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The Wall – A short story

Aug
09

“Now the doors.”  Grand doors were etched out.  The knobs, handles, hinges, and door itself were intricately designed.  Then within the grand elaborate doors, she drew a small door. Plain and unassuming. There was no handle or knob only hinges. With this she sighed, hours had taken a toll on her and she exhaled all energy.  Weak and dazed she looked to her husband.  “What is everyone doing here?”

 

She looked around many people stood there looking at the garage wall.  She rotated around to see the wall and there stood her wall, archway and all. She looked at her husband and he nodded.

 

After ushering her inside the house, he came out and thanked everyone for supporting her as she began to work her masterpiece.  That if she comes out tomorrow they were welcome to come back as long as they did not talk to her during her work.  They nodded.  They walked away murmuring and questioning whether she was insane or a genius.  They could not make a conclusion.  They could not see what was in her head.

 

The next day she laid in bed and rested. The day after that she did the same.  But the third day, food tickled her nose. She pulled her strength together and arose.  It was a Saturday. She could hear the kids chattering in kitchen. Her husband bangs around. She hurried and got ready for the day. Pulling her hair back, she came in, kissed her husband, and hugged her kids.  It was a good morning. She had dreamt the wall. But after the food was eaten and conversation finished, she walked outside and there hovered the intimidating wall.  She exhaled and walked to the wall which stood where a street once stood.  Looking at it, she saw the penciled drawn archway and the doors.  There were groves were her pencil marked the stone. With her eyes closed, she moved over all the work with her hands, visualizing where and how she should continue.

 

Her husband went out into the garage and opened up the space.  He led her back into the garage and whispered, “Your wall is ready for you to work on and your paints are right here.”

 

She dipped her clean brush into browns, blues, whites, and blacks. Colors danced and mingled as she tiptoed through the lines.  Humming and flowing, to and fro, the archway became a hand carved stone entryway. The doors were laced with iron and gold. The archway and doors were elegantly stained.  The flowers were stained in reds, pinks, purples, blues, and whites. The vines in an assortment of greens.  The recesses were darkened as time had faded the black and dirt had piled into the nooks and crannies for a winter’s nap. The door was stained a simple oak but towards the bottom, it had weathered into patches of gray.  These doors had been used many of times for many centuries. The unassuming plain door was simply plain in color, too. The iron and gold were tarnished and rusted in places.  What a sight to see.

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2 Responses to The Wall – A short story

  1. It’s an interesting analogy and I like the initial direction. However, I think you would benefit from first drawing the scene so that you are firm on the aspects of the wall itself: its shape, what does it block out, what does it allow in, can it be got around, etc. That will help you more clearly establish the rules of this wall before you begin to write about it.

    I got more than a little befuddled when instead of painting the wall, which was an idea I quite liked, your character painted the wall in the garage. By the end I felt she accomplished little to overcome The Wall, and merely got sidetracked painting a wall, thus cheating the reader of her triumph in overcoming the obstacle (and illustrating my own follies while providing no inspiration to change).

    Your imagery when talking about the painting itself is probably the most rich. It’s clear your heart is in the art (ooo look, I made a rhyme). That’s why I feel like creating this story in sketch or painting form before writing it out will help clarify your written imagery and provide you more concise direction.

    Finally, it’s always my policy to write a thing, leave it be a day or so, and then proofread aloud. That helps your brain forget what it intends the page to say, and allows you to concentrate on what you actually wrote.

    • Oh my, what a lovely response. I see your point and I will work on it again. I had several people read it and re-read it myself days apart and never saw what you discussed. I think you are right and I could improve it by using your ideas. I will get to work on that right away. I, also, have to create a better link between the garage wall and the wall at the street that she sees. They are the same wall for her. I see that it would be better that I make the wall at the street more defined for clarity purposes. I thought I did but it was probably too far down in the story. So, I will move it to the beginning to help. Your comments are so helpful. Thanks. I’ll let you know when I have rewritten it.

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