(no subject)
Significant changes in this draft...
Doubled the length almost, Developed characters more.
Still needs work but looking for critique
Fire in the Valley
Copyright 2002 Diana Lee Fitzwater all rights reserved
Fucking society, Gen muttered as she warmed her lenses against her chest, Because In the real world dear theres competition, and we wouldnt be doing you a service if you were not brought up to competition level. Fuck that I just want to take pictures... not sellem. Gen was not happy that her photography club had decided to go to a Challenge format. This months challenge; find and shoot the perfect single Minnesota fall shot, one shot that truly displays the season in our godforsaken-weatherwise-at-least state.
As she puffed on her hands in the suddenly brisk air just outside Mankato she sized up what her fellow Competitors (no more companions, she was supposed to be against them all) would probably hand in.
Afrique, not her real name but fuck off if you asked for her white imposed christian name, would hand in a dramatic set up of a single pale leaf lying on a puddle of mud, shot in black and white to further embellish the oppression that whites have placed upon the African children of american slaves. and yes american would be lowercased, Afrique had standards in her submissions. If they ever faltered Lucifer would be making a snow demon.
Jared, who did look an awful lot like David Bowie on a really bad hair day everyday, would find some shop window with a Thanksgiving or Halloween holiday display, he probably would try to throw in a couple kids in costume or eating, and title it something like, Fattening up for the storm. Jared thought hed be making a political statement. He too would only use black and white film to make it Art.
Jessie, a Minnesota River Valley Girl, would probably take a picture of her or one of her numerous friends putting on fall makeup shades and fashions. She would say something along the lines of, Like its totally the season and all ya know. She was only in this group to meet cute artist types.
Gen felt comfortable in these wagers, All three shed gone to school with since first grade, and in kindergarten had been best friends with Afrique née Marianne. Shed been Mariannes friend until out of pride for Afriques African ancestors Afrique said she could no longer be Gens friend and if Gen must address her by a name would Gen please use Afrique. After having Afrique blow up in her face twice for saying Marianne, Gen gradually stopped even talking to her, and by the time they graduated from Mankato West high school Gen could remember to address Afrique properly in class.
The only wild card Gen could really see was Nigel; the kid from Minneapolis. Every piece hed handed in all year was different; his first shot was of Gooseberry Falls along the north shore, the next shot was of his little sister in a wading pool, Nigels last shot was a still life of his guitar and a music stand. Nigel never said much, he didnt title any of his pictures, and while Gen wasnt caught up in naming things she usually had something like sisters or Waterfall but all of Nigel's pictures were Untitled. When asked what he thought about other peoples work hed look at it for a long time with his ice colored eyes before saying what he liked first and what he didnt like last. He was honest and fair to everyone.
Gen would have done anything to be alone with him sometime. But he always was quick to his next class and never made small talk with anyone. And though Gen had no classes after photography she was too shy to follow after him and start a conversation.
Gen, in desperation to meet tomorrows deadline for the challenge had driven out in her Wrangler, the black cloth top was still hidden somewhere in her parents garage and Minnesota had decided to deliver thirty to fourty degree days with crystal clear skies, in short gen was freezing her ass off on 169 north and desperately searching for her picture. She didnt want to do leaves... It was so clichéd, but all there was really were in this state were leaves, leaves and lakes. She pulled over in the parking lot of the abandoned Dairy Queen, to think about things; warming up her lenses incase inspiration struck by the rivers edge. Inspiration better strike soon if she wanted to win, and didnt Gen want to win if shed keep suffering through this format.
After assessing her fellow competitors, Gens mind drifted to other things, sadder things. Two seasons had passed since her William had died and shed not felt like shed grieved properly. William couldnt read, but he had a miraculous sponge-like brain, youd tell him any fact and hed remember it forever. Gen had met William during a previous incarnation of the photography club where the goal was to reach out to the community and bring the arts to the people who most needed it. Translation was: you could show under privilaged youth or mentally retarded adults how to use a camera and a dark room. Gen opted for the latter and found herself meeting william at a matinee showing of Rainman, and instantly liked William. Laughing with him at every meeting as he did his best Dustin Hoffman impression. He loved the photography, and took great delight in watching the images appear on the paper in the dark room. By the fourth week of their teaming, the walls of both Gens room and his were covered with photos.
One afternoon Gen and William were on campus taking shots of Rust Bucket, the odd fountain outside of the student union and the library. As they both snapped photos William rattled off factoids, ...Originally the sculpture wasnt intended to be a fountain. William said carefully. Except for some mild hesitation when he spoke most people didnt know William was different, but he had some of the mannerisms that people associated with retards, and most people wouldnt isten to him once they noticed it.
As William shot pictures of the groundaround the fountain Afrique and Jared walked by, and started laughing. Hey Gen doesnt he go a bit too, Afrique faked that she was searching for a word, slow for you?
