z

Young Writers Society


E - Everyone

What A Day

by rosette


The rain had finally stopped but the air was still thick and heavy with moisture. Drops of water dripped from the dead leaves of overhanging trees and gray, sagging clouds obliterated the face of the sky, seemingly in mourning. A light wind blew across a nearly empty graveyard, and over the heads of a small semicircle of people. It was a suitable day for a funeral.

Rosemarie pulled her coat tighter around her small frame and looked around, anywhere but at the long, wooden coffin directly before her. A lady from the church, an imposing figure of great height, yet soft words, was standing beside it. She was talking about her pastor, her friend, her mentor, who had gone to be with the Good Lord. Rosemarie didn't want to listen to her. She squeezed her eyes shut, tucked her hands about her waist and strained to hear anything else.

The wind was blowing so softly, rustling through the dead leaves of overhanging trees. Someone was crying - she could hear quiet gasps and sniffles. Rosemarie scrunched her nose, hugging herself even tighter. No. No crying. Please stop. She took a step to the left, away from Mama and Baby June, her brand-new church shoes sinking just barely into a patch of mud. "Rosemarie Anne", whispered Mama, sharply. "Stay here." Her blue eyes were cold and hard, piercing into her daughter. Rosemarie hunched her shoulders and stared at the saturated ground in submission.

She thought briefly for a moment how odd it was Mama was the only one in the front row not crying - besides herself and Baby June, of course. Gramma was weeping, supported up only by Aunt Lori and Cousin Nate, covering her face with a shaking Kleenex. Aunt Bekah's eyes were red and swollen and she held her daughter Julia to her chest, while Uncle Travis stood with a bowed head beside them. Nearly the entire family appeared to be suffering, except for them.

But Mama never cried. She didn't cry when Daddy left last year and she hadn't even cried when she called Rosemarie out of bed five days ago and told her The News. Mama's face had been white, and her hands were shaking, but not one tear left her eyes. Grampa said she was a strong woman. He said Rosemarie was, too, especially for just being seven years old. That's why she didn't cry either, when Mama told her he was dead.

The lady from the church, her name was pronounced funny like Gree-sell-DUH, was still talking. She was the last person to go up and say something nice about Grampa, but she had to stop every few words because she was crying so much. Rosemarie watched a tear slip down her lean, brown face and shuddered, turning her gaze upon the coffin at the front. There were bouquets of flowers surrounding it, groups of purple and white, blue and violet, lilacs and irises, all prettily arranged for people to see. Grampa's favorite color was purple, she remembered.

She remembered going to his house one summer day, "just for fun" Mama said, and he had been planting lavender in the backyard. She remembered him saying it was for Granma and she had laughed and said, "No, Grampa you're silly. Gramma hates purple. That's for you!" Gramma liked red, so she had a beautiful big rosebush by the front door. Grampa laughed, too, his pale blue eyes dancing with mischief. "Then, it'll be our little secret", he said and Rosemarie had squirmed with excitement because she loved keeping secrets.

That memory was still as fresh and vibrant in her mind as it had been the day it happened. Rosemarie licked her chapped lips, glancing away from the flowers. She didn't like to think about Grampa. Those thoughts just tempted her to open up and cry, like everyone else was doing. But she wouldn't. She couldn't. She decided not to think about him, anymore.

Gree-sell-DUH had finally finished speaking. She lifted her long, black skirt, carefully making her way through the mud, stopping only once to hug Gramma. Pastor stepped back from his position near the casket as a short blonde lady strode to the front followed by two men. They began to move the flowers away from the coffin, lining them in a crooked row toward Rosemarie. She stiffened ever so slightly. Mama had said this was going to happen, they were going to put him in the ground now, bury him. As if sensing her thoughts, Mama lay her hand on Rosemarie's shoulder. Her grip was firm and confident, a reminder to keep calm. They knew this was going to happen, and they were ready. Rosemarie grew still under the touch, her eyes fixed on the men adjusting the cords and ropes, preparing to lower the coffin. In her peripheral vision she noted Pastor take a few steps toward the crowd, clear his throat, and begin to sing very slowly and quietly. She listened as voice after voice joined and strengthened his. They were so steady, so sure.

What a day that will be, when my Jesus I shall see...

