Here I am, eleven days later. I didn’t really forget about writing here and I hate making excuses. I just felt anxious. Too anxious to sit down and do anything constructive or creative. It will probably happen again, and again. Consistency hasn’t been my forte of late. Thankfully, I am persistent. So shall we begin anew?
Day 3 Prompt: Plan
If you read the beginning of my little story, then this will continue forth. Because Elle had no memory and her mother didn’t believe her, Elle plotted out a plan. She knew she wouldn’t be able to go on unless she pretended to know people, but how could she without memory of them? And so Elle became an observer.
Her days were spent sitting silently listening, watching and mentally recording everything and everyone around her. This sitting wasn’t a problem. Elle wasn’t allow to participate in many activities, especially ones that might tire her out. She heard whispers of “We don’t want a relapse.” And any time she became too rambunctious, her mother would tell her to go sit down with her dad. Elle learned all about her dad pretty quickly. He wasn’t a complicated man. He enjoyed sports, westerns, and comedy on television. He liked to hunt and fish, alone. He worked hard and took his coffee light and sweet. He told funny stories and loved to laugh. And he didn’t like conflicts.
Mother was a bit harder for Elle to understand. Sometimes her mother was full of life, laughter and love. Other times, a melancholy came over her face and only sadness resided there. Her mother watched daytime soaps and game shows, with the occasional night time soap or old movie. She loved listening to country music and Elvis while she cooked or cleaned. She rarely left the house but to visit one of her sisters, but couldn’t stand to be alone either. She was constantly on the phone. Elle’s mother also told stories, but they weren’t funny like her dad’s. No, her mother’s stories were about her childhood and how badly Elle’s grandfather treated her mother, her aunts and Elle’s grandmother. Elle’s mother thrived on conflict.
Tamara made little to no sense to Elle. She wasn’t much older than Elle, but she had an air of authority about her. She could tell that Tamara wanted to be in her company, but she also wanted to run and play, something Elle just couldn’t do without the wrath of Mother coming down on her. So Elle watched as Tamara went off with cousins and friends. They rarely talked. For Elle, it was as though Tamara was a huge mystery and she didn’t have the understanding to figure her sister out.
While a distance swept between Elle and Tamara, Elle had a baby brother. He was too tiny to know her and since he was born while she was in a coma, Elle could be anyone around her brother and he wouldn’t know the difference. Elle’s imagination flourished around her brother. She played with him more than she spoke to her sister or Mother, but Elle still cherished the alone time she had with her Dad.
Her plan was working well, and yet, all her life she felt like a fraud. A feeling that would linger with her for her entire life.
Well, there’s that. Hope you are enjoying my little story. Will be back soon (hopefully tomorrow!) for another part.
If you’d like to join me for this Five Minutes A Day, please feel free to do so. You can post it on your blog or use my comments below. All I ask is that if you do this on your own blog, that you link to my blog and be sure to give full credit to Kate Montaung (you can click her link to go to her page). Have a blessed day, me lovelies!