# A gift



## Mistique (May 2, 2009)

It is a beautiful day as I feel the sun caressing my skin. I stand in front of your white painted house. I ring the bell and shortly after you open the door. ´What do you want?´ you ask me. Our eyes meet. For a moment I feel a sharp sting go through my body as though I had been shot. I resist the urge to look for wounds as I realize that the bullet came from your eyes. Instinctively I recognize the source of your pain. I reach out for your hand. As though you fear being burned by my touch you back away. ´No, don´t. I know you’re hurting. I just want to give you something´, I say, ´Please let me´. You hesitate and ever so carefully I take your hand. I feel your muscles tighten. ´Trust me´. I try to make my voice sound soft. Slowly I walk towards the end of the street where it is quiet.

I look around and when I am convinced that we are alone I stretch my body as though I wanted to touch the clouds. I push all that I am into my feet. Before I know it, gravity has let go. We are hovering. You are trying to release your hand from my hold. ´No, there is no danger, trust me´ I whisper. I stay close to the earth to let you adjust to the sensation of flying. When the worst of you tension subsides I go higher. The houses shrink. People become little dolls and then dots until finally they are gone altogether. The world reduces to a map as we fly north.

The landscape underneath us changes. From woody hills to a mosaic of meadows cut to pieces by the tiny streams and roads. Every now and then little black and white spots appear. I feel a breeze stroke across my back. I smell the salty air of the sea long before I see her. I take a deep breath and feel my body relaxing. Then there is nothing but deep blue. I strain my eyes trying to distinguish the tiny spots. Fishing boats? Sailing boats? The silhouette of the slow cargo liner is easy to recognize. 

Too quickly for my taste we reach the shore. For a moment I look back at the sea. Then I let go. I focus on the tiny island as we lose altitude. In the harbor a ferry is releasing a large group of passengers from its belly. They look like multicolored ants that are scattering all over. I see that you look at them as though you’re trying to separate one from the other. A few roads below us and then red rooftops of tiny houses that grow bigger and bigger. The sun is still shining and you can feel her warmth on your skin. A soft wind is making her touch pleasant. Finally were able to distinguish one person from the other. Where would they be going? Who would they be? A young man longing for a stolen kiss of a new love? A mum gathering her offspring for yet another meal? I softly pinch your hand and you look my way. I smile. The puppy eyes are back.

We land somewhat uncomfortable at a small back road of the village. You lose balance for a moment. ´Sorry, I was never very good at landing´. Together we walk passed the last house of the village. Through the window you see a tiny freckled girl with pick tales playing with a doll house. Almost instantly as we go into the Forrest the sounds of the village fade. What remains are little birds and animals in the bushes that neither of us know the name of.

Like perfectly drilled soldiers the high pine trees guard the path that takes us deeper and deeper into the Forrest. Behind them the bushes form shadows of dark green. You feel the chips of wood of the path pierce through your shoes. Every now and then a colorful pallet of daisies and buttercups greets you. When the path takes a turn you follow it. I stop you. ´This is where we need to be´.

I walk through the trees as though they are not there. Your surprise. You do follow me though. For a moment you feel branches scratch you left and right. One of them leaves a slightly bleeding line on your arm. Another step. Ambushed by the light of the open space you squeeze your eyes. On the edges the trees appear to want to guzzle it as though it’s not allowed to be. Something stops them. At your feet you see the blue shimmering water of a pond. Its shape is perfect. On the other side, water lilies. Their flowers are closed except for one who pompously seems to show off its soft pink leaves. A yellow iris is reaching for the sun. She knows she will never touch it but nobody can stop her trying.

I stumble by the edge of the trees and you look amused as you wonder what it is I am doing. Then I pull a plastic bag from beneath the roots of a tree. I whip of the dew and open it. You see a pattern of yellow and black with white roses on the black. A quilt. I carefully put it on the ground against a tree and ask you to sit down with me. I pull you into my arms. Through the fabric of my white skirt you feel the heat of my skin. We both stare into the water. I wrap my body around you as close as possible and slowly begin stroking your hair. I leave you to your thoughts. This is how we remain for as long as you want. My back is starting to sting from the piercing stem of the tree behind me. I push the feeling away and concentrate my thoughts on you. All that is good in me I am sending to you. I say nothing. We get startled by a frog croaking. We laugh.

