Leah Clifford's Contest

So, recently Leah Clifford had a contest.  I entered when there was only forty minutes left, having found out at that time, and I shot off the first 600 or so words I wrote.  I didn't win [this person did] but I do still like the story.

Prompt: Write a short story [~1000 words] based on this:

Here's my story:

 The Artist

They still didn't know what to do about the dress.  Her sister didn't have the heart to do it, so all the blood had ended up on Callie's hands.  And, of course, the dress.  It was strangely beautiful.  The whole thing was, even the act of it.  There was this unexpected art to carving up people that she had never considered before.  The whole world turned to this wonderful muted place where only her hatchet slicing the air made any sound.

The satisfaction of her blows landing was more in the finality of it all than the actual sound, though the sight of everything was a close second.  And now she had this dress.  And she had to get rid of it.  What a waste.  Having the memory wasn’t the same as keeping a memento.  Would she ever truly remember the way her mother’s blood spattered across her chest if she got rid of the dress?  What about the way her father clawed at her skirts in a vain attempt to get her to stop -- would she forget that too if the scarlet handprint wasn’t there to remind her?

She hoped not.  They were already standing before the wood burning stove.

“Throw it in,” her sister Elizabeth said.  “No one can know.  And we have to forget.”

Yes.  Forget that she’d done what her older sister couldn’t have even though their lives depended on it.

“I suppose,” Callie said.  “That we should forget this just like we should forget how you said you’d always take care of things for us.”

“Callie.  Don’t.”

“I want to keep it,” she said.  “I know I can’t and, trust me, I won’t.  I’ll get rid of it, but I won’t ever forget.”

She burned it.  When the men came to their house, they were so appalled.  One kept screaming about all the blood and the others were shocked into either silence or sickness.  Callie feigned muteness while Elizabeth talked to the police.  She supposed that was the only good thing.  Her sister was actually broken up about it, so she didn’t have to fake the tears or the choked up way she said every other word.  The officer had to calm her down a few times to stop her from going into hysterics.

The solution of going outside -- the thought being to get as far away from the gruesome crime scene as possible -- didn’t help matters at all.  Their neighbors talked about them well before their lawn was swarmed with law enforcement.  Now they openly gawked, their formerly hushed whispers turned to unveiled exclamations.  Callie couldn’t take it.  She went back inside where she could at least find some peace.  She stayed out of the officer’s way as they set up a camera to document everything.  She stayed there until Elizabeth came back in with the police officer who was interviewing her.

“I know this is hard for you, but this is the final question I have for now,” the officer said.  “You and your sister, you came straight home and just found them like this?”

“Yes, sir, that’s correct,” Elizabeth said.  A tear rolled down her cheek.

“You both came straight home from church, you didn’t even change your clothes?”

“That’s right,” Elizabeth said.

“Not even you?”  The officer looked at Callie now.

She looked at him and quickly averted her eyes, shaking her head as she did so.  He grabbed her arm and turned it over.  A huge smear was there.  Dried blood, caking and turned a rusty brown.

“What’s this?” the officer said.

“Paint,” Callie said.  “I’m a bit of an artist.”

Valentine's Day

I've been hearing a high amount of griping these past few weeks, all of it about Valentine's Day. Most of it was from dudes on radio shows who were groaning about how they had to buy their significant others a card once a year because of some "made up" holiday.

That's laughable on two counts:

1) All holidays are essentially made up. A group of people decides that a day is important for whatever reason and then observes that day yearly in some form.

2) These guys really make the effort to buy a card?

I've always loved Valentine's. Maybe it's my innate love for decorating because, if given the time, I will deck the halls with heart shaped holly...and heart covered garland...and maybe some tinsel if any of the stores have some for cheap [February's still post-Christmas, maybe they haven't packed it all away just yet].

It astounds me how there was this vast gender divide among the paired off late 20s and up crowd that was giving input for these radio shows. Almost all the men said they were sick of having to do something for their lady just because of a holiday. Almost all the women said that if their man didn't think that doing something for Valentine's Day was important -- no matter how small the deed -- then it was time to get a new man.

It had me in stitches, the complaints that is. All these dudes complaining about being "forced" to be romantic on a certain day, never mind that it would probably make their significant other happy. This holiday is just something a lot of couples in our society observe. If they didn't like that, why did they get into a relationship? Or why didn't they sort this out before now instead of begrudgingly going to the convenience store last minute for someone they supposedly care about? This is the equivalent of complaining about Christmas shopping even though you've always celebrated Christmas, except it also makes the complainer seem like a total jerk.

Maybe I'm missing something. Maybe it should be a big deal to be forced to do something small like buying flowers or a card because of social expectations. But, at the same time, even if there if I can't help but think of the many ways in which their misdirected anger could actually become productive. But I love giving Valentines. People always seem really happy to get them, so shouldn't that be enough?

At least the people with whom I come into contact aren't downers like those talk radio dudes. I spent the better part of yesterday selling Valentine's Day cards as part of this fundraiser and almost everyone who came by was delighted. The only naysayers? One guy who suggested we start a matchmaking service for those without a valentine and one young woman who generally did not like cards.

Happy Valentine's Day!