The Bed
Posted: 28 June 2003 Word Count: 102 Summary: Beginners First Piece.
|
Font Size
|
|
Black. Black cast iron, with black wire springs holding a creaking, black wire mesh under a thin, unsprung mattress, sitting on a linoleum covered concrete floor, my haven, my home, my kingdom. Twelve beds down each side, the dormitory a tunnel of corrugated asbestos panels, three wire windows down each side.
Just a sheet over me in summer, three blankets and a dressing gown in winter, and a red rubber hot water bottle that never stayed hot long enough, clasped between the knees.
Each day, the bed made up exactly like its neighbour, sheet turned down, hospital corners for the brown blankets.
Comments by other Members
| |
Anna Reynolds at 23:36 on 29 June 2003
Report this post
|
Hi Longjon
Very interesting, this. On first reading I felt it was about a harsh, cruel environment, maybe because you've chosen to use words that have that feel- concrete, corrugated, wire, thin, creaking- etc, and your repetition of 'black' builds on this first impression- yet against that you've used the softness of haven, home, kingdom. It works really well for me- the sense of the room being an alien, unloving one, but the bed is sanctuary. It's interesting that you've chosen not to mention other people who would be in the room, near the bed- so a sense of utter isolation comes across. It's very evocative for 102 words. Spare and bleak and revealing- I'm interested to know if it was difficult to write, or to keep to the word limit?
Nice work. Part 2 of this exercise will be up pronto now.
Anna
| |
LONGJON at 23:52 on 29 June 2003
Report this post
|
Thankyou for that, Anna, no it wasn't difficult to write because even after nearly 50 years the memory of that dormitory at the boarding school I went to in Suffolk is still clear as a bell. Oddly enough it wasn't all gloom and doom, but when you are 11-12 years old, it takes a considerable time to adjust to such surroundings. Word limit not really a problem, certainly keeps you focused. Looking forward to the next part.
Haere ra,
John Pirtle
| |
bluesky3d at 07:13 on 30 June 2003
Report this post
|
The contrast between the hard words ... black cast iron, black wire springs, black wire mesh, thin, unsprung mattress, on a linoleum covered concrete floor
and the soft ...my haven, my home, my kingdom, do set up an irony that will be evocative of childhood for many born in the 40's and 50's. Great!
A :o)
(And yes John, I do remember the ice forming on the inside of the windows.}
| |
Jabulani at 12:20 on 30 June 2003
Report this post
|
I love the stark feeling conveyed here. It has inspired me to have another go at this exercise taken froma different time.
| |
Boo at 22:08 on 30 June 2003
Report this post
|
I love the way you created the uniformity of the room.It suggests how children adapt to unnatural alien circumstances and embrace the unusual by making it their own.
At first I felt this was a military establishment and agree with Jubalani at the stark feeling.
The description at first draws me to want to pick you up and take you away from such a lonely place.Yet when you describe it as your haven it suggests the little boy pushing away the parental influence.
"I can deal with this,I am not a child"
Between being a child and an adult is a cruel place to be.Especially when self responsibility is thrust upon you.
| |
Anna Reynolds at 23:10 on 30 June 2003
Report this post
|
I like the idea as Jubilani has suggested that this part of the exercise could be approached from several different times during childhood. Endless amounts of ideas, themes, images etc can be generated doing this. Yummy!
| |
LONGJON at 06:00 on 01 July 2003
Report this post
|
Exceedingly generous comments, for which my thanks. Interesting, Boo, that you should pick that it had a military connection, because before the (then) London County Council took Woolverstone Hall over for a school, it was used by the Royal Navy as a training establishment. The Nissen huts were what we slept in. You have a very perceptive eye too, since those first two years were just that, the tough process of breaking the bonds, but not completely. Let me go, but don't leave me alone.
Thinking about it again, it was stark and cold but we knew no better.
Again my thanks,I do like the idea of re-exploring the theme, or something that derives from it.
John P.
| |
| |