Oh Corrie (3)

This is a bit of a kooky chapter. Please, feel free to tell me what you think. And for those of you who haven't read the first two chapters, or are completely unfamiliar with the whole DD storyline, I hope this is a good chapter for you to start with.
All Critiques welcome.


THREE

It's a strange feeling to lose someone you care about.
It's sad, but not entirely. It's weird and it haunts you with everything you do. When you brush your teeth, you remember that they have died. When you are cooking dinner, you are reminded that they aren't around anymore. While taking a shower, a voice in the back of your head tells you that they will never come back. You feel as though there is nothing you can do to escape the reality that the world will always be that little bit different. If an actor or musician passed away, it takes a while for it to sink in. With Heath Ledger, it didn't seem right to hear the television say
"Heath Ledger has died."
It felt like I was listening to someone speak an unknown language and yet I understood every word. He was dead, yes, but it didn't sound sane hearing it.

But when someone close to you dies, it's different. It doesn't take time to absorb, it hits home straight away. All you can picture is that last time you saw them, the last time you spoke on the phone, the last time you told them you loved them. You realise these are moments you will never have again. Your throat closes over. You can't breathe. All you want to do is hold them in your arms and weep and hear their voice telling you it's not true, they aren't dead. It's a desire that never gets fulfilled.

When I first found out that my sister Celeste had died, I didn't know how to react. I collapsed onto the sofa and dug my nails deep into my thighs. It was the hospital who told me. Some doctor 500 kilometres away rang me to tell me someone he didn't even know had passed away.

I had been out in the garden at the time. It was a rare, warm day in the middle of June...



Claudette was out in her rose garden with a hand-fork, poking it at the soil below. She had intended to plant some more flowers other than roses. Most likely lavender or daisies, something tame that would contrast the stunning beauty of her rose bushes. The day was warm, with the sun melting any clouds that came near it so the sky remained blue. In the middle of June, everything seems cold and dead, and a day such as that was a miracle. People were able to turn of their heaters and leave the house. With a pink visor rested on her blonde head, Claudette decided to take advantage of the day.

She was so carried away in her work that she barely heard the phone ring. Sure enough, it was; a dull ring in the background. Flinging her hand-fork across the dirt, she sprung up and ran inside to answer the phone. Lifting the phone to her ear, Claudette could hear a distant hum of a voice she didn't recognise.

"Hello?" she spoke into the receiver. The strange voice, voice high and speedy, spoke back.

"Hello? Is this..." she paused, as though searching for her name. "Claudette Munroe?"

"This is her," she replied.

"Ah, yes, hello. This is Stephanie Chambers. I work with the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. I'm ringing you because..." Another pause while Stephanie searched for a name. "Celeste Munroe had you down as the next of kin. Does that name sound familiar?"

Claudette nodded before realising that Miss Chambers couldn't see her.

"Yes, that's my sister. What's happened to her?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Munroe," Claudette's throat began to close over. Her heart began to race in her chest. What was she sorry for? What had happened to Celeste?

"Your sister passed away."

Claudette fell to the sofa, dropping the phone on her way down. She couldn't breathe. Her nails pressed hard into her thighs and she felt light-headed. She refused to believe it, and she kept screaming at herself that it wasn't true. Tears formed in her red eyes, and her stomach churned like a blender. Life suddenly felt a lot worse.



Less than a week ago, I had been hyperventilating on my living room floor. Now, I was sitting at my kitchen table, recalling the event vividly and wishing I had been a few seconds too late. What would it have all been like if I had never answered the phone?

Hi, Sugar.
I like this one, perhaps not as much as I do the others, but I still like it. I think you do so well with description, and realism. ^^ Legendary.

I think that you could include some feelings in here. Not the “I feel like I can’t feel” kind, you know. But... things that can’t be explained in real words. Like when she thinks of the call, the voice telling her, so coldly, that her sister is dead perhaps it’s all hushed. There’re no real sounds just white noise lifting into her body, slamming into her spine until she has to sit. Plunge her nails into her thighs in a vain effort to feel. Just... feel. And then, when she thinks everything is okay, It’s just a joke, some ludicrous, childish joke, she can hear the tinny voice over and over again from the dropped phone “miss?... miss? Are you alright, miss?” still so cold, so apathetic that it hits again, and she has to shut her eyes tight, hiding deep into herself until it’s okay again, and she can breathe.

Those kind of feelings, if any of that rambling made sense. ^^ Just because it’s not always clear cut and in your face, sometimes it’s subtle and wispy. Like you can’t really know what you feel because the feeling is in the way?

All in all, I like this. Nice work. ^^

*Hearts* Le Penguin.

Hey, Luc. Thanks for giving me an excuse to procrastinate.

People were able to turn of their heaters

*off

he paused, as though searching for her name in his surroundings

You could probably finish that sentence after "name."

That's all I found to nit pick. The second half was great, and it seemed amazingly real. But the first half seems sort of... detached, I guess, even though it reads so emotionally. I don't get anything from it, and it seems to just be a big list of feelings, until near the end. You done a good job in mentioning Heath Ledger, though. That injected some realism, and grounded it.

Your ending was a good, emotional one again. I'd imagine that the answer if a bit obvious, though. They'd probably just call back an hour or two later. Still, I like it, and it shows her emotion well.

Loose wrote:
Claudette was out in her rose garden with a hand-fork, poking it at the soil below. She had intended to plant some more flowers other than roses. Most likely lavender or daisies, something tame that would contrast the stunning beauty of her rose bushes. The day was warm, with the sun melting any clouds that came near it so the sky remained blue. In the middle of June, everything seems cold and dead, and a day such as that was a miracle. People were able to turn of their heaters and leave the house. With a pink visor rested on her blonde head, Claudette decided to take advantage of the day.

She was so carried away in her work that she barely heard the phone ring. Sure enough, it was; a dull ring in the background. Flinging her hand-fork across the dirt, she sprung up and ran inside to answer the phone. Lifting the phone to her ear, Claudette could hear [s]a[/s] the distant hum of a voice she didn't recognise.

"Hello?" she spoke into the receiver. The strange voice, voice high and speedy, spoke back. <-- I'm thinking one of those 'voice's doesn't belong?

I think the non-italic text at the beginning could have been better utilised. It pretty much told us the story, which is just repeated in greater detail in the italics. I didn't like how the description of her digging her nails into her thighs was repeated, it seems gratuitous. Now, if you'd had some twist, extra information, or 'bombshell' for lack of a better term, that wasn't mentioned in the earlier text it would seem more worthwhile to extend the narrative after this point:

I had been out in the garden at the time. It was a rare, warm day in the middle of June...

This was relatively well written, however, it meant nothing to me. I don't know the character, nor her sister. But- As has been said, it did seem realistic.