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Clarion Call #15: Boarding Call

April 16, 2011

Place this scene fragment in context:

The last call for boarding came, and Gia picked up her bags.  Her guardian followed close behind her as she joined the queue.  She dared one last look over her shoulder, knowing that when she returned, she would no longer recognize the place.

There are only two rules for Clarion Calls:

  1. If you choose to try the assignment, do not read the comments section before you post yours.
  2. This is a critique-free zone, and that includes critique of your own offering.  Save your analytical skills for Mondays with Lynda.

With that in mind, I invite all of you to give it a try.  At the end of the year, I have a special honor in mind for the person who most often posts an answer to our weekly Call.  So have fun, and stay inspired!

4 Comments leave one →
  1. April 16, 2011 11:04 am

    The last call for boarding came, and Gia picked up her bags. Her guardian followed close behind her as she joined the queue. She dared one last look over her shoulder, knowing that when she returned, she would no longer recognize the place.

    They called it “socialization.” Her mother had screamed it was brain rape, of a child. The government agents shook their heads in pity, tranquilized her mother, and carted ten-year-old Gia to the processing center where she was assigned to Bruno, her guardian. The process only took a few months. They promised it would be painless and when finished, Gia would be eligible for any position within society. She would not be condemned to a life scratching in the soil for subsistence but would be ready to accept technology. The only side effect was a loss of memory. Gia would become Lanise, with no recollection of her life before the process.

    Bruno’s hand lay heavy and warm on her shoulder as he urged her into the airship. Gia clenched hands into fists in the scratchy pockets of the wool coat the government had given her. She longed for the bright silks and cottons left in her small chest at home but Bruno’s presence prevented her escape from her future. Her shoes clattered on the gangplank, strange as the new surroundings. Gia lifted her chin, determined to be brave.

    • Mishell Baker permalink*
      April 16, 2011 11:57 am

      Welcome back, Jaleta!

  2. April 17, 2011 8:22 pm

    The last call for boarding came, and Gia picked up her bags. Her guardian followed close behind her as she joined the queue. She dared one last look over her shoulder, knowing that when she returned, she would no longer recognize the place.

    Perhaps it was better that way, there were far too many bad memories here. Surely, wherever it was that she was headed would be far better than all she went through here. Yet, it wasn’t all bad she supposed, there were times when she had been happy. Charles had been a good man before the drink and drugs. Her marriage then seemed to have been golden, a bright sunny future before her like the dawn. Of course, the dawn always turned to day, then to dusk, and finally to night. Perpetual night it would seem in her case. Other than the occasional starlight twinkle of hope, it seemed that the dawn would never come again. Maybe that’s how it was for everyone… Perhaps not, but it helped her depression to think that she wasn’t the most miserable person in the world.

    No, it wasn’t true she supposed. If everyone were so, then how could she hope for anything better later on? Her guardian had assured her that the pain was over, and all the hurting would stop soon. Still, she looked back, she would see this place again for sure, but from a very different point of view from a very different place.

    Gah, so much potential in this, but my brain refuses to wander freely. Still, it was great fun and I used it as another exercise in hidden messages for me. Getting the first letter in each sentence in the second paragraph reads “psychopomp”, a figure that seems to feature a lot in my writing.

    • Mishell Baker permalink*
      April 17, 2011 10:11 pm

      Good to have you back! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: writing exercises are just that, exercise. There’s no right, no wrong. Sometimes the brain wanders, sometimes it snoozes. Glad to see you were able to have a bit of fun with it.

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