Pierre the Scarecrow
Grasping at Straws
Aug 7 edit: So, this is the third draft of the story. This was what was going to be submitted as final version on the initial deadline. I worked on everything that I noted earlier, removing and editing what I had liked but didn't end up being natural for the story.
I would appreciate any feedback I can get from readers or other entrants... is it wrong for me to ask that the judges themselves not read this until it is finished and deadline has passed? Because I would like them to read the finished product. Other than them, though, I would really like feedback.
I took long, drawn-out inhale through my nose and held the breath in my chest. After a few paced moments of calm hold, I exhaled slowly out of my mouth, completing the cycle. I repeated the process on end, concentrating on my breath, routinely closing my eyes and pausing before reopening them to the magnificent night sky. The view of endless space was admirably tranquil, at peace.
“It’s wonderful tonight, isn’t it?” I asked.
“It sure is,” she responded. “It’s a shame your parents are spending the night inside, curled up in front of that giant television.”
“It’s a nice television.”
“To each his own, I guess.” Sitting on the small wooden stool, she set her purse down on the ground and folded her map in fourths. She crossed one leg over the other and laid the paper on her lap, creasing it flat and penning the date in the corner. Her dirty bronze hair was tied in a loose hair-knot, kept out of the way behind her head. She leaned forward and rested her hazel eyes on the telescope’s eye-piece, gazing up in detail at her sky – a black obsidian display studded with shining diamonds, organized neatly in mathematical design.
“It’s so nice out here at the lake,” I remarked, enjoying my vacation time. “No noisy traffic, no streetlights, no skyscrapers.”
“Forget buildings, Spencer, there isn’t even a cloud in the sky. Tonight is perfect for stargazing.”
“But clouds are easy to draw,” I complained, “and they sit beautifully in charcoal on a black canvas.” I carelessly lifted my arm and rolled my index finger in humps in the sky. “They shift and roll in simple strokes and frame an image nicely.”
I looked over to Anne to watch her respond. She smiled but didn’t move her eyes from their locked position.
“They save you time because they cover the stars. You know Ursa Major?”
“The Big Dipper?” I asked.
“Yeah. Find it for me in the sky,” she challenged, taking her eyes away from the telescope’s lens and resting them on me.
“It’s, uh,” I paused, searching for the brightest star I could find. After just a few seconds, I found its handle and pointed to the skewed trapezoid sitting in the sky. “It’s right there.”
“Right. Now, move your hand a bit past Ursa Minor and find a W.”
I easily found the Little Dipper, but it was new territory looking for a W-shaped figure in the sky. Luckily, her directions were sound and I found it by simply continuing left.
“What’s this one?”
“You’ve never seen it, have you?”
I shook my head, finishing with my eyes on her as she explained.
“It’s called Cassiopeia,” she said, pointing up towards the constellation. “The W starts with the final star in the Little Dipper and moves outward. It’s easy to find out here, but the shape is smaller and almost impossible to find back at home. You can only see it and the Dippers in summer or autumn, and even then the crowded sky keeps this one hidden, thanks to the rooftops and your favorite little clouds.” She smiled as she spoke, and I turned my head back towards the sky to follow her words. It was a nice, simple constellation.
I rolled my eyes as I noticed Anne take out her calculator. Taking another look in the direction her telescope was facing moments earlier, she set a protractor down on the map and spread a geometric compass. Careful and precise, she measured the distance between two objects in the sky before penning them down on her map, and she calculated the angle between the two stars and a third, recording her observations in the margin of her map. I turned back up towards the sky and took another deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. I completed numerous sets of breath cycles, regularly stopping to look up at the stars, as she took her time mapping out the constellations, regularly taking small breaks to rest her eyes or reposition her telescope.
The moon had risen higher now and was waxing full. Sitting dominant in the sky, it coated the trees at the lake’s border in a new layer of light and provided the landscape canvas with a nice focal point.
A bonfire crackled to life on the other side of the lake, illuminating little silhouettes sitting around a fire pit. As the flame developed, its tendrils grew, dancing, reaching for the night sky. The children began to dance with the fire – little wild things circling the pit in a pretend tribal affair. One child threw dust into the flame, provoking the fire to burst into a sparkling display of vivid green and blinding white.
“Do you know how long you will take?” I asked.
