asherdashery (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asherdashery) wrote2012-08-24 07:15 am
asherdashery) wrote2012-08-24 07:15 am
Entry tags:
DVD Commentary: Cold
[I don't remember what, if anything, prompted me to write this piece. I think it's one of the rare ficlets I just felt like writing. Original can be found here.
Is it weird that I enjoy writing for sick people? Maybe as a kid who was prone to fevers, I feel like I know how to do it. I know one of the coolest things I ever did in a Digimon RP I was in was a fever dream for Izzy.]
Kaleb was dizzy and shivering and he hurt all over. His mom kept touching him and talking but it didn’t sound like anything, just like underwater, and she kept putting wet paper towels on him and he didn’t know if he was cold or hot but he kept coughing and coughing and it really hurt, everything hurt. He wanted her to go away but he couldn’t move. In his dreams he was running but every room he ran to blew up in fire and his mom’s voice followed him everywhere so he couldn’t get anywhere to hide. She dropped him in the bathtub and he was freezing but he couldn’t even yell. He just coughed and coughed. It was cold.
[His dream was actually based on a fever dream I had once where I was in a museum that was under attack, and everything kept exploding and making me turn and run. I could really feel the heat.
Also I wrote this after Alberton Project, and I wanted to show that, in her way, Krista did care, in her own way. Maybe not enough. She was not ready to be a mother.]
Then there was another voice and his mom went away. He tried to get out of the bathtub but his wet clothes were too heavy so he shivered. The voices swirled around like the tornado at the bottom of the tub if he pulled the plug out and he groped all numb for the drain while the new voice got louder and his mom’s voice got louder, too. [Would you look at that run-on.] He found the plug but his fingers wouldn’t pull it out and his head was hot and hurt like the insides were too big for the outsides [Oh that was pretty good.] and the rest of him was so cold. He couldn’t stop coughing and the door opened.
[Repetitive, but I wanted to keep bringing it back to the coughing, because that doesn't just stop while other things in the story are happening. Being sick sucks, especially for a kid. Do people really like the stuff I write from kids' perspectives or something?]
The new voice shouted. It was a man’s voice and Kaleb knew it but his eyes hurt to be open so he sagged along the side of the tub until big hands pulled him up and out, wet dripping clothes and everything like all he was was wet clothes. Kaleb was against something big and warm and there was more shouting but he didn’t feel good and the arms were stronger than him, stronger than anything, and he was moving and he was in his room (he knew the sound of the door) and his mom was on the other side of the door and even though she hit it with her hands, she couldn’t get in.
[Look at THAT run-on sentence. If I went back to edit this piece now, I'd definitely break these up, even if they are narrated by a kid. But I guess that's what you get for Tumblr fic.]
They kept shouting but the man was moving all around the room and didn’t put Kaleb down. [Jake doesn't want to be a father, but when he is, he is.] Then he put Kaleb down on the bed and he was getting the bed wet from all the wet clothes but then the man got his wet clothes off him and then dried him off with a towel. He dried him off hard [Jake isn't used to this. He's never around.] but Kaleb couldn’t say anything because he was coughing again and then there were dry clothes and the arms again and the big warm chest was wet from Kaleb’s old wet clothes and he shivered.
“It’s okay,” the man said in a voice that wasn’t shouting [Kaleb's so used to shouting that the quiet voice is worth a note], even though his mom was hitting the other side of the door and shouting and crying like she did some nights. “You’ll be okay, kid.”
[Kaleb's young, but that doesn't mean he's unaware of his mom's problems. He just doesn't understand them.]
The arms shifted and then the door went open and his mom was coming with the small side of her fists [I like that. I wonder if it's clear, though.] but the man shoved his shoulder between her and Kaleb and Kaleb couldn’t hear her shout because one ear was pushed up against the warm soggy chest. His mom was saying, “You can’t, you can’t,” and lots of words that didn’t make sense because she was crying but the man walked away from her. Maybe she was hitting his back with her hands but Kaleb couldn’t see. He hurt all over but the man was warm and they were going away.
[Kid voices are fun. I get to try to use small words in big ways.]
His mom kept yelling but then there was a truck and in the truck there was no noise [Again, notable.], just the keys jingling and he was coughing. Later there were arms again and the man gave him to someone else, someone who smelled like old [I'm specifically thinking of the smell of old houses, but I'm sure old people have their own smell, too.], whose voice wasn’t happy but there was no yelling either.
“Oh, Jesus,” said the woman in her rocking chair voice.
[Creaky, wooden and tough, but also something comforting there. This woman is Jake's mother.]
“If she comes here, tell her she can’t have him back until she’s sober,” said the man’s voice.
[And there's Jake, dropping the ball and not recognizing the problem for what it is. Because he doesn't want to see the problem. He wants to run away and drive trucks and do his best not to remember that he has a wife and a kid and responsibilities to them that he ignores.]
The man went away and there was dusty quiet [Old people's houses in the north. Northern houses smell very different from houses in South Florida, did you know?] for a time and sometimes there was the woman’s voice but she talked to God, not to him, but eventually his mom came back and she didn’t yell and the old voice didn’t yell but he wanted to and he couldn’t and his mom’s arms were cold.
