Quicklinks:
|
Great Writing - Home > Extended > Lorraine Part 5
| READING ROOM | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
|
| COMMUNITY | |||
|---|---|---|---|
|
| ABOUT GREAT WRITING | ||
|---|---|---|
|
| WORK AWAITING REVIEW |
|---|
|
| GW IS... |
|---|
|
Great Writing creative writing community is designed to prompt ideas
and provide inspiration and motivation within aspiring and amateur
authors. Whatever your topic; from love poetry to Doctor Who or Harry
Potter fan fiction, Great Writing's online writing group is where you
can make new friends and improve your creative writing. |
| WHO'S ONLINE |
|---|
| We have 1494 guests online and 5 members online |
Extended Work
| print friendly version | |
| Lorraine Part 5 | |
| By amy456 | ||||||
| 04 July 2006 | ||||||
|
Let the work speak for itself for once. Lorraine I have spoken to Megan about yesterday. To speak truth, it didn’t go very well. But I will tell you exactly what happened. I went into her bedroom where she was in the middle of reading something. “Do I interrupt?” I asked. “I wanted to talk about yesterday. Kirsty told me she was wearing your top.” This was true, and had really impressed me. She didn’t have to say anything, but she did. One can rely on Kirsty to tell the truth. “Yes, well you didn’t notice at the time,” Megan muttered sullenly. “No, I didn’t,” I said defensively. “I’d forgotten I’d even bought that top. You haven’t been wearing it.” “I told you,” she said, shifting uncomfortably, “I was saving it for a special occasion.” That old chestnut! I thought. I remember when I bought the top. I had thought Megan would be pleased; as she’s eighteen, she mainly buys all her own clothes. Kirsty always loves it when I buy her outfits. Anyway, Megan hadn’t seemed to like it. I was disappointed and hurt. It was meant to show her how much I loved her and wanted things to work between us. She’d said at the time that she was saving it for a special occasion, but to be honest it was clear that she didn’t really like it and was saying that just to save my feelings. Kirsty had actually come and asked if she could have it, but I said no because it was for Megan, and I would buy her something else. Steven had caught me crying about it, and had been annoyed with what he termed Megan’s “ungratefulness”, but I had defended her, and said that it wasn’t her fault if it wasn’t to her taste and that she had really been quite polite about it. Deep down though, I felt like I’d failed at yet another attempt to build bridges. “Clothes are for wearing,” I said now, admittedly rather unkindly. “You could waste years in waiting for an appropriate occasion, and in the meantime you could outgrow it. You don’t make enough of yourself. Now I know, you’re only young once. What I wouldn’t give to be eighteen again . . .” Personally, I think that last comment was pretty fair. Megan just doesn’t take an interest in her appearance. I don’t know why – it is extremely puzzling for some one like myself, who takes such pleasure in clothes. Kirsty, and from what I can make out, Emma, both love clothes too. But with Megan it’s always the same baggy T-shirt and jeans. It’s frankly depressing, especially since she has such a nice, slim figure. She’s not a bad looking girl, but how she dresses nobody would look twice at her. “So you want me to wear it then? Is that it?” Megan asked, and she looked strange, somehow different from usual. I didn’t answer but said, “You don’t like it, do you? Nothing I can do is right! Go on, admit it.” She looked down and I saw that her fists were clenched and her knuckles were white. “No,” she said, very softly, so that I thought she was angry. “I don’t like it. I think it’s the ugliest top I’ve ever seen. I wouldn’t be caught dead in it.” “Fine then!” I said, and I am prepared to admit that seeing as I had forced her into the confession, my anger was quite uncalled for. “So you won’t object if I let Kirsty keep it? I mean, seeing as you hate it and she loves it.” “No,” she repeated, still in that soft, strange voice. “No, I wouldn’t object.” “Good,” I said. “I’ll tell her now.” I couldn’t stay any longer. I felt like a witch. I was ashamed of myself. My eyes were already welling with tears. Call me pathetic. I had never felt so utterly rejected in my life.
Only registered users can rate and write comments. Powered by AkoComment 2.0! |
||||||
 Previous item
|
Next item
|
|---|