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kites

by ammonite 

Posted: 16 March 2004
Word Count: 940


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Cold tears hang on the rear windscreen of the car as I arch my back and turn my head to see the houses. They glow orange from the lamps, and sometimes a tree goes past, all spiky with winter. My dad is driving and there’s no-one in the passenger seat, but I’m not allowed to sit there because it’s not safe. My mum watches for me out of the window of our house and if she sees me in the passenger seat then they argue on the doorstep about it. They usually argue about something so why not that. Then I could sit in the front.

We flew kites today. It was cold so I wore my fingerless gloves, and we walked for ages and found a bit where no-one else was. Even though it was afternoon there was still a crunch in the grass. The kite was all tangled up so Dad unravelled it. It’s good when he has to do something. He concentrates on that and forgets he’s Dad, then he smiles.

Once we got the little kite going, I held that and he flew the one with two handles. It looks like a parachute, green and blue and pink silk, all stripes, and Dad can really make it fly. The sky was grey and flat and the kite stood right out as Dad somersaulted, twisted, did loop the loops and other tricks that there aren’t names for. I named one trick ‘the dragon’, and he did it over and over again, and I cheered, until the kite suddenly flipped and thunked down on the ground. He was really embarrassed. A gust of wind caught my eyes and a tear fell down my cheek. It wasn’t a real tear but he thought it was.

I felt like I’d knocked a vase from a table I had to run and catch him before he crashed. I thumped into his coat and wrapped my arms around him tight as I could. I could feel his big arms shaking as he hugged me. Now I was really crying. He said ‘I’m sorry’. I said ‘that’s okay let’s get an icecream’.
‘An icecream?’ He leant back and I could see that I’d caught him, ha. ‘You want to eat an icecream in November?’
‘Yep’, I said. ‘A big old icecream with nuts and chocolate sauce and a flake’.

We ran down the hill carrying the kites, the wind feeling good and sharp on my cheeks, my hair getting hot and sweaty under my woolly hat. The café in the park was closed so we walked down to the row of posh shops, where they sell all the super-expensive stuff. It’s not cool expensive stuff. It’s just weird, and there’s only like three things in each shop, and the assistants are all really rubbish and just stand around going fner. Anyway we found a coffee shop that was open, full of old people reading the paper and we burst in and my Dad said,
‘Two big old Mr Whippy icecreams with nuts and a flake and chocolate sauce, please’. I think he said it a bit too loud, because everyone just stopped and suddenly the room shrank a bit, and we just looked at each other and laughed and walked out again.

The only other open place we could find was a MacDonalds, which is totally against the law, and I had to promise him five times I wouldn’t tell. The kites looked really strange next to the orange wall and a picture of some purple alien. The assistant asked me if I wanted a toy. I just stared at this big spot he had on his chin.

When we were eating our icecreams Dad told me that he’d like to bring someone on our next trip. Her name is Michelle and she works for a marketing company. She gets to meet all kinds of famous people, apparently. Michelle is a girl’s name. My best friend is called Michelle, and she’s ten.

I wanted the doors to fly open and a great wind to blow all the plastic chairs and tables up into the air, trays to slice people’s heads off like axes, a blizzard of fries, a flood of Coke, the manager would come out of his office and be buried in a pile of burger buns and barbecue sauce containers like something out of a movie, where he just sees it flying all towards him and he can’t do anything about it.

Back when my parents were together we never did things like fly kites. We just went to the park and they talked and I went and played on the swings or sat making daisy chains or something. I don’t know why we have to do stuff all the time now.

I told him she could come with us, because I knew that’s what he wanted. His face was all exposed and made of glass after he said it. I could see right through to the grey street behind him. But I said yes and then he was solid again.

As we reach the doorstep I give his hand a little squeeze, and the door opens before he knocks. She asks him, ‘What did you do today?’
‘We flew kites!’ I say, and squeeze past her into my room without giving her a kiss. She’ll come in in a minute and I’ll give her a big hug then. As I close the door I hear the wind whistle round my parents as they dance along its cold strings, playing a jangly tune that sounds like an ice-cream van, far away.






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Comments by other Members



SamMorris at 23:02 on 16 March 2004  Report this post
I was really struck by this. It's a very evocative piece, full of great observations. I'm not sure whether this is aimed as a kids story or a more adult story. The narrator is clearly a child, but there are some much deeper resonances here. It would probably work well at both ends of the spectrum, which is probably a very good sign. Enjoyed this very much, would love to hear more.

