Patty Coleman

Precious Light

            As I lay here squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I can feel my heart pounding throughout my body. The covers pulled over my head are doing nothing to drown out the chaos that surrounds me. I put my hands over my ears to try and escape the drilling against the tin roof of our old trailer. When will this storm let up? The thunder is so loud it vibrates the windows. The lightning is coming so close together it is like a light show at a concert. I want to run and hide but my muscles are frozen. I couldn’t believe what the lightning revealed. If this torrential down pour would end and I can just survive the night. The morning will bring precious light.

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            I knew it was going to rain. The weatherman talked about it on the news. He said we might even get some “heavy stuff”. But we never really get any of the possible hail and high winds they always predict with spring storms. So naturally I really didn’t think much of it as I got dressed for bed. I wish I had gone to stay with grandma like everybody else. This would just be another noisy spring storm that would create a real mess in the front yard. I could deal with the mud and the puddles. But I was not looking forward to the dog tracks across the living room. I wish they would learn to wipe their feet or wear shoes. I crawled into bed, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

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            The thunder startled me, and suddenly I was wide awake. It wasn’t very close but I am a pretty light sleeper and I really don’t like storms. Even if the storms are a few miles away. I could hear it rumbling in the distance. I sat up peeked out the window to see the faint flashes of lightning on the horizon. There was a light rain tapping on the window. I closed the curtain and lay back down. Why I put this bed so close to the window I will never know. It does make for cooler nights in the summer time. I knew I would not be able to go back to sleep but I at least wanted to try to relax. I could already feel the tension begin to build in my muscles. I hated stormy weather and everything it brought with it.

We lived in an old three bedroom trailer with no insulation to muffle the sounds of nature. No central air, no heat. The walls were as thin as paper and the floors weren’t much better. I knew if the rain got any heavier, it would sound like pea gravel on the metal roof. Sometimes, if the wind blew hard enough, you could actually see the walls move. The windows rattle pretty badly too. We don’t really have to worry too much about the roof leaking though. Dad does a pretty good job of keeping it sealed. I have vowed so many times that I will live in a brick house when I grow up. I know my parents are doing the best they can. Six kids is a lot on one income.

            I heard somebody come down the hallway and go into the bathroom. The creaking of the floorboards and the squeak of the hinges gives it away. Another bad thing about our old trailer, everybody knew when somebody was moving around. It was truly communal living. Not a private moment to be had by anyone. The toilet flushed, the light went out, and the footsteps headed back down the hall. Judging by the sound, it was my brother. He is not very big but he likes to make his presence known. He has walked heavy for so long that it can’t be helped now. The building storm would have everyone up pretty soon.

            I wanted to call out to him and let him know that I was awake. But I didn’t want to risk waking Mom. She is a light sleeper too. Maybe he would come in and sit for awhile. Some conversation to drown out the storm, some company to drive away the grip of this terrible fear.

            “Hey Jeff. Is that you?’

I can hear him coming back towards my room. I know he has to work tomorrow and I feel a little guilty for not letting him just head back to bed. I really could use company though.

            “Yeah. This storm could wake the dead.” He steps in the door and leans on the dresser.

“I am sure this is just the beginning of it. It doesn’t look like any of us are going to be getting much sleep until this mess passes over. Just what I need after working late last night, another short night. We are starting inventory at work tomorrow, and I could use a few good hours of shut eye. As much as I hate inventory, I hate it even more when I am half dead. I wish they would have predicted this mess a little sooner. Maybe I could have taken a nap ”

            “Maybe if the electricity goes off Mom and Dad won’t make me go to school tomorrow. Or maybe there won’t be any electricity at the school and they’ll cancel it. That’s a win/win situation. Of course that won’t help your inventory will it?”

            “Not really. My boss can find a way around any obstacle. Well, I’m going back to bed and try to get some sleep. Even if I just doze for a while that will be something in the way of rest. Hey scaredy cat, if you pull those covers much tighter around your neck you are going to strangle yourself. That would be your solution for school tomorrow.”

            “They aren’t that tight. And besides, it’s a little cool in here. Just go away so I can try to get some sleep. Hope you enjoy your inventory tomorrow.”

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            Alone in the dark, I have nothing to do but focus on the growing storm and its ominous approach. The rain starts to get heavier and the thunder rolls louder. The lightning is glowing in the windows and causing shadows in my room. Something about the storm gives me chills. The approaching unknown is taking possession of my senses. I know it isn’t cool in the bedroom. The fan is still circulating the warm air from the evening. If the electricity goes off and that warm air is left to stagnate, it is going to get real uncomfortable real quick. Then I will have to get rid of my only barrier against this growing unease. This blanket is my last defense against the tears that are building in my eyes.

