Hour Story
Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband's death.
It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband's friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard's name leading the list of "killed." He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.
She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister's arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.
There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.
She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.
She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.
She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.
< 2 >
There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.
Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will - as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been.
When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.
She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial.
She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.
There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.
And yet she had loved him - sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!
"Free! Body and soul free!" she kept whispering.
Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhole, imploring for admission. "Louise, open the door! I beg, open the door - you will make yourself ill. What are you doing Louise? For heaven's sake open the door."
< 3 >
"Go away. I am not making myself ill." No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window.
Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.
She arose at length and opened the door to her sister's importunities. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister's waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom.
Some one was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine's piercing cry; at Richards' quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.
But Richards was too late.
When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease - of joy that kills
A contest entry
- "Here's Looking at You Kid" by katiefran.
400 points, ended May 9, 2007, 15 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Drown Them In Your Tears by Zaedyns Mommy.
130 points, ended May 9, 2007, 10 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Im Not Scared. by asthray.heart.
1000 points, ended May 17, 2007, 23 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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This was good, all the imagery and description melded it all together giving it good flow. It was a sad story all together but the ending was sadder
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Good job and thank you for entering.
Lady Madeline.
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The imagry was absolutely astounding, and it caused the whole story to flow and go down smooth.
Also, you pulled off the emotions of a wife coping with her husband's death quite well, I as a reader appreciate it when somebody goes the extra mile to go in depth with how a person is really feeling.
All in all I loved it. A very sad, very true to life piece of work. -
i really enjoyed this peice. it was full to the brim with with good writing! the ending was executed (forgive the pun) nicely and i didn't see it coming at all! thanks for entering my contest!
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"It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing." I love this sentence, it feels very open and dependable but when you really think about how it automatically gives us a mood and setting of the characters you realise it's actually a very closed of sentiment. Great work.
"...when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received..." I love the word 'intelligence', it's much better then the alternatives which you could have used.
"...Brently Mallard's name leading the list of "killed."..." Now this is a fabulous sentence except for the last word. 'Killed' is too abrupt and shocking and they wouldn't have a listed headed as such, there are compassionate people out there. I would replace it with 'Deceased" or something of the like just to lighten the intensity and also 'killed' has a very high finality in it so try to avoid the word whenever possibly because it disrupts the flow of the story.
"She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister's arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her." I love the way you can autopsy a character with such plaintive words and phrases, very telling of talent.
"But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky." I would re-write this sentence because it feels off when you say 'in her eyes' where you have stated the word 'eyes' before. I would try... 'But now a dull stare bemuzed her fixed gaze off yonder on one of the supressed patches of blue sky.' Good work still I love the descriptive language you use.
"...the face that had never looked save with love upon her..." This one little part disjoints the sentence slightly, I would try re-wording it to keep the flow continuous.
"A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination." Perfectly written and truly enlightening.
The ending was absolutely perfect compared witht he beginning. When you started this I had the feeling you didn't really know where you were going and it made you unsure but as you progressed I really began to believe your writing and I could imagining it happening quite clearly. Marvelous work with the additives of emotive and slightly psychotic thought imagery, very imaginative.
Overall, a fabulous little piece of writing that I thoroughly enjoyed.
Bravo! -
I really like it fantastic language throughout.End v interesting.All in all a gripping story.
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WOW!!!
It was very good, I liked it
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Amazing descriptions and the twist ending made for a very good story!
The only thing I reccomend is reworking the 9th paragraph a bit. It disrupted the flow a bit for me. Other than that I really liked this piece.
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Wow...
Truly breathtaking!
This piece was absolutely magnificent!
Tragic, yet so very beautiful in it's descriptions and wording. I found myself in Louise's shoes, feeling every agonizing emotion which tortured her very soul at the loss of her husband.
Then the twist of his return, and the cause of her demise was heartbreaking. I found myself almost in tears at the thought of such a tragic ending.
You draw the reader in with your descriptions, and manage to make them believe, with Louise, that Brently was truly dead, then completely take the reader by surprise and throw them off with such an ending.
Amazing job on this, you have a wonderful talent m'dear, dont you dare let it go to waste!
Keep writing!
Yrs.
Azaradelle.
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Loved the ending! very nicely done!...It had a good flow and since i have a personal connection with heart disease it made the ending even more powerful....very nicely written.
Keep up the good writting.
Em
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done it
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thanks alot i can not rate your comment though for some reason
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To me, I thought that the ending was tragic. But really, this piece of writing was good.
beginning: 1, language: 1, plot: 1, ending: 1, dialog: 3, characters: 2.
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oh wow i love the ending. it reminds me of something i once wrote. great job
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