Peter lived a lonely life. A young soul conceived not through love but through lust. A one night stand caused by alcohol. High schoolers whose life would become all hard work with minimal reward. A life of constant unhappiness and loneliness. Add the stress of raising an unwanted child in a catholic dominated town that shuns out-of-wedlock conception. Peter never had a chance.
He understood his lot in life. He was a loner. A pimpled faced teen with very few friends in a small town that lauds macho high school players and prom queens and cast out those who are different. He grew into a man all alone.
Peter longed for the voice of Freddie or Stevie. The ability to capture an audience and give them a feeling of escape if only for three minutes. The talent to use his fingers on a guitar or piano and sooth the pain of those who look to music to escape the brutal reality of their own life. He longed for the talent to write words that inspire readers searching for healing. Words that he could express for those who understood yet never are able to write themselves.
An unloved soul searching for acceptance in life. He searched the end of the rainbow only to discover a deep, empty cauldron. His only reward was the brief view of the optical phenomenon of droplets reflecting their light. An illusion which parallels his life.
His smile hides the tracks on his skin. His escape from the brutal truth. One conceived without love can’t be loved. His pedantic life is followed by a single set of footprints on a sandy beach. Only to be swept away by the tide into the vastness of the ocean. Never to be seen again.
Yet Peter was a great actor. He walked the streets of his southern town with a beautiful smile. Content to those who knew him. A superficial expression of happiness to those who didn’t. His life a slow and painful death.
This weekend we want you to give us 33 words (exactly) that include among them at least one example of onomatopoeia. When looking for a good page to link to in order to help describe the device, we stumbled upon our very own Apoplectic Apostrophes‘ post on literary devices. Check it out if you need help remembering how onomatopoeia work.
This weekend, we want you to give us a thirty-three response using the wordstone as one of your thirty-three words. You can use any definition of the word that you’d like, but we are specifically looking for serious, well-conceived entries. This isn’t the weekend for light-hearted posts about the difficulty of posting before the linkz close, and we are not looking for hilarious commentary about your cats (THIS time). We want something serious and deep from you guys this weekend, because the sun is starting to shine a bit more, and we think we can handle it now. Take your time with it and give us your very best work.
Life on the farm was tough for Timmy. He was assigned daily chores from a very young age. During the school year he learned to juggle school work with daily chores. Farm life left him no time for extracurricular activities at school much less for friendships. School was just a break from work. His nightly homework, which many classmates complained about, was less work than his duties before school. Farm life, he determined, was not for him.
Timmy’s dogged desire to escape weighed heavily on his mind. He wanted to move far away to the big city. In his ten-year old mind, he was on this earth to be an actor, not a farmer.
“Mom, I’m headed out to feed the hogs.” Out the door he went with his only friend, his dog Ranger close behind. The two walked to the hog pen and dumped two buckets of this mornings delicacy into the trough. Then they headed to the nearby barn. Timmy sat on a hay bale. Ranger hopped up beside him. He reached out and stroked the dog’s head. His tail wagged with delight. “Ranger, one day I will leave this farm.” he explained. “You’ll stay here. I will miss you dearly. However, I must leave! I don’t want to be a farmer. I want to be an actor. I know Dad will hate me. Mom will constantly worry. But I know you will love me.”
Timmy stood up. He looked out the open doors onto the endless stretch fields. “I want to be an actor,” he said to Ranger. “I’m going to be a Hollywood star. I’m gonna be in westerns with John Wayne. Everyone will know and like me. It won’t be like school where they make fun of me.” He walked to Ranger and gave him a hug. “Ya’ know, you are my only friend. My best friend. That will never change, I promise. I love you Ranger.”
This weekend we are playing another type of word game with you. Below are photos from the 33rd page of one of our very favorite books, Elizabeth Strout’s Olive Kitteridge. What we want you to do is to scour the page (click to enlarge), choose 33 words, and reshape those words into a piece of your own. Your piece does not have to tell an entire story. We just want to see what you can do with this particular word bank. Punctuation is up to you. Use whatever you need, whether or not it appears in the photos.