            I pull the covers up just below my eyes and watch the dim flashes on the ceiling. The thunder is getting closer and the rain continues to beat steady on the roof. I have to wonder who else is laying there staring at the ceiling. I know I can’t be the only one awake. It is definitely too noisy to sleep in this tin box. If I close my eyes, maybe I can pretend to be somewhere else.          

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            My mind starts to focus on every noise. The thunder is rumbling almost steadily now. The rain is beating on the roof relentlessly. I can tell the drops are getting bigger and heavier. The wind is blowing the tree outside the big bay window. The shadows being cast by the lightning are dancing across my room as if it were a ballroom dance floor. The limbs are swirling in circular formation as they promenade two by two across the ceiling.  The scratching of the branches on the glass mingles with the rain and thunder to form an orchestra. I don’t want to be at this ball. I never accepted any invitation. I want the rain to stop. I want the wind to die down. I want to be sleeping soundly. I wish I were anywhere but here.

            Suddenly everything stops. The noise is gone. There is no wind. There is no rain. My wish has been granted. My prayer has been heard. It is eerie and I know it won’t last. It never lasts. And I am right. Almost as suddenly as it left, it came back. A brief lull; like a passing umbrella. The umbrella is gone and the deluge continues. But it seems that the rain is much harder now. Almost as if tiny balls are being hurled at the house. The tapping on the windows is persistent. Hail. It’s hail. This is the storm they predicted. The storm that never really happens. But this time it is really here. And it is here now. And I just want to run.

            The pounding is awful. The noise is every where. It permeates every thought. I know the house is awake now; the world must be awake now. But the lights are not on. The low electrical hum has ceased. The fan no longer turns. When did that happen? My brain is not registering that moment. The air is growing still. The heat will build fast under these covers but I can’t throw them off. They make me feel safe. They are my protection from the chaos around me. And the chaos around me seems to be growing at a steady pace. I want to run. I want to scream. The blanket will no longer hold my tears back. All I can do is close my eyes and cry.

            I decided it was time to get out of bed and find comfort. I am going to Mom’s room. Half way down the hall, I run into Jeff. Now I know it is bad. We don’t say a word. The panic on our faces is enough. We are both headed in the same direction. The noise outside is growing louder and the walls are starting to shake. They are shaking more than they have ever shaken before.  I don’t know if they will be able to hold the storm out or not. I’m so scared I feel like I might burst.

            We meet Mom and Dad coming into the kitchen. They are both wearing looks of terror. Mom is crying and Dad is screaming at us while he is rearranging the dining room. He is pushing chairs in every direction.

            “Get under the table. We don’t have time. Cover your heads. Get your heads down. Jeff, help me get them under the table! ”

            Dad is yelling and pushing us under the big oak table. Everything is starting to rattle. I am sure we are going to die. I hear a window break in the living room. I know it is the bay window. I can hear the limbs tearing from the big tree outside. The noise is awful. There is a terrible screaming in the air. Something is pushing on me. It’s the air. The air is trying to get inside me. It‘s pushing through my skin. The pressure on my ears is dreadful. Things are flying across the floor. There are leaves in the air. Why are there leaves in the air?

            Mom is crying next to me. We are holding hands and she is squeezing mine so tight. Her grip is crushing my arm. She won’t let me pull away from her grip. Jeff is watching her. I know he is scared too. His face is white. Dad yells at us to put our heads down. We have to protect our eyes. Mom won’t stop squeezing me. We are rolled into a heap on the floor. Each of us praying a silent prayer that the nightmare will end soon. Just let us live.

            Then it begins to weaken. The noise is moving off. The rain is still pounding the roof. But the hail is gone. The wind is still blowing the trees. The pressure is gone. But the house remains. We stay under the table and wait. We are a huddled mass seeking asylum from the turmoil around us. I am not sure what we are waiting for, but I feel safe under the table so I stay.

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            After a few minutes dad heads out into the rubble that surrounds us. We follow slowly. Each of us slowly rising from our sanctuary and following him into the chaos. His instinct leads him to the kitchen drawer where he keeps his flashlight. When he turns it on my brain screams “turn it off”. There is chaos everywhere. The bay window is gone and the branches of the big tree are blowing in through the hole that remains. There are leaves all over the place. The contents of the big bookcase are scattered throughout. Nothing is untouched by the ravaging storm.

            I can’t believe I have just been through a tornado. Our little tin house survived the storm for the most part. There is a lot to clean up in here. I don’t want to see what our neighborhood looks like. I guess I won’t be going to school after all. I just want to get to sunrise and that precious light.