[Okay that's another run-on desperately in need of breaking up. Though of course, I guess it'd be fitting to end the piece on one. I am the run-on king. It's me.]
Is it weird that I enjoy writing for sick people? Maybe as a kid who was prone to fevers, I feel like I know how to do it. I know one of the coolest things I ever did in a Digimon RP I was in was a fever dream for Izzy.]
Kaleb was dizzy and shivering and he hurt all over. His mom kept touching him and talking but it didn’t sound like anything, just like underwater, and she kept putting wet paper towels on him and he didn’t know if he was cold or hot but he kept coughing and coughing and it really hurt, everything hurt. He wanted her to go away but he couldn’t move. In his dreams he was running but every room he ran to blew up in fire and his mom’s voice followed him everywhere so he couldn’t get anywhere to hide. She dropped him in the bathtub and he was freezing but he couldn’t even yell. He just coughed and coughed. It was cold.
[His dream was actually based on a fever dream I had once where I was in a museum that was under attack, and everything kept exploding and making me turn and run. I could really feel the heat.
Also I wrote this after Alberton Project, and I wanted to show that, in her way, Krista did care, in her own way. Maybe not enough. She was not ready to be a mother.]
Then there was another voice and his mom went away. He tried to get out of the bathtub but his wet clothes were too heavy so he shivered. The voices swirled around like the tornado at the bottom of the tub if he pulled the plug out and he groped all numb for the drain while the new voice got louder and his mom’s voice got louder, too. [Would you look at that run-on.] He found the plug but his fingers wouldn’t pull it out and his head was hot and hurt like the insides were too big for the outsides [Oh that was pretty good.] and the rest of him was so cold. He couldn’t stop coughing and the door opened.
[Repetitive, but I wanted to keep bringing it back to the coughing, because that doesn't just stop while other things in the story are happening. Being sick sucks, especially for a kid. Do people really like the stuff I write from kids' perspectives or something?]
The new voice shouted. It was a man’s voice and Kaleb knew it but his eyes hurt to be open so he sagged along the side of the tub until big hands pulled him up and out, wet dripping clothes and everything like all he was was wet clothes. Kaleb was against something big and warm and there was more shouting but he didn’t feel good and the arms were stronger than him, stronger than anything, and he was moving and he was in his room (he knew the sound of the door) and his mom was on the other side of the door and even though she hit it with her hands, she couldn’t get in.
[Look at THAT run-on sentence. If I went back to edit this piece now, I'd definitely break these up, even if they are narrated by a kid. But I guess that's what you get for Tumblr fic.]
They kept shouting but the man was moving all around the room and didn’t put Kaleb down. [Jake doesn't want to be a father, but when he is, he is.] Then he put Kaleb down on the bed and he was getting the bed wet from all the wet clothes but then the man got his wet clothes off him and then dried him off with a towel. He dried him off hard [Jake isn't used to this. He's never around.] but Kaleb couldn’t say anything because he was coughing again and then there were dry clothes and the arms again and the big warm chest was wet from Kaleb’s old wet clothes and he shivered.
“It’s okay,” the man said in a voice that wasn’t shouting [Kaleb's so used to shouting that the quiet voice is worth a note], even though his mom was hitting the other side of the door and shouting and crying like she did some nights. “You’ll be okay, kid.”
[Kaleb's young, but that doesn't mean he's unaware of his mom's problems. He just doesn't understand them.]
The arms shifted and then the door went open and his mom was coming with the small side of her fists [I like that. I wonder if it's clear, though.] but the man shoved his shoulder between her and Kaleb and Kaleb couldn’t hear her shout because one ear was pushed up against the warm soggy chest. His mom was saying, “You can’t, you can’t,” and lots of words that didn’t make sense because she was crying but the man walked away from her. Maybe she was hitting his back with her hands but Kaleb couldn’t see. He hurt all over but the man was warm and they were going away.
[Kid voices are fun. I get to try to use small words in big ways.]
His mom kept yelling but then there was a truck and in the truck there was no noise [Again, notable.], just the keys jingling and he was coughing. Later there were arms again and the man gave him to someone else, someone who smelled like old [I'm specifically thinking of the smell of old houses, but I'm sure old people have their own smell, too.], whose voice wasn’t happy but there was no yelling either.
“Oh, Jesus,” said the woman in her rocking chair voice.
[Creaky, wooden and tough, but also something comforting there. This woman is Jake's mother.]
“If she comes here, tell her she can’t have him back until she’s sober,” said the man’s voice.
[And there's Jake, dropping the ball and not recognizing the problem for what it is. Because he doesn't want to see the problem. He wants to run away and drive trucks and do his best not to remember that he has a wife and a kid and responsibilities to them that he ignores.]
The man went away and there was dusty quiet [Old people's houses in the north. Northern houses smell very different from houses in South Florida, did you know?] for a time and sometimes there was the woman’s voice but she talked to God, not to him, but eventually his mom came back and she didn’t yell and the old voice didn’t yell but he wanted to and he couldn’t and his mom’s arms were cold.
[Okay that's another run-on desperately in need of breaking up. Though of course, I guess it'd be fitting to end the piece on one. I am the run-on king. It's me.]