Kingdom
Mom, Cath, Molly and Bentley left early this morning. That means it's just me and Eleanor now for a week. Of course, Davide is coming over later this afternoon. We have videos and TV to watch and cuddling to do. XD
So... anyone want to read one of the stories I wrote for my english short story portfolio? Well, if you do, it'll be below the cut.
Week 6: Atmosphere, setting, place, environment.
Drawing upon one of your early memories of a significant place/space, describe the surroundings in a way that reflects some of the emotions evoked by that place/space. (for example, fear, comfort, apprehension, excitement, sadness) These feelings might represent emotions you felt as a child, or the emotions you feel now.
(1500 words)
Kingdom
When she was a child, she was a princess. This was her Kingdom.
Her Kingdom was the backyard of her grandparents' summer cabin at Victoria Beach, Manitoba. It was just about an hour's drive north of Winnipeg. The forest always seemed cool, even when it was hot out in the sun and on the beach by the lake. The near constant shade amongst the trees was a welcome relief. The floor was a carpet of dead, brown pine-needles dropped from the hundred or so dark green sappy trees of varying sizes and ages. Here and there was a birch or some leafy green bush that she didn't know the name of, but it was important to her nonetheless. She loved the way the place smelled after it rained. It smelled of the earth, of nature, comfort and home.
A granite bolder imbedded in the ground was her throne. She would climb up its gently sloping back and caw out to the trees, pretending that the robins, chickadees, nuthatches, ravens, chipmunks and red squirrels were answering her back. They were her subjects. She was kind to them. The bird feeders were testament to that. Her father had shown her how to get chipmunks to eat peanuts and sunflower seeds out of her hand and she had patience enough to wait for a wild chickadee to land on her fingers to peck at the seeds she had cupped in her palm. She would chase ground squirrels who stole the chipmunks' food to their dens with a garden hose, spraying water and false, immature threats. She would ignore the insults thrown at her by the red squirrels from the safety of the trees above her. They never dared come down to pick a fight.
She would sometimes build small nests of a dozen or so roughly egg-sized rocks in a parody of motherhood. They were arranged in clusters at the bases of trees or behind a bush. It was important in her mind to guard them against predators. After returning from a long leave of absence, such as the frozen Canadian winter months when the Kingdom wasn't visited, she would always check to make sure the rock egg nests were still there. They almost always were, and she felt a sense of relief and security upon their re-discovery in the spring.
Her young feet would canter between the trees, sometimes playfully as she chased other imaginary playmates, sometimes with fictional urgency, as if a hunter were after her. Then she'd hide behind her throne to catch her breath, peering cautiously out when the coast was clear. It was a refuge. They never got her there. She never got lost in her little corner of the forest. How could she when she knew her Kingdom so well? Later she came to realise it was because the area she once thought was very large was in fact quite small, and growing smaller all the time.
Creepy-crawlies were always an unavoidable issue in her Kingdom - one that had to be dealt with, but never completely controlled. Spiders were often ignored, though their webs had to be negotiated when running through the trees. If the thought she collided with one accidentally, she danced about with the worry that the spider itself had also somehow become attached to her. She had sprays and lotions to protect her skin against the swarms of summer mosquitoes, though a few bites were always to be expected. Bumblebees and wasps often warranted a stampede through the trees to hide behind her throne. She was fortunate enough to never have been stung. Dragonflies were to be hunted down, netted and examined before release. (Except for the one time she accidentally decapitated a large, green dragonfly and then screamed with horror, fleeing through the brush when the headless body began to walk on its own.) Occasionally she would lift up a brick or a stone she'd long ago decided was too large to be an egg and watch ants scurry for cover. She would be careful not to let any of them touch her. Sometimes she'd get to watch the ants carrying away their own precious white-dot eggs.
Battles were fought there between her two cousins and herself. They were miniature political power struggles. She had the advantage of being two years older than one of them, therefore giving her the childhood authority to boss him around somewhat. The other one was only a year and a month older, giving them more equality. She often allowed them to share her Kingdom. They ran and chased each other through the trees to hide behind the throne or in the bushes. They marked their own small territories by sticking leaves on twigs or scraping the pine-needle ground and teased each other at the boundaries, stealing their rival's stone eggs. After they left in the late afternoons, she would go through the entirety of her Kingdom, proclaiming it as her own once again. All eggs were returned to their rightful nests until the next battle.
Another one of the landmarks in her Kingdom was an old outhouse. No one used it during her reign. No one even touched it because it was more or less just one large, dirty spider nest. Perhaps as a dare to herself or from her cousins she'd unlatch the door and creek it open to peek inside. Just a peek was enough. They never wanted to stay there for long. Other than those brief encounters, the outhouse was ignored as if it were just another tree to dodge.
