The Tree's Legacy
May. 23rd, 2004 06:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wordwhackerI'm not hugely happy with this piece, but then again, I rarely am. At least it's something. I'll probably nitpick at it on my own later, once I get away from it for a while.
This one goes out to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chibiakki, who picked out this title from a "random story title generator" site.
The Tree's Legacy
The bark was rough and warm against her skin, the trunk rounding out a bit uncomfortably against her bare shoulders. Matted in a tangled mess behind her neck, her hair stuck and pulled now and again on the bark as her head lolled from side to side, keeping time with the lazy tune in her head.
"'Lissa?"
She looked over at the boy, his short little legs making high steps through the low brush. His freckled, pudgy cheeks were flushed red.
"Ma says you oughta come get your shirt." He was a bit out of breath. The cottage was a good run away, down the winding old path from the tree on the hill.
'Lissa wrinkled her nose. "Too hot." She squirmed a bit and wrapped her skinny little arms around her knees.
The boy heaved a big sigh. "Ma told me to tell ya."
"So?" She wiped some stray strings of hair out of her face. "You're done tellin' me."
He plunked himself down on the grass, his dirty bare feet sticking too far out of his overalls. "Ma says girls are s'posed to wear shirts."
'Lissa scowled. "How come? You're not wearin' one." She rested her head back against the tree again, watching the sparse branches high up above as they swayed slightly in the breeze. There weren't many leaves on them; they were hardly any shade at all from the midday sun. But the bark felt nice on her skin, the same way the rough, scratchy grass pricked and tickled the bottom of her feet.
'Lissa liked coming here, even when Jamie tried to follow her. He was a whole year younger than her and was always asking her dumb questions.
"'Lissa?"
She rolled her eyes. "What, Jamie?"
He sat there and twirled a little leaf around in his lap for a minute before he said anything. "Do trees die?"
'Lissa screwed up her face. "I dunno. They get chopped down sometimes."
"But," Jamie fidgeted a bit, "they only get chopped down when they get old, right?"
"Yeah." It made sense. You don't just go around chopping down baby trees.
Jamie was silent for another minute before he started talking again, this time in a worried whisper. "I heard Ma talkin' about how this tree's gettin' old."
"That's stupid," she said, too quickly. She wished she hadn't said anything about people cutting down old trees, even if she was right. This wasn't just a tree in the forest somewhere. This was her tree. It was Ma's tree, too, and Grandpa's. Ma always talked about how Grandpa used to play under it when he was a boy. You don't just chop down an old tree like that.
"But," Jamie started again, starting to sound a bit worked up. "Ma says it's sick."
"That's stupid." She looked away, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her back hard up against the trunk. 'Lissa didn't want to talk about this anymore. Even if she couldn't see it, she could feel the tree behind her, steady as a rock. Almost wrapped around her she felt the fat, twisting roots sinking deep into the ground under her feet. She could hear the dry leaves swishing around, high above her head. How could something like that get sick?
The grass crunched as Jamie got up, the sound of his footsteps fading as he padded back down the hill.
'Lissa stayed there until she fell asleep, staring up at the stars through the scant canopy of branches.
This one goes out to
chibiakki, who picked out this title from a "random story title generator" site.The Tree's Legacy
The bark was rough and warm against her skin, the trunk rounding out a bit uncomfortably against her bare shoulders. Matted in a tangled mess behind her neck, her hair stuck and pulled now and again on the bark as her head lolled from side to side, keeping time with the lazy tune in her head.
"'Lissa?"
She looked over at the boy, his short little legs making high steps through the low brush. His freckled, pudgy cheeks were flushed red.
"Ma says you oughta come get your shirt." He was a bit out of breath. The cottage was a good run away, down the winding old path from the tree on the hill.
'Lissa wrinkled her nose. "Too hot." She squirmed a bit and wrapped her skinny little arms around her knees.
The boy heaved a big sigh. "Ma told me to tell ya."
"So?" She wiped some stray strings of hair out of her face. "You're done tellin' me."