There was a sliding, a scratching. The coffin lowered ever so slightly. Rosemarie's heart jumped, a fine layer of sweat icing itself to her clenched palms. She felt fear rising and fought to push it down. No, stop. She would not panic. She would be fine. Everything would be fine.

When I look upon His face, the One who saved me by His grace...

She watched the coffin being released ever so slowly, bit by bit, into the ditch below. And she trembled. "He's dead." She could hear Mama's voice That Night. "Grampa died in his sleep, baby. He's... gone." Grampa was gone. A swelling erupted in her chest, pushing up her throat, threatening to blur her vision. She closed her eyes to hide the sight before her, but it was seared into her memory. That casket with her grampa in it. Her grampa. Her Grampa was dead.

When He takes me by the hand...

A tear escaped her eye, sliding slowly and lazily across her cold cheek. No, Rosemarie. Don't cry. Be strong. Remember Grampa always told you to be strong. But he's not here anymore. He can't tell me that now. She felt her mouth crinkle up at the corners, another tear slipping to her chin. Her throat ached, nose burned and eyes stung. Stop it. Stop NOW! Her chest heaved, her heart pounding out a driving, rhythmic pulse. I can't stop.

And leads me to the Promised Land --

She opened her mouth and screamed. It shattered through the air, halting the song, vibrating throughout her body. "NOOOOO!" She wrenched herself forward, away from her mother's grip, away from her suffocation, toward the coffin with the dead man inside of it. "NOOO - Grampa! Grampa, come back!" She heard Mama's voice, "Rosemarie! Rosemarie, stop!", but she paid her no heed. The tears were coming hard and fast, blurring her vision, spilling across her face. She couldn't see. "Stop! Stoopp!" She tripped on a slick patch of grass and fell to the ground, mud pressing into her bare legs, cold seeping into her bones. "Please, STOP!"

The men lowering her grampa stood frozen, staring at her, eyes wide with horror. She leaned forward on her knees and wailed, the cries caused only by the pain twisting its gnarly fingers around her heart. It was ripping and piercing through her and it hurt. It hurt so much. As if someone had taken a very piece of her being and carved it out, leaving it bleeding and infected, leaving her alone.

Her face burned, the wind whipping at her salty cheeks, at her frozen ears, mocking her miseries. "Grampa," she sobbed, her voice dying out in a whisper. She lay her head between her knees, inches above the clumped, soggy ground. She felt so weak, so tired. Her throat ached from her screams, and pressures of pain were building inside her forehead. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders, unable to stop the tears rolling across her thighs. Gradually, she became aware of the silence, the stillness. It penetrated the air with its peacefulness; so calm you could hear dew drop. Even the wind ceased its nagging.

Then, footsteps. There was a small crunch as a twig snapped, and the slapping and parting of wet grass. She felt a hand on her shoulder, sliding down her back. "Oh, baby, its okay." She knew that voice, and raised her head. Mama's eyes were bright and blooming with tears as she knelt beside her daughter. "We're gonna be okay," she whispered. Rosemarie studied her face, mesmerized by the moisture all across it before crawling into her mama's lap and hugging her tight around the waist. "Why are you crying?" she asked, her voice catching and hiccupping. Mama never cried.

"Sometimes," Mama murmured into her hair very quietly, "in your weakness, you find your strength." Rosemarie was not too sure she knew what that meant but when she felt Mama's body shake against her own, heard her muffled cries, she only clutched her tighter and listened, as the surrounding silence was broken, and the mourners finished their song.

What a day, glorious day, that will be...


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Fri Jun 30, 2017 5:06 pm
RubyRed wrote a review...



Hello, rosette! Here for the review you requested of me!

No. No crying. Please stop.


You probably meant for this to be in italics since I believe this is what Rosemarie was think to herself. Someone the italics disappears when I copy and paste my story to post them on YWS so just watch for this in the future.

"Rosemarie Anne," whispered Mama, sharply, "Stay here."


She thought briefly for a moment how odd it was Mama was the only one in the front row not crying


This makes it sound as if they're inside the church since when you sit inside of church for a funeral there are rows of seats you're usually assigned to. So I'd take out "in the front row" and replace it with "at the front".

while Uncle Travis stood with a bowed head beside them.


