Annie's sisters watched her grow up. They would hold her hand as she toddled her first steps and then put on their makeup to go out. Curling irons and baby dolls existed alongside each other. They talked in secret adult code that Annie alternated between tuning out and straining to understand. Her sisters would respond "Wow!" to all of Annie's small achievements, like her many hand turkeys over the years.
Annie watched her sisters leave. One by one, they found something: a man, independence, an education. Meanwhile, Annie found a deep silence growing in their house. Parents were busy, growing old and tired. Meals were eaten alone. Her room grew cluttered and loud and colorful to fill the space. Each surface needed its corresponding knickknacks. Mementos of a louder, younger time were abundant: a ballerina music box, stuffed animals she felt little for but kept around, plastic junk. Her sisters turned their noses, accusing her of immaturity. But, Annie had been a child her whole life.
Visits would be frequent, but they'd be visits nonetheless—temporary and brief. Her sisters would come to tell stories, over their men, their independence, their education. Annie listened gleefully, with nothing to add. Worst of all, every once in a while they would share laughs over memories Annie didn't hold. She would visualize their retellings, grieving over a past she never lived.
They loved Annie, truly and selflessly. Hands fretting over her hair, eyes helping her pick clothes for her growing body, words comforting any suspected emotions. Annie sat and received, used to their nurturing. Sometimes, her sisters would cry their adult tears. Annie, used to childish tears over toys and boys and report cards, sat and listened. Hands sat still, lips unopened, compassionate words left unspoken. Her sisters turned to each other as Annie's statuesque silence was of little use.
Annie grew, too. Her sisters watched tearfully as she toddled into high school, college, the beyond. Annie's observational tendencies continued. People watching, staring, fantasizing—whatever you want to call it. She did it. She'd built up the habit her whole life. Her sisters found new somethings: homes, marriages, children. Their helpful hands once again found meaning. New tiny hands to hold, new sobs to comfort. Annie would try to hold them too, often leading to more crying and a quick release.
She had learned the adult code, but she was reluctant to use it herself. Instead, Annie became skilled in gaining laughs. Not through stories, but through quick one-liners. Each chuckle helped establish her place, reminded her she belonged. She had a use.
Annie had grown, yet she remained the youngest. Forever the nurtured, forever the observer, forever the selfish.
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125,009 Literary Works • 672,837 Reviews
Hello, and thanks for sharing this little story. It's short and easy to read, and I can see that there is more meaning to it than just a little tale.
I like how you examined the roles of the older sisters. At the different phases of their lives, you gave us insight into what they were doing. And these contrasted with what was going on in Annie's personal world at the same time.
I think it's interesting that you portrayed the older sisters as having a lot to offer, while Annie was just a silent observer most of the time. Sometimes youngest children get portrayed as the life of the party and whatnot, but this brings a different perspective to the whole situation. Also, it's interesting how you brought out the point that Annie never really felt grown up.
There were a few instances of wording I'd like to leave some suggestions on. In one sentence, you said, "Annie listened gleefully, with nothing to add." I'm assuming you used the word "gleefully" to indicate she was happy to listen or excited to hear what they had to say, but then the phrase "with nothing to add" feels out of place by contrast. Perhaps you could even just throw in a simple "but" so it would read like, "Annie listened gleefully, but with nothing to add." I guess the picture of her listening gleefully gives the idea that she was involved in the dynamic conversation, but then the following phrase about her silence seems to contradict that. Another suggestion for how to polish that up is that you could say, "Annie listened gleefully. Yet she had nothing to add." Anyway, just some suggestions.
Later on, you used the term "statuesque silence." I think I get the idea you're going for, that Annie was silent like a statue. However, I think the word "statuesque" has a different meaning or connotation that throws this sentence off. Usually this word is applied to someone's height and/or figure, rather than meaning they have other attributes of a statue, such as silence, or being made of stone. Maybe you could consider using "statue-like silence," or something like "stone cold silence, like that of a statue."
Anyway, all in all, this was easy to read, and I think you have layered it with deeper points to think about. My final conclusion is that Annie felt like she never really grew up, even though she did grow older. Maybe she even wanted to have that older sister role to someone, but she never felt like she did. She always felt like she was being treated like a kid.
Well, that's all! Keep up the good work.
Hi!! Thank you so much for writing a review! Thanks for pointing out some awkward phrasing, and yeah I had no idea "statuesque" just meant really tall LOL. I appreciate all the feedback!
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Hi! I see you are a bit of a newer member of YWS, so if I haven’t said it already, welcome!
I saw this little story and as I began to read on, it really resonated, so here’s a little review with my thoughts!
𔓘 Writing Commentary 𔓘
I myself am an older brother, but I get to see my younger sibling's struggles. The way you describe Annie’s personality sort of “clinging” to these times when she was young is really interesting and is a cool way of humanizing her and your story further. Like she’s filling a space of sorrow with these items, hereby ignoring them…
It also feels very realistic. Because her sisters are so much older than her, she barley even grasps the “adult” tears here. The amount of time they had before she even came into existence surely would’ve crafted important memories that don’t include Annie. It’s interesting because this isn’t exactly anyone’s fault…It’s just a matter of circumstance.
With this final line, we have a bittersweet (maybe even sad) ending to leave off on. She has grown up, but she’s scarred. Hurt by something that had nothing to do with her. I love how you establish that she keeps her feelings in, leading to people viewing her as selfish when she opens up. All causing a harsh cycle.
Good writing job! This is a cool little short story!
Hi! Thank you so much for taking the time to write a review! I loved hearing how you interpreted different aspects of the story. Thank you for all the feedback, it was really valuable!
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