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- Feb 16, 2023
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Tonight I was looking through my Old stories, trying to find the origin of one of my best characters. The Ten Year "Frenchie Purple"... Feels weird writing her name on a Forum, because I've always been so protective.
And indeed, back in 2014, when I was just getting into writing, I mustered up a story named "Sannah" a Bizarre Action Story more about Man-Made things feeling emotions. Being Human more so. Frenchie was a side character.
Looking at one of the most poignant moments in the story, which has since changed. I was astonished. While it still effects me, it was written so... Okay here it is, the 2014 snippet of that moment.
And indeed, back in 2014, when I was just getting into writing, I mustered up a story named "Sannah" a Bizarre Action Story more about Man-Made things feeling emotions. Being Human more so. Frenchie was a side character.
Looking at one of the most poignant moments in the story, which has since changed. I was astonished. While it still effects me, it was written so... Okay here it is, the 2014 snippet of that moment.
“Max breathed hard.
He looked to his daughter, then to his world.
To God’s world.
“Beautiful Trees…..”
He died.
Frenchie cried”- 2014, SANNAH
He looked to his daughter, then to his world.
To God’s world.
“Beautiful Trees…..”
He died.
Frenchie cried”- 2014, SANNAH
Ignoring the context, to me it's kind of hilarious, and also fascinating. So, comparing it to my current writing. I decided on random, to rewrite this moment, though it'd be invalid to current story lore. I still did.
“Each inhale pulled forth less, each exhale grew more ragged, more harsh until there was nothing to expel. Save his own soul, yet in Max there was still a chance, ever a chance in his mind. To make the little girl afore him, laugh, and smile. It was why he raised her here, because of the “Funny Mushrooms, and Talking Plants” as she would always say. Because “Daddy always the best to be around.”.
He could not believe it, that he was not allowed breath, but he was allowed tears, tears amidst the sharp pain. From the cold metal borne deep into his flesh, his organs, and bones. And then there was a harsh warmth, and coldness.
He gasped as his daughter shook him. His eyes fluttered open so easily it seemed, yet to him it took all he had, what little he had left. He could not see a thing, yet he knew that Little Frenchie was still with him, waiting for one more joke, one more trip, one more sight to see. One more word from her dad.
He tilted his head, toward where the landscape would be, it most certainly would be there, he would never forget it. He pointed, and knowing she would laugh, the vision of the luminescent mushrooms which dwarfed sequoias, and the gelatinous imitations of grass beneath them. He smiled and uttered, his last words. Ones he remembered from long ago, when upon his shoulders sat that same little girl, who never changed in his eyes. His little “Frenchie Purple”, the “All that was” in his life.
“Beautiful Trees, right?”
His hand fell, from pointing toward the ceiling, not the window to his left. His head, having never turned. Frenchie looked upwards for but, a moment, and when she looked down, there was her father’s face. Unmoving, Smiling, drenched in his own blood, yet still as perfect as it always had been.
She remembered that moment. How she laughed, and laughed, and told her “Stupid” father they were “Mushrooms”. And how he said, “You say mushrooms, I say Trees.”. She remembered the back and forth which went on for many minutes, afore he sat her down to her favorite food, and watched with her, her favorite movie, and listened to all her commentary on her favorite music.
It would never happen again.
Her head raised, she cackled, she laughed, until she could not breathe, and she was retching. Then she sobbed and held tightly to her father. Whose last words were an attempt to soothe her. Glaring out to the “Trees”, all she could see was that moment.
Of being with the greatest father in the cosmos. Who was no longer there.” - 2024, Rewrite
He could not believe it, that he was not allowed breath, but he was allowed tears, tears amidst the sharp pain. From the cold metal borne deep into his flesh, his organs, and bones. And then there was a harsh warmth, and coldness.
He gasped as his daughter shook him. His eyes fluttered open so easily it seemed, yet to him it took all he had, what little he had left. He could not see a thing, yet he knew that Little Frenchie was still with him, waiting for one more joke, one more trip, one more sight to see. One more word from her dad.
He tilted his head, toward where the landscape would be, it most certainly would be there, he would never forget it. He pointed, and knowing she would laugh, the vision of the luminescent mushrooms which dwarfed sequoias, and the gelatinous imitations of grass beneath them. He smiled and uttered, his last words. Ones he remembered from long ago, when upon his shoulders sat that same little girl, who never changed in his eyes. His little “Frenchie Purple”, the “All that was” in his life.
“Beautiful Trees, right?”
His hand fell, from pointing toward the ceiling, not the window to his left. His head, having never turned. Frenchie looked upwards for but, a moment, and when she looked down, there was her father’s face. Unmoving, Smiling, drenched in his own blood, yet still as perfect as it always had been.
She remembered that moment. How she laughed, and laughed, and told her “Stupid” father they were “Mushrooms”. And how he said, “You say mushrooms, I say Trees.”. She remembered the back and forth which went on for many minutes, afore he sat her down to her favorite food, and watched with her, her favorite movie, and listened to all her commentary on her favorite music.
It would never happen again.
Her head raised, she cackled, she laughed, until she could not breathe, and she was retching. Then she sobbed and held tightly to her father. Whose last words were an attempt to soothe her. Glaring out to the “Trees”, all she could see was that moment.
Of being with the greatest father in the cosmos. Who was no longer there.” - 2024, Rewrite
21 words to nearly 500... Recently I've been beating myself up, thinking my writing is uninteresting, simple, that my stories are rough. I think I'm giving myself too much of a hard time. You know those 21 words back then took hours to devise? And these nearly 500 took not even 15 minutes?
Furthermore, I've always been a "Softie", so I'm not a good judge, but the moment now reinforces the tragedy of it, and brings me to tears almost. This Young Lady, just lost her dad! You feel it now, he not wanting to go, she not wanting him to leave. It's painful.
I mean, it's sadistic to think and use this as example but... I'm amazed... What Ten Years have done. Let's see... I'm 21 now, I was 11 then! It's... soothing...
Arguably, the moment to where he looks to his world "God's World" is lost, but it's replaced with something far more important. Making his daughter laugh. And in death, she saw his spirit off with laughs aplenty until she could laugh no more.
It's heartbreaking... And conflictingly, exemplar to me... I've actually... Heh, Done something you know... All these years meant something!
Furthermore, I've always been a "Softie", so I'm not a good judge, but the moment now reinforces the tragedy of it, and brings me to tears almost. This Young Lady, just lost her dad! You feel it now, he not wanting to go, she not wanting him to leave. It's painful.
I mean, it's sadistic to think and use this as example but... I'm amazed... What Ten Years have done. Let's see... I'm 21 now, I was 11 then! It's... soothing...
Arguably, the moment to where he looks to his world "God's World" is lost, but it's replaced with something far more important. Making his daughter laugh. And in death, she saw his spirit off with laughs aplenty until she could laugh no more.
It's heartbreaking... And conflictingly, exemplar to me... I've actually... Heh, Done something you know... All these years meant something!
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