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Gah.. I tried to write this a while ago, but it didn't really work, it could just be that Thwaite looks like t*** or it could just be that it's not very good.. anyhoo, I'll post it nonetheless:
Love was not a word often discussed in the Thwaite household. Robert's father sat at the head of the table in imposing silence. Today they followed their customary ritual, as they had done so every day that Robert could remember. His mother passed the meat and then the vegetables to his father, who sniffed at the carrots and declined to eat any, as he always did. Then upon receiving the tarnished silver platter of meat, Robert's father selected the choicest morsels of turkey, always placed on the top by Robert's mother. Finally he rose from his seat and crossed to the cupboard from which he took his crystal wine glass. After a short journey the glass was filled with a dull red liquid and placed on the table, where it remained untouched until Robert's mother had completed a similar process, using her own glass, and choosing the bitter white wine instead of the bitter blood red wine.
Just as Robert felt himself being drawn into his usual sequence he noticed something unusual. Through the shuttered windows shone a dusty, glaring beam of light. This was quite unprecedented in the Thwaite household. The beam had surreptitiously crept through the air to come to a stop on the plate of Robert's father. He watched as his father tried to eat with unsteady hands, as his father threw down his cutlery and rose to his feet and all the while the beam of light remained defiantly focused on the plate. Robert's father angrily walked over to the shutters, which he violently tried to close. However, the shutters were already in the closed position, the solitary beam of light was coming through a hole in the wooden lattice. Robert's father glared at the hole, willing it to close up, but it remained stubbornly in place. In a fit of rage he threw the shutters wide open, so that they clattered obnoxiously on the hard granite walls. Outside the whole world seemed to have changed.
Robert got to his feet meekly and softly made his way to the window. He carefully hoisted himself on to the window ledge so that his diminutive stature would not prevent him from seeing the full extent of the changes. Outside the window everything was bathed in the warm glow of sunlight. Trees became a lustrous green and the sky a cerulean blue. There was a lake whose halcyon waters were a golden siltly colour, and next to the lake a dusty stone wall, which stretched into the as far into the distance as Robert was able to see. Suddenly a bird darted from one tree to another, triggering a whole flock of dazzlingly coloured birds to leave the same tree. Their red and purple plumes fluttered in the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of the trees. There was an audible babbling of water, which emanated from behind the dry stone wall. Robert strained his eyes to try and catch a glimpse it but it remained tantalisingly out of sight.
Suddenly Robert's father lashed out at him and knocked him from his lofty perch. Robert fell on to his hands and knees, letting out a feeble moan as he grazed an elbow. As he lifted himself up he saw his father slam shut and bolt the shutters. Next his father took a pencil from the kitchen drawer and forced it neatly into the hole. The beam of light subsided. Robert returned wistfully to his seat at the table and began to eat his meal. His father glowered at him and Robert realised that his father had not yet begun to eat. He cowered as his father stormed back to the table and started to fiercely devour his meal. Robert looked in vain to the shuttered window. Not even a flicker of light could be seen. Robert stared gloomily at the tasteless food before him, and thought of how sterile it looked when illuminated by the harsh electric light above him. His mother looked old and wrinkled in the uncomplimentary glare, her features wilted in the uncompromising birghtness. His father's face appeared more ragged and unforgiving in this light. Robert had been amazed to see how approachable his father looked as his face had been flooded by the light outside. His features that had become softer, more friendly, now appeared even harsher to compensate for his earlier indiscretion.
With a loud buzz the electric light failed. Robert's father remained motionless. Slowly and with absolute control he rose to his feet, and moved towards the light switch. Having turned it on and off a number of times he abandoned the idea of saving the light and returned to his seat. Robert sat in the semi-darkness and glared as his father once again started his meal. He heard the clinking of cutlery as food continued to be consumed. The meal was soon to be completed. Robert jumped off his chair and started to walk to the window. His father immediately rose to block him. Robert pushed his father back and continued to walk towards the shutters. Robert's father began to roll up his sleeves in quick, measured movements. Robert ignored him and reached for the bolt on the shutters. Before he could unfasten it his father had clouted him heavily accross the back of his head. Robert moved as if to hit his father but instead turned rapidly and pulled the pencil from out of the hole. The beam of light returned and illuminated Robert's father's face. It lost its look of anger and even became remorseful. Robert turned slowly and lifted the bolt to open the shutters. He carefully opened them until light flooded the kitchen.
