Friday, March 26, 2010
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Wednesday, March 10, 2010
short written by Aly Parrott
“These make me the story-lady,” said the girl, her jade eyes peering at me through circles of pink construction paper, held onto her slender face by lapis-colored pipe cleaners that hook into her crinkled braids.
“If you sit in the chair, you get a story.”
I sat, trying to hear her voice--deep for a seven-year-old--over the laughs and shouts of the other children.
She holds a sign--pink to match her magic specs--with the word ‘STORY’ written in blue crayon up in front of her face. The opening credits to her masterpiece.
“Once upon a time--” she pauses, clearly not entirely happy with her introduction.
“On a rainy night, with thunder and hail, there’s a cat,” she begins again.
She tells me about Bob, a skinny black cat who lives in a lake. He wears purple. Never any other color. A purple tie, and purple hat. Bright purple shoes and really dark purple pants.
“He lives in a lake?” I ask.
“Yeah, he likes to swim. And catch purple things. He only eats purple things.”
“What kinds of purple things?”
“Purple fish, and purple leaves. He likes purple butterflies the best. Their wings are sweet.”
So Bob goes out looking for food on that stormy night and he has to fight all kinds of things around the lake. Dogs and rats, and sharks that can jump out of the water. He wants to go back, of course, because he’s scared, but his mama’s hungry and she can’t get food herself on account of her rotten tooth.
“The night hasn’t ended around the lake in a long time. It’s always raining and there are huge waves that come up and wash the bricks away from the houses. There are sharp spikes in the water, and no one can go swimming.”
She looks out the window next to her, out at the chilly rain washed parking lot, not hearing any of the howls anymore.
“What happens to Bob?”
She looks back at me, through her coral-paper lenses, steadily and unblinkingly. Then the corners of her lips curl up and her eyes close for the briefest moment.
“The next day, Bob wakes up. It’s still raining, but he finds a tree, with sun-leaves that make it so it’s dry and warm underneath. There’s grass and flowers--
“Purple flowers?”
She nods once. “They heal anything. He gives some to his mama, and her tooth is shiny and clean and doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“The end?”
“They lay under the sun-tree for days and days, and they let their fur dry. That’s the end.”
short written by Aly Parrott
“If you sit in the chair, you get a story.”
I sat, trying to hear her voice--deep for a seven-year-old--over the laughs and shouts of the other children.
She holds a sign--pink to match her magic specs--with the word ‘STORY’ written in blue crayon up in front of her face. The opening credits to her masterpiece.
“Once upon a time--” she pauses, clearly not entirely happy with her introduction.
“On a rainy night, with thunder and hail, there’s a cat,” she begins again.
She tells me about Bob, a skinny black cat who lives in a lake. He wears purple. Never any other color. A purple tie, and purple hat. Bright purple shoes and really dark purple pants.
“He lives in a lake?” I ask.
“Yeah, he likes to swim. And catch purple things. He only eats purple things.”
“What kinds of purple things?”
“Purple fish, and purple leaves. He likes purple butterflies the best. Their wings are sweet.”
So Bob goes out looking for food on that stormy night and he has to fight all kinds of things around the lake. Dogs and rats, and sharks that can jump out of the water. He wants to go back, of course, because he’s scared, but his mama’s hungry and she can’t get food herself on account of her rotten tooth.
“The night hasn’t ended around the lake in a long time. It’s always raining and there are huge waves that come up and wash the bricks away from the houses. There are sharp spikes in the water, and no one can go swimming.”
She looks out the window next to her, out at the chilly rain washed parking lot, not hearing any of the howls anymore.
“What happens to Bob?”
She looks back at me, through her coral-paper lenses, steadily and unblinkingly. Then the corners of her lips curl up and her eyes close for the briefest moment.
“The next day, Bob wakes up. It’s still raining, but he finds a tree, with sun-leaves that make it so it’s dry and warm underneath. There’s grass and flowers--
“Purple flowers?”
She nods once. “They heal anything. He gives some to his mama, and her tooth is shiny and clean and doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“The end?”
“They lay under the sun-tree for days and days, and they let their fur dry. That’s the end.”
short written by Aly Parrott
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