mother insisted it was a man’s game.

  Twiddling a pawn between my fingers, I looked across the room where to see Emilie sigh and drop her needlepoint in her lap in frustration. Mother looked up from her lesson with Louise.

  “What is wrong, my dear?” Mother asked.

  “Mother, I hate this needlepoint work. It is a nice day outside, I want to take a walk.”

  “Do not say “hate”, Emilie. It is not ladylike. And your needlepoint work is beautiful,” Mother complimented, walking gracefully across the room and looking over Emilie’s work.

  “It seems to go on endlessly, Mother. But if you wish me to finish I will.”

  Emilie picked up her work again and began stitching in a leaf.

 “What letter are you working on now, Louise?” Mother asked, walking back to the couch where her youngest daughter sat earnestly trying to write her letters.

  “E, Mama. It is so difficult. Will you help me?”

  “You have drawn too many lines, my dear. The letter E has three lines. Let me show you,” Mother offered, taking the piece of chalk in her hand.

  “What words begin with an E, Louise?” Mother asked.

  “Egypt,” Louise piped cheerfully. “Like Hannah sings about in her song.”

    My eyes shot up from my chess game to Mother whose face was turning red.

 “Louise I told you to never mention that song again,” she said, a slightly angry tremor in her voice.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Louise said, looking at Mother with wide pathetic eyes. “I was only trying to think of words that began with E.”

“Yes of course you were, darling,” Mother conceded, patting Louise absentmindedly on the shoulder. “I believe supper will be ready soon. Let us find our seats in the dining room.”

   Supper was not usually served so early in the evening but I was glad for any excuse to escape my lonely game of chess as was Emilie to get away from her needlepoint. However I could not help wondering why Mother was so upset about Hannah’s song. Was she afraid Hannah would flee our house as the Israelites fled from Egypt?

  These thoughts stayed with me all evening and continued when I went to bed. I lay awake staring at the ceiling remembering how angry Mother had looked when Louise mentioned Egypt. Eventually my recollections turned into dreams where Emilie had sewed a quilt so long it stretched into the yard and Hannah stood in the middle of it singing her songs. Mother sat in a rocking chair under a tree and cradled Louise in her arms covering her ears against the singing.

  I awoke in the morning to the rumbling of hunger in my stomach. Hurriedly I dressed and went downstairs to the dining room where Mother and my sisters sat talking.

 “Oh, Mother I am so looking forward to the dance next month. I hear that American boys will be there and they are the most handsome.”

  I rolled my eyes as Emilie got a dreamy look on her face.

  Melinda came in then from the kitchen outside with a tray of fresh biscuits. My mouth watered as she set them on the table. Hannah followed close behind her with a bowl I was hoping held gravy. As she approached the table I noticed her eyes had a faraway look and she seemed unsteady on her feet. Then suddenly in an instant she wobbled too far, lost her balance and collapsed on the floor spilling the gravy and shattering the serving bowl.

  Shocked, Mother and Emilie screamed and jumped up from their seats. Louise seemed to think the whole thing was an act and sat at the table laughing and pointing at Hannah’s collapsed figure. Melinda seemed frozen to the spot too terrified to move and her eyes were glued to Mother who looked as if she might fly into a rage at any moment.

  “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, gesturing at Hannah’s limp body that still lay at her feet. She had not moved yet but I could not tell if she was unconscious or too afraid of Mother.

  Melinda jumped into action suddenly, shaking Hannah to wake her up.

“Hannah say she not feelin’ well this mornin’ but I don’t have nobody else to help me so I tell her she has to help. I get towels to clean the floor,” Melinda assured her, suddenly deciding the floor was more important than waking Hannah and leaving her there to awaken on her own.

  Mother sighed and sat back down in her chair.

“The girl is here only one day and she is already causing trouble,” she mused, shaking her head in disappointment. Emilie shook her head as well though she did not seem genuinely bothered.

“Why did Hannah fall down?” Louise wanted to know.

“I do not know, Louise. Perhaps Melinda could tell us,” Mother suggested as Melinda scurried back into the room carrying an armload of towels.

“I cannot say for sure, Missus,” Melinda answered, using the towels to clean up the mess Hannah made.
Hannah started to wake up just then and sat up shakily.

“What happened to you, girl?” Melinda snapped, gathering up the towels that had soaked up the mess on the floor.

 “My head feels dizzy and next thing I know I is on the floor,” Hannah explained simply.

“Are you ill?” Mother snapped again as Melinda helped Hannah up from the floor.

“No, Missus. I is hungry, that’s all,” Hannah explained. I looked at Mother who suddenly seemed uncomfortable in her seat.

“Mamma, did Hannah fall down because you told her not to eat?” Louise piped up curiously. Mother’s lips pursed together and I saw a vein in her forehead throb. She seemed to be struggling with the thought that Hannah’s accident may have been her fault.

