Lilah is hosting a Blogfest: she is celebrating the end. Putting the carefully crafted page one away, she has chosen to turn the spotlight on the limping-over-the-last-line final words of our wips. I was happy to oblige even though it meant I actually had to consider what might happen at the end of FLOWER.
I considered and the clock ticked on, odd how it does that, so here you go:
Flower was fifteen when her Mum died in a car accident. She didn't take it well. Her Mother's Uncle, Great Uncle Will, was the only relative who could take her in. He took her to the Isle of Mull where he was investigating eagles for the Scottish National Trust and Durham University.
The car rocked as Uncle Will hurried to catch the ferry and the tide. Every vibration and jolt travelled from temple to core. The tracks of my tears mirrored every imperfection in the road.
We had said good bye, every day for days, but I still looked. It was dawn, the sun floated like an iceberg out at sea but I couldn’t stop myself from looking... looking for the white cottage in the bowl of the hill.
There was no light coming from Edward’s room; the blind at the window slept.
We passed the end of the lane and headed down towards the port. I counted the gates. Counted down until I’d be out. The last gate was a blow. This gate was black and blue: Edward’s hair resting on his blue jacket.
He pulled over. “We don’t have much time.”
I scrabbled at the handle, Edward didn’t move: not when I opened the door, not when the gravel protested under my boots.
I’d never touched him – hit him, but never touched him. The wind blew his hair before my fingers followed to stir the silky strands.
He woke fast. He caught my fingers when I tried to pull away.
“Didn’t want to miss you.”
“Egg? Edward, I’m... sorry.”
“Message me? Write. Something?”
The bruises were fading but there was a new hurt in his eyes, “Who else could I talk to?”
“Talk to Will. Let him help.” I glanced back to the cottage. “Yes. I’ll talk to them too.”
Me and Egg – Picasso souls. I squeezed his fingers; the impatient revving had reached formula one pitch.
“I’ll call tomorrow...”
He smiled. He made me smile.
That was fun. I knew what was due to happen but as Flower is sitting on a bed in Kendal she is some way off ending her story.
I really enjoyed that. I found myself getting drawn in... you have a very emotive style.ReplyDelete
Hi Talli - thank you. Emotive style: heavy black liner for me and the writing? Sounds about right ;)ReplyDelete
Ohh! Very intrigued and want to know more.ReplyDelete
Sounds like Flower has a very interesting path in front of her! Nicely done :)ReplyDelete
Beautiful Elaine. I miss Edward already.ReplyDelete
Hi Christine - I'm glad this worked and you want to learn a more about the characters :)ReplyDelete
Hey Jemi - you spotted the bumpy track they'd travelled? Thank you :)
Anne - *bless I'd miss Egg too. Casting torch or sunlight into Flower's world would have burned her away at that point in her life. Edward was a flickering candle - more than enough to dispel the dark.
Hello Alliterative Allomorph, many thanks for Following :)
Very nice. This drew me in and I'd like to know more.ReplyDelete
I'm a new blogger, so I'm coming in somewhere in the middle - which is where we all are: in the middle of the journey. Thus, I respond only to what I read here, which is very well written, and lovely. I'm interested in the characters. (I met you through sarahjayne's blog. Glad I did.)ReplyDelete
Beautiful writing. You painted the picture so well that I was completely drawn in.ReplyDelete
Nice job - these characters sound like people I'd like to know better.ReplyDelete
This was good! I felt like I was in the room with them and I want to know what happens next.ReplyDelete
I felt the sadness of the departure. I hope to read more in the future.ReplyDelete
Hi Ann - welcome to the exciting and learning world of Blogging - you are very welcome. I'm glad you liked meeting my characters. :)ReplyDelete
Hi Mary - thank you so much for your kind words :)
Thanks Susan - I do intend to one day complete the journey Flower and Egg make.
Catherine, they had to learn a lot about each other to get to this point. I guess it is true to say they could take their friendship further.
Hi Kirstie - thanks for stopping by and Following. Change is sad for these two, they have lived through a lot already.
