On a warm day in May 1959, my hands grab at and my feet latch on the wood beams on the wall as I pull myself up to the small attic, which is actually a crawl space above my parents’ bedroom. Thick dust rises and my face catch a lot of it and I muffle a sneeze. I survey the small crawlspace: it is a haven for mice and lizards which scurry for cover; crumbly bodies of long-ago dead cockroaches are scattered everywhere. On the far side are the old magazines that the mice had been feeding on. Bored and desperate for books or anything to read, I want to get to those magazines. But I shudder at the sight of the exposed electrical wirings stretched across the middle of the crawlspace. My six-year old mind tells me I must be careful not to touch those or I’d get electrocuted. It’s a good thing I’m wearing shorts and t-shirt which make movement easier, and not a dress that Mother always insists I wear.
After a long and careful crawl on my stomach, I get over the exposed wires and I reach the other side. I hungrily paw the magazines, especially a glossy LIFE magazine that has mice-eaten edges. In one of its pages, Marilyn Monroe with her dreamy eyes playfully pouts her red lips in a kiss, her arms akimbo, her breasts visible through the thin fabric of her blouse. On the opposite page, a large colour photograph of pancakes dripping with golden syrup makes my stomach growl and my mouth water. I set aside that magazine for later. Underneath the magazines are two books. A thick one with the title “Gone with the Wind”. I remember my mother saying that it is not a book for children so I set it far back against the wall. The next one, a small thin book has prints and photos of men and women without clothes and my young mind tells me I should not be looking at them. This, too, has been set next to the first book. There are more magazines and they don’t interest me, but at the very bottom, I find a small book. It is light, and the prints are fairly easy on the eyes. The title reads “$50 a Night”.
The drawing on the cover is of a man holding the shoulders of a beautiful blond woman with very red lipstick. On the back the print says it is "a story about the oldest profession in the world." There is a small opening where I can see my mother sitting in the middle of the yard with a large basin filled with clothes covered with suds. Half the yard has wire lines sagging with clothes and bedsheets drying under the sun, swaying slightly in the morning breeze. She washes clothes of other people to augment my father's meagre income. Laundering clothes: that has to be the oldest profession. Maybe if I read this book, I can tell my mother what to do so she can earn more money with her washing.
For four afternoons I risk going up there, amidst house lizards and exposed electrical wires. For four afternoons, this woman Ann only wears her lipstick, puts on perfume, goes to bed with different men, while I keep asking myself 'when is she going to wash clothes?' Of course she does not. A six-year old's mind can only grasp so much. Later on, I ask the neighbour's teenaged daughter, Helen, what "oldest profession" means and isn't laundering clothes supposed to be the oldest profession -- people need to wear clean clothes since a long time ago, don't they? Helen laughs at me and she says 'like Miss Carmen at the end of the street". Miss Carmen works in a 'nightclub' in the next town. People say she's a bad woman and the women in the neighbourhood don't like their husbands looking at her. Ahhhhh, Miss Carmen is doing the oldest profession and it isn't washing clothes. So now I understand.
Curious to know your teacher's comments. I like the way it's written - though I think I would have written it in a completely different way. Maybe this could be another assignment, couldn't it?
You have. Add reading this a pleasure. Your talent is remarkable in writing and in photography! I am truly impressed with your writing skills and meet you you have nothing to worry about. This first assignment is proof of that! In addition to that you have created a remarkable photo to accompany your narrative which goes perfectly with it. May I have your autograph? Surely you will be famous someday
Oh my, Vikki. The photo and the tale are awesome. This is certainly the way to start a book. It definitely grabs you from the start. The perfect example of a best seller. I'm ready for the next chapter, please.
Excellent photo that goes with this excellent story! The old and ragged spines of those books are exactly what the 6 year old you would have found in the attic!
This is a FAV from me - both for the photo and story.
You have to let us know how you did and what your teacher says!
@domenicododaro - different like how? i have been trained by my former writing instructor to write in the present tense as it gives the reader the sense of here and now. i never liked writing in the first person either but i find it more believable when that's the case. i remember the first time i took an expressive writing course, our final assignment was to write a murder story from the point of view of the murderer. my professor when handing back my story, asked me "this was fiction, right?" and then when i just looked at him before answering, he took a step back. so how let me know, please, how should i have written it differently? i'll take you up on it. :-)
@summerfield Oh, I didn't intend that YOU should have written it differently. I intended that I would write it differently: just personal approach - and I couldn't certainly tell anybody how to write in English!
I love your style, you draw the reader straight at your side, in the dusty attic, with all the fears and braveness, the sense of the rules and the shiver of transgression of a six years old girl.
You took me with you into that attic space where I felt the anticipation and fear with you. I loved the story with the focus on the here and now of your experience together with glimpses into your family life and neighbours. And, the perfect illustration. Top marks from me.
i felt guilty when i read this during the session. only one other lady wrote a story that's focussed solely on one particular memory and hers was very good. the rest of the class wrote narratives recounting so many memories and it was rather clear they were unsure how to go about writing a memoir. i didn't tell them that i have been writing these little snippets for a number of years now but i offered to help them navigate their memories into a cohesive story that would be a delight to read. they all have really beautiful amazing stories to tell.
the story was positively and well received. the teacher and the rest of the class got a good chuckle out of it. the "bad woman" was touched on by the teacher who is also a minister and a long discussion ensued based on that – what was perceived as bad woman during those times.
while we are not marked for the stories, we get feedbacks on how best to improve the story; it also helps to spark similar stories in other people’s minds.
thank you, my friends, for your kind comments and your very generous favs on the photo. believe me when i say your support drives me to do better, both in my writing and my photography.
@summerfield Yes, definitely, that sort of thing happened when I was a kid, also knives into toasters, etc. So, maybe I would have been aware what the wires were, I'm not sure, but I'm glad you were :)
January 26th, 2019
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This is a FAV from me - both for the photo and story.
You have to let us know how you did and what your teacher says!
I love your style, you draw the reader straight at your side, in the dusty attic, with all the fears and braveness, the sense of the rules and the shiver of transgression of a six years old girl.
the story was positively and well received. the teacher and the rest of the class got a good chuckle out of it. the "bad woman" was touched on by the teacher who is also a minister and a long discussion ensued based on that – what was perceived as bad woman during those times.
while we are not marked for the stories, we get feedbacks on how best to improve the story; it also helps to spark similar stories in other people’s minds.
thank you, my friends, for your kind comments and your very generous favs on the photo. believe me when i say your support drives me to do better, both in my writing and my photography.
@joysfocus - thanks, joy. i didn't know, too! :-)
@bella_ss - when you put a hair pin through a wall socket, you'd know what electrocution is even though that's just a fraction of the real thing. :-D
@kwind - thank you, kim.
@ludwigsdiana - thank you, diana.
@Dawn - thank you, dawn.
@Weezilou - thanks, my lady!
@shannejw - thank you, shanne.
@louannwarren - thanks, law.
@30pics4jackiesdiamond - thanks, lady jackie.
@grammyn - famous or not, you will always have my autograph! thanks, girlfriend.
@henrir - you're so sweet, henri. thanks!
@farmreporter - thanks, wendy.
@taffy - thank you, miss taffy.
@helenhall - aww! helen, coming from a prolific writer such as you, i'm so humbled and flattered. thank you, my good friend.
@randystreat - thank you, kathy.
@golftragic - thank you, marnie.
@domenicododaro - thanks for the big support, DD.