I do know what you mean here, but a good rule for writing is to place modifiers in a way that you can't possible mistake what's meant to be said. So you could reword this like: "while Uncle Travis with a bowed head stood beside them" or "while Uncle Travis stood beside them bowing his head".

She was the last person to go up and say something nice about Grampa, but she had to stop every few words because she was crying so much.


Again, it sounds like they're inside when Rosemarie clearly step in a small puddle earlier so I'd just remove "go up and".

No, stop.


Italics again.

No, Rosemarie. Don't cry. Be strong. Remember Grampa always told you to be strong. But he's not here anymore. He can't tell me that now.


Italics

Stop it. Stop NOW! Her chest heaved, her heart pounding out a driving, rhythmic pulse. I can't stop.


More italics

The ending was so sad! And I like how Mama softens after she sees Rosemarie cry, and even cries a little bit herself. The story was very bittersweet because, if you believe in God, then you're thinking the Grandpa is going to Heaven, and if you don't then it's all sadness. I can relate to Rosemarie. I had managed not to cry at a funeral for the majority of the sermon, but I still let a few tears go because. It makes Rosemarie relatable and human, and it does the same for her mama when she gets at least teary-eyed.

So needless to say I liked the story, and I'm surprised it doesn't have a like yet. However, one thing else I'd like to say which I guess is more personal preference is, add more description. You can almost never go wrong by adding little details to people facial expressions when they're feeling something or adding depth to the setting. I'd also say leave off

What a day, glorious day, that will be...


Just because I think the sentence before it was a better way to leave it with a sad ambiance. Anyways, great job! Good luck in future works! And I hope my review was helpful to you!

Image




rosette says...


heyooo, thanks for the review!
Ack. :( Did it really sound like it was at a church? I know at my own grandpa's funeral and a few others I've been to, they usually have the chairs set up like that. I was just following that pattern. And the viewpoint from that of a little girl.
Oh dear. I didn't use italics for Rosemarie's thoughts because I didn't want them to be mixed up/confused with the song and some dialogue that was italicized. Bold seemed a little too... much. But I dunno - I should probably mess around with it, see what works best.
thanks for your thoughts!



RubyRed says...


Well no I knew it was outside but the two parts I pointed out sounded a bit like it was changed. Also I don't think they'd be confused with the song since you start a new line every time you write the song lyrics.



rosette says...


That is true.



RubyRed says...


Also, I'm really sorry about your grandpa. My grandpa also passed away recently.



rosette says...


</3 I'm sorry about that. I know how hard that can be.



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Sun Mar 26, 2017 12:13 am
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erilea wrote a review...



Heya, pkidchick! Lupa here for a Review Day review! :D Let's begin...

1) "It was the perfect day for a funeral." I want to talk to you about word choice and connotation here. "Perfect" sends a positive connotation--that is, a meaning that tilts toward the better side of things rather than the bad. It contrasts with the setting of a funeral. If you could pick a better word that matches the setting, the sentence wouldn't sound as out of place as it does now. Something like, "It was a fitting day for a funeral."

2) ""Rosemarie Anne", whispered Mama, sharply. "Stay here." Her blue eyes were cold and hard, piercing into her daughter." Is it just me, or does Rosemarie's mother sound harsh at the beginning? I would expect someone to behave like Rosemarie in the case of a funeral, but her mother seems to have no feelings at all near the start. Shouldn't she be sad, or mournful, or something other than forbidding towards her daughter? Near the end, she clears up a bit, but when you introduce her character she seems pretty mean at first.

Well, those are all of the critiques I had to say to you! Your piece was exceedingly well described and an enjoyable read. Thanks for sharing your work, pkidchick!

XOX,
Lupa22




rosette says...


Hi, lupa!
I like what you said about the "perfect" part, I'll probably go ahead and change that, but with the mother... well, I was kind of leaning towards her being harsh and cold in the beginning but her character softening up as the story progressed and she witnessed her daughter's actions. I don't know if that was very effective, though. :(
Thank you for the review, anyhow! ;D



erilea says...


Oh, that's fine. You're welcome! :D



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Sun Mar 26, 2017 12:07 am
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RoseTulipLily wrote a review...



Happy review day. That being said, let's get started with the review.