His father's face again hardened into a mask of pure anger. He turned and swept a hand across the table, sending carrots and crockery all over the floor. Then he picked up his wine glass and cast it down on the floor so that the crystal glass shattered into a million tiny fragments. Finally he crunched over the glass to the cupboard and proceeded to scrape all of his glasses and bottles of wine on to the floor. The light from the window illuminated each tiny shard of crystal so that it gleamed unbearably. Robert's father brought down his clenched fist hard into Robert's mother's face. She began to sob. He turned to face Robert, who towered over him ominously. He averted his eyes to the ground but felt Robert's disapproving stare burrow into him.
Red wine ran into rivulets on the tile floor and merged forever with the tears of Robert's mother. His father turned and ran out of the room. Robert looked at the glinting fragments on the floor, the crying woman who he didn't really know, the sterile food that lay abandoned in his place and turned back to the window. Outside was a whole new world. He opened the window and easily vaulted the ledge to land outside. The world opened up to him. He ran to the grey stone wall and saw that there was indeed a river behind it, whose waters glided between high banks. Robert dived into the river and having cleansed himself, climbed out on the other bank. Love was not a word often discussed in the Thwaite household, you had to discover it for yourself.
Love was not a word often discussed in the Thwaite household. Robert's father sat at the head of the table in imposing silence. Today they followed their customary ritual, as they had done so every day that Robert could remember. His mother passed the meat and then the vegetables to his father, who sniffed at the carrots and declined to eat any, as he always did. Then upon receiving the tarnished silver platter of meat, Robert's father selected the choicest morsels of turkey, always placed on the top by Robert's mother. Finally he rose from his seat and crossed to the cupboard from which he took his crystal wine glass. After a short journey the glass was filled with a dull red liquid and placed on the table, where it remained untouched until Robert's mother had completed a similar process, using her own glass, and choosing the bitter white wine instead of the bitter blood red wine.
Just as Robert felt himself being drawn into his usual sequence he noticed something unusual. Through the shuttered windows shone a dusty, glaring beam of light. This was quite unprecedented in the Thwaite household. The beam had surreptitiously crept through the air to come to a stop on the plate of Robert's father. He watched as his father tried to eat with unsteady hands, as his father threw down his cutlery and rose to his feet and all the while the beam of light remained defiantly focused on the plate. Robert's father angrily walked over to the shutters, which he violently tried to close. However, the shutters were already in the closed position, the solitary beam of light was coming through a hole in the wooden lattice. Robert's father glared at the hole, willing it to close up, but it remained stubbornly in place. In a fit of rage he threw the shutters wide open, so that they clattered obnoxiously on the hard granite walls. Outside the whole world seemed to have changed.
Robert got to his feet meekly and softly made his way to the window. He carefully hoisted himself on to the window ledge so that his diminutive stature would not prevent him from seeing the full extent of the changes. Outside the window everything was bathed in the warm glow of sunlight. Trees became a lustrous green and the sky a cerulean blue. There was a lake whose halcyon waters were a golden siltly colour, and next to the lake a dusty stone wall, which stretched into the as far into the distance as Robert was able to see. Suddenly a bird darted from one tree to another, triggering a whole flock of dazzlingly coloured birds to leave the same tree. Their red and purple plumes fluttered in the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of the trees. There was an audible babbling of water, which emanated from behind the dry stone wall. Robert strained his eyes to try and catch a glimpse it but it remained tantalisingly out of sight.
Suddenly Robert's father lashed out at him and knocked him from his lofty perch. Robert fell on to his hands and knees, letting out a feeble moan as he grazed an elbow. As he lifted himself up he saw his father slam shut and bolt the shutters. Next his father took a pencil from the kitchen drawer and forced it neatly into the hole. The beam of light subsided. Robert returned wistfully to his seat at the table and began to eat his meal. His father glowered at him and Robert realised that his father had not yet begun to eat. He cowered as his father stormed back to the table and started to fiercely devour his meal. Robert looked in vain to the shuttered window. Not even a flicker of light could be seen. Robert stared gloomily at the tasteless food before him, and thought of how sterile it looked when illuminated by the harsh electric light above him. His mother looked old and wrinkled in the uncomplimentary glare, her features wilted in the uncompromising birghtness. His father's face appeared more ragged and unforgiving in this light. Robert had been amazed to see how approachable his father looked as his face had been flooded by the light outside. His features that had become softer, more friendly, now appeared even harsher to compensate for his earlier indiscretion.