Gens voice was even but loud enough for Afrique and the other passers by to hear.Last time I checked I wasnt the slut in school. Apple Pie. William snickered as Afrique stomped off, Jared, who was the only man from their graduating class that she hadnt banged, chased after her, desperately waiting for his turn.
Gen and William kept meeting at least once a week even after the club decided to change formats. And when William went into the hospital she came to see him daily, she was the only friend he had, or at least the only one who visited him.
He went into the hospital in January, and by late march he was fading fast. she came in one day, and he was sleeping. he woke up though soon after she got there. Hey William.
Gen...
Do you have any family you want me to try and reach?
No...Ive always been alone. My mother said I was special and it was remarkable that I was born when there was fire in the valley.
fire in the valley.
She said very few people in my town were born when the land is dying and lived, I was the only one. But Im sleepy Gen.
Well then nap William...
Would you read to me?
What?
My moms poet.
Sure... Gen picked up the poems of William Blake and opened it to where theyd left off the day before. Laughing Song. When the green woods laugh, wth the voice of joy....
William fell asleep quickly and never woke up again, his body finally shutting down after a two year battle with cancer, a week later. Gen read William Blakes Night at the funeral and was one of the five people who attended.
On the banks of the Minnesota River, Gen shook her head and wiped away the tear that showed up at the edge of her eye. With a reluctant groan the Wranglers engine turned over and Gen continued north.
Shed just gotten a few miles north of St. Peter when she looked up the hill and jerked the Jeep over to the shoulder. She carefully leapt out of it and dodging speeders went a couple paces behind. Extracting the camera from her overcoat and framing very carefully so the road would not appear, she squeezed the trigger once, shoved the camera back into the overcoat and drove onto LeSuer where she turned around and headed back for Mankato.
Gen was the last to the room, but not late. Afrique and Jared had their large format portfolios with their single shot sticking a single corner out. Jessie had the whole Target Kodak folder in front of her on the desk, and Nigel had a single manilla folder sitting in front of him; he smiled politely at Gen and she returned the gesture. Gen sat down far from everyone else and laid her 8x10, image down, on the desk.
Jared and Afrique made their poly-social statements, Jessie wasted everyones time, and Nigel presented a nice shot of his mother taking a pumpkin pie out of the oven. Well as always a beautiful mix. And Gen, what do you bring?
Gen perched the photo on the easel, and every one gasped at the hill full of various Maples; tones of red, orange, and yellow filled half the frame, the other half was filled with a perfect cerulean sky. with a few smoke like and whispy clouds just above the trees, Wow Gen... What do you want to call this one?
My friend William named it this spring. Fire in the Valley.
Doubled the length almost, Developed characters more.
Still needs work but looking for critique
Fire in the Valley
Copyright 2002 Diana Lee Fitzwater all rights reserved
Fucking society, Gen muttered as she warmed her lenses against her chest, Because In the real world dear theres competition, and we wouldnt be doing you a service if you were not brought up to competition level. Fuck that I just want to take pictures... not sellem. Gen was not happy that her photography club had decided to go to a Challenge format. This months challenge; find and shoot the perfect single Minnesota fall shot, one shot that truly displays the season in our godforsaken-weatherwise-at-least state.
As she puffed on her hands in the suddenly brisk air just outside Mankato she sized up what her fellow Competitors (no more companions, she was supposed to be against them all) would probably hand in.
Afrique, not her real name but fuck off if you asked for her white imposed christian name, would hand in a dramatic set up of a single pale leaf lying on a puddle of mud, shot in black and white to further embellish the oppression that whites have placed upon the African children of american slaves. and yes american would be lowercased, Afrique had standards in her submissions. If they ever faltered Lucifer would be making a snow demon.
Jared, who did look an awful lot like David Bowie on a really bad hair day everyday, would find some shop window with a Thanksgiving or Halloween holiday display, he probably would try to throw in a couple kids in costume or eating, and title it something like, Fattening up for the storm. Jared thought hed be making a political statement. He too would only use black and white film to make it Art.
Jessie, a Minnesota River Valley Girl, would probably take a picture of her or one of her numerous friends putting on fall makeup shades and fashions. She would say something along the lines of, Like its totally the season and all ya know. She was only in this group to meet cute artist types.
Gen felt comfortable in these wagers, All three shed gone to school with since first grade, and in kindergarten had been best friends with Afrique née Marianne. Shed been Mariannes friend until out of pride for Afriques African ancestors Afrique said she could no longer be Gens friend and if Gen must address her by a name would Gen please use Afrique. After having Afrique blow up in her face twice for saying Marianne, Gen gradually stopped even talking to her, and by the time they graduated from Mankato West high school Gen could remember to address Afrique properly in class.
The only wild card Gen could really see was Nigel; the kid from Minneapolis. Every piece hed handed in all year was different; his first shot was of Gooseberry Falls along the north shore, the next shot was of his little sister in a wading pool, Nigels last shot was a still life of his guitar and a music stand. Nigel never said much, he didnt title any of his pictures, and while Gen wasnt caught up in naming things she usually had something like sisters or Waterfall but all of Nigel's pictures were Untitled. When asked what he thought about other peoples work hed look at it for a long time with his ice colored eyes before saying what he liked first and what he didnt like last. He was honest and fair to everyone.
