This is the revised version, so critiques on this first one would be much appreciated. (I left the original one below on just for reference.)
Once Upon A Time
“Tell me a story.” Bed springs wheezed under Lydia’s restless, shadowy shape, breaking the soothing rhythm of wind ruffled curtains.
Minnie sighed, exasperated with shared sleeping arrangements. “There’s school tomorrow,” she muttered, sleepily lifting her mouth from the pillow. “Just go to bed.”
“I’m already in bed,” her little sister countered, her cheerful soprano revealing relief at initiating a conversation and postponing sleep.
“You know what I mean,” Minnie mumbled defeated, knowing that now wasn’t a likely time for Lydia to begin to take her advice. She ran a hand through her tangles, and in a moment of self-pity, let herself imagine life in a mansion so vast, she would never even see her sibling in passing.
“I don’t want to go to school. Maybe I’ll go join the circus.”
Minnie rolled her eyes in the darkness. Lydia’s arguments against school were exhaustingly well broadcast in their home, and trying to sympathize with the difficulties of double digit addition took more compassion than Minnie had so late at night. Especially knowing the phrasing was a mimic of something she herself had said last week in a moment of sarcasm. The edge of anticipation flavoring Lydia’s words disclosed that she was expecting a similarly humorous reaction. Not that Minnie was going to give her that satisfaction.
The silence was not willingly accepted by the persistent lump under Barbie sheets.
“Tell me a story.”
“No!” Minnie hissed. “Go to sleep!”
A foreign rumble lurched into the bedroom from outside the open window, muffling her last word. Lydia temporarily abandoned the whispered pretenses. “What was that?” she asked urgently.
“It’s just a truck,” Minnie whispered calmly, her confidence more to assuage her sister’s fears than actual certainty of the source. It was a likely guess, as trucks grumbled past often on their way to and from the neighboring shopping plaza.
The mattress was silent under Lydia’s stiff posture, and her slow, careful breaths were barely audible above the droning outside. “Please tell me a story?” she finally begged, her voice a fragile imitation of its previous cheeriness.
Warming with sisterly compassion, Minnie conceded. She fingered the cool cotton sheets below her chin thoughtfully, before launching into a spontaneous story.
“Once upon a time there was a…” She trailed off, trying to conjure up a character more interesting than the overused princess, quickly deciding to use the previous conversation as inspiration, “…A circus girl.”
“Named?” Lydia interrupted.
“Uhh…” Again looking for something exotic, her mind wandered to the previous night’s history homework, “Phoenicia.”
“Her name was Phoenicia?” Lydia clarified in amused uncertainty.
“Yes, may I continue?”
The silence was taken as a positive.
“So Phoenicia worked at the circus…”
“What’d she do?” Lydia propped herself on her elbows, to better appreciate the flustered irritation her interruptions were causing.
Minnie’s head flopped onto the pillow, her eyes looking to the ceiling for an answer. “Ummm…She was one of those girls in the funny outfits who introduce the acts.”
“Isn’t that the ringmaster?”
“Not in this story. Now shut up and let me continue.”
Lydia’s giggles preluded a waiting quiet.
Minnie smothered a smile and paused, not sure how to continue now that she was able, “So everyday she saw all the little boys and girls sitting in the stands after school. And as all the school kids were staring goggle eyed at the elephants and clowns, Phoenicia was staring goggle eyed at them.”
“Why?”
Knowing her singular audience member’s inability to find anything interesting about school, this was an anticipated interruption. “Because, Phoenicia had never been to school, so it all seemed exotic and exciting.” The bard pulled herself onto her elbows and acknowledged the unbelieving snort from the adjacent bed by making her tale seem even more far-fetched, “In fact, Phoenicia wanted nothing more in the world than to go to school. So one day, she did.”
The obvious logic flaws went unnoticed.
“She was so excited on her first day; she marched right up to her
classroom and sat in her desk with her pencils all sharpened, and then…”
Minnie fervently needed a break to redirect the erratic, plot-less story. To Lydia, it was a loaded pause that she ended anxiously twisting into a cross legged position, and demanding, “What?”
Grasping franticly for something to force the pathetic story into a success, her mind flashed back to the truck, and the possible recipient of PetCo in the plaza. Desperate, she whispered mysteriously, “Then she met her teacher, Mrs. Fleazenticks!”
Lydia’s airy laughter erupted into the room, filling the shadowy corners and drifting out of the postage stamp sized room. It twisted Minnie’s mouth into a smile, and a subdued laugh escaped her lips.
“Then what?” Lydia finally gasped, sinking back into her pillow.
“Then,” Minnie paused thoughtfully. Her purpose had been accomplished –Lydia’s giggles had whisked away all things that went bump in the night – and this story had always been as pointless as a broken pencil. She deliberated quickly, and continued in a haste, “Then Mrs. Fleazenticks” – she raised her volume above the remaining laughter – “Scared her so much that she decided she was much better off at the circus, so she got right up and went home and everyone was very happy to see her back under the big top. The end.”
The brief pause was ended by Lydia expressing her disgust at the abrupt ending, “That was an awful story! Tell me another!” she begged desperate to keep up the night’s good cheer.
“Good night.”
“Please?”
“Good night.”
“That wasn’t a very good story to make me want to go to school,” she noted in a last hopeful effort.
“Phoenicia belongs at the circus. You, Miss Lydia, belong in school.”
The little girl snickered. “You make it sound like she’s a real person.”
“Good night.”
There was final defeated sigh.
Minnie pulled her sheets closer, snuggling into the familiar coziness. A smile lay on her lips, unaffected by her mind’s amble towards unconsciousness.
