Black Angel
Posted: 07 September 2010 Word Count: 225 Summary: For Sandra's first days at secondry school challenge.
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She flew into the classroom, a black habit flapping about a tall, stout body, announcing her ominous arrival. We were told she would prevail upon us the need for pure excellence in all that we did in school work, PE, Domestic Science and play.
Psalms and gospels according to this one and that one, tripped from young tongues that had minds like pebbles falling upon an arid desert. Latin weaved its peculiar sounds to be uttered in gobble-de-gook from lips numbed by fear. Geometry formed puzzling labyrinths. Algebra loomed large from the board like coded messages. Geography, a boring sequence of rain fall, mountains and other alien terrains, smothered yawns.
On some afternoons, Shakespeares sonnets resounded unintelligibly across the sweat filled classroom of shuffling backsides while those dark eyes watched and waited for some misdemeanour that required six lashes, three per palm, of her slender, quivering cane.
But one phrase, after the final bell, brought about the first signs of excitement and nervous twitching. ˜God speed go with you, she declared, her starched white wimple almost covering that deep frown of constant disapproval.
Then she departed to glide through the door and down lavender polished corridors like a black angel taking with her that faint smell of incense and stale cabbage while we, in controlled, decorous lines, followed her echoing footsteps to reach freedom beyond.
Comments by other Members
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dharker at 18:32 on 07 September 2010
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Hi Jennifer
LOVE your description of the matronly nun... especially the reference to stale cabbage - that one brings some memories flooding back! LOL! There are some lovely ideas here - would folks mind if I took some on board and maybe used my own versions in future pieces?
A great piece of descriptive prose!
Dave
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Desormais at 07:10 on 08 September 2010
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"Flew into the classroom" - lovely! A lot of memories there I can identify with, particularly maths and geography.
her starched white wimple almost covering that deep frown of constant disapproval.
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| A nice piece of observation there.
A very evocative piece, Jennifer. Well done.
Sandra
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V`yonne at 12:46 on 08 September 2010
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Jennifer as tightly poetic as ever your writing gets.
All the soft sounds here...On some afternoons, Shakespeare’s sonnets resounded unintelligibly across the sweat filled classroom of shuffling backsides |
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I loved your descriptions of all the subjects and especailly Geography It's just wonderful writing!
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Cholero at 11:16 on 09 September 2010
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Hi Jennifer
Terrific bracketing of arrival and departure, both described with a kind of calm vividness which perfectly fits the feeling of memory, the way it sits with us in the form of images and smells as much as events or emotion.
I felt that sweaty classroom with great clarity, all senses awakened.
Right in the middle of it all lies that image the slender cane and its wicked,overwhelming power it commands over these children.
Anyone I know who went through the hands of the good sisters or the brothers seems to have a tremendous sense of humour, so maybe it's not all bad,that experience.
Super descriptive writing.
Pete
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tusker at 13:47 on 09 September 2010
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Thanks Pete.
They certainly instilled something. I think it formed a rebellious and cynical streak in me.
Jennifer
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tusker at 13:50 on 09 September 2010
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Thanks Sandra.
They say write what you know, or in my case, what I knew and grew to despise.
Jennifer
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Prospero at 16:13 on 11 September 2010
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Dear God. The terrible fear the Catholic Church has instilled down the ages. What God has made let no man put asunder. But if you really want trouble mess with what man has made.
Great story Jennifer, with a terrific sense of place and person.
Incidentally, if that nun had read my interpretation of some of the sonnets she would have beaten me black and blue.
Best
John
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tusker at 20:00 on 11 September 2010
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I got the cane and detention, John, for stating that Jesus did live but was a rebel who despised riches.
A man after my own heart. That bit i didn't add.
Glad you liked it.
Jennifer
<Added>
Forgot to say, I was repeating my father's words and when i told him, he thought it very amusing.
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Dave Morehouse at 00:07 on 16 March 2012
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Jennifer - This is wonderfully musical and foreboding at the same time. This final sentence just bowled me over.
Then she departed to glide through the door and down lavender polished corridors like a black angel taking with her that faint smell of incense and stale cabbage while we, in controlled, decorous lines, followed her echoing footsteps to reach freedom beyond. |
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The sense of freedom, even controlled temporary freedom, brings the reader to an uplifting finish line. Well crafted, Dave.
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crowspark at 12:27 on 18 March 2012
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Beautifully poetic, Jennifer.
young tongues that had minds like pebbles falling upon an arid desert |
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An uplifting and at the same time depressing experience such as
a black angel taking with her that faint smell of incense and stale cabbage while we, in controlled, decorous lines, followed her echoing footsteps to reach freedom beyond. |
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Loved it.
Bill
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