Gen would have done anything to be alone with him sometime. But he always was quick to his next class and never made small talk with anyone. And though Gen had no classes after photography she was too shy to follow after him and start a conversation.
Gen, in desperation to meet tomorrows deadline for the challenge had driven out in her Wrangler, the black cloth top was still hidden somewhere in her parents garage and Minnesota had decided to deliver thirty to fourty degree days with crystal clear skies, in short gen was freezing her ass off on 169 north and desperately searching for her picture. She didnt want to do leaves... It was so clichéd, but all there was really were in this state were leaves, leaves and lakes. She pulled over in the parking lot of the abandoned Dairy Queen, to think about things; warming up her lenses incase inspiration struck by the rivers edge. Inspiration better strike soon if she wanted to win, and didnt Gen want to win if shed keep suffering through this format.
After assessing her fellow competitors, Gens mind drifted to other things, sadder things. Two seasons had passed since her William had died and shed not felt like shed grieved properly. William couldnt read, but he had a miraculous sponge-like brain, youd tell him any fact and hed remember it forever. Gen had met William during a previous incarnation of the photography club where the goal was to reach out to the community and bring the arts to the people who most needed it. Translation was: you could show under privilaged youth or mentally retarded adults how to use a camera and a dark room. Gen opted for the latter and found herself meeting william at a matinee showing of Rainman, and instantly liked William. Laughing with him at every meeting as he did his best Dustin Hoffman impression. He loved the photography, and took great delight in watching the images appear on the paper in the dark room. By the fourth week of their teaming, the walls of both Gens room and his were covered with photos.
One afternoon Gen and William were on campus taking shots of Rust Bucket, the odd fountain outside of the student union and the library. As they both snapped photos William rattled off factoids, ...Originally the sculpture wasnt intended to be a fountain. William said carefully. Except for some mild hesitation when he spoke most people didnt know William was different, but he had some of the mannerisms that people associated with retards, and most people wouldnt isten to him once they noticed it.
As William shot pictures of the groundaround the fountain Afrique and Jared walked by, and started laughing. Hey Gen doesnt he go a bit too, Afrique faked that she was searching for a word, slow for you?
Gens voice was even but loud enough for Afrique and the other passers by to hear.Last time I checked I wasnt the slut in school. Apple Pie. William snickered as Afrique stomped off, Jared, who was the only man from their graduating class that she hadnt banged, chased after her, desperately waiting for his turn.
Gen and William kept meeting at least once a week even after the club decided to change formats. And when William went into the hospital she came to see him daily, she was the only friend he had, or at least the only one who visited him.
He went into the hospital in January, and by late march he was fading fast. she came in one day, and he was sleeping. he woke up though soon after she got there. Hey William.
Gen...
Do you have any family you want me to try and reach?
No...Ive always been alone. My mother said I was special and it was remarkable that I was born when there was fire in the valley.
fire in the valley.
She said very few people in my town were born when the land is dying and lived, I was the only one. But Im sleepy Gen.
Well then nap William...
Would you read to me?
What?
My moms poet.
Sure... Gen picked up the poems of William Blake and opened it to where theyd left off the day before. Laughing Song. When the green woods laugh, wth the voice of joy....
William fell asleep quickly and never woke up again, his body finally shutting down after a two year battle with cancer, a week later. Gen read William Blakes Night at the funeral and was one of the five people who attended.
On the banks of the Minnesota River, Gen shook her head and wiped away the tear that showed up at the edge of her eye. With a reluctant groan the Wranglers engine turned over and Gen continued north.
Shed just gotten a few miles north of St. Peter when she looked up the hill and jerked the Jeep over to the shoulder. She carefully leapt out of it and dodging speeders went a couple paces behind. Extracting the camera from her overcoat and framing very carefully so the road would not appear, she squeezed the trigger once, shoved the camera back into the overcoat and drove onto LeSuer where she turned around and headed back for Mankato.
Gen was the last to the room, but not late. Afrique and Jared had their large format portfolios with their single shot sticking a single corner out. Jessie had the whole Target Kodak folder in front of her on the desk, and Nigel had a single manilla folder sitting in front of him; he smiled politely at Gen and she returned the gesture. Gen sat down far from everyone else and laid her 8x10, image down, on the desk.
Jared and Afrique made their poly-social statements, Jessie wasted everyones time, and Nigel presented a nice shot of his mother taking a pumpkin pie out of the oven. Well as always a beautiful mix. And Gen, what do you bring?
Gen perched the photo on the easel, and every one gasped at the hill full of various Maples; tones of red, orange, and yellow filled half the frame, the other half was filled with a perfect cerulean sky. with a few smoke like and whispy clouds just above the trees, Wow Gen... What do you want to call this one?
My friend William named it this spring. Fire in the Valley.