BabyGrace
Refugee
ok, what I said yesterday was stupid, I admit that. although I still don't really want to share poetry right now, I'm sure I'll be back. Just a little mental crisis of mine.
however, I have written this short story for a Creative writing class of mine and I would like a little feedback. It's a first draft, completely unedited and I wrote it in about half an hour without stopping to think. I realize it's very rough...there's some missing transitions, normal grammar screw-ups, some possible additional background info the plot could use, and I think I might expand the story quite a bit. I was on a time constraint when I wrote it
so if you could please bear with my cheesy, predictable imagery and plot, and give me some suggestions or point out some glaring problems that may have escaped me, I'd really appreciate it. Feel free to correct any run-ons too, I have a tendency to fit far too many thoughts into one sentence....
~~~~~~~~Digby the Christmas Dog~~~~~
James glanced down the long, sterile, white hallway wearily. Everything was the same, every day now. There was no colour to his life anymore. The rows of faceless, brown doors, without decor or warmth of any kind, stared sightlessly back at him and he sighed in reply.
No one was here anymore to call him grandad, dad, brother, husband, whatever. No one could sit in his lap or hold idle conversations with him; they were all gone, overseas in Italy where they had moved a year ago now. He?d refused to go with them despite their generous offer of letting him live with them, free of any expenses of any kind. That was before he?d known he?d be crippled by a stroke and left helpless, unable to survive on his own, and unable to have any hired help because of the poor state of his finances.
He was old, nearly eighty years now, and working was long gone as an option. What he could get from the government was not nearly enough to provide the kind of care he needed and allow him to stay at home. So he had moved here, the only place left for him, where he was among those of his own age, who were helpless and dying, with no one to love or care for them. It was depressing to say the least, and all he could have to keep him going were the tireless memories that swirled around in his mind. Well, those and his afternoon walks where one of the two nurses who worked to maintain the place and care for everyone would wheel his wheelchair around the small, humble garden just outside that had been planted by children from the local school.
Gathering his strength, and pushing his lonely thoughts aside, James began wheeling his way down the dimly lit hall. He rolled into the lobby and Zelda, the nurse that took him on his walks, came from behind the desk to greet him.
?How are you today, James?? she asked cheerily.
?Oh, quite good, thank you Zelda. It seems like a beautiful day out there; I?m looking forward to a bit of a stretch in that crisp December air.?
?Yes, well it?s quite chilly out so I?m glad to see you?ve brought your jacket. Looks as though you will be needing it today.? Zelda was always so bright and happy, one of the few sunny spots in the otherwise dismal days he spent at the home. He was so glad she was here, or else he didn?t think he?d be able to bear it, being here so alone where it was all quiet and joyless.
She pulled on her jacket and wheeled him out into the tiny courtyard. Most of the flowers were dead by now, just brittle, brown stems fighting uselessly against the chill wind, but over in the corner, sheltered by the brick wall and a dormant little pear tree, were some small white flowers blooming despite the weather.
?What are those?? James asked, pointing to them as Zelda wheeled him closer.
?Oh, those are snow-drops. They?re blooming far too early, I wonder why. Usually they bloom in the spring as the last of the snows are melting. They?re always the first to show their faces and when they come you always know spring?s around the corner. Strange we have them now, I suppose it?s to make up for the lack of whiteness we have with the snow deficit we?ve had around here lately.?
?They?re very pretty,? he remarked quietly, entranced by their ceaseless dancing motion as they struggled for their balance against the same wind that blew the dead flowers. Looking at them, you could almost pretend it was spring, and a gentle, warm breeze was causing them to weave and bob rather than the chilliness that engulfed him.
Suddenly, Zelda?s beeper went off, shattering through his imaginings. She glanced down startled, and said, ?Oh dear, that?s Marianne?s room. I?ve got to go in quickly and check on her...would it be alright if I left you alone here for a couple of minutes, James??