With a loud buzz the electric light failed. Robert's father remained motionless. Slowly and with absolute control he rose to his feet, and moved towards the light switch. Having turned it on and off a number of times he abandoned the idea of saving the light and returned to his seat. Robert sat in the semi-darkness and glared as his father once again started his meal. He heard the clinking of cutlery as food continued to be consumed. The meal was soon to be completed. Robert jumped off his chair and started to walk to the window. His father immediately rose to block him. Robert pushed his father back and continued to walk towards the shutters. Robert's father began to roll up his sleeves in quick, measured movements. Robert ignored him and reached for the bolt on the shutters. Before he could unfasten it his father had clouted him heavily accross the back of his head. Robert moved as if to hit his father but instead turned rapidly and pulled the pencil from out of the hole. The beam of light returned and illuminated Robert's father's face. It lost its look of anger and even became remorseful. Robert turned slowly and lifted the bolt to open the shutters. He carefully opened them until light flooded the kitchen.
His father's face again hardened into a mask of pure anger. He turned and swept a hand across the table, sending carrots and crockery all over the floor. Then he picked up his wine glass and cast it down on the floor so that the crystal glass shattered into a million tiny fragments. Finally he crunched over the glass to the cupboard and proceeded to scrape all of his glasses and bottles of wine on to the floor. The light from the window illuminated each tiny shard of crystal so that it gleamed unbearably. Robert's father brought down his clenched fist hard into Robert's mother's face. She began to sob. He turned to face Robert, who towered over him ominously. He averted his eyes to the ground but felt Robert's disapproving stare burrow into him.
Red wine ran into rivulets on the tile floor and merged forever with the tears of Robert's mother. His father turned and ran out of the room. Robert looked at the glinting fragments on the floor, the crying woman who he didn't really know, the sterile food that lay abandoned in his place and turned back to the window. Outside was a whole new world. He opened the window and easily vaulted the ledge to land outside. The world opened up to him. He ran to the grey stone wall and saw that there was indeed a river behind it, whose waters glided between high banks. Robert dived into the river and having cleansed himself, climbed out on the other bank. Love was not a word often discussed in the Thwaite household, you had to discover it for yourself.
Yeah I didn't like that but I thought the son might appear as a hypocrite if he attacked his father. But then maybe he should have been. I don't know.. this story annoyed me because it could have been good but no matter what I change it doesn't feel right.. On the plus side you do get a role reversal between the father and son, one growing in stature and the other shrinking, though that was largely accidental :-)
Thanks for reading
Thanks for reading
Sun/son... heh. :0)
Interesting to read, definitely... but it's the ending that gets me. After being looked upon by his sun, it just didn't really... I don't know. It felt odd to have him run out of the room, almost like a child, compared to the actions that came before. Not sure if that's what you were going for actually... but it just felt a little loose. Meh, but that's me. :0)
Thanks for posting it anyway, always love reading your stuff.
Thanks for posting it anyway, always love reading your stuff.
Gah.. I tried to write this a while ago, but it didn't really work, it could just be that Thwaite looks like t*** or it could just be that it's not very good.. anyhoo, I'll post it nonetheless:
Love was not a word often discussed in the Thwaite household. Robert's father sat at the head of the table in imposing silence. Today they followed their customary ritual, as they had done so every day that Robert could remember. His mother passed the meat and then the vegetables to his father, who sniffed at the carrots and declined to eat any, as he always did. Then upon receiving the tarnished silver platter of meat, Robert's father selected the choicest morsels of turkey, always placed on the top by Robert's mother. Finally he rose from his seat and crossed to the cupboard from which he took his crystal wine glass. After a short journey the glass was filled with a dull red liquid and placed on the table, where it remained untouched until Robert's mother had completed a similar process, using her own glass, and choosing the bitter white wine instead of the bitter blood red wine.
Just as Robert felt himself being drawn into his usual sequence he noticed something unusual. Through the shuttered windows shone a dusty, glaring beam of light. This was quite unprecedented in the Thwaite household. The beam had surreptitiously crept through the air to come to a stop on the plate of Robert's father. He watched as his father tried to eat with unsteady hands, as his father threw down his cutlery and rose to his feet and all the while the beam of light remained defiantly focused on the plate. Robert's father angrily walked over to the shutters, which he violently tried to close. However, the shutters were already in the closed position, the solitary beam of light was coming through a hole in the wooden lattice. Robert's father glared at the hole, willing it to close up, but it remained stubbornly in place. In a fit of rage he threw the shutters wide open, so that they clattered obnoxiously on the hard granite walls. Outside the whole world seemed to have changed.
Robert got to his feet meekly and softly made his way to the window. He carefully hoisted himself on to the window ledge so that his diminutive stature would not prevent him from seeing the full extent of the changes. Outside the window everything was bathed in the warm glow of sunlight. Trees became a lustrous green and the sky a cerulean blue. There was a lake whose halcyon waters were a golden siltly colour, and next to the lake a dusty stone wall, which stretched into the as far into the distance as Robert was able to see. Suddenly a bird darted from one tree to another, triggering a whole flock of dazzlingly coloured birds to leave the same tree. Their red and purple plumes fluttered in the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of the trees. There was an audible babbling of water, which emanated from behind the dry stone wall. Robert strained his eyes to try and catch a glimpse it but it remained tantalisingly out of sight.
