My Creative Writing: Prose

Prose time!:)  This time, I’m going to show you a piece that I wrote in late October last year after being inspired by an movie I watched (I don’t remember what movie it was…). It’s not a short story, but a piece of emotional prose.  In short, it is my interpretation of grief.  I’d really like to hear your feedback on the ideas I talk about, and, of course, what your general impressions were of the piece!  Thanks for reading!

 

Stages

Grief is not something you can just “deal with.”  It hitches in your throat.  Spreads its cold fingers over your skin and doesn’t let go.  Takes a hold of you that’s so strong, you shake and tremble but can’t get free.  Tears are no comfort.  All they do is leave you exhausted.  All you can do, in the end, is moan and scream until your voice is gone and your heart is cold.  Dead in all but reality.

That’s stage 1.

Grief has a way of chilling you so much that you get too numb to feel anything.  You become a zombie, going through your life as if it’s all just a routine: meaningless.  The only reason you do it is so that, at the end of the day, you can shut yourself off and scream.  And no one will care because you have no obligations.  You shun everyone close to you because every kind word and every troubled look is either pity or arrogance.  You don’t need their help.  And they’re arrogant if they think they can understand.  Or help.

That’s stage 2.

Grief festers.  It rots you from the inside out, discoloring your heart and making your control weak and holey.  The best you can manage is a few fake smiles, and endure your life in the hope that you’ll have to lie the fewest times that day.  Yesterday you said you were fine six times?  Well maybe today it will be four.  Eventually, you start believing your own lies.  Your mask – your acting – gets so good that it becomes you.  You don’t realize it because you think you’re still acting.  But now when you get home, you start feeling the pain less and less.  You think it’s a result of getting better, but it’s not.  You’re getting worse.  You’ve stopped trying to get better, and instead have put everything away: in a neat little box in that specific corner of your mind.  But you don’t realize it.

That’s stage 3.

There’ll be days when you remember.  Days when the knot on the box slips; the weight is crushing.  But most days you’ll continue to live your life.  Living the act.  Believing it.  Putting faith in something that’s having the opposite effect on you.  Stage 4 never ends.  Or when you think it does, the mask is simply replaced with a more intricate one.  The mask never dissolves into the blackness.  You’re a different person now.  The unconscious secret has hidden a small corner of your soul away from everybody that knew you before.  You’re not aware enough to know you need to flip the light switch.  And nothing is ever the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
And the sea of black umbrellas continues to sway.

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5 thoughts on “My Creative Writing: Prose

  1. micah says:

    That last image, the sea of umbrellas, was haunting.

    Is there a stage five? Life after loss?

    Lewis’ “A Grief Observed” has helped me find peace; I would recommend it. He doesn’t mask the reality of his situation but struggles for years through the overwhelming grief in his soul.

    • InkSplashes says:

      Thank you!

      For this particular piece, I was focusing on the dark images and emotions that come with grief. Yes, of course I believe there are stages after the grief – stages of healing and “life after loss” as you say. I think, though, that the initial stages of loss and despair make the recovery all the more important.

      I’ve never read that one…Lewis is one of my favorite authors though, so I intend someday to have read all his books! That particular one was written after his wife died, correct?

  2. I sort of think that this prose does address the “life after loss” part in stage 4. I’ll admit, this does not reveal it as much of a life, but it does touch on it. I don’t like thinking such dark thoughts, but that doesn’t mean they don’t occur still, so I think that this prose sums up how grief feels while in grief. Once you overcome it, your perspective changes. Of course, once you overcome grief, it may become something else entirely.

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