?Oh no, it?s quite fine, her replied. I just hope Marianne?s alright.?
?OK, I?ll be right back then,? she said, leaving him alone in the frosty December morning. He wondered forlornly whether little Matthew was having a nice Christmas season. Matt probably didn?t ever remember him anymore; at four years old, memories don?t last long. James felt depression creeping back up now that he was alone again, away from Zelda?s warmth. ?It shouldn?t be this way,? he thought. ?These are supposed to be the happiest years of my life.?
All of a sudden, a slight movement over in the berry brambles towards the corner where the fence didn?t quite reach the brick wall caught his eye. He looked hard and it moved again. The shape was barely discernable, but it was a dog, it definitely looked like a dog. James whistled softly and called to him, ?Come here, boy.? The dog clawed its way out of the pricker bushes and approached timidly, uncertainly, stopping a couple of yards from where James sat in his wheelchair. It still clung to the shadows of the pear tree and James could see what had caused the dog?s difficulty in pulling itself out of the bushes now. The dog only had three legs. The fourth leg was long gone, and healed over; it had obviously been removed for some reason by a professional. The dog?s face was friendly, but shy. He appeared to be a rottweiler, although there was a curious white mark on his chest that completely through any theory of him being a thoroughbred. His ribs stuck out from his sides tragically, and James suddenly felt a wave of pity.
?No one wanted you, eh boy? Just cos you didn?t have four legs, I?ll bet. Come here.? James whistled softly again, and this time the dog approached carefully until it was close enough for James to lay a hand on the scrawny, dirty fur atop its head. The dog whimpered slightly and then moved closer to James, as though suddenly sensing the warmth radiating from his body. ?We?ll just have to take you in, little fellow,? James said, ?Can?t leave a poor guy like you out here in the cold, now can we??
Zelda came through the doors, and stopping short in surprise upon seeing the dog, cried ?James, what are you doing?! Don?t pet strange dogs like that!!?
?He?s alright, Zelda. He needs food though. Badly. And he needs warmth too, look at him shivering.? Zelda approached slowly and held out a hand to the dog, who sniffed it and then licked her once before dropping his head.
?Alright, let?s take him inside and see what we can do.? She wheeled James back through the doors and he kept his hand on the dog the whole time, as strangely, the dog would not leave his side. Inside, Zelda wrapped the dog in blankets and after giving him some warm mild, she ran to the store to get some food for him while James watched over him.
When she arrived back, James had pulled himself out of the wheelchair and was sitting on the floor, with dog?s head in his lap as it slept peacefully. He felt more happy in this moment than he had felt in about a year now. Zelda shut the door as she came in and James looked up.
?I want to keep him, Zelda. I won?t make him a burden or anything and I?ll keep him away from the other residents. But I want to take care of him, it?ll just be the two of us and he can keep me company. We?re both kind of alike, you know. Nobody wants us anymore now that we have handicaps. Please let me keep him.?
Zelda looked down at James sitting there with the dog. She had figured this was coming from the moment she saw James with the dog not even an hour ago. ?I?ll let you keep him, James, but he has to stay away from the other residents.?
?I?ll make sure of it,? said James. ?I think I?m going to call him Digby after Digby, Nova Scotia where I worked on a schooner as a teenager. That was the last time I saw a three legged dog. He was the Captain?s dog, and he was just amazing, what he could do with only three legs, I mean. They aren?t like humans about these things, you know.?
?Digby?s a cute name,? smiled Zelda. ?It?s funny, he came right around Christmas, almost like a Christmas gift for you.? She?d known for quite some time now how lonely James was. She heard him talking to himself in his room and she knew he missed his family very dearly. Maybe this dog could help him a bit, at least keep him some company. ?Don?t you think Digby the Christmas Dog has a nice ring to it? Say, that?s a funny white mark on his chest, by the way. It looks a bit like a kiss made of snow.?
