His crying sounded like rusty gates, piano recitals, and car radios (if cars only stayed in yards.) He always sang nursery rhymes or Hairspray ballads. Sometimes both at once. When he slept he was beautiful like a whitecliffdream. On his 6th birthday his mother got sick, real sick. She never left her bed and sounded like a hauntedbyadeadgrandma sewing machine. On his 6 plus 4 month birthday she died. A whole town fell into the earth in her honor. He was never the same. Maybe he missed her. Maybe he missed all the baby pictures the town took with it. More than likely it was the June-monster, the thing that comes and steals away little bits of a persons heart-annually. Either way, he was never the same. On his 7th birthday he decided he missed her too much. He climbed the highest apple tree and threw himself off it. His head cracked open on contact with the greengreen earth. All the blue birds from the sky jetted into his head. He sewed it up himself with blades of grass and no one ever noticed. The crack healed quickly. A month later the blue birds woke up and decided to stretch their wings. They punctured his spinal cord and killed him instantly. When they tried to take flight they ripped through his skull and the skin around it. Thrashing and fighting caused their talons to get tangled in his hair. As they flew away they took his body with them. Straight up to heaven to be with his mother.
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I believe in the song of the Blue Bird Eterna
“L'Oiseau bleu (The Blue Bird, 1909).
The Blue Bird, an allegorical fantasy for children that denies the reality of death, by Count Maurice Polydore Marie Bernard Maeterlinck."
“His crying sounded like rusty gates”
Sets the tone and the stage for your readers.
My tears weeping in this powerful mega force story.
A child’s dearest love his mother taken to heavens gate.
There is truth in all your painful pain a song of the blue jay.
Mournful haunting tears beyond the comprehension of a child’s fears.
For even I could not take the stabbing grief,
Of the loss of my mother being one so young.
I would not have the will to go on, or sing another song undone.
What left me astonished, is the graceful way you portray the blue birds “talons”
“tangled in his hair”. As tears fall for another life flown away in solitary despair.
And the young and old threw themselves against the electric barbwire fences of Auschwitz, For life to them was extinguished by a black card of death. Tears of lost sorrow weeping in regret of remembrance. Prayers for the dead. Only one road he can see, departing life to soar free with his mother reunited in tears of heaven. Rains of painful sorrow now set free. Blue birds soaring free beyond eternity. Returning to the source, two souls now rest in peace. Amen. Amen. Amen.
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As a compliment to you, you are completely insane. Though morbid, the flow of this is amazing. But more prose-ish than usual too, I'm likeing it though. Little suggestion, the time between the boy stiching his head with grass and the birdies stretching is too short, think there's anyway to draw it out? Shot transitions just make it sound sloppy. It's still not bad though. Nice job,
Amanda -
well deffinitely contained alot of hard work and effort...but also was a bit long fer me...good job and keep up the good work
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Killer write Hannah I love it. It had kind of a twisted side to it but that may be me... lol anywho killer wirte keep it up.
LxSER -
Lim
Omg..that is awesome. I loved it! But, it was sad but yet..really very sweet.. Awesome Awesome job!
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