Revision Account

Precious Light

            This is the first fiction piece I have written. I had a hard time with it. I don’t really have the patience to sit and write and this was chore for me. I worked on it in pieces and very short time increments.

            The idea for the story was true event. When I was young, a tornado hit our neighborhood. My experience was not nearly as harrowing as my fiction piece portrays. There are six children in my family but my brother is younger, not older. I did grow up in an old mobile home that received a broken window from the storm.

            I asked a friend at work to look at my writing. At that point it was very short and needed much more work than it does now. She really liked it. She is a Language Arts teacher so she pointed every little grammar error. She did not like my sentence fragments but I left them. They contribute to the choppy thoughts of someone who is very scared. She said she really loved the paragraph starting “My mind starts to focus on every noise.” She stated, “Love this paragraph. Good descriptive words.” She said I should work more of this into the other parts of my story. She suggested a book, On Writing Well by William Zinsser, which may come in handy for me. She also suggested a workshop for teachers that she is involved in.

            I also e-mailed Javier Carbajal for his input.

Well, I thought you were going to e-mail me the whole story. I mean, I've

only read the four pages that you sent me a week ago and that's it. But if
you'd like to know what I think so far, well...

I like how you're creating tension and how everything is building up to the
big climax. I mean, judging by the cliffhanger, you almost made it seem like
they're not just trying to ride any kind of storm, but a big Category 1 or 2
hurricane, and in a trailer home no less. You might want to drop some more
subtle hints about the characters, like how old they are, what do they look
like, do they have a tendency to get scared easily. I can tell that the main
character must be a little girl between 8 to 13 years old, and his older
brother gotta be around 17 or 18, since he mentioned something about a job.
Since the number of characters is small, the story would greatly benefit
from more depth.

As for the story, is there an underlying theme to this story, or is it just
an anecdote of how a family tries to cope with severe weather? I'd like to
know how this story ends before I can comment on the structure.

Also, the dialogue between brother and sister needs to sound more natural.
Try to make it come across that they're both scared. Like this:

"Hey Jeff? Jeff, is that you?'
"Yeah? Whaddaya want? Can't get any sleep, uh? Well, I don't blame ya. This
damn storm could wake the dead." He steps in the door and leans on the
dresser. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I heard your dead cat
scratching the front door begging to get in."
"That's not funny, Jeff. We just buried Katy a week ago in the garden."
"Hey come on now. It was only a bad joke. Look, I'm sorry, it's just
that--what can I say? I'm exhausted. And to make matters worse, doesn't look
like any of us are going to be getting much sleep until this mess passes
over. We are starting inventory at work tomorrow and I could use a few good
hours of shut eye."
"Maybe if the electricity goes off Mom and Dad won't make me go to school
tomorrow. That's a win/win situation."
"Well, don't hold your breath. We've gone through worse than this and they
always keep those schools open. I tell you, even if there were a big nuclear
war tonight, teachers would still find a way to get to class on time
tomorrow." I can't help but smile at his weird sense of humor. Then he said,
"I'm going back to bed and try to get some sleep. Hey, if you pull those
covers much tighter around your neck you are going to strangle yourself."
"They aren't that tight. And besides, it's a little cool in here. Just go
away so I can try to get some sleep."
"Go away? But I thought you were the one who wanted me to come in and---hey,
know what? I brought you something?
"Oooh. What is it?"
"A smile."
"Go away, you jerk!"

Well, there you go. Sorry, I just like writing dialogue.

(end of e-mail)

He writes great dialogue but I chose to keep my dialogue to a minimum.  I tried to give more hints about the characters and the storm and of course I added the ending. His guesses about the ages were great so I must be on the right track in that portrayal. It might have been easier for him if I had more of the story finished before I sent it to him.

                I think my biggest problem with writing fiction is the thoughts come faster than I can get them on paper. I have found very little sympathy for that problem in those I have discussed it with. I get very frustrated and decide not to write at all. This piece has forced me to find a way around that problem.

                I am not happy with this piece. I know it needs work but I have lost patience. I may come back to it at a later date, when I have more time.  There is plenty of potential in the story. It just needs work.  Perhaps during my semester break I will try again.

 

(earlier draft)
 

Precious Light

Patty Coleman

            As I lay here squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I can feel my heart pounding through my body. The covers pulled over my head are doing nothing to drown out the chaos that surrounds me. I put my hands over my ears to try and escape the drilling against the tin roof of our old trailer. When will this storm let up? The thunder is so loud it vibrates the windows. The lightning is coming so close together it is like a light show at a concert. I want to run and hide but my muscles are frozen. I couldn’t believe what the lightning revealed. If I can just survive the night and this torrential down pour would end. The morning will bring light.