 “Take this girl to the kitchen and see that she eats. After we eat she will return to the dining room and scrub this floor until it shines.”

 “Yes ma’am,” Melinda and Hannah said in unison. Melinda took Hannah’s hand then and half dragged her out of the room.

  Mother sat silently in her chair refusing to make eye contact with any of us, Emilie looked equally uncomfortable and Louise played innocent little games with her silverware.

  I thought about everything that had just happened and how Mother did not even apologize to Hannah for depriving her of food for so long that she fainted. Mother had always taught us to apologize when we did wrong to others and yet she felt no remorse for what she had done to Hannah.

  As I ate the food that Melinda brought in minutes later, I wondered what made the slaves lesser people. Mother said it was because their skin was dark colored but could the color of one’s skin honestly make them inferior to others?

  These thoughts went through my head as I walked through the yard after breakfast enjoying the cool breeze on this hot morning. A frog hopped across my path and I grabbed at it absentmindedly but it hopped away quickly with a relieved croak.

  As I walked I thought about Hannah and Melinda and the looks on their faces as Mother shouted at and reprimanded them. They had the same emotions I experienced: fear, sadness, and disappointment. Surely we were not so different.

  Rounding the corner of the house, I heard a strange noise coming from behind a small tree. It sounded like crying and I approached the tree to see who it was. As I got closer I realized Hannah was the one sitting on the ground behind the tree with her knees pulled up to her face crying into her hands.

  When she heard my footsteps she looked up and upon seeing my face, leaped to her feet and quickly wiped her eyes.

 “I am sorry, Mister,” she said, holding out her hands and looking down at the ground. I looked at them clueless as to what I was supposed to do. Hannah’s eyes glanced up at me and then quickly back down.

“I is ready for my punishment, Mister,” she said bravely, bracing herself. I looked again at her hands and noticed scars all over them as if they had been whipped several times before.

“I am not going to hit you,” I told her.

  Hannah held her hands up still for a few moments as if not sure whether to believe me. Finally she lowered them and curtseyed awkwardly.

“You are kind, Mister. I go back to work now,” Hannah said, and started to walk away.

“Why were you crying?” I asked, wondering what Mother would say if she saw me speaking to a slave. Hannah seemed to think it odd as well and for a second I saw a look of confusion in her eyes. She sniffed and wiped her nose still not allowing herself to meet my eyes.

 “Mister Joseph beat my brother somethin’ fierce today. Say he not workin’ fast enough and hits him more and more with a switch till he can barely stand. Then Mister Joseph tell him to wash off and get back to work. Not even lettin’ him rest,” Hannah explained, and I could hear the pain in her voice.

  I pictured a dark skinned young man who looked similar to Hannah kneeling pitifully in the dirt while Mister Joseph whipped him mercilessly with a switch. Mother sometimes used a switch on me when I was rebellious but she had never hit me till I bled.

  Feeling pity for Hannah, I opened my mouth to say how sorry I was but I was distracted by Melinda hurrying up to us. She grabbed Hannah by the arm and smacked her hand.

 “You lazy girl, get back to the kitchen and get on with your work,” she ordered, frowning at Hannah.

“’Scuse her, Mister,” Melinda said to me, keeping her eyes on the ground as Hannah had done. I nodded, still troubled by the picture in my head. 

  As Melinda dragged Hannah away once again, the young girl’s eyes met mine and in them I saw a look of pain and utter sadness. In that moment I thought of everything that had happened the past two days; Mother’s anger and scolding, depriving Hannah of food, yelling at her when she fell, the scars I saw on her hands and the beating she had witnessed her brother receiving. None of it seemed to make sense. Why should a girl so kind and soft spoken have to suffer so much? Did she deserve it for being a lesser human? Mother always said people have a guilty conscience when they do wrong but she never seemed to feel guilty for how she treated slaves. Did that make it right?

   I watched Hannah follow Melinda back to the kitchen and continued my walk, the picture of her sad eyes burned into my memory. It was obvious she felt real pain and cried real tears, things that I had done many times. It did not seem right that she should be treated differently than me. Frustrated with these thoughts, I trudged on trying to enjoy the nice breeze and beautiful sunshine hoping someday someone would be able to answer all my questions. 

Sorry!

Hey guys! Just wanted to let you know that I am still alive and haven't forgotten about this blog. I've had a very busy last couple weeks and I've also been lazy in writing the end of my story. I am working on it and have finished all but the last paragraph. Hopefully it will be posted tomorrow or Tuesday. If you haven't read the first part yet, please do. I really want some feedback on this story!

The reason I've been busy is because I finally got a job (thank God!) working as a childcare provider at my church's school. I worked three days this last week and though they were challenging I like finally having something to occupy my time.

Anyway, that's just a quick note and I'll write more later...hopefully the ending of this story. :)

Have a good week and pray that I will do well and serve God at my new job.