VOICES
I reached my hand out to the dusty crank, turning it as the sound of our ancient car windows squeaked their way down. A dusty breeze trickled into the car, stirring up the dusty seats. I coughed dryly and complained: “Mom! Jeez. I keep telling you to buy a new car! This thing is falling to pieces.” The gritty feel of dust was everywhere, and the car was at least eight years old.
“Ally, you know we will. Just as soon as the waiting list for a Prius is shorter. You know if everyone tries to make the world a better place it eventually will become one.”
There she goes again. With all her “making the world a better place” junk. She has this uniquely annoying talent for going on and on (and on and on) about peace stuff no one wants to hear for the twenty-second time. Sure, we all care what happens to the earth, and want to help with it, but we don’t want to hear about it every second of the day. “But mom, seriously, who has windows that you have to crank down?”
“Bet-”
“Betty.” I interrupted. Of course. Mom’s colleague in this whole “save the earth” thing. It was one of their crazy ideas about saving gas. “Use human power!” my mom had energetically put it. Their other grand idea was to try to save on air conditioning. So here we were, driving down the scorching streets of Arizona without a single bit of cold air.
We pulled up to the mall and she slapped twenty bucks into my hand, giving me the usual “don’t talk to strangers” talk. She climbed out of the car, and the soft sound of her bamboo flip-flops slowly disappeared across the burning black pavement. I felt the cool paper in my hand as I walked towards the mall. I never worried about getting lost anymore, since mom had guided me and made sure I knew the mall like the back of my hand.
The familiar smell of perfume and plastic bags welcomed me into the cool building as I leaned on the metal door. Blasting music came from all around me, each tune twisting together into a big jumbled mess of music.
I closed my eyes, imagining my own personal map of the mall in my head. I was headed to the hot dog stand first, desperately in need of junk food after being cooped up with mom for a month. Three lefts, then a right, I repeated over and over as I maneuvered my way through the hallways. The mall was surprisingly quiet for a Friday, I noticed, but still shoved my money into a pocket, just in case.
Turning the last corner, I expected to come across the sizzle of hotdogs frying, but realized that it wasn’t there. Did I make a wrong turn? The sound of stilettos turned the corner and began walking by me. I walked up to the woman slowly:
“Excuse me ma’am” I said in my politest voice, adding the “ma’am” for kicks, “would you tell me where I could find a hot dog stand?”
She stroked my hair softly as I grimaced and said “Oh you poor little angel! Are you lost?”
I smiled sweetly, and continuing my angelic sweet voice, pouted a tiny: “I think so, ma’am…”
“You poor thing! Its right around the next corner sweetie.” She gave my head another annoying tap, then I heard her jacket rustle as she pointed. I nodded my head in thanks, then skipped off, thinking about how easily I pulled off pretending I was younger. I stitched my brow together as the vender got my hotdog, trying to decide whether that was a good thing or not.
I walked slowly down the hall; past Old Navy, past Sears, dawdling as I ate my hot dog. I frowned in disappointment as I licked my fingers, with no excuse left for staying in the mall. My talking watch announced in its annoying voice that it was “2:30.” Shoot! Fifteen minutes after I was supposed to meet mom. I had dawdled too much.
I rushed to the nearest exit, slamming my left shoulder into the door. “Ow! Darn it!”
I was supposed to pull.
I sighed, and heaved it open, grasping my shoulder and dashing outside. Cool drops of water tickled my face with relief as they soaked the dry earth. “Yes!” I thought, “Rain!”
I listened for cars, then began sprinting across the parking lot. My clock beeped, and let out a monotonous “2:40.”
“Aaacchhh!” I groaned, then covered my head from the rain and began sprinting.
The next few minutes all happened too fast. A car horn came from behind me, blaring and loud. I turned, my wet hair whipping my face. Pain seared through my shoulder as I twisted, and I reached up to it. My foot caught in a deep crack in the pavement , and I lost my balance. One hand gripping my shoulder, the other flailing helplessly, I began falling. I hit the ground with a loud thud.
