Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY
IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I
generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family
rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to
write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration
(quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind.
These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat,
irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if
anything comes of them.
H Trope: The
dead coming back to life...
Current Event:
Any “miraculous” “resurrection” of someone who was “dead”…
Ephraim Mendoza
shook his head and said, “That can’t be.”
Mercedes
Chokkoon pursed her lips, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. When she
opened her eyes, she said, “She’s dead. I was with her when she died.”
Frowning,
Ephraim looked at her, eyes wide and said, “You said she’d be fine.”
Mercedes
shrugged. She couldn’t take any more of this. “She was my sister. She was just
your girlfriend. You think this is easy for me?”
He stared at her
for a long time before he said, “No. That’s why I don’t understand how cold
you’re acting. You sister is dead. The love of my...” his voice caught and he
looked away. Not before she saw the tears slid down his face.
Mercedes glare
at him, willing herself to blame him. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Blame you.”
“What do you
mean ‘blame you’? How could I have had anything to do with...”
Mercedes shook
her head hard, “Nothing you did. Nothing you didn’t do. She wanted to live for
you.”
“So? She wanted
to live for you, too!”
“Not enough.”
“You’re blaming
her for dying?” he said, incredulous. “She didn’t do anything to deserve this!
She had no control...”
Mercedes slapped
him. Then found her hands clenched in fists. One moment she was trembling, the
next she was hitting him. She hit his face. Hit his nose. His eyes. Then she
kneed him in the groin. He shoved her away, slamming her into the wall. She
bounced off, spun, and fell face-first into the meal tray, screaming obscenities
at him. He was down on the floor with her, hands around her throat, pressing;
pressing; pressing the life out of her...
On the bed
beside them, Chante sat up and said, “Stop it. Now.” There was no emotion in
her voice. There wasn’t even a breath. The sound came without her moving her
lips.
Mercedes
scrambled back, free suddenly from Ephraim’s hands. He tried to stand as well,
but tumbled over her. They found themselves with their backs against the
hospital room door, side-by-side, clasping hands.
The heart
monitor, still connected to her, was silent. The respirator, still taped to her
jaw, was silent. The EEG waves turned the screen green with wild activity as
she spoke, “Stop it. I love you both and if you don’t stop fighting…”
Names: ♀
French, Thai; ♂ Israeli, Mexican; ♀ French
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