stuck at home today, i was cleaning out and organizing some files on my computer when i came across something i wrote 10 years ago for my junior english class. the assignment was to retell a fairy tale or well-known story in the style of an american author. and here is mine:

I saw the green thing in the distance. We walked toward the green thing. We walked toward it through the red flowers. They smelled good. Dorothy held my hand and we walked together. Then she let go and I tripped. I saw red shapes. I tried to stand, and I fell onto the grass with the red flowers. I felt tired and started to cry.
“Stop your snivellin.” said the grey man with the ax. “Your stuffings comin out.”
I stopped crying and got up. The lion looked at me and gave me a flower to play with. The flower was pretty and I liked holding it. Then I got tired and fell down again. I dropped the flower, and I tried to cry. I opened my mouth and made a noise.
Dorothy came to me. “What is it. Are you hurt.” said Dorothy. I tried to say. She pulled me up and put straw in my sleeve. Dorothy held my hand again. Dorothy smelled like flowers. Dorothy held my hand and I stopped crying.
“I’ll show you what I can do, my pretty.” said the lady in the big black hat. I reached for the place where it was warm. I pulled my hand back and there was fire. Dorothy screamed.
“Put it out.” Dorothy said. Her voice was loud. Then my voice was loud. The lady in the black hat laughed. She laughed and laughed, and then she went away.
“Hush now.” Dorothy said. “You are alright. I’ll take care of you.”
“You are alright.” Dorothy said. “I have to go away now, but I’ll never forget you.” Dorothy held me. She didn’t smell like flowers and I started crying. Dorothy’s eyes got red, and she let go and went to the big red balloon. I reached for her, but I couldn’t touch her, and I cried and cried.
“Stop that moaning.” said the grey man with the ax. “How can anyone get anything done with you whining all the time.” The grey man with the ax glared at Dorothy.
Dorothy pressed my hand and I was quiet. She smelled like flowers. She picked up the flower I dropped and gave it to me. Dorothy yawned. We walked through the red flowers toward the green thing and I got tired. The man with the ax layed down in the flowers and tried to sleep. The grey man with the ax layed down, and then Dorothy layed down. She pulled me next to her. She smelled like flowers. The lion tried to pull Dorothy up. He tugged at her arm, and he couldn’t keep her up. Then he layed down and went to sleep.
The birds screamed. The birds flew around my head and I got scared. Then Dorothy uncaught me, and she pulled me from the big stick I hung on, and the birds went away. I liked Dorothy. She was pretty and smelled like flowers.
“Who are you.” Dorothy said. I tried to say. “Who are you.” Dorothy said. I opened my mouth and tried to say. “You dont have a brain, do you.” Dorothy said. I made a sound.
“Dont worry.” Dorothy said. “I’ll take you with me to the wizard. We’ll take care of you.” Her voice was like wind.
The wind was cold. I opened my eyes and mouth, and I felt something cold and wet go in. Then my mouth was cold. I looked and there was white on the red flowers. Then the white covered up the red, and I started crying. I couldn’t smell the flowers.
“Get up, you idiot.” said the grey man with the ax.
“Leave him alone.” Dorothy said. She reached for me. “You’ve got to get up.” Dorothy said. “It’s too cold for you in the snow.” She pulled me up.
The lion was already up. He looked at Dorothy. He looked sad.
I got up and we walked toward the green thing through the white.

I walked through the forest, and the shadows of the trees, casting some sort of divine judgement upon me, appeared to follow me wherever I walked. The wind was cold, and I remembered what I had done wrong. My paws were dirty, and I proceeded to clean them, but I couldn’t get them clean enough. They were stained red. The red of poppies. Poppies. Poppies for anyone but her. Courage was not mine. It was the tin-man’s. Let him have it. Do you have it? Do you?
I never had it. Because the wizard said he couldn’t give it to me anyway. He said if I were to ever have it, I’d have to get it myself he said. He said men lie about being cowards.
The shadows followed me. Followed me out of the forest and into the field. Yes. That’s what happened. The shadows followed me into the poppies. That’s why she fell asleep. The shadows. No, I remember, the shadows came after the poppies.
I licked my paws again, but they wouldn’t come clean. Only red. Red. Red.
Why did she lay down in the field and not in the palace? Why?
And after I watched my shadow on the leaves, I saw it. I saw him. The other lion leaped from the bushes and took his prey. What did I do wrong? I should have killed all of them. I did.
The witch hurt her, but I should have done it. I should have eaten her, but I couldn’t. If only I could say Witch. We were all wrong to her. All four of us. But she said get Dorothy out of my land she said.
In the shadow of one particular tree, I saw a red apple. I took it in my paws. I knew it would taste good, but then the red became brighter, and I couldn’t eat it. Couldn’t eat it. The red. The red on her. Would she have eaten the apple?
I wanted to talk with you I said and he said he knew
he said he knew everything he said
I said wizard, why am I so afraid
and casually he said everyone is
But why am I a coward when I am a lion I said
he said you’ll find out some day he said
and I please help me find strength and he strength is only yours to find and I why did she do it and he because it is like a woman to succumb to spells and I why couldn’t I stop it and he you tried and I I just couldn’t get her up and he I know and I I failed and he she’s not your responsibility and I why couldn’t I eat her then and he did you want to and I no and he you worry too much and I I only want to be what is expected and he there is your mistake
Red poppies. Red on my hands. Red. Red. Red.

Once a bitch always a bitch, what I say. She should work like me, cutting down apple trees all day long, instead of wearing those damn gawdy-looking, ruby-colored shoes. She goes tripping down that yellow-brick road with that idiot of hers and that feeble feline and expects me to believe in her schemes. I’ll drink to that! I don’t need a heart anyway. I’ll get everything I need when I sell those apples of mine. Still she says,
“But you’ve got to come with us to see the wizard–”
“What do I need with a wizard?” I ask her.
She thought about it for awhile.
“If you don’t have a heart, then you’ll never love.”
I reply that I don’t need love either and that she better stop bothering me or I’m liable to knock her upside-the-head with the butt of my ax. You see, no one ever appreciates the simple fact that I need to work. I need to work all the time, and I don’t need to be trapsing off to any damn Emerald Cities anytime soon.
I start to think about the witch, though. She’s pretty old. Obviously, the old bag’s gonna die soon. Moreover, she can’t be too quick on her feet or with that broom of hers. If I were to go with the stooges, I may have myself a chance at the witch and her treasure.
So, I went with them. Mind you, it was irratating as hell. The fool was always moaning and crying and losing his straw-stuffing, and the lion was always worrying about his shadow or his dirty paws or something. I’ll tell you something, though. Those paws were more worthless than dirty to me. That lion probably never worked a day in his life, let alone ever killed anything.
As we were making our way to Emerald City, it rained. Of course, you know that rain is just about the worse damn thing that can possibly happen to me. That’s my luck for you. But that Dorothy didn’t help my luck none too much, either.
I never did get any money from that witch, or even the heart that was promised me. I didn’t get nothing at all, as usual. It just goes to show you that you’ve got to depend on yourself, ’cause no one else out there will be looking after you if you don’t. I’m just happy that that girl is gone for good over that goddamned rainbow. Now I can get back to my own affairs.

it’s fairly easy to guess which novel i was imitating. please be kind, as i was 17 when i wrote this…


~ by ladamesansregrets on November 29, 2007.

One Response to “mem’ries”

  1. wow. that was fun. thanks.


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