Friday October 22nd, 2010

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the white-haired woman.

Kat was painting cupboards today and came in with some paint in her hair. It's been washed out now, but it was a rather... memorable image.

Second to last market of the year tomorrow morning. Lots and lots of apples to sell... and not much else.

Hoping the rain holds off and the wind isn't too miserable.


Time had not been kind to her, though it certainly could have been worse.

True, the arthritis had stolen her ability to knit. And obviously the hip replacement had ended her running days.

But she could still drop a deer with one bullet at a hundred paces.


Greg said...

Paint does get everywhere! I'd ask if you got a picture, but I learned the hard way some years ago that people hate you taking pictures of them with their hair messed up (in this case, blonde gone ginger thanks to them not knowing that blonde hair doesn't dye at all well).
There's just a slight hint of sentimentality about your prose today that's balanced well with the last line! Very nicely done.

The white-haired woman

Her hair was white and her eyes were pink, and she was the librarian on East Street. Until the day the Green Lightbulb, narcotised out of his tiny, unhappy mind, had a cat-fight in the reference section with Captain Coldheart. The residual radiation, and the Captain's declaration that she was acceptable collateral damage changed her forever. Now her hair is the luxurious cream of a pampered Siamese and her eyes are feral red, and she goes by the name of Bad Kitty.

Watermark said...

The white-haired woman.

The silver lining in her hair reflects her smile and speaks of her years. I look closely into the outlines of her face. Her skin may show deep set lines yet the charm and grace in her eyes challenge any notion of superficiality. This is a woman with strong conviction though her kind eyes may not immediately give her away.

Zhongming said...

Marc – your prose kept me guessing today, that last verse is an interesting one to end with :)

Greg – I certainly didn’t see that transformation coming till the end, nice twist :)

Watermark – that’s nicely done, i like the specific details on the character :)

The white-haired woman

Recently the mother of Singapore Mdm Kwa Geok Choo passed away at the age of 89 after battling long and hard for her illness for about two years. Her husband Mr Lee Kwan Yew, Singapore’s mentor prime minister was with her throughout the last few years when she got real sick.

However what surprises me is that the couple is so loving even when she got real sick to the stage where she couldn’t speak at all, knowing that her wife had loved poem written by Shakespeare, he recited it over and over every single night and of course that is just part of the whole story.

I think that the couple has really demonstrated what love is all about, read up about them if you are interested. :)

Marc said...

Greg - indeed, I don't think the camera would've survived long enough to get to the computer :P

Ah, the long awaited reveal of Bad Kitty's origins. Nicely done :)

Watermark - great descriptions, you painted a very vivid picture with your four lines.

Zhongming - that's a beautiful tidbit (the reading of the poetry over and over) - it tells so much about the couple.

summerfield said...

hi, marc, either you're early today or i'm really late!

so, greg, that's miss bad kitty. hello!

watermark: super!

zhongming, that is what real romance is.

the white-haired woman

On the pew in front of him, Kalan notices that the white-haired woman has been sitting still throughout the service.

At the end of the service, he is about to tap her shoulder to find out if she is alright when the white-haired woman stands up, walks across the aisle onto the altar proper, proceeds to the vestry and disappears inside.

Kalan thinks this as quite odd, and light on his feet, he sprints towards the vestry, curious to see what the woman looks like, but as he approaches he hears the muffled sound of a gun and a loud thud, the sound of a body falling on the floor, sounds all too familiar to a professional assassin that he is. He pulls his gun from the holster inside his suit, slams his body against the door which opens easily, and finds Father Richard on the floor, a bullet between his eyes, and the old white-haired woman standing a few feet away holding a revolver now aimed at him.

Heather said...

No individual comments tonight. I am not a text message typing champ and so it would take longer than the 45 minutes left in this tin can being beat upon by rain and wind while traveling too fast down this long stretch of road.

I chose to convey an idea that is too big for four lines.

She floats effortlessly through my life, attached as if she were my right hand or left knee, an ear or an eye; a part of me never meant to be severed. I refer to her as my White Rabbit, and like Alice, I follow her into my own private Wonderland. Once there, I do not play croquet with the Queen or drink tea with the Mad Hatter or chat with the Cheshire Cat or nap with the Door Mouse, for I am each of them and none of them simultaneously and separately. As I struggle to understand my part in this chaotic life, I see her long locks of white hair and rush to ask her for a key only to find that she has lead me gently to the other side of my subconscious.

Catherine Mackie said...

When she awoke the morning after the accident she didn't comb her hair until well after noon. The brush fell from her limp fingers. In the mirror her unlined face stared back at her, aghast. Where before there had been golden corn now there was the white of snow.

I only discovered your blog today and apologise if my writing is toooooo late but I couldn't resist trying... Never made any changes in the four lines....

Marc said...

Summerfield - I think I managed to be a bit early yesterday. Not so much today :P

Loved the story and the twist at the end. You seem to be developing a talent for that lately!

Heather - it may be bigger than four lines, but you still did beautifully with just the four. Fantastic stuff.

Catherine - there are no real deadlines here. In fact, I think that shall replace the outgoing 'no editing' rule!

Look at that, newly arrived and already inspiring improvements :D

I'm glad you've discovered us here and I look forward to more great writing. I really liked the contrast you created in the final line.