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About the Author
Alister Flik grew up in a fundamentalist Christian home in the Midwest with a healthy variety of crazy available to her, and her middle child syndrome hardly affects her at all anymore. At 18, she moved to the West Coast, got a tattoo, and now lives happily as a quirky theist amidst the Portland heathens she so dearly loves. Her idols are Joan of Arc (crazy or not), Flannery O'Connor, and Daria. Her favorite superhero is the perfect superhuman combination of Joan of Arc, Flannery O'Connor, and Daria dressed in a cape, armor, boots, and armed with wit and a pen. She is currently looking for someone to illustrate this into a comic book.
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Options
"Fight, flee, or freeze," she articulated the options.
And remembering, I knew she was right.


"I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you and your family," he said with that sinister sincerity.
And I said nothing.

His words hit my body like a wall.
My body like a wall.
I let nothing out; all in me tensed against:

"I'm sorry for all the pain."

My pain like ice--crystallizing the air in my lungs.

His words hit me like a punch.
My body hollow.
"For all the pain" echoes with the resounding sighs of disregarded screams; slighted grief.

Grief--not descriptive enough to encompass.
Just as "I'm sorry" truly regrets;
"for all the pain" truly addresses,
NOTHING.

"Fight, flee, or freeze."
My body made its answer.

ChestTautLimbsStrained
StomachCrampedThroatDry

"You know, I'm sorry," he dismissed.
My body swallowed his words.
My blood coagulated as it mixed with, "I'm sorry."

My body like silence.

I nodded slowly.

"Are you okay?" he accused.

The grip of "I'm sorry," squeezes my throat,
Finally the muscles move.
I answer.

"I'm just tired."
His smile reflected his righteous misunderstanding.

(unable to fight, flee)

My body like rage.

Last edited by Alister Flik on April 29, 2008, 12:36 am
"I do not think, therefore I am a mustache."
-Sartre *Nausea*
 
Francis Meyrick

I liked the way you used italics. Almost like as if you are emphasizing a flashback.

"Fight, flee, or freeze," she articulated the options.
And remembering, I knew she was right.

"I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you and your family," he said with that sinister sincerity.
(sinister sincerity... hmmm.... that has an interesting flavor to it)
And I said nothing.

His words hit my body like a wall.
My body like a wall.
I let nothing out; all in me tensed against:

"I'm sorry for all the pain."

My pain like ice--crystallizing the air in my lungs.
(crystallizing the air in my lungs... that conjures up a picture of thousands of sharp little icicles stabbing painfully.... rich prose. Unconventional, which makes it nice...)
His words hit me like a punch.
My body hollow.
(First a 'wall', then 'hollow'. Kind of neat, as I see a wall (hard, strong) yet 'hollow' (fragile, empty)
"For all the pain" echoes with the resounding sighs of disregarded screams; slighted grief. (good choice of adjectives)

Grief--not descriptive enough to encompass.
Just as "I'm sorry" truly regrets;
"for all the pain" truly addresses,
NOTHING.

"Fight, flee, or freeze."
My body made its answer.

ChestTautLimbsStrained
StomachCrampedThroatDry

"You know, I'm sorry," he dismissed.
My body swallowed his words.
My blood coagulated as it mixed with, "I'm sorry."

My body like silence.

I nodded slowly.

"Are you okay?" he accused. (interesting choice of verb)

The grip of "I'm sorry," squeezes my throat,
Finally the muscles move.
I answer.

"I'm just tired."
His smile reflected his righteous misunderstanding.
(righteous misunderstanding... I like that)
(unable to fight, flee)

My body like rage.

(Hmmm.... wall... hollow.... rage...)

I got the impression of a boyfriend/girlfriend 'spat', with darker undertones. What I like is your use of words. You weigh your words carefully, and seek originality. Some choices are thought provoking, and add a whole new dimension to the subject matter at hand.
I see a lot of amateur writers who have a hard time 'thinking out of the box'. You have demonstrated many times not only the ability to challenge, and to seek new avenues, but also a quirky thought stream which I find entertaining. Sometimes I get the impression that you are being playful, just enjoying creating with words, but at other times there is a serious hint of deeper meaning. I think you've got plenty of talent, missy. It would be interesting if you would apply your creative energies to a longer piece.

Good job.

Grin


We little humans, hurtling through the Universe on our tiny, pale blue dot, will find few answers to Life's great mysteries. But we should at least find many of the questions. To write is to ask. To seek. To grope. With humility, and humor. Peace.
Posted on Thursday, May 8, 2008 at 13:00:31

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