All the best.

Sam


KnoxOverstreet at 06:30 on 17 March 2004  Report this post
Alex - this is really excellent. As Sam says the observations are striking. It's also (I'm sure you meant this) deeply poetic. If this is an example of what you intended to write every day then I'm keen to see more. If you were thinking of 'doing' something with it I would think a series of these over a summer holiday (for example) with friends and other family members strongly characterised, more outings, a dramatic divorce event etc, would make this a desirable piece to publish. I would drop the bold text all the way through, it makes it a bit hard to read.

Julian


Nell at 08:45 on 17 March 2004  Report this post
Hi Alex, this is absolutely beautiful, tender, and full of the most telling little observations. The two main characters are sensitively drawn and I had total belief in the existence of the child and the reality of the story. No false sentimentality either, and it's so much more touching for that. You've 'shown' the feelings of the child and father in the most subtle way, and I felt I was really seeing the father through the child's eyes. Only one tiny thing - I had to stop at ...just stand around going fner... - I guess I know what you mean, but it had the effect of bringing me out of the story at that point and made me aware of the writer, I think it's the choice of 'fner' that made me stop and think, perhaps something more obvious would be better.

Lovely writing, will look forward to more.

Best, Nell.



ammonite at 09:52 on 17 March 2004  Report this post
Hi Sam, Julian & Nell,

Goodness - thank you so much for your kind words - I'm completely bowled over.

Julian - the bold text thing was a newbie Luddite posting error and is now corrected, thanks.

Nell - thank you for the observation about 'fner'; I suppose I was trying to find a shorthand for the International Pose of Posh Shop Attendants but this is a bit too obscure, especially as it's the only made-up word in the whole piece. Will have a think and change it when I come up with something!

Alex

Ralph at 12:13 on 17 March 2004  Report this post
Hi Alex, and welcome.

I can only echo what's been said above about this - a beautiful piece of writing. "Spiky with winter" struck me immediately - what a fantastic phrase - and from there on in I was completely hooked. I

loved the image of the father like a vase, and the way his face was glass as he waited for his son's answer... The sense of fragility, and of love, is overwhelming.

Very much looking forward to more.

All the best

Huggs

Ralph



<Added>

Sorry - just read back over this wondering why I thought the narrator was a boy... Interesting and silly assumption on my part there, I feel...
I think it was the line "Michelle is a girl's name", but going back over it that can be read several ways... And I like that ambiguity. So, should have said "waiting for his child's answer"...
Sorry, had a brain death moment...

ammonite at 20:53 on 18 March 2004  Report this post
Ralph, thanks - I wrote this story with a very clear gender in mind (not telling you which) and I hadn't realised that it wasn't clear. I'm a great believer in Virginia's 'androgynous mind' (gawd bless yer virginia) and so I think I'll leave this for a while. If anyone else reads this and has strong feelings about what sex the narrator is, i'd be really interested to hear.

Thanks again, Alex



Becca at 19:04 on 15 April 2004  Report this post
Alex, just read this after reading the tomato story, and here I see a much more engaged and tender piece, I liked it a lot. It's hard to write convincingly through the eyes of a child (of either gender), and you did it well. Have you read 'The Lovely Bones?' I'm reading it now and it is so fine. Your story reminded me of it a little.
But if this is a short story, and I haven't yet seen where you posted it, having found it in your profile, it kind of needs a 'nut' to it to give it power, that is to say, it feels more like an account, although, again, there is much beauty in it. Does this make any sense to you? If not, I'll try and be clearer about what I mean. I'm thinking about short story structure.
Becca.

ammonite at 08:13 on 16 April 2004  Report this post
Hi becca (again)

The structure I think this has is poetic rather than narrative - I was aiming for a coherence of imagery through the story - and I agree that in order to be a good story it would need more narrative shape. It's just a little thing, really, an attempt at a different voice.

Thanks again,

Alex

Al T at 09:59 on 19 April 2004  Report this post
Hi Alex,

this caught my eye as I've just bought a couple of kites but have no idea how to fly them. I liked this piece enormously. I think you conveyed a very strong sense of what it's like to be a child who is much more aware of the world around them than the surrounding adults suspect, but who keeps their thoughts to themselves because children feel so powerless. You evoked a really strong sense of emotion, and this is shown particularly well in the paragraph about wanting trays to slice people's heads off.

Well done!

Adele.




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