I make a soft vibrating sound with my tongue and the croaking gets louder. We seem to be singing to each other. Slowly the frog swims closer, curious about this unexpected newcomer. Strong impatient strokes. He is close. One more stroke and he will reach the edge of the water. Suddenly he stops and we hold our breath. Afraid to move. Afraid to scare him of. In one big jump he lands next to your foot. De frog pushes his nose into the air as though he is trying to smell who we are. Satisfied he remains there for a while. As though hypnotized we look at him. Then out of the blue he has had enough and jumps into the water. He hesitates for a moment and then swims off. Probably looking for a more suitable mate. I smile and hold you a little firmer. Then I strain my muscles and we get up. You take my hand and together we walk back through the bushes.

We reach the village. I lift off and this time we gain altitude fast. We pass the same houses, ships, villages and even cities. Neither of us seem to notice them. We are still with the frog and each other. It startles me when the silhouette of your home appears in the distance. I dive down to make the landing on time. Carefully I put you on the ground. I smile at you ´maybe my landing skills are not so bad after all´. Together we walk to your freshly painted green door that welcomes us with her shade. I turn to you. ´This was my gift. I know it did not ease your pain but if it made you smile once it was worth it´. I smile and disappear into the nothing I came from.



I wrote this story for a close friend who had a bereavement. Let me know what it is you like and don´t like about it. Constructive criticism is always welcome.


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## Olly Buckle (May 3, 2009)

The Forest if that is what it is called or the forest if it is simply a place.
'Whip the dew off' should be 'wipe the dew' off I think, if not they are close enough that something like 'flick' might serve better.
The frequent repetition of 'I' and 'You' was a bit off putting, it would not be hard to re-phrase to lose some of them.
eg.                                                 It is a beautiful day as I feel the sun caressing my skin. I stand in front of your white painted house.
It is a beautiful day, the sun caresses my skin as I stand in front of your white painted house.

There is also something about the way you use present tense, but some one with a better understanding of grammar would give a better explanation than I can.


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## Mistique (May 5, 2009)

Olly Buckle said:


> The Forest if that is what it is called or the forest if it is simply a place.
> 'Whip the dew off' should be 'wipe the dew' off I think, if not they are close enough that something like 'flick' might serve better.
> The frequent repetition of 'I' and 'You' was a bit off putting, it would not be hard to re-phrase to lose some of them.
> eg. It is a beautiful day as I feel the sun caressing my skin. I stand in front of your white painted house.
> ...


 

Thamk you for that  I will have a look at it particuarly the I and you


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## Crazed Scribe (May 15, 2009)

Purely my opinion but as i read the opening an idea came (good or bad i'll spill )

Would the: "what do you want?" sentence be a punchier beginning if you took that out and placed it at the start? Just an idea... 



> as though I *(had)* been shot.



Have?



> bullet came from your eyes.



love this 



> something´,



The punctuation resides within the speech mark.



> ´Trust me´.



The line before this was nice. However I think this is probably just a pet peeve but I think this line is a tad cliché.



> Slowly I walk towards the end of the street*[,] * where it is quiet.





> No, there is no danger, trust me*[./,]*´ I whisper.





> I stay close to the earth[,] to let you adjust to the sensation of flying.





> From woody hills to a mosaic of meadows cut to pieces by the tiny streams and roads.



I like this imagery, very pretty!



> Then I let go.



For a second there I thought your character had killed him! 



> can feel her warmth on your skin. A soft wind is making her touch pleasant.



Nice. I like the touch of anthropomorphic fallacy.



> Finally*[,]* were able to distinguish one person from the other.





> Almost instantly*[,]* as we go into the Forrest*[,] *the sounds of the village fade.





> Like perfectly drilled soldiers*[,]* the high pine trees guard the path that takes us deeper and deeper into the Forrest.





> You*[']*r*[e]* surprise*[d?]*.



This sentence didn't quite make sense.



> I w*(h)*ip*[e]* of*[f]* the dew and open it.



Would wipe be better than whip here. And i think you missed an F...



> Afraid to scare him of*[f].*





> De frog pushes


De?



> Satisfied*[,]* he remains there for a while.





> I smile and disappear into the nothing I came from.



Beautiful ending. 

I spotted a few minor errors but when looking at the piece as a whole it is a lovely piece that has a gentle feel good factor about it, however laced in sadness the ending is.

