Cruelty

This is a short piece I have been working on for the past few days, experimenting with length, word choice, emotions. I’m still not too sure about it so I thought I’d post my ‘writing journey’ as it were, moving from one piece to the other to give a little sketch of what is going on inside my head. Comments, suggestions, criticism is very welcome.

 

CRUELTY / My Brother is a Proverb

2017-05-07 13.45.30

Draft 1

‘Don’t be so mean!’ I tell him snap out, catching his my brother’s palm pulling and then pulling him away from the rusted swing.

‘They are hungry too. Ants are the Look at them move, work carrying that crust look at that one scurrying towards the hole, bumping look at the size of that one. They are just like you. Ok they don’t breathe exactly but it’s so cruel to just stamp on them like that just because you can and want to. Just stop it.’

He does. My brother is five and in his concentration he furrows his brow to make the impression of thinking. But he really is pondering my words over. After a moment, he lifts his chin and meets my gaze.

‘So you like ants?’

‘Yes.’

‘You really like ants?’

‘Of course. They…’

‘Then why do you kill the ants at home when they get into the food cupboard?’

The swing has finally stopped squeaking. There is no breeze, just the glare of the sun on our backs and shoulders. There is a quiet in the air around us. And it is with that silence he catches me. SWAT!

—————————————————————————————————————————————

Draft 2

 

‘Don’t be so mean. Just because you can. Look at them

slaving away, carrying that enormous piece of crust.

And you were going to kill him. To stomp the whole brigade.

That is not nice. That is cruel.’

My five year old brother stops a moment, eyes locked on his

hands, thinking. Watching. Then he lifts his chin and meets

my eyes..

‘So you like ants?’ he asks.

‘Yes.’

‘You really like ants?’

I nod.

‘What about those that got into the food cupboard at home?

Did you like those too?’

The rusted swing creaks into stillness. The sun continues to

stare at our backs. The breeze is still. And in the silence he

catches me. It hurts.


 

Draft 3

 

‘Quit stepping on them. Don’t be so cruel.’

My five year old brother stops a moment, eyes locked

on his hands, thinking. Then he lifts his chin and meets

my eyes..

‘So you like ants?’ he asks.

‘Yes.’

‘You really like ants?’

I nod.

‘What about those that got into the food cupboard at home?

Did you like those too?’


Blog Post 8

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s