This was very emotional and well-written. Although I have yet to experience the same grief as Rosemarie, and pray to God that I won't for a long time, it was easy for me to feel her anguish. It was all so palpable. She wasn't just some random character, but a little, confused, upset girl who just lost someone very important to her. I also loved the characterization of her mother, and how you mentioned that she hadn't cried when Rosemarie's father left. In my opinion, this gives the reader a portrait of a woman who broke down after enduring one too many losses and pains, even if none of this was from her point of view.

"The men lowering her grampa stood frozen, staring at her, eyes wide with horror. She leaned forward on her knees and wailed, the cries caused only by the pain twisting its gnarly fingers around her heart. It was ripping and piercing through her and it hurt. It hurt so much. As if someone had taken a very piece of her being and carved it out, leaving it bleeding and infected, leaving her alone." This is doubtless my favorite part of the whole story. The descriptions of her grief are so beautifully written that I almost started crying myself. That is no small feat to make the reader want to weep alongside the characters, so I commend you for that.

My only critique is maybe you could separate the dialogue a little so it doesn't seem mushed together. It is a very minor critique, though, and I apologize if I came across as nitpicky about it.

Keep writing! ;)




rosette says...


nitpicky? oh, no! not at all! I was trying to keep everything smashed together so it wouldn't drag on forever but thanks for pointing that out, and for the review, Rose. I appreciate your insight on the thing. Its funny how you say that one phrase was your favorite - it was probably the hardest for me to write and perfect!



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Sun Mar 26, 2017 12:02 am
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MeisterChan wrote a review...



Hey, pkidchick! It's Scythe here for a quick review :)

What I liked:

1. I liked the first line!

The rain had finally stopped but the air was still thick and heavy with moisture.


I loved the description of the weather, it was a great technique to use for a funeral (if not a little cliche), but not only that, the whole first paragraph was amazing! You portrayed the scene brilliantly.

2. I loved the depth of the character. "No. No crying. Please stop." It was saddening but also beautiful that she tried to stop herself from crying. Against her own strength, her feelings were so strong they seemed to start to breaking free.

3. This line was one of the best:

"Her eyes were cold and hard, piercing into her daughter."


I believe it showed the nature of the mother. They way she signalled her daughter with such a harsh look implied that she was strong minded and strict.

[ b]4.[/b] The flashback scene of the garden was beautiful, it helped understand why RoseMarie's connection to her grandfather was so strong.

What I did not like:

1. I felt like the second paragraph should have only contained information about Rosemarie, there needs to be a stronger introduction to the main character after all. I would suggest writing about the "Lady from church" in the third or fourth paragraph.

2. There is a line, where you have used capitals letters that didn't need to be used.

When I look upon His face, the One who saved me by his grace...


"His" and "One" should be un-capitalised, a capital letter should only take place at the beginning of sentence or on the first letter of a noun.

I hope this helped! Good work, I hope to read more of your work in the future!

Keep Writing!
- ScytheMeister




rosette says...


Hi scythe, thanks for your comments, don't worry, they were helpful. ;D

"His" and "One" should be un-capitalised, a capital letter should only take place at the beginning of sentence or on the first letter of a noun.

Those words are purposely capitalized there. I don't know how you do it but anything referring to God is always supposed to be capitalized, at least this is what my Christian-based Grammar book says, so this is how I do it. :)


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MeisterChan says...


Hey there, pkidchick! :)

I was unaware of that, as far as I was concerned the only thing to be capitalised was "God", but if you are correct then I deeply apologise.

Great work!

-Scythe



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Sat Mar 25, 2017 6:19 pm
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VegasLights wrote a review...



Hello, pkidchick. Steam1244 here for a review! I have to say, this is a really good short story. Some things that I found were just little things. For example, semi-circle I believe is suppose to be semicircle. Those little things, but those can be fixed very easily.

This sentence "A lady from the church, an imposing figure of great height yet soft words, was standing beside it" should be or could be whatever you choose to do, "A lady from the church, an imposing figure of great height, yet soft words, was standing beside it". I do not mean to sound picky, it is just some things that I have found among your story.

Overall, I really found that your story was beautiful. It had a clear place, meaning how the story was set-up and everything else.

Keep Writing,
Steam1244





Kindness is the language the deaf can hear and the blind can see.
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