Though i would recommend changing the font, the current is a tad difficult to read. Probably just a personal thing, but I though that perhaps there were a few too many short sentences when some longer ones might have benefitted the piece more, in certain areas.

My deepest sympathy for your friend,
CS


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## Mistique (May 17, 2009)

Thank you Crazed Scribe. I will look at your comments closely (probably several times). I like your opening idea, you are right about it being punchier


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## ablelaz (May 19, 2009)

*Lacks emotion*

Hi Mistique--- Your story is very telling. It’s told is a positive, matter of fact way, which puts me by a campfire some where listening to a story teller. The problem is there is no conflict, or even difficulty in this story, it’s just an accounting of an event. It’s a rather odd event, but no one seems to be any more than briefly fearful. Let me tell in no uncertain terms, if a beautiful woman approached me took my hand and started flying, I would react and all your readers near or far would hear me.

Talk to you soon---ablelaz.


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## Mistique (May 19, 2009)

Well its not supposed to have a conflict. I was supposed to make my friend feel just a touch better. Both his children were murdered at once. I realised there wasn´t a thing I could do, so this is what I did  It´s like a guided fantasy. Its usually meant for relaxation and your supposed to tell it face to face and not read it, but as he did not let me come inside his home this was the best I could do.

Thank you for your comments  Now you have made me all curious as to how you would react


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## blackthorn (May 19, 2009)

I really enjoyed reading this. You describe the scenes so well; I wish I could paint such vivid pictures in my stories!



> The landscape underneath us changes. From woody hills to a mosaic of meadows cut to pieces by the tiny streams and roads. Every now and then little black and white spots appear. I feel a breeze stroke across my back. I smell the salty air of the sea long before I see her. I take a deep breath and feel my body relaxing. Then there is nothing but deep blue. I strain my eyes trying to distinguish the tiny spots. Fishing boats? Sailing boats? The silhouette of the slow cargo liner is easy to recognize.



My favorite part of the story. I feel like I'm actually there; I can taste the salt on the wind, see the wooded hills! Amazing!


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## Mistique (May 20, 2009)

Thank you blackthorn, that is quite a compliment


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## JAY CHAN (May 20, 2009)

I'm going to get my tubes                 tied. No, on the other hand, I won’t get                 them tied, I’ll get them cut, diced, sliced,                 disconnected, chopped, burned, nuked, or whatever                 the hell it will take to make sure I never have                 kids. Don’t get me wrong, I think I'd be a                 great mom, it's just that I can't stand the                 thought of putting my kids through the torment of                 Mother's Day year after year. I can’t do                 that to innocent children.
Every year (and I mean                 every single year) my sisters and I engage in                 this ridiculous competition to see who can buy                 our mom the best Mother’s Day gift. The                 winner of this contest is not the one who buys                 the most expensive gift, but the one who buys the                 gift that gets the biggest reaction from our mom.                 This year, I won the contest hands down, but my                 mom’s big reaction to my gift was not quite                 the reaction I was looking for.
This is how it happened.                 Pristine, who is my sister and arch enemy,                 decided to have Mother's Day dinner at her fancy                 new apartment. My sister has money coming out of                 her rear-end and she loves to show it off.                 Pristine also has a new baby, so I knew that this                 dinner was going to end up being a showcase for                 the little one. Don't get me wrong, the baby is                 cute and everything, but she is WAY too needy. 
I had a million things to                 do before Mother’s Day weekend. One of my                 tasks was to arrange for my kitchen to be painted                 because of some smoke damage caused by a little                 mishap I had with my blow dryer and some                 mozzarella cheese. I also had to select just the                 right gift for my mom. I decided to get her a                 bouquet of multicolored roses arranged in the                 shape of a rainbow. I selected this gift because                 the rainbow would symbolize the day my mom became                 a mother for the second time, which was the day I                 was born.
I thought this gift had the                 potential to get a reaction out of my mom, so I                 ordered the rainbow bouquet and arranged for them                 to be delivered to Pristine's apartment on                 Mother's Day. Before I get into what happened                 when I gave the gift to my mom, I'll take a                 second to explain how the rainbow thing comes                 into play. 
When I was merely a fetus                 in my mom’s stomach, womb or whatever you                 want to call it, my mom, dad and Pristine went                 out for a drive. My father was at the wheel and                 it had just finished raining. A beautiful rainbow                 appeared and Pristine, who was about two years                 old at the time, saw the rainbow and shouted,                 "Look Daddy, there’s a rainbow! Where                 the *hell* is the leprechaun and where the *hell*                 is that *damn *pot of gold?" My father                 was so caught off guard by his little                 two-year-old cursing like a sailor, he lost                 control of the car and ran over a stop sign. My                 mom freaked out and went into labor. I was born                 thirteen hours later. This is why rainbows                 symbolize my birth.