“I have to make sure I get everything right so that I don’t have to do it again. That would only take up more of your time, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I faintly agreed, “but it’s so beautiful right now and things are changing. The clouds are going to be different, the moon will be higher, and I want to paint it soon. Those kids are ruining the night.”
“They’re just throwing copper and magnesium dust into the fire. And it’s their night too.”
“But-”
“Please don’t. You could have painted last night, remember; I told you if you wanted to you could do it then so you wouldn’t have to bother me now.”
“I know, I know. But, look at it. I want to paint this to remember it, to save it.”
“And what am I doing now,” Anne pressed, offended. “Connecting dots? Playing maths?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Look, you said you wanted to watch the movie with us last night when I told you to paint then, and we agreed that I got priority tonight.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
I closed my eyes to the children across the lake making a mess of my landscape. Taking a deep breath, I thought to forget that they were even there. In the end, what I put on the canvas is what happened tonight. I could draw the children as trees, the fire as a rock, and the moon how I want it – and the stars, how I want them. I waited patiently for Anne to finish penning her constellation maps.
Sooner than I expected, she gently pushed the telescope’s focus straight up into the air and covered the lens with its shade. She put her nights’ completed map back into her purse and lifted that to her shoulder, moving away from the stool. “You’re so simple sometimes,” she smiled.
“You’re so mechanical sometimes,” I returned. I leaned forward and sat up out of the hammock. Moving my arms in outward arcs before I stood, I first stretched down to my toes and then reached up and arched my back. I sat down on the wooden stool and pulled the easel closer as Anne handed me my briefcase of charcoals.
“I’m going inside to make a batch of brownies. I promise not to be too mechanical and measure out all the batter leaving none for you to lick like a maniac.”
“I love you,” I reminded her.
“I love you, too,” she chirped as she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I nestled a gray charcoal piece in my hand and moved my hand across the canvas. I began with the lake before moving to the moon and then framing the canvas with clouds and lake mist. And as I went to fill in the space in the sky with gentle, free spatters, I looked again to the sky in perfect silence. Returning to the canvas, I methodically mapped Cassiopeia shining through the clouds, complementing the moonlight over where the tribal children would soon stand in dance.
I would appreciate any feedback I can get from readers or other entrants... is it wrong for me to ask that the judges themselves not read this until it is finished and deadline has passed? Because I would like them to read the finished product. Other than them, though, I would really like feedback.
Relaxing in the hammock my mother had set up in the bonsai garden, I swayed slightly back and forth, lying back with my arms crossed behind my head. The air was cool and naturally pleasant; the lake was placid, taking a deserved rest after a long day’s turmoil of speedboats and cliff divers. The Arkansas night sky was a black canvas sprayed with luminescent dots, splattered around in perfect harmony. Anne had finished setting up her telescope next to my easel and was rummaging through her giant, red leather handbag for her maps of the sky.
I took long, drawn-out inhale through my nose and held the breath in my chest. After a few paced moments of calm hold, I exhaled slowly out of my mouth, completing the cycle. I repeated the process on end, concentrating on my breath, routinely closing my eyes and pausing before reopening them to the magnificent night sky. The view of endless space was admirably tranquil, at peace.
“It’s wonderful tonight, isn’t it?” I asked.
“It sure is,” she responded. “It’s a shame your parents are spending the night inside, curled up in front of that giant television.”
“It’s a nice television.”
“To each his own, I guess.” Sitting on the small wooden stool, she set her purse down on the ground and folded her map in fourths. She crossed one leg over the other and laid the paper on her lap, creasing it flat and penning the date in the corner. Her dirty bronze hair was tied in a loose hair-knot, kept out of the way behind her head. She leaned forward and rested her hazel eyes on the telescope’s eye-piece, gazing up in detail at her sky – a black obsidian display studded with shining diamonds, organized neatly in mathematical design.
“It’s so nice out here at the lake,” I remarked, enjoying my vacation time. “No noisy traffic, no streetlights, no skyscrapers.”
“Forget buildings, Spencer, there isn’t even a cloud in the sky. Tonight is perfect for stargazing.”
“But clouds are easy to draw,” I complained, “and they sit beautifully in charcoal on a black canvas.” I carelessly lifted my arm and rolled my index finger in humps in the sky. “They shift and roll in simple strokes and frame an image nicely.”
I looked over to Anne to watch her respond. She smiled but didn’t move her eyes from their locked position.
“They save you time because they cover the stars. You know Ursa Major?”