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            I knew it was going to rain. The weatherman talked about it on the news. He said we might even get some heavy stuff. Possible hail and high winds. I really didn’t think much of it as I got dressed for bed. It rained a lot in the spring. This would just be another spring storm. I could deal with the mud and the puddles. I crawled into bed, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

            The thunder startled me, and suddenly I was wide awake. It wasn’t very close. I could hear it rumbling in the distance. The lightning was faint flashes on the horizon. There was a light rain tapping on the window. We lived in an old three bedroom trailer with no insulation to muffle the sounds of nature. I knew if the rain got any heavier, it would sound like pea gravel on the roof. There wouldn’t be any more sleeping until the storm passed.

            I heard somebody come down the hallway and go into the bathroom. Another bad thing about our old trailer. Everybody knew when somebody was moving around. It was truly communal living. The toilet flushed, the light went out, and the footsteps went back down the hall. Judging by the sound, it was my brother. The building storm would have everyone up pretty soon.

            I wanted to call out to him and let him know that I was awake. Maybe he would come in and sit for awhile. Some conversation to drown out the storm, some company to drive away the grip of this terrible fear.

            “Hey Jeff. Is that you?’

            “Yeah. This storm could wake the dead.” He steps in the door and leans on the dresser.

“Doesn’t look like any of us are going to be getting much sleep until this mess passes over. We are starting inventory at work tomorrow, and I could use a few good hours of shut eye.”

            “Maybe if the electricity goes off Mom and Dad won’t make me go to school tomorrow. That’s a win/win situation.”

            “Well, I’m going back to bed and try to get some sleep. If you pull those covers much tighter around your neck you are going to strangle yourself.”

            “They aren’t that tight. And besides, it’s a little cool in here. Just go away so I can try to get some sleep.”

            The rain starts to get heavier and the thunder louder. The lightning is glowing in the windows and causing shadows in my room. Something about the storm gives me chills. I know it isn’t cool in the bedroom. The fan is still circulating the warm air from the evening. And if the electricity goes off it is going to get real uncomfortable real quick.

            I pull the covers up to my chest and watch the dim flashes on the ceiling. The thunder is getting closer and the rain continues to beat steady on the roof. I have to wonder who else is laying there staring at the ceiling. I know I can’t be the only one awake. It is definitely too noisy to sleep in this tin box.

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            My mind starts to focus on every noise. The thunder is rumbling almost steadily now. The rain is beating on the roof relentlessly. The wind is blowing the tree outside the side window. The shadows being cast by the lightning are dancing across my room as if it were a dance floor. The limbs are swirling in circular formation as they promenade two by two across the ceiling.  The scratching of the branches on the glass mingles with the rain and thunder to form an orchestra. I don’t want to be at this ball. I want the rain to stop. I want the wind to die down. I want to be sleeping soundly.

            Suddenly everything stops. The noise is gone. My wish has been granted. It is eerie and I know it won’t last. It never lasts. And I am right. Almost as suddenly as it left, it came back. A brief lull; like a passing umbrella. The umbrella is gone and the deluge continues. But it seems that the rain is much harder now. Almost as if tiny balls are being hurled at the house. The tapping on the windows is persistent. Hail. It’s hail.

            The pounding is awful. The noise is every where. It permeates every thought. I know the house is awake now. But the lights are not. The low electrical hum has ceased. The fan no longer turns. The air is growing still. The heat will build fast under these covers but I can’t throw them off. They make me feel safe. They are my protection from the chaos going on around me. And the chaos around me seems to be growing at a steady pace.

            I decided it was time to get out of bed and find comfort. I am going to Mom’s room. Half way down the hall, I run into Jeff. We don’t say a word. The panic on our faces is enough. We are both headed in the same direction. The noise outside is growing louder and the walls are starting to shake.

            We meet Mom and Dad coming into the kitchen. They are both wearing looks of terror. Mom is crying and Dad is screaming at us while he is rearranging the dining room. He is pushing chairs in every direction.

            “Get under the table. We don’t have time. Cover your heads. Get your heads down.”

            Dad is yelling and pushing us under the big oak table. Everything is stating to rattle. I am sure we are going to die. I hear a window break. The noise is awful. There is a terrible screaming in the air. Something is pushing on me. It’s the air. The air is trying to get inside me. It‘s pushing through my skin. The pressure on my ears is dreadful.

            Mom is crying next to me. We are holding hands and she is squeezing mine so tight. She won’t let me pull away from her grip. Jeff is watching her. I know he is scared too. His face is white. Dad yells at us to put our heads down. We have to protect our eyes. Mom won’t stop squeezing me.

            Then it stops. The noise is moving off. The rain is still pounding the roof. The wind is still blowing the trees. The pressure is gone. But the house remains.