The tires squealed and came to a stop, grazing my right leg and back. I lay there, silently. The driver ran out and gasped. My bruised face lay in a deep puddle, water surrounding me. I tried to lift my head from the cold liquid, dragging my cheek helplessly on the asphalt, breathing heavily. My brain was hazy, as if it wasn’t attached to my head. I groaned as the man lifted me up in his strong arms, then let my head fall back onto his soft flannel shirt.
A soft hand stroked my face as I slowly gained consciousness. I struggled to sit up, but found tubes pulling at me from every direction. Voices surrounded me, as soft hum of whispers. I caught a few words in my clouded brain:
“Lucky girl, hit by a car…”
“…and she still hasn’t regained consciousness…no…”
“Yah Harry, I’ll be right ovah’, we got a sorta’ situation ovah’ heyah…”
And last “Are you sure she’s going to be all right doctor?” Came the sound of my mom. I waved my arms around weakly:
“Mom! Mom, are you there?” I breathed. She rushed over:
“Oh Ally! Thank God! You’re all right! …Doctor!” I hugged her softly, then said:
“What happened mom? Where am I?” She hugged me closer, and whispered,
“In the hospital honey. You tripped in the parking lot and missed being killed by a car by less than a centimeter.” She kissed my forehead, and squeezed my hand lightly, but hard enough for me to squeak in pain. She overreacted. Once she finally calmed down, the doctor said that I was probably tired and told her to please leave. Thank you doctor! I love you guys!
I slept for a while, I guess, I really don’t know though. All I know is that it felt like a while. I woke up feeling tons better, so I must have been out for quite a while. A large bruise on my forehead throbbed to the beat of my heart as I slowly realized how sore I was. I thought about that, and as I began thinking about each limb of my aching body, that limb would begin hurting. My thoughts moved to my left shoulder: Oh jeez that kills, I thought, and I’m so hungry. It’s probably been a while since that hot dog… hot dogs!
My memory unfolded quickly, as the heavy load of recent events crashed down upon me. My breath caught as I remembered it all, and the frantic beeping of monitors surrounded me. I sighed as doctors rushed to my side, and then spent yet another hour or so lying there as I was stabbed with various needles.
Once they released me from the various tubes and monitors I was put in a wheelchair. Nice! I get a wheelchair!
I heard the comforting voice of the doctor explaining the wheel chair to my mom:
“She just needs it until were sure she doesn’t have any balance or brain injuries. But we can release her. Make sure to tell us if anything changes: nausea, dizziness, if she’s lightheaded…” he listed all the things that may be wrong with me. I toned out the noise around me, and did donuts in place. It was when the crash of a vase split the air that I decided I should probably stop.
Cool air licked my face as the automatic doors whooshed open and I rolled out into the hospital parking lot. I felt my moms tight grip on my shoulder, guiding me protectively through the traffic. A little girl’s voice came from across the lot:
“Mommy! Isn’t that the girl who got hit by a car! I heard that her brain spilled out! Why doesn’t she have a hole in her head? Huh? Why not?” Her mother shushed her quietly.
“Denise!” She whispered, “don’t talk so loudly! And that’s a rumor. Now be quiet.” But Denise disobeyed and the soft patter of a child’s footsteps came running towards me.
“Hi I’m Denise! I heard about the accident, it was, like, all over the TV. You’re, like, more famouser than Britney Spears when she shaved her head!”
“Denise! Stop that!” Her mom scolded her, but Denise kept right on talking.
“Hey,” she popped her bubble gum, “why didn’t you see the car coming, huh?” I looked towards her voice and said:
“I heard it, but it was too late. The only reason the story is all over the news is because couldn‘t…”
“Huh? Cause you couldn‘t what?” Denise let out, and I imagined her pigtails swinging back and forth impatiently.
“I didn’t see the car coming Denise, because I’m blind.”[u]
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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Original Text:
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,856 Reviews
Hey, Kath! I’m assuming that’s your name from your signature. I’m octocoffee, nice to meet you! I’m sure you already know, but you might need a reminder: The 2:1 ratio! For every piece you post, be sure to review two other ones. Like the mods say, it keeps a nice balance in the forum. But it’s not my job to do that, so I’ll begin what I came here to do: review~!
