Archive for February, 2009

Morrison Imitation

It seems that I haven’t posted in quite a while…life has been busy and I simply haven’t had time to write on a whim.  But after having fun with this Toni Morrison imitation short story assignment for English class, I decided to share!  Enjoy! : ]



Out of the side of her eye, she could see green clinking round and round. She saw a forest of green shadows shifting in him, and it was silent except for the fish in the river. They were fish that didn’t wait for her hands to reach out and touch them. Instead they swam away, slipping and shuddering over other cold bodies because once they stopped moving, that was it. If they stopped, they started sinking straight down, down into pretty ribbons of nothing. One, one way.



She made a note that his eyes were green as she continued to stir the remaining contents of the bowl—the fat, soggy cereal bits that had greedily swallowed all the milk. The fork made a clinking sound against the side of the bowl just like how the links on the watch still did, even after it stopped running. It surprised her that she’d only noticed his eyes now after five months. She had been more careful with Jaimie.

“Darling, were you listening?” His eyes widened with ugly concern and it annoyed her. It annoyed her when people assumed that she wasn’t paying attention because she knew more than anyone else did. She had seen this moment five months ago when his friends were still cooing over them—about how they were so perfect together and how she was the one for Michael—only she had smelled the betrayal in his cologne the very first time they met. Back in the forest when she should have seen those two disgusting pools of green.

“You’re drifting off again,” his eyes accused her before his lips thought to move.

“People usually do.”

“Claire, please. You can’t continue to live here. Move in with me.”



Jaimie had never liked green so her eyes were brown—the brown of sticky mud that coated the banks like frosting, mud that fell with the rain to engulf the fish in sweet suffocation. Two, two ways. Jaimie’s family didn’t like the place either, too woody and undeveloped they called it. They wanted to move to the city, Jaimie wanted to move to the city, and Claire knew, Claire had known since day one that Jaimie was ready to leave her. It must have been the silver watch with thirteen clinking links that clued her in, the watch that Jaimie carried around and called her “treasure” even though it clashed horribly with her brown eyes, the pretty metallic watch from the city that kept running. So it had to happen. It had to and when Jaimie drifted with the little metallic fish, her treasure stopped running. Three, three ways.



“Claire! Stop doing this to yourself. If you could just move on…” Green flashed in front of her, interrupting her thoughts—and then he was walking, he’d gotten up and he was walking to the door because he was frustrated.

If he was going to act that way, then she’d had enough too. Her hand found wet metal and she got up to follow with heart guarded and metal raised. She knew more than anyone else did and she was stronger than anyone else after dealing with so many near-losses. So the utensil came down and broke through flesh. The four claws of the fork twisted and scraped against bone in a dull resonance so unlike clinking—it surprised, then angered her that she hadn’t already known the sound would be that ugly.

He was loud and his hands were wild, but she was stronger and the fork came down again and again to pierce his neck and puncture his throat until they both tasted metallic. He was softer now and his hands fluttered like hemoglobin ribbons in a forest breeze, but his eyes were still open and green and greedily soaking in everything she had. Jaimie didn’t like that so the metal crashed down once again in silver-green discord.

Four, four ways. Four ways to stop them from leaving.

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