James laughed, ?And what would you know about snow? We don?t get that stuff around here anymore, the whitest it gets is those pretty snow drops out in the courtyard...?
however, I have written this short story for a Creative writing class of mine and I would like a little feedback. It's a first draft, completely unedited and I wrote it in about half an hour without stopping to think. I realize it's very rough...there's some missing transitions, normal grammar screw-ups, some possible additional background info the plot could use, and I think I might expand the story quite a bit. I was on a time constraint when I wrote it
so if you could please bear with my cheesy, predictable imagery and plot, and give me some suggestions or point out some glaring problems that may have escaped me, I'd really appreciate it. Feel free to correct any run-ons too, I have a tendency to fit far too many thoughts into one sentence....
~~~~~~~~Digby the Christmas Dog~~~~~
James glanced down the long, sterile, white hallway wearily. Everything was the same, every day now. There was no colour to his life anymore. The rows of faceless, brown doors, without decor or warmth of any kind, stared sightlessly back at him and he sighed in reply.
No one was here anymore to call him grandad, dad, brother, husband, whatever. No one could sit in his lap or hold idle conversations with him; they were all gone, overseas in Italy where they had moved a year ago now. He?d refused to go with them despite their generous offer of letting him live with them, free of any expenses of any kind. That was before he?d known he?d be crippled by a stroke and left helpless, unable to survive on his own, and unable to have any hired help because of the poor state of his finances.
He was old, nearly eighty years now, and working was long gone as an option. What he could get from the government was not nearly enough to provide the kind of care he needed and allow him to stay at home. So he had moved here, the only place left for him, where he was among those of his own age, who were helpless and dying, with no one to love or care for them. It was depressing to say the least, and all he could have to keep him going were the tireless memories that swirled around in his mind. Well, those and his afternoon walks where one of the two nurses who worked to maintain the place and care for everyone would wheel his wheelchair around the small, humble garden just outside that had been planted by children from the local school.
Gathering his strength, and pushing his lonely thoughts aside, James began wheeling his way down the dimly lit hall. He rolled into the lobby and Zelda, the nurse that took him on his walks, came from behind the desk to greet him.
?How are you today, James?? she asked cheerily.
?Oh, quite good, thank you Zelda. It seems like a beautiful day out there; I?m looking forward to a bit of a stretch in that crisp December air.?
?Yes, well it?s quite chilly out so I?m glad to see you?ve brought your jacket. Looks as though you will be needing it today.? Zelda was always so bright and happy, one of the few sunny spots in the otherwise dismal days he spent at the home. He was so glad she was here, or else he didn?t think he?d be able to bear it, being here so alone where it was all quiet and joyless.
She pulled on her jacket and wheeled him out into the tiny courtyard. Most of the flowers were dead by now, just brittle, brown stems fighting uselessly against the chill wind, but over in the corner, sheltered by the brick wall and a dormant little pear tree, were some small white flowers blooming despite the weather.
?What are those?? James asked, pointing to them as Zelda wheeled him closer.
?Oh, those are snow-drops. They?re blooming far too early, I wonder why. Usually they bloom in the spring as the last of the snows are melting. They?re always the first to show their faces and when they come you always know spring?s around the corner. Strange we have them now, I suppose it?s to make up for the lack of whiteness we have with the snow deficit we?ve had around here lately.?
?They?re very pretty,? he remarked quietly, entranced by their ceaseless dancing motion as they struggled for their balance against the same wind that blew the dead flowers. Looking at them, you could almost pretend it was spring, and a gentle, warm breeze was causing them to weave and bob rather than the chilliness that engulfed him.
Suddenly, Zelda?s beeper went off, shattering through his imaginings. She glanced down startled, and said, ?Oh dear, that?s Marianne?s room. I?ve got to go in quickly and check on her...would it be alright if I left you alone here for a couple of minutes, James??
?Oh no, it?s quite fine, her replied. I just hope Marianne?s alright.?