Eep! Too much dust! There are certainly other ways to put that. Perhaps 'grimy' or 'sandy' would work. Try an online thesaurus for other words. If there is a need to emphasize how gross the car is, be sure to look at it from different angles, things like "A breeze trickled into the car, bringing the desert sand along with it." I don't know if this takes place in an arid city, but you get what I mean. There are alternatives to just using adjectives and adverbs when describing. As a hook, this is fine. I do want to know more about the rusty old car, sort of. This is fine, but I’d like to see more a preview of what is to happen throughout the story. The car isn’t that central to the plot of the story.
Just need a comma there, nothing too beg.
The underlined would be better as one sentence, I think. As for the second sentence, remember that Mom should be capitalized, since ‘Mom’ is Ally’s name for her.
Oh, Arizona! I’m also using it as a setting for one of my stories! It’s very fun to take advantage of its hot climate. Anyway, remember to start a new paragraph for new speakers.
Just as a note, I love Ally’s voice throughout the story so far. She’s young and sassy, and acts like the normal girl. It’s a very strong voice, one I’m sure many people can relate to.
So, how old is Ally? Is she really so young that she needs the ‘stranger danger’ talk? Or is her mom just overprotective? Also, since I’ve already read through the story and know what will happen, you might want to get rid of ‘black’ considering Ally’s circumstances. That just doesn’t work. Also, I’m not sure if bamboo flip-flops make a soft sound. When I hear them, they sound pretty loud and click-clacky to me. Maybe it depends on what kind, I’m not sure.
I don’t like the repetition of ‘music’ here. It sounds fine without the final part.
I feel like a new paragraph should start with ‘Three lefts, then a right’, and maybe a short description should be added about her mother. Ally mentions that she’s been cooped up and is starving for junk food. Does this mean her mother only feeds her food akin to oats for horses? I feel like mentioning something like that would be a nice touch and further strengthen the image of the mother as an environmentally-crazy figure.
Wow, that’s very forward of the woman, touching Ally’s hair when she doesn’t even know her. I know I wouldn’t let anyone do that to me. Personally, I’d like to see Ally duck a little here. I’m sure as much as she likes taking advantage of people for the fun of it (I get that feeling from her), she also wants her independence from others. There’s something about stroking her hair that seems demeaning.
It’s not possible to pout words. Ally can coo “I think so, ma’am” with a pout, or something, but she can’t pout.
The lady is a bit of an idiot for pointing…nice detail. I think the woman should be more specific in her directions. I think people tend to overreact to blindness, or at least she would want to be sure that she didn’t send Ally in the wrong direction. You might want to reword the last sentence, because I wasn’t sure what Ally was mulling over. Try and put it closer to the previous sentence, like “…I pulled off pretending I was younger. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, and thought about it as the vendor got my hotdog.”
How does she know that she has passed those stores? Do they have certain qualities to them that she remembers from before? For example, one of my friends thinks that Old Navy has a very distinct smell. Mention things like that if you want to identify stores. The word ‘annoying’ was just used to describe the voice of the woman, so I think a different word would be better here. Also, write out the time as two-thirty.
I think this is just as effective with just the ‘I groaned’. The reader can imagine the sound for themselves.
I think you want the word ‘seconds’, or ‘moments’. If it occurred in minutes, the driver should have been able to avoid her, regardless of the weather.
What a fantastic twist. I loved this very last detail; it certainly took me by surprise. Reading this over, I’m very, very impressed by your ability to paint fantastic images in the reader’s mind without the using any descriptions related to sight (except for a few small details). Although I’m a bit confused as to why Denise doesn’t realize that Ally is blind. Her eyes must be glassy, and that’s a dead giveaway.
However, as a short story, I’m not sure how well this works. I don’t know where the conflict is, what the point is. So Ally goes to the mall, gets hit by a car, ends up in the hospital, and the reader finally learns that she’s blind. I loved what you wrote, so I’m requesting a continuation here, for more than just that I’d like to know more about Miss Ally. This story doesn’t have much direction yet. It’s not about prejudice towards the blind, it’s not about a girl growing up, it’s just…I’m not sure what it is exactly. But if you want to keep it like it is, I’m not sure if you could call it a short story. I did enjoy this, and I hope I helped out a bit.
Best of luck,
octo
i hope u liked it!!