TheBanyanTree: Tonight's Story

[auntiesash]

This story did pull me in, but Neeky's stories do.  They just pull me to a
different place.  I would be a little worried about myself if I reacted the
same way to a chapter about Stew cutting himself that I do to a story about
Ash stealing pizza off the counter.

There is definitely a different feel - a different flow - to some stories.
Maybe it's my weird overlap of senses, but I hear that mood - just like a
soundtrack in a movie.

So that flow, it's setting the stage.  Establishing a mood.  Foreshadowing.

And the effortlessness of it?  That's just great writing.

Keep the stories coming sweetie.


On Thu, Mar 27, 2014 at 5:38 AM, Kitty Park <mzzkitty at gmail.com> wrote:

> I have a question, Monique, about your writing.
>
> There's a flow with this piece that I don't always find in what you post.
>  In my mind's eye, you sat down, thought for a moment or two about what you
> wanted to convey and then the words put themselves down.  Minimal editing.
>
> Now don't misunderstand.  I appreciate reading what you share -- whether
> it's goofy or serious.  But there is a quality about this one that sets it
> apart from some of the others.
>
> Maybe it's *my* mood this morning that is affecting how I regard your
> thoughts about Cece.  Bottom line -- this one pulled me in and I was sorry
> when it ended.
>
> Kitty
> <mzzkitty at gmail.com>kcp-parkplace.blogspot.com
>  <http://parkplaceohio.com>
>
>
>
> On Thu, Mar 27, 2014 at 1:31 AM, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com
> >wrote:
>
> > I have a friend. She's a friend of a friend who became a friend. She used
> > to live in Hollywood, the Hollywood, and was married to a guy who was big
> > in the Scientology thing there. I met her once. She's a down-to-earth
> women
> > who's happy with living simply, and she didn't care for the Hollywood
> > religion.
> >
> > Years ago when I was broke she insisted I had to go to California to see
> my
> > grandfather, who was 100 at the time. "But Cece," I told her, "I really
> > can't afford to."
> >
> > "You're going to come see him," she insisted, "You and Andrew both.
> You'll
> > stay here, and you can borrow my van, and I'll pay for the plane
> tickets."
> >
> > And she did. She wanted to do it because she wanted us to see Gramps, and
> > she had the money, and she was insistent, and so we went.
> >
> > We stayed at her house, we met her family, her husband just for a second,
> > her disabled daughter for longer. Her disabled daughter, in her teens
> then,
> > told me I was too old for Andrew, and that he should go out with her
> > instead. Cece had her hands full with that one. She had other children,
> but
> > they were mostly grown and elsewhere, probably free spirits like their
> > mother.
> >
> > We saw Gramps, and he and Andrew had a good talk.He was slower, and
> seemed
> > tired, but was in good spirits. It was indeed the last chance we'd have
> to
> > see him -- several months later he was gone, shortly before he would have
> > turned 101.
> >
> > We were so grateful to Cece, but she would not entertain the idea of
> being
> > paid back. She was just happy she could do it for us.
> >
> > Not too long after that Cece left her husband and moved into the wilds of
> > California. She'd had enough of his Scientology, something she was in
> only
> > because he was, and she refused to belong anymore. Contact with her
> became
> > intermittent. She usually was far from Inter Webs, having to trek into
> the
> > nearest town to get it. She was free and unfettered, and she moved in
> with
> > a guy named Terry, a veteran with PTSD, into his trailer out in the
> desert.
> >
> > Every so often we'd hear from her. Sometimes she'd drunk dial me,
> > incoherent and rambling, but still full of love.
> >
> > Then Terry, the love of her life, blew his brains out while at his desk,
> > while she was in the next room.
> >
> > When I am at my lowest I think of how Cece found him when she heard the
> > shot, and I know I could not do that to anyone I love.
> >
> > Today Cece posted pictures of her trailer, pictures she'd taken when
> she'd
> > returned from the hospital, where he was pronounced dead.
> >
> > And there was blood sprayed on the wall, and pooled on the floor, and
> even
> > at a distance of several years, and in a picture, you can see the pain,
> all
> > the pain Terry had bottled up inside, until he let it loose to run over
> the
> > desk and the floor and the walls. Pain is a deep dark red, mostly, once
> > it's been released anyway. Before that it can be any color, but when it
> > comes out, it's red.
> >
> > Cece, being Cece, didn't explain the first set of pictures adequately,
> even
> > though she did say that's what she came home to after Terry was taken to
> > the hospital, so people were responding with things like, "OMG Cece! When
> > did this happen?" "Are you okay?" "What's going on?"
> >
> > Then she posted pictures of what it looks like now. She has a sense of
> > peace there, despite it all. I know she's fallen in love since again, and
> > maybe out of. It's hard to tell with Cece. She's mercurial, and what's
> here
> > one day may be something else the next.
> >
> > She's a lovely spirit, floating through her good times and bad, giving
> > whatever she has to give and not giving it a second thought.
> >
> > It's been awhile since I've had a drunken call from her, but she claims
> > that we helped her greatly.
> >
> > I know she helped me greatly.
> >
> >
> > M
> >
>



-- 
"Well, do you ever get the feeling that
        the story's too damn real and in the present tense?
 Or that everybody's on the stage and it seems
        like you're the only person sitting in the audience? "
-- *Jethro Tull*