He plunked himself down on the grass, his dirty bare feet sticking too far out of his overalls. "Ma says girls are s'posed to wear shirts."
'Lissa scowled. "How come? You're not wearin' one." She rested her head back against the tree again, watching the sparse branches high up above as they swayed slightly in the breeze. There weren't many leaves on them; they were hardly any shade at all from the midday sun. But the bark felt nice on her skin, the same way the rough, scratchy grass pricked and tickled the bottom of her feet.
'Lissa liked coming here, even when Jamie tried to follow her. He was a whole year younger than her and was always asking her dumb questions.
"'Lissa?"
She rolled her eyes. "What, Jamie?"
He sat there and twirled a little leaf around in his lap for a minute before he said anything. "Do trees die?"
'Lissa screwed up her face. "I dunno. They get chopped down sometimes."
"But," Jamie fidgeted a bit, "they only get chopped down when they get old, right?"
"Yeah." It made sense. You don't just go around chopping down baby trees.
Jamie was silent for another minute before he started talking again, this time in a worried whisper. "I heard Ma talkin' about how this tree's gettin' old."
"That's stupid," she said, too quickly. She wished she hadn't said anything about people cutting down old trees, even if she was right. This wasn't just a tree in the forest somewhere. This was her tree. It was Ma's tree, too, and Grandpa's. Ma always talked about how Grandpa used to play under it when he was a boy. You don't just chop down an old tree like that.
"But," Jamie started again, starting to sound a bit worked up. "Ma says it's sick."
"That's stupid." She looked away, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her back hard up against the trunk. 'Lissa didn't want to talk about this anymore. Even if she couldn't see it, she could feel the tree behind her, steady as a rock. Almost wrapped around her she felt the fat, twisting roots sinking deep into the ground under her feet. She could hear the dry leaves swishing around, high above her head. How could something like that get sick?
The grass crunched as Jamie got up, the sound of his footsteps fading as he padded back down the hill.
'Lissa stayed there until she fell asleep, staring up at the stars through the scant canopy of branches.
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no subject
Date: 2004-05-23 03:08 pm (UTC)I woke up this morning to find the challenge you gave me, and as soon as I'm done getting a couple of good user icons for
I have the disturing urge to always try to use the same characters for all the challenges I'm given, just for fun, but I don't know how well that one will work. :p
"The Tree's Legacy" - Review part 1 of 2
Date: 2004-05-26 11:25 am (UTC)You and your long sentences. I like the opening line, but I wish the second line didn't ramble on for so long. Maybe a break at "... pulled now and again on the bark. Her head lolled..."
Using the word "head" twice in the same sentence? Folly! Maybe the tune can be coming from somewhere other than her head. Not that we want to get too metaphysical on people, here.
"'Lissa?"
She looked over at the boy, his short little legs making high steps through the low brush. His freckled, pudgy cheeks were flushed red.
Short. High. Low. I don't like all of these size/space related descriptive words. Maybe taking out the "low" would work.
"Ma says you oughta come get your shirt." He was a bit out of breath. The cottage was a good run away, down the winding old path from the tree on the hill.
Tree on the hill. How quaint. That reminds me of a song. Can we be any more trite?
I don't like the sudden end to his line of dialogue. I'd like to incorporate it better into the fact that he's out of breath.
I like the measure of distance according to how much of a "run" it is. Little kids run everywhere. At least, they did in whatever setting this is, which feels to be pre-90's... A world without Nintendo, say.
'Lissa wrinkled her nose. "Too hot." She squirmed a bit and wrapped her skinny little arms around her knees.
Skinny little arms and bony little knees. I can't decide if I'm close enough to being in her head to be able to get away with that. Maybe getting rid of "little" would help. We already had "short little legs".
The boy heaved a big sigh. "Ma told me to tell ya."
"So?" She wiped some stray strings of hair out of her face. "You're done tellin' me."
I almost like her reply, but something about it irks me. It might have to do with I can't tell what word to put the emphasis on. I like the boy's sigh, though. Big, little boy sighs are funny.
