z

Young Writers Society



Crimson and Clover (Part I of the Lyric Trilogy)

by Caligula's Launderette


the first part of a short story I wrote for a character developement project for my creative writing class. I'm pretty proud of this actually.

CL

------------------------------------------------------------

Part I of The Lyric Trilogy

Crimson and Clover

Ah, now I don’t hardly know her

But I think I could love her

Crimson and clover

– by T. James and P. Lucia

If you had told me a year ago I would be a mother now, I would have laughed in your face. Well, that was a year ago and I am a mother now, though I have to remind myself, and that little ball of flesh wrapped in the blue blanket is my little girl. Mine. All mine and she is beautiful; more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. Watching her sleep from my vantage point atop this flimsy cushion in the maternity ward makes me smile and I think I could love her. Even after all the hurt and pain I have endured in having her, my heart blossoms with the love I have, and she is only two days old.

I think I will name her Jezebel, it suits her well. Jezebel, my little Jezebel. It’s a name of a character in some poem I read long ago, the poem has since faded and is of no importance now, but the name still means something to me. It’s filled with connotations of mystery and obscurity, just like the bundle herself. My mother would have me name her something along the lines of Elizabeth or Sarah, something plain and seeming unoriginal like that. But I am not my mother.

Tomorrow I get to take her home, and we’ll begin our life together, though I am still not sure how we’ll make it. I am an unwed, an only seventeen and her father is nowhere to be found, but that’s not a surprise. It was one-night stand, though I don’t remember any of it, and he never showed his face again. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just that I would like to know at least who he is.

Baby Jezebel reaches out one pink hand in her sleep and another smile flits across my face. I think I could love her, and I am so glad she’s here.

“Aimee, what do you mean you don’t know the father of this baby?”

“I mean what I said: I don’t know the father.”

“Well then, you’ll have to get rid of it.”

My mother’s words ring in my ear still, and looking at my daughter now I know I made the right choice. With her big blue eyes, that precious smile, her little fingers and this wondrous feeling that makes my heart want to burst, how could I have ever considered not having her?


Note: You are not logged in, but you can still leave a comment or review. Before it shows up, a moderator will need to approve your comment (this is only a safeguard against spambots). Leave your email if you would like to be notified when your message is approved.







Is this a review?


  

Comments



User avatar
4102 Reviews


Points: 254163
Reviews: 4102

Donate
Sat Jul 18, 2020 5:56 pm
KateHardy wrote a review...



Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! It's Knight Hardy here to leave a review as part of an ongoing mission to ensure that no work on YWS has less than two reviews. You will probably never see this but oh well here I am.

First Impression: A very nice sentimental little piece. I love the emotion conveyed here and it does a really good job. It doesn't seem to have a lot of plot behind but rather a really nice message which I love.

Anyway let's get write to it,

the first part of a short story I wrote for a character developement project for my creative writing class. I'm pretty proud of this actually.


You should certainly be proud of this.

If you had told me a year ago I would be a mother now, I would have laughed in your face. Well, that was a year ago and I am a mother now, though I have to remind myself, and that little ball of flesh wrapped in the blue blanket is my little girl. Mine. All mine and she is beautiful; more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. Watching her sleep from my vantage point atop this flimsy cushion in the maternity ward makes me smile and I think I could love her. Even after all the hurt and pain I have endured in having her, my heart blossoms with the love I have, and she is only two days old.


Lovely opening there. Great emotion captured along with the very good description that establishes the setting really well.

I think I will name her Jezebel, it suits her well. Jezebel, my little Jezebel. It’s a name of a character in some poem I read long ago, the poem has since faded and is of no importance now, but the name still means something to me. It’s filled with connotations of mystery and obscurity, just like the bundle herself. My mother would have me name her something along the lines of Elizabeth or Sarah, something plain and seeming unoriginal like that. But I am not my mother.


Well there is character development in this that's a certainty. This gives us a lovely insight into the kind of person she is and a glimpse of the sort of person here mother is.

My mother’s words ring in my ear still, and looking at my daughter now I know I made the right choice. With her big blue eyes, that precious smile, her little fingers and this wondrous feeling that makes my heart want to burst, how could I have ever considered not having her?


Aww...that's such a sweet image there. *wipes tear away hoping no one noticed*

Aaand that's it for this one.

Overall: I love this first part and I am for sure going to read the other two parts as well. I really hope you one day see this because this truly was an amazing and touching little story and I want you to know that.

As always remember to take what you think was helpful and forget the rest.

Stay Safe
Harry




User avatar
685 Reviews


Points: 890
Reviews: 685

Donate
Sat Apr 30, 2005 8:54 pm
Rei wrote a review...



Pretty good. A nice introduction to what promises to be a very interesting story. There are a couple of awkward sentences, though you can hardly notice them. I thought the voice was a bit formal for the character, but otherwise very believable. Good work.





You sound like you're becoming emotionally involved with the custard.
— Nikki Morgan