So I've been going to a creative writing class just to get my writing kickstarted in a serious way. As part of that class we were given a writing exercise which I'm sharing here. We were divided into groups of two and we had to tell each other a real life incident around which the other person would weave a story.
So here's mine titled 'Fear' based on an incident in our instructor Dina's life.
So here's mine titled 'Fear' based on an incident in our instructor Dina's life.
I held on to her hand as tight as I could and her nails dug
into mine as we watched our seventeen year old surfing the waves. I could hear
her breath catch in her throat as he jumped over a high wall of water and
landed skillfully on the board again. Each time he was obscured by a new rising
wave, her hand covered her heart and her eyes searched for him.
“Why won’t you stop him,John?” She said, turning to me in
anger.
I smiled at her reassuringly and replied,” He’s really good,
Sara! He’s going to be fine.”
She walked away. She couldn’t watch him any longer. We
walked in silence to our quaint little cottage by the ocean. She settled down
with a book on the lounge chair. I knew she wasn’t reading. She was looking at
the endless and amazing ocean. I wished she were happy, that she smiled more.
She continued looking into the infinite horizon glimmering in this tropical
paradise. I continued to wonder how long a piece of her will remain missing.
There was a place within her so utterly empty, like a thousand year old ship
buried and lost to the world of the living, a home to the dead past.
Night fell and we sat at the restaurant in the resort.
Dinner was a tense affair as Sara was sullen and Max couldn’t stop talking
about going to Hawaii for the International Surfing Competition. He went on to
describe just how high and dangerous the waves were. His excitement was
palpable and so was Sara’s fear. Suddenly, she put her fork down, looked at our
grown sun and said in a determined voice,” You can’t go.”
“I’m going Mom and you can’t stop me.” He replied in an
equally resolute tone. I knew, this was the last straw. Sara picked up her
uneaten food and threw the plate on the floor. Max was in a state of shock. The
entire restaurant was quiet at seeing my usually demure and quiet wife behave
so completely out of character. I know, I should have said something. I should
have done something but how could I change her past? Even, God couldn’t do
that.
As she sat crying by the swan made of towels on our bed, I
was reminded of that day. The day that changed her life, and mine. We were both
young and so full of that naïve belief that life could be nothing short of
fantastic. She was riding her motorcycle as I sat behind her feeling mighty
proud of my beautiful, strong and wild spirited girlfriend. She had driven with
her fellow motorcycle enthusiasts from California to New York and back which
was no mean feat. We parked in the garage of the house in which I lived with
two roommates.
Mark was a quiet soul but James was far from shy and a
creature of habit. Along with Sara we would never stop making fun of James’
finicky little detailed rituals. Sara was tired from the ride and threw her
helmet and jacket of James’ writing desk just as he walked into the living room
and began yelling hysterically at Sara. “Keep your stuff off my table!” he
screamed. Sara was taken aback and then started laughing, making no move to
pick up the objects in question. Soon, the seemingly small issue escalated as
James got angrier at Sara’s mirth. He held her shoulders and shook her frame.
She pushed him back and he fell. She picked up her helmet and jacket, put them
on, got on her bike and all I could hear was the roar of 350ccs.
In a couple of hours, the phone rang. I rushed to the
hospital and paced outside the Operation Theatre hoping the surgeons would be
able to save my Sara. When I finally saw her, she whispered through her wired
jaw, broken bones and shattered spirit,”I’ll never ride again.” Tears escaped
through both our eyes. In the moment that truck had collided with her bike
everything had changed. She never got on a bike again.
Max’s voice broke my reverie,” I’m leaving.” He announced.
Sara turned to look at him. Tears flowed freely and she whimpered,”What if
something happened to you? You’re my only child, Max.” Max dropped his packed
bag and rushed to take his mother into his arms. ”Nothing will happen to me
Mom!” He tried to soothe her. “You could die. I almost died.” She whispered
through terrified tears. He held her shoulders and shook her,”You’re still
alive! You’re alive!”
The next day, we rented a bike. Sara put on a helmet and sat
behind her fearless son and left some of her fear behind on the road to
courage.