He plunked himself down on the grass, his dirty bare feet sticking too far out of his overalls. "Ma says girls are s'posed to wear shirts."
Sticking too far out of his overalls. I dislike that line. But it gets the job done... the "too far" part seems to sneak up. Maybe throwing "a bit" before it would make it flow better.
Oh yeah, and I have a question for you:
CAN YOU BLEEDIN' WELL WRITE ANYTHING WITHOUT HAVING TO DRAG GENDER ISSUES INTO IT SOMEHOW?!
Lordie. Repressed, much?
'Lissa scowled. "How come? You're not wearin' one." She rested her head back against the tree again, watching the sparse branches high up above as they swayed slightly in the breeze. There weren't many leaves on them; they were hardly any shade at all from the midday sun. But the bark felt nice on her skin, the same way the rough, scratchy grass pricked and tickled the bottom of her feet.
Bottom of her feet? Bottoms of her feet? I can't decide. I dislike them both.
I'm tempted to remove "sparse branches", just leave it as "branches" and get my subtle hinting in at "there weren't many leaves on them". The word "sparse" doesn't want to be there. Maybe I can steal it and use it in the end.
Pricked and tickled. Pricked and tickled and scratched, oh my! Rough, scratchy grass. I can't decide if I like using "scratchy" there or not. "Rough grass" might work.
'Lissa liked coming here, even when Jamie tried to follow her. He was a whole year younger than her and was always asking her dumb questions.
A whole year. A whole year. I love little kids.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-26 11:29 am (UTC)She rolled her eyes. "What, Jamie?"
He sat there and twirled a little leaf around in his lap for a minute before he said anything. "Do trees die?"
Do kids come right out and say stuff like that?
'Lissa screwed up her face. "I dunno. They get chopped down sometimes."
"screwed up her face" . I hate... and love this line, as I hate and love myself. It works in this setting, I think. Little kids are maleable.
"But," Jamie fidgeted a bit, "they only get chopped down when they get old, right?"
"Yeah." It made sense. You don't just go around chopping down baby trees.
Jamie was silent for another minute before he started talking again, this time in a worried whisper. "I heard Ma talkin' about how this tree's gettin' old."
I'm glad I removed the word "conspiratorial" and replaced it with "worried". I may have had to iron my hands.
"That's stupid," she said, too quickly. She wished she hadn't said anything about people cutting down old trees, even if she was right. This wasn't just a tree in the forest somewhere. This was her tree. It was Ma's tree, too, and Grandpa's. Ma always talked about how Grandpa used to play under it when he was a boy. You don't just chop down an old tree like that.
I don't think she's mature enough in her conversational skills to know that she said something "too quickly".
A tree in A forest, not THE forest.
"But," Jamie started again, starting to sound a bit worked up. "Ma says it's sick."
"That's stupid." She looked away, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her back hard up against the trunk. 'Lissa didn't want to talk about this anymore. Even if she couldn't see it, she could feel the tree behind her, steady as a rock. Almost wrapped around her she felt the fat, twisting roots sinking deep into the ground under her feet. She could hear the dry leaves swishing around, high above her head. How could something like that get sick?
Squeezing her eyes shut. I don't like that. But I want her to have her eyes closed. It might not feel so trite if I removed it from there and inserted it after her pissy little comment about not wanting to talk about this anymore.
"How could something like that get sick?" This line is missing something. It's missing some sort of definite reference to the fact that the tree is something real, alive, etc. Bring the point home.
The grass crunched as Jamie got up, the sound of his footsteps fading as he padded back down the hill.
Tramped noisily back down the hill is more like it.
'Lissa stayed there until she fell asleep, staring up at the stars through the scant canopy of branches.
I don't want to have to use any more WORDS, but I'm not sure if this line brings home the point I want. Scant canopy of branches. The fact that she can see the stars through this tree's branches. You're not supposed to be able to DO that, most times. But I don't know if that comes across at all.
It might be more effective if I remove "sparse branches" from above.
Overall: Meh. I've written worse. At least it's something.
Can you write anything at all without having to get all pseudo-deep and shit? Bleh.