The Writer's E-Zine Home

Writers' Village University - F2K: Free Fiction Writing Course - ePress-online
Writers' Village University Membership Information

Stars

STARS is our way of showing off the talent displayed on the boards of our free fiction course. We chose one lesson and searched for the best posted assignment in each study group or classroom that followed the requirements of the lesson exactly. No easy task, I can assure you! Talent abounds and there is just sooo much to choose from. Students were asked for permission to submit their selected assignment to the editors of T-zero, receive feedback on their submissions from the editors and have a chance at seeing their assignment published on the pages of T-zero. While we certainly wish we could show them all to you, we think you'll enjoy the one assignment that really caught our fancy in the January session of F2K. I think you'll agree, this STAR really shines!

Lesson of the Month: Conflict, conflict, conflict!

Requirements: Write an opening scene between two characters that starts as a petty argument and escalates to the point of no return. Conflicts in the assignment were to be left unresolved.

This Month's Selected Assignment:

Posted by Patricia Fletcher (aka Trisha)
JTFLORES@AOL.COM

Maggie Carlisle tried to busy herself, at her computer–marking time–waiting for her teenaged daughter, Chloé to come home, but it was no use. She sat, staring at the blank screen. The silence and waiting were almost unbearable. Maggie felt her stomach tighten and realized her breathing was very shallow; that she could almost forget to breathe! She forced herself to inhale long, deep breaths, in an effort to calm her jangled nerves. She always felt nervous when she and Chloé were at odds with each other. Tension and chaos had risen between Chloé and she before, but Maggie sensed this time, something was different. "Not just different, more intense," she thought, unconsciously chewing on her bottom lip. Stressful situations with Chloé had that effect on her, and she hated it, for both of them. Maggie remembered conflicts with her own mother, when she was a teenager, and had sworn, then, that she would not allow it to happen between her children–(if she ever had any)–and herself. Time and age seemed to mock her, now.

"How had it happened? When had it happened?" Maggie wondered. Had she turned into a worse version of her own mother? She sat, staring at the screen, watching an invisible movie roll past her eyes, remembering the heated arguments they'd had when she was Chloé's age. Maggie's thoughts switched back and forth, from past to present; comparing, trying to find a common denominator or remember something her mother had done to salve a hurtful situation.

Chloé was different from Maggie, in some ways. They were both emotionally healthy, passionate people; Maggie had made sure that Chloé was raised never being afraid to feel. But Maggie was more verbal than Chloé. Maggie would lose her temper frequently, yell and "faunch and bitch," as Chloé called it, while Chloé would sit, silent, occasionally letting a single tear run from her big brown eyes, down the length of her cheek. It infuriated Maggie. The girl just would not argue with her! And the single tear always made her feel guilty; as if she had crushed the child, like a delicate flower.

Chloé was pulling away from her; Maggie knew that, and she knew it was the natural course of life, but she didn't have to like it. And she didn't like it; not one damned bit. She had hoped this would be a gradual process, that after graduating high school, Chloé would go to college, to study Pharmacology. Chloé had planned on that, since junior high, and Maggie had tried to stay out of the decision-making process; letting her make her own decisions. She had tried, little by little, to let go; ease up on Chloé, but not turn loose all at once. She knew it wasn't working; they had reached a higher emotional plateau, and Chloé would not talk with her at all, except for the redundantly polite one syllable answers.

"No more," Maggie said. "Today is the day." Maggie had decided to talk with Chloé; just open the subject, get the problem out on the table, discuss it, hopefully resolve it, and forget it. Just as they had done, many times before.

Maggie sighed heavily, and turned toward the door, as the sound of keys jangling clanged through the air. Chloé was home; it was time. Maggie swung her office chair toward the door.
"Hi, babe," she smiled, "How was school?"
Chloé looked tired and pale. "Fine," she answered throwing her books and purse onto the sofa. Maggie watched her, silent. "Same old question, same old answer," she thought,and searched her mind for a way to help her daughter open up to her.
"Mom," Chloé said slowly, "We need to talk."
Maggie was startled. She had a preconceived picture of how this was going to happen, and this wasn't it. Chloé was the initiator, this time, and it threw Maggie off balance.
"Okay, let's sit at the dining room table," Maggie said, staring at her daughter, as she walked into the next room. She felt as if they had exchanged roles; Chloé was now the initiator, Maggie the silent one.

A thousand and one questions ran through Maggie's mind, but she held them back; for once, letting Chloé take the lead. It felt uncomfortable; it was a terrible psychological strain, but she realized that this was the moment she had wished for. It seemed like seconds were pulled into hours, before Chloé looked at her, or spoke. Maggie's patience was at the breaking point and she felt herself biting the inside of her jaws, to keep from exerting the parental lead.

Finally, Chloé spoke.
"Mom," she said quietly, "I'm pregnant."

Maggie's face drained of all color; she felt as if she were outside of herself, observing. She felt stunned, shocked to the very bottom of her soul. Never had she imagined this! Never! Maggie couldn't speak, she could only stare at Chloé's beautiful big brown eyes, and then, at her stomach. She tried to regain her composure, struggling to comprehend.

"Say something, Mom," Chloé said.
Maggie felt sick.