Sometimes she would gather leaves she'd shredded, tree bark, sap, flowers, grass, pine needles and cones and mix them together in buckets with some water to make a very earthy and indigestible stew. It was never meant to be eaten though. It was only fun. She'd tip it out later in a corner under a tree. The bits and pieces would dry up and blow away on the wind to be reverted back to nature. Her parents always wondered why she did this, but in the end they paid it no mind. It was only play, after all.
Saskatoon berries were a seasonal treat. For a few weeks during the summer months they grew like slender blueberries from small trees, or large bushes, she could never really tell which. Slightly tarter than blueberries, saskatoons still painted her mouth and fingertips blue and purple. She collected them in pails from the plants that grew at the border of her Kingdom to be washed and eaten later. Too many would make her feel ill. Once, her grandma made a Saskatoon pie that went over well.
When her real dad died, she came to the granite bolder not as a princess, but as a confused and sad girl seeking some solace. Once again, the bolder was a refuge, but of a different sort. She sat on the sun lit summit and cried and meditated, listening to the birds and insects. Her mother came to her, only allowed to enter her territory because her daughter was feeling too depressed to care about fictional boundaries. Her mother commented on how nice the bolder was for sitting on, and she supposed she agreed. She caught herself wishing for a minute that her beautiful fictional world could come true. Then she realised that wouldn't work because she'd killed the king.
As she got older and began to grow, her Kingdom began to shrink. Coming back to her Kingdom after being away for many years was a sad experience. There didn't seem to be as many trees as she remembered. She walked along the old, familiar paths, her memories galloped as ghosts through those too few trees and around the ancient outhouse. Was this really her throne? She touched the great rock gently, as if it were a living thing. The bolder had always seemed... grander before. She was horrified to find that a back lane had been cut through part of her Kingdom, removing the security and privacy she had felt that allowed her to gallop freely. Not to mention it disturbed and removed several rock nest sites. She wondered what the workers had thought of those strange clusters of rocks. They wouldn't have been aware they were trespassing and destroying sacred territory.
Sacred to no one but her.
It wasn't safe for her there now, not only because of the greater chance of being discovered and embarrassed by passers by, but because apparently there were more black bears around now than there were ten years ago when she could gallop freely. Still... she considered her granite throne with her hands shoved in the front pocket of her red hoodie. Maybe if she hadn't moved away and missed so many years here, she could have come here to read.
She wasn't a princess. She didn't become a queen. She didn't own this backyard cottage summer Kingdom - not any more. That would always be a fiction of her heart.
So... anyone want to read one of the stories I wrote for my english short story portfolio? Well, if you do, it'll be below the cut.
Week 6: Atmosphere, setting, place, environment.
Drawing upon one of your early memories of a significant place/space, describe the surroundings in a way that reflects some of the emotions evoked by that place/space. (for example, fear, comfort, apprehension, excitement, sadness) These feelings might represent emotions you felt as a child, or the emotions you feel now.
(1500 words)
Kingdom
When she was a child, she was a princess. This was her Kingdom.
Her Kingdom was the backyard of her grandparents' summer cabin at Victoria Beach, Manitoba. It was just about an hour's drive north of Winnipeg. The forest always seemed cool, even when it was hot out in the sun and on the beach by the lake. The near constant shade amongst the trees was a welcome relief. The floor was a carpet of dead, brown pine-needles dropped from the hundred or so dark green sappy trees of varying sizes and ages. Here and there was a birch or some leafy green bush that she didn't know the name of, but it was important to her nonetheless. She loved the way the place smelled after it rained. It smelled of the earth, of nature, comfort and home.
A granite bolder imbedded in the ground was her throne. She would climb up its gently sloping back and caw out to the trees, pretending that the robins, chickadees, nuthatches, ravens, chipmunks and red squirrels were answering her back. They were her subjects. She was kind to them. The bird feeders were testament to that. Her father had shown her how to get chipmunks to eat peanuts and sunflower seeds out of her hand and she had patience enough to wait for a wild chickadee to land on her fingers to peck at the seeds she had cupped in her palm. She would chase ground squirrels who stole the chipmunks' food to their dens with a garden hose, spraying water and false, immature threats. She would ignore the insults thrown at her by the red squirrels from the safety of the trees above her. They never dared come down to pick a fight.
She would sometimes build small nests of a dozen or so roughly egg-sized rocks in a parody of motherhood. They were arranged in clusters at the bases of trees or behind a bush. It was important in her mind to guard them against predators. After returning from a long leave of absence, such as the frozen Canadian winter months when the Kingdom wasn't visited, she would always check to make sure the rock egg nests were still there. They almost always were, and she felt a sense of relief and security upon their re-discovery in the spring.
