As my all-time favourite bear wold say; ‘If I am any happier I would pop!’ I am very happy and very grateful to the wonderful writer Julie Israel of The Read Room who tagged me today with an invitation to participate in The Lucky MeMe. Here:
- Go the 7th or 77th page of your work in progress
- Go to the 7th line of the page
- Copy the next 7 sentences or paragraphs. Remember, they must be as they are typed.
- Tag 7 authors.
- Let them know they’re it!
First I could not believe what I was reading … me? Tagged? Wow! After I managed to scoop up my jaw from the floor, the usual anxieties started to dance around my insides … what to do? ‘Copy the next 7 sentences or paragraphs … as they are typed’ … Oh my God! I have a short story in progress just now BUT it has not been edited … no native English speaker has seen it yet! How on Earth am I to post something like that? Then I went back to Julie’s blog to read a little bit more of her writings … and the gaze from those bright blue eyes at ‘meet Julie’ made me feel I ought to do it. I somehow knew she would. So here it all goes as it is … mistakes and all … the excerpt is from the short story I am writing at the moment titled ‘Pavel Kovac is going to America’, (it is more than seven sentences, but less than seven paragraphs -:)
When he was only a little boy Pavel’s clear blue eyes would wonder for hours over delicate water-colours his mother painted in the abandoned room at the end of their house. He would sit quietly next to his mother’s easel and gaze into colours and shades for a long time. Sometimes his mother would paint the tip of his nose bright red, or draw funny shapes on his face and they would both laugh. She was careful to take it all off just before his father came home from his work in a factory. His father was working in a factory where they made guns and tanks. He was a very important man there and a high-ranking party official.
One day Pavel and his mother had a visitor, one of his mother’s friends from her Art School, and all three of them made lots of funny purple dots and red hearts on Pavel’s face. But they did not have enough time to take it off before Pavel’s father burst into the house. When the front door slammed open they all froze in their spots. His father was calling their names in that jolly manner that always meant he has brought one of his comrades with him. To discuss some important party directions over few drinks and game of cards. When the door of their room burst open so did the tears in his mother’s eyes. Pavel looked up and for the first time in his life understood human geometry; what happens to the expensive, curved lines of broad laughs when they change into slimy shapes of disgust. His father picked him up by collar and threw him at the kitchen sink to clean ‘this shit from his face’. Pavel could not see the sink from tears.
From that day on Pavel’s mother never used colours on his face. And Pavel learned how to hide.
Now I am tagging the following seven writers:
You are all it!