Red, Rising, 1897

by | Sep 18, 2022 | Sarah Day 2 - Group B

The poem/prose observation prompt, based on my memory of an old B&W I used to have (NOT 1879). Gaaaahhhhh, this was HARD! I am famous for my problems with this particular point of view. Trying to write something without sneaking in what someone is probably feeling or thinking or knowing made me tear what hair I have left out. But the exercise is gold, if pain is any indication. 😊 So, here’s a period piece. 🤣

Red, Rising, 1879

Cora’s doll sits rigid on the sward that slopes to the sea, peach-bisque limbs spread wide. Cora lies on her back a yard away, legs also spread in a vee. Three times, she will open then shut her book, then her eyes. A snarl of Cora’s black hair drifts towards water’s edge, towards the dock, towards tangles of bulbous seaweed. The stark, starched white of her dress, her bow, seeps into green. At moon’s early rise, sharp summons for dinner clap out from the turreted house, where gravy is ladled in silence and beef drippings spatter lace. Cora sits up. Sweat pearls her upper lip. She cramps and curls under the horned crescent. Soon she will trudge up the hill, swatting at swarms of midges crowning her forehead, freshly cut lawn clinging to the backs of her legs, bright red spreading on the back of her skirt. The doll will stay in the cold, wet grass, glass eyes set deep, unblinking. Vacant.

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