?OK, I?ll be right back then,? she said, leaving him alone in the frosty December morning. He wondered forlornly whether little Matthew was having a nice Christmas season. Matt probably didn?t ever remember him anymore; at four years old, memories don?t last long. James felt depression creeping back up now that he was alone again, away from Zelda?s warmth. ?It shouldn?t be this way,? he thought. ?These are supposed to be the happiest years of my life.?
All of a sudden, a slight movement over in the berry brambles towards the corner where the fence didn?t quite reach the brick wall caught his eye. He looked hard and it moved again. The shape was barely discernable, but it was a dog, it definitely looked like a dog. James whistled softly and called to him, ?Come here, boy.? The dog clawed its way out of the pricker bushes and approached timidly, uncertainly, stopping a couple of yards from where James sat in his wheelchair. It still clung to the shadows of the pear tree and James could see what had caused the dog?s difficulty in pulling itself out of the bushes now. The dog only had three legs. The fourth leg was long gone, and healed over; it had obviously been removed for some reason by a professional. The dog?s face was friendly, but shy. He appeared to be a rottweiler, although there was a curious white mark on his chest that completely through any theory of him being a thoroughbred. His ribs stuck out from his sides tragically, and James suddenly felt a wave of pity.
?No one wanted you, eh boy? Just cos you didn?t have four legs, I?ll bet. Come here.? James whistled softly again, and this time the dog approached carefully until it was close enough for James to lay a hand on the scrawny, dirty fur atop its head. The dog whimpered slightly and then moved closer to James, as though suddenly sensing the warmth radiating from his body. ?We?ll just have to take you in, little fellow,? James said, ?Can?t leave a poor guy like you out here in the cold, now can we??
Zelda came through the doors, and stopping short in surprise upon seeing the dog, cried ?James, what are you doing?! Don?t pet strange dogs like that!!?
?He?s alright, Zelda. He needs food though. Badly. And he needs warmth too, look at him shivering.? Zelda approached slowly and held out a hand to the dog, who sniffed it and then licked her once before dropping his head.
?Alright, let?s take him inside and see what we can do.? She wheeled James back through the doors and he kept his hand on the dog the whole time, as strangely, the dog would not leave his side. Inside, Zelda wrapped the dog in blankets and after giving him some warm mild, she ran to the store to get some food for him while James watched over him.
When she arrived back, James had pulled himself out of the wheelchair and was sitting on the floor, with dog?s head in his lap as it slept peacefully. He felt more happy in this moment than he had felt in about a year now. Zelda shut the door as she came in and James looked up.
?I want to keep him, Zelda. I won?t make him a burden or anything and I?ll keep him away from the other residents. But I want to take care of him, it?ll just be the two of us and he can keep me company. We?re both kind of alike, you know. Nobody wants us anymore now that we have handicaps. Please let me keep him.?
Zelda looked down at James sitting there with the dog. She had figured this was coming from the moment she saw James with the dog not even an hour ago. ?I?ll let you keep him, James, but he has to stay away from the other residents.?
?I?ll make sure of it,? said James. ?I think I?m going to call him Digby after Digby, Nova Scotia where I worked on a schooner as a teenager. That was the last time I saw a three legged dog. He was the Captain?s dog, and he was just amazing, what he could do with only three legs, I mean. They aren?t like humans about these things, you know.?
?Digby?s a cute name,? smiled Zelda. ?It?s funny, he came right around Christmas, almost like a Christmas gift for you.? She?d known for quite some time now how lonely James was. She heard him talking to himself in his room and she knew he missed his family very dearly. Maybe this dog could help him a bit, at least keep him some company. ?Don?t you think Digby the Christmas Dog has a nice ring to it? Say, that?s a funny white mark on his chest, by the way. It looks a bit like a kiss made of snow.?
James laughed, ?And what would you know about snow? We don?t get that stuff around here anymore, the whitest it gets is those pretty snow drops out in the courtyard...?