“The Big Dipper?” I asked.
“Yeah. Find it for me in the sky,” she challenged, taking her eyes away from the telescope’s lens and resting them on me.
“It’s, uh,” I paused, searching for the brightest star I could find. After just a few seconds, I found its handle and pointed to the skewed trapezoid sitting in the sky. “It’s right there.”
“Right. Now, move your hand a bit past Ursa Minor and find a W.”
I easily found the Little Dipper, but it was new territory looking for a W-shaped figure in the sky. Luckily, her directions were sound and I found it by simply continuing left.
“What’s this one?”
“You’ve never seen it, have you?”
I shook my head, finishing with my eyes on her as she explained.
“It’s called Cassiopeia,” she said, pointing up towards the constellation. “The W starts with the final star in the Little Dipper and moves outward. It’s easy to find out here, but the shape is smaller and almost impossible to find back at home. You can only see it and the Dippers in summer or autumn, and even then the crowded sky keeps this one hidden, thanks to the rooftops and your favorite little clouds.” She smiled as she spoke, and I turned my head back towards the sky to follow her words. It was a nice, simple constellation.
I rolled my eyes as I noticed Anne take out her calculator. Taking another look in the direction her telescope was facing moments earlier, she set a protractor down on the map and spread a geometric compass. Careful and precise, she measured the distance between two objects in the sky before penning them down on her map, and she calculated the angle between the two stars and a third, recording her observations in the margin of her map. I turned back up towards the sky and took another deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. I completed numerous sets of breath cycles, regularly stopping to look up at the stars, as she took her time mapping out the constellations, regularly taking small breaks to rest her eyes or reposition her telescope.
The moon had risen higher now and was waxing full. Sitting dominant in the sky, it coated the trees at the lake’s border in a new layer of light and provided the landscape canvas with a nice focal point.
A bonfire crackled to life on the other side of the lake, illuminating little silhouettes sitting around a fire pit. As the flame developed, its tendrils grew, dancing, reaching for the night sky. The children began to dance with the fire – little wild things circling the pit in a pretend tribal affair. One child threw dust into the flame, provoking the fire to burst into a sparkling display of vivid green and blinding white.
“Do you know how long you will take?” I asked.
“I have to make sure I get everything right so that I don’t have to do it again. That would only take up more of your time, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I faintly agreed, “but it’s so beautiful right now and things are changing. The clouds are going to be different, the moon will be higher, and I want to paint it soon. Those kids are ruining the night.”
“They’re just throwing copper and magnesium dust into the fire. And it’s their night too.”
“But-”
“Please don’t. You could have painted last night, remember; I told you if you wanted to you could do it then so you wouldn’t have to bother me now.”
“I know, I know. But, look at it. I want to paint this to remember it, to save it.”
“And what am I doing now,” Anne pressed, offended. “Connecting dots? Playing maths?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Look, you said you wanted to watch the movie with us last night when I told you to paint then, and we agreed that I got priority tonight.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
I closed my eyes to the children across the lake making a mess of my landscape. Taking a deep breath, I thought to forget that they were even there. In the end, what I put on the canvas is what happened tonight. I could draw the children as trees, the fire as a rock, and the moon how I want it – and the stars, how I want them. I waited patiently for Anne to finish penning her constellation maps.
Sooner than I expected, she gently pushed the telescope’s focus straight up into the air and covered the lens with its shade. She put her nights’ completed map back into her purse and lifted that to her shoulder, moving away from the stool. “You’re so simple sometimes,” she smiled.
“You’re so mechanical sometimes,” I returned. I leaned forward and sat up out of the hammock. Moving my arms in outward arcs before I stood, I first stretched down to my toes and then reached up and arched my back. I sat down on the wooden stool and pulled the easel closer as Anne handed me my briefcase of charcoals.
“I’m going inside to make a batch of brownies. I promise not to be too mechanical and measure out all the batter leaving none for you to lick like a maniac.”
“I love you,” I reminded her.
“I love you, too,” she chirped as she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I nestled a gray charcoal piece in my hand and moved my hand across the canvas. I began with the lake before moving to the moon and then framing the canvas with clouds and lake mist. And as I went to fill in the space in the sky with gentle, free spatters, I looked again to the sky in perfect silence. Returning to the canvas, I methodically mapped Cassiopeia shining through the clouds, complementing the moonlight over where the tribal children would soon stand in dance.