This is the original, again, only left on for reference. (The first critique was written for this version.)
Once Upon A Time
Lydia’s squeaky plead broke the quiet rhythm of wind ruffled curtains in the darkened bedroom. “Tell me a story.”
Minnie exhaled in the exasperation of shared sleeping arrangements. “There’s school tomorrow,” she muttered, sleepily lifting her mouth from the pillow, “Just go to bed.”
“I’m already in bed,” her little sister countered, her cheerful soprano revealing relief at initiating a conversation and postponing sleep.
“You know what I mean,” Minnie mumbled defeated, knowing that now wasn’t a likely time for Lydia to begin to take her advice. She ran a hand through her coffee colored tangles, and in a moment of self-pity, let herself imagine life in a mansion so vast, she would never even see her sibling in passing.
“I don’t want to go to school. Maybe I’ll go join the circus.”
Minnie rolled her eyes in the darkness. Lydia’s arguments against school were exhaustingly well broadcast in their home, and trying to sympathize with the difficulties of borrowing and carrying took more compassion than Minnie had so late at night. Especially knowing the phrasing was a mimic of something she herself had said last week in a moment of sarcasm. The edge of anticipation flavoring Lydia’s words disclosed that she was expecting a similarly humorous reaction. Not that Minnie was going to give her that satisfaction.
The silence was not willingly accepted by the persistent lump under Barbie sheets.
“Tell me a story.”
“No!” Minnie hissed, “Go to sleep!”
A foreign rumble from outside the open window muffled her last word. Lydia temporarily abandoned the whispered pretenses. “What was that?” she asked urgently.
“It’s just a truck,” Minnie whispered calmly, her confidence more to assuage her sister’s fears than actual certainty of the source. It was a likely guess, as trucks grumbled past often on their way to and from the neighboring shopping plaza.
“Please?” Lydia begged.
Her resolution was finally dissolved by the badly disguised fear in her sister’s voice. “Fine,” Minnie conceded, hiding sisterly love behind a mask of unwillingness, and launching into a spontaneous story.
“Once upon a time there was a…” She trailed off, trying to conjure up a character more interesting than the overused princess, quickly deciding to use the previous conversation as inspiration,“…A circus girl.”
“Named?” Lydia interrupted.
“Uhh…” Again looking for something exotic, her mind wandered to the previous night’s history homework, “Phoenicia.”
“Her name was Phoenicia?” Lydia clarified in amused uncertainty.
“Yes, may I continue?”
The silence was taken as a positive.
“So Phoenicia worked at the circus,”
“What’d she do?” Lydia clearly enjoyed her interruptions and the flustered state they sent her sister into.
“Ummm…She was one of those girls in the funny outfits who introduce the acts.”
“Isn’t that the ringmaster?”
“Not in this story. Now shut up and let me continue.”
Lydia’s giggles preluded a waiting quiet.
Minnie smothered a smile and paused, not sure how to continue now that she able, “So everyday she saw all the little boys and girls sitting in the stands after school. And as all the school kids were staring goggle eyed at the elephants and clowns, Phoenicia was staring goggle eyed at them.”
“Why?”
Knowing her singular audience member’s inability to find anything interesting about school, this was an anticipated interruption. “Because, Phoenicia had never been to school, so it all seemed exotic and exciting.”
The bard acknowledged the unbelieving snort from the adjacent bed by making her tale seem even more far-fetched, “In fact, Phoenicia wanted nothing more in the world than to go to school. So one day, she did.”
The obvious logic flaws went unnoticed.
“She was so excited on her first day; she marched right up to her
classroom and sat in her desk with her pencils all sharpened, and then…”
Minnie fervently needed a break to redirect the erratic, plot-less story. To Lydia, it was a loaded pause that she ended in an anxious, “What?”
Grasping franticly for something to force the pathetic story into a success, her mind flashed back to the truck, and the possibly recipient PetCo in the plaza. Desperate, she whispered mysteriously, “Then she met her teacher, Mrs. Fleazenticks!”
Lydia’s airy laughter erupted into the room, filling the shadowy corners and drifting out of the postage stamp sized room. It twisted Minnie’s mouth into a smile, and a subdued laugh escaped her lips.
“Then what?” Lydia finally gasped.
“Then,” Minnie paused thoughtfully. Her purpose had been accomplished –Lydia’s giggles had whisked away all things that went bump in the night – and this story had always been as pointless as a broken pencil. Minnie deliberated quickly, and continued in a haste, “Then Mrs. Fleazenticks” – she raised her volume above the remaining laughter – “Scared her so much that she decided she was much better off at the circus, so she got right up and went home and everyone was very happy to see her back under the big top. The end.”
The brief pause was ended by Lydia expressing her disgust at the abrupt ending, “That was an awful story!”
Minnie chuckled. “You sure seemed to enjoy it.”
“Tell me another story!” Lydia begged desperate to keep up the night’s good cheer.
“Good night.”
“Please?”
“Good night.”
“That wasn’t a very good story to make me want to go to school.” she noted in a last hopeful effort.
“Phoenicia belongs at circus. You, Miss Lydia, belong in school.”
The little girl snickered. “You make it sound like she’s a real person.”
“Good night.”
There was final defeated sigh.
Minnie smiled into the darkness when she discerned that the quiet was to be complete this time. Her mind wandered towards unconsciousness, for a fleeting moment focusing on how fortunate she was to be sharing a room with her little sister.
I don't think I've written a critique in… three months? now, so I apologize in advance if it's not up to my usual standards. Hopefully I'll be of some help?