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## Mistique (May 20, 2009)

Ehm thank you Jay Chan for responding. I have no idea what that has to do with my story though except that it is about a gift too


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## Nevermore (May 20, 2009)

I really like the dream-like quality you've created with this. The way you've activated the senses, particularly during the moments of flight, is very effective in creating a piece of 'escapism' writing. But what makes this so dream-like is how the bliss is mixed with that touch of sadness - the tone is really well crafted. The use of the second-person tense works too but like the other comments have said, just make sureits not too obstructive.
   Apply this skill to a plotline and you could write a great story, just watch out for those typos!


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## Mistique (May 20, 2009)

Nevermore said:


> I really like the dream-like quality you've created with this. The way you've activated the senses, particularly during the moments of flight, is very effective in creating a piece of 'escapism' writing. But what makes this so dream-like is how the bliss is mixed with that touch of sadness - the tone is really well crafted. The use of the second-person tense works too but like the other comments have said, just make sureits not too obstructive.
> Apply this skill to a plotline and you could write a great story, just watch out for those typos!


 
Thank you very much  Its quite a compliment you are giving me


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## ablelaz (Jun 30, 2009)

Hi Mistique---Although your piece is beautifully illustrated, it is in my opinion told from the wrong point of view. 

What point of view?--you might ask and here in lays the problem. A first person’s P.V.O told though the eye of an allusion, a dream, a person who appears from out of nothing and returns to nothing at the end.

Told from his point of view, the miracles they lived would be common place. 

Beautiful views and awe inspiring adventure are best told by those experiencing them for the first time.

The girl needs to tell this story, because both the allusion and the adventure are very much hers. I’m speaking as if I know the sexes of both the spirit and his companion, but that never becomes clear. 

There are other issue, in this story that causes the eyebrow to rise, but they can be corrected when the story has the potentials to warrant it.

Well that’s the way I see it. If you decide to change the P.V.O. of this story I am more then willing to give you help along the way. Alternately if you have any questions regarding my comments please feel free to ask me.

Talk to you soon---ablelaz.


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## Squalid Glass (Jul 2, 2009)

I share the same thoughts as the others who have posted, but allow me to suggest one thing. I feel as if some of your metaphors and similes are either cliche or not as powerful as they could be. For example: burned by your touch, reach for the clouds, the puppy eyes. On the other hand, you have extremely powerful ones, like the trees which stand like drilled soldiers. Beautiful. 
I loved how the house is white at the beginning and then the door is green in the end. This piece is very effective and your descriptions are excellent. Also, I agree with ablelaz. I think it would be more effective from the girls p.o.v.


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## EasyWriter (Jul 14, 2009)

If you added just a touch of conflict (no story stands without it), told the story in the third person pov and gave each speaker in the dialogue his/her own paragraph, you'd have a base for a good story. Your story breaks too many of the rules tried and proven over hundreds of years.


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## bazz cargo (Mar 21, 2011)

Hi Mistique,
I know this is an old post, ( well not old, just dormant ) but I couldn't let it go by without comment. ( I don't know if this will reach you from this point, so I will PM you the comment as well ).
There is something called 'visualisation'. It is a self controlled imagining in which you participate or act out a story. Mind TV. if you will.
Like walking on a beach, or being a rock star on stage in front of thousands of  adoring fans. I think this writing you did for your friend is a visualisation. Warm and comforting, gentle and fantastical. 
It is very touching. I liked it a lot. Thank you for sharing. 
Bazz


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## Mistique (Mar 22, 2011)

I am glad you liked it. Thank you for your comments. You are right it is a visualisation, that is exeacly what it was supposed to be; a guided fantasy to bring the reader (in this case a friend) into a certain image hopefully creating a more relaxed state of mind.


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