Her young feet would canter between the trees, sometimes playfully as she chased other imaginary playmates, sometimes with fictional urgency, as if a hunter were after her. Then she'd hide behind her throne to catch her breath, peering cautiously out when the coast was clear. It was a refuge. They never got her there. She never got lost in her little corner of the forest. How could she when she knew her Kingdom so well? Later she came to realise it was because the area she once thought was very large was in fact quite small, and growing smaller all the time.
Creepy-crawlies were always an unavoidable issue in her Kingdom - one that had to be dealt with, but never completely controlled. Spiders were often ignored, though their webs had to be negotiated when running through the trees. If the thought she collided with one accidentally, she danced about with the worry that the spider itself had also somehow become attached to her. She had sprays and lotions to protect her skin against the swarms of summer mosquitoes, though a few bites were always to be expected. Bumblebees and wasps often warranted a stampede through the trees to hide behind her throne. She was fortunate enough to never have been stung. Dragonflies were to be hunted down, netted and examined before release. (Except for the one time she accidentally decapitated a large, green dragonfly and then screamed with horror, fleeing through the brush when the headless body began to walk on its own.) Occasionally she would lift up a brick or a stone she'd long ago decided was too large to be an egg and watch ants scurry for cover. She would be careful not to let any of them touch her. Sometimes she'd get to watch the ants carrying away their own precious white-dot eggs.
Battles were fought there between her two cousins and herself. They were miniature political power struggles. She had the advantage of being two years older than one of them, therefore giving her the childhood authority to boss him around somewhat. The other one was only a year and a month older, giving them more equality. She often allowed them to share her Kingdom. They ran and chased each other through the trees to hide behind the throne or in the bushes. They marked their own small territories by sticking leaves on twigs or scraping the pine-needle ground and teased each other at the boundaries, stealing their rival's stone eggs. After they left in the late afternoons, she would go through the entirety of her Kingdom, proclaiming it as her own once again. All eggs were returned to their rightful nests until the next battle.
Another one of the landmarks in her Kingdom was an old outhouse. No one used it during her reign. No one even touched it because it was more or less just one large, dirty spider nest. Perhaps as a dare to herself or from her cousins she'd unlatch the door and creek it open to peek inside. Just a peek was enough. They never wanted to stay there for long. Other than those brief encounters, the outhouse was ignored as if it were just another tree to dodge.
Sometimes she would gather leaves she'd shredded, tree bark, sap, flowers, grass, pine needles and cones and mix them together in buckets with some water to make a very earthy and indigestible stew. It was never meant to be eaten though. It was only fun. She'd tip it out later in a corner under a tree. The bits and pieces would dry up and blow away on the wind to be reverted back to nature. Her parents always wondered why she did this, but in the end they paid it no mind. It was only play, after all.
Saskatoon berries were a seasonal treat. For a few weeks during the summer months they grew like slender blueberries from small trees, or large bushes, she could never really tell which. Slightly tarter than blueberries, saskatoons still painted her mouth and fingertips blue and purple. She collected them in pails from the plants that grew at the border of her Kingdom to be washed and eaten later. Too many would make her feel ill. Once, her grandma made a Saskatoon pie that went over well.
When her real dad died, she came to the granite bolder not as a princess, but as a confused and sad girl seeking some solace. Once again, the bolder was a refuge, but of a different sort. She sat on the sun lit summit and cried and meditated, listening to the birds and insects. Her mother came to her, only allowed to enter her territory because her daughter was feeling too depressed to care about fictional boundaries. Her mother commented on how nice the bolder was for sitting on, and she supposed she agreed. She caught herself wishing for a minute that her beautiful fictional world could come true. Then she realised that wouldn't work because she'd killed the king.
As she got older and began to grow, her Kingdom began to shrink. Coming back to her Kingdom after being away for many years was a sad experience. There didn't seem to be as many trees as she remembered. She walked along the old, familiar paths, her memories galloped as ghosts through those too few trees and around the ancient outhouse. Was this really her throne? She touched the great rock gently, as if it were a living thing. The bolder had always seemed... grander before. She was horrified to find that a back lane had been cut through part of her Kingdom, removing the security and privacy she had felt that allowed her to gallop freely. Not to mention it disturbed and removed several rock nest sites. She wondered what the workers had thought of those strange clusters of rocks. They wouldn't have been aware they were trespassing and destroying sacred territory.
Sacred to no one but her.
It wasn't safe for her there now, not only because of the greater chance of being discovered and embarrassed by passers by, but because apparently there were more black bears around now than there were ten years ago when she could gallop freely. Still... she considered her granite throne with her hands shoved in the front pocket of her red hoodie. Maybe if she hadn't moved away and missed so many years here, she could have come here to read.
She wasn't a princess. She didn't become a queen. She didn't own this backyard cottage summer Kingdom - not any more. That would always be a fiction of her heart.