Since I don't know the story very well, I'm a little confused, but that's okay.ReplyDelete
Very, very poignant, Elaine. I do know Flower well enough from Come In Character to know the smile in the last line is HUGE.
Well done. Well done, indeed.
This was beautifully written. I like the juxtaposition of describing the sun as an iceberg.ReplyDelete
The one thing I had to read twice to understand was that Edward had been asleep at the gate. I wonder if you could add "This gate was black and blue: Edward lay there, fast asleep, his hair resting on his blue jacket." or something.
Such a sad departure, and you managed to convey that without us knowing any else about the characters or their story. I also agree with Bryan that at first I didn't get that Edward had been asleep at the gate, but that's an easy fix!ReplyDelete
Hi Christine - Flower has spent most of her existence turning up on CIC - the fact that she and Edward got to this point is huge. :)ReplyDelete
Welcome Bryan, thank you for Following. I will have to work on Edward at the gate - get Flower to whisper his name - there is a slim possibility he wasn't asleep, just dealing with abandonment.
Hi Embee - thank you for visiting and commenting. They are the immovable object and the unstoppable force. ;)
Interesting, sad, but hopeful.ReplyDelete
Nice way to end it!
You have a poetical, emotive way with words that draws the reader in, making him care for your protagonist. A great job. An excellent ending :ReplyDelete
He smiled. He made me smile.
I liked your poetry. I forget the book, but I read it a long time ago, not because I like chick books, but because I wanted to read a chick book.ReplyDelete
And I found I liked chick books! That one, at least.
Anyway, your voice reminds me of that voice. Dang, what was that freaking book called... it was a best-seller, I remember that much, and it was chock full of poetic prose.
"Picasso souls." Not sure what the heck that means, but it sounds wonderful.
OK I admit it - it was poetry I penned on the train journeys too and from school: me and Gerard Manley Hopkins - like -x- that.ReplyDelete
Please find out which Best Selling Chick lit thang I sound like 'cos I really have to know - I'll take suggestions from any other readers, too ;) Really I'm not even kidding. I'm going to have to read the first page of everything on Amazon, otherwise!
Picasso Souls? He painted so much more than the tidy, still-waters surface - messed up and glued back together. One was damaged by accident the other was on the receiving end of calculated, manipulative brutality.
I guess I am a bit lost cos I have no idea what the sotry is about... This piece drew me in, though... You could sense that the MC has been through a lot and still has a long road ahead of her. The last line was also heart-warming, ending things on an encouraging note. I liked this.ReplyDelete
*sigh* That was so great - absolutely beautiful! :-)ReplyDelete
I love your style. Elegant and emotional. Well done.ReplyDelete
Great entry, and thanks for participating!ReplyDelete
Picasso souls...I liked that. Disjointed, facsimiles of the real world...fitting description of a broken girl and loner uncle. Nice job.ReplyDelete
I really liked that. I especially LOVED this line: The tracks of my tears mirrored every imperfection in the road.ReplyDelete
Shannon - thank you - that was so kind. Writing is like work. ;)ReplyDelete
Hanna - I really appreciate your thoughts - style and voice are the bedrock.
Raquel - it was one of those thoughts that just turned up. The surface is smooth but inside the tears and joins are the real story. I'm glad the broken fragments have joined back together at all.
Hi AA - it is such a classic line I had to think hard about how to make it mine.
I loved your description of the sun. I really empathized with Flower, too.ReplyDelete
I participated in the Last Lines blogfest, too. My entry is here:
"I couldn't stop myself from looking...looking for the white house in the bowl of the hill." I loved this line, especially following the imagery of sun as iceberg. I sense brokenness and healing. I don't know the story, but am intrigued by the bruises and that Flower had hit but never touched him. I love lyrical writing. Good job! Oh yeah, and great last line!ReplyDelete
Hi Ashley thanks for stopping by and Following. I did read your Blog post: you put the steam in steamy.ReplyDelete
Hi Rebel *blushes I'm delighted that you enjoyed reading the end section of Flower's book. One day, I hope to go back and join the dots from Chapter 3 to The End especially now that I know what that end will be ;)