Creative Response: Caroline Barr

Dear Class,

            This piece was written for our first creative response, therefore it focuses on wartime London (particularly, WWII).  I wanted this to just be a snapshot of a night in two people’s lives, and overall I feel like it’s working! I’m fairly proud of myself for writing a setting in the past, and I think I've managed to capture believable dialogue.

I feel like my characters are rounded/clear, but I want to make sure that is true and not just in my head, mainly with Will. Also, I want to know whether or not the line of poetry at the end works (again, I get what I’m saying with it, but I want to know how it comes off to everyone else!) Overall, I really enjoy writing with ambiguity, but I know sometimes I can be too vague and leave out too much – so I just want to know if that’s something working here or something I need to change!

Thankyou,
            Caroline

everywhere descending;

            There was something eerily beautiful about the way the brassy music bounced off the wall of the Underground.  It seemed like a memory, an echo, of something passed rather than the current life it still possessed and gave to those who were still dancing.  Here in the depths below the city there were no sounds of distant bombs dropping or airplanes whirring above.  The war was drowned out by trumpets, feet tapping, laughing, and a raspy voice from a dark man in a white suit.  Here with the twinkling lights – maybe few, but bright – there was no trace of what went on above, except for maybe a slight rumble trembling through the floor.  But maybe it was just a train, just a train. 

            Moving away from the lights and music, Alice and Will half walked, half stumbled through a narrow passage of the Covent Garden station.  Alice laced the fingers of both her hands through his right hand, holding his arm tight to her side hoping he’d notice her dress was made of silk.  Will’s undershirt was partly un-tucked from his uniform trousers, his suspenders hung at his sides, and with every step and laugh the left buckle swung and clicked against the tiles on the wall. Alice turned to walk backwards, facing Will and pulling his hand along with her towards the stairs.

            “Hey, William, let’s go shopping, huh?  Not real shopping, window shopping. Let’s see what we could buy when we’re done with this old war!”

            “You wanna go out upstairs? I thought we were down here for a reason?” He teased her.

            Alice hopped up two stairs to be even with his height. “I’m not afraid,” she raised an eyebrow as if to ask if maybe he was.  Will rolled his eyes and Alice began tugging him by the arm towards the night above.

            The square was how it always was – dusty, but, so far, untouched by any sort of detonation, and quiet.  Will put his arm around Alice’s shoulders as they approached a darkened store window, only lit by a single street lamp and a barely there moon. 

            “Oh, William, look at that little purse! The black one with pearls? Can’t you just see me walking next to you with that darling little purse in my hands?”

            “Where would you take a bag like that?  Seems fancy.”

            “Why, maybe we could be going to the theatre! You do like the theatre, don’t you?” Will found this endearing, her optimistic eagerness.

            “We don’t really have theatre at home like you do here,” at this Alice deflated slightly, “but I’m sure I’d like it.”

            “Well, of course you would, William,” Alice shrugged and scanned the display of women’s accessories.  A few moments passed in silence as Will thought about how his sister would probably like a new pair of stockings like the ones draped across a box set of perfume.

            “Why do you keep calling me ‘William’? No one calls me that.”

            “All your mail from home is addressed to ‘William,’ silly,” Alice took no care in his question.  Will had forgotten he had met her at the post office where she worked.  Maybe she could manage to send his sister the stockings.

            It began to rain lightly and they moved from the window under the awning above the store’s entrance.  Alice spun around to face Will, leaning against the door, “Do tell me, where are you going off to next?”

            “I can’t tell you, you know I can’t,” Will wasn’t frustrated, despite this being the fourth time he’d had to give this answer to her, “I wish I could, Alice, but I can’t.”

            Alice sighed, knowing this would be his response. “What can you tell me then?”

            Here, in the usual way this conversation played out, Will would say he loved her.  But, this time he thought about how his sister wouldn’t have wanted a black purse with pearls. He looked at Alice’s expectant smile, placed his palms beneath hers, and said the only thing he truly meant.  “I can tell you that nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.”