Suddenly Robert's father lashed out at him and knocked him from his lofty perch. Robert fell on to his hands and knees, letting out a feeble moan as he grazed an elbow. As he lifted himself up he saw his father slam shut and bolt the shutters. Next his father took a pencil from the kitchen drawer and forced it neatly into the hole. The beam of light subsided. Robert returned wistfully to his seat at the table and began to eat his meal. His father glowered at him and Robert realised that his father had not yet begun to eat. He cowered as his father stormed back to the table and started to fiercely devour his meal. Robert looked in vain to the shuttered window. Not even a flicker of light could be seen. Robert stared gloomily at the tasteless food before him, and thought of how sterile it looked when illuminated by the harsh electric light above him. His mother looked old and wrinkled in the uncomplimentary glare, her features wilted in the uncompromising birghtness. His father's face appeared more ragged and unforgiving in this light. Robert had been amazed to see how approachable his father looked as his face had been flooded by the light outside. His features that had become softer, more friendly, now appeared even harsher to compensate for his earlier indiscretion.
With a loud buzz the electric light failed. Robert's father remained motionless. Slowly and with absolute control he rose to his feet, and moved towards the light switch. Having turned it on and off a number of times he abandoned the idea of saving the light and returned to his seat. Robert sat in the semi-darkness and glared as his father once again started his meal. He heard the clinking of cutlery as food continued to be consumed. The meal was soon to be completed. Robert jumped off his chair and started to walk to the window. His father immediately rose to block him. Robert pushed his father back and continued to walk towards the shutters. Robert's father began to roll up his sleeves in quick, measured movements. Robert ignored him and reached for the bolt on the shutters. Before he could unfasten it his father had clouted him heavily accross the back of his head. Robert moved as if to hit his father but instead turned rapidly and pulled the pencil from out of the hole. The beam of light returned and illuminated Robert's father's face. It lost its look of anger and even became remorseful. Robert turned slowly and lifted the bolt to open the shutters. He carefully opened them until light flooded the kitchen.
His father's face again hardened into a mask of pure anger. He turned and swept a hand across the table, sending carrots and crockery all over the floor. Then he picked up his wine glass and cast it down on the floor so that the crystal glass shattered into a million tiny fragments. Finally he crunched over the glass to the cupboard and proceeded to scrape all of his glasses and bottles of wine on to the floor. The light from the window illuminated each tiny shard of crystal so that it gleamed unbearably. Robert's father brought down his clenched fist hard into Robert's mother's face. She began to sob. He turned to face Robert, who towered over him ominously. He averted his eyes to the ground but felt Robert's disapproving stare burrow into him.
Red wine ran into rivulets on the tile floor and merged forever with the tears of Robert's mother. His father turned and ran out of the room. Robert looked at the glinting fragments on the floor, the crying woman who he didn't really know, the sterile food that lay abandoned in his place and turned back to the window. Outside was a whole new world. He opened the window and easily vaulted the ledge to land outside. The world opened up to him. He ran to the grey stone wall and saw that there was indeed a river behind it, whose waters glided between high banks. Robert dived into the river and having cleansed himself, climbed out on the other bank. Love was not a word often discussed in the Thwaite household, you had to discover it for yourself.
Love was not a word often discussed in the Thwaite household. Robert's father sat at the head of the table in imposing silence. Today they followed their customary ritual, as they had done so every day that Robert could remember. His mother passed the meat and then the vegetables to his father, who sniffed at the carrots and declined to eat any, as he always did. Then upon receiving the tarnished silver platter of meat, Robert's father selected the choicest morsels of turkey, always placed on the top by Robert's mother. Finally he rose from his seat and crossed to the cupboard from which he took his crystal wine glass. After a short journey the glass was filled with a dull red liquid and placed on the table, where it remained untouched until Robert's mother had completed a similar process, using her own glass, and choosing the bitter white wine instead of the bitter blood red wine.
Just as Robert felt himself being drawn into his usual sequence he noticed something unusual. Through the shuttered windows shone a dusty, glaring beam of light. This was quite unprecedented in the Thwaite household. The beam had surreptitiously crept through the air to come to a stop on the plate of Robert's father. He watched as his father tried to eat with unsteady hands, as his father threw down his cutlery and rose to his feet and all the while the beam of light remained defiantly focused on the plate. Robert's father angrily walked over to the shutters, which he violently tried to close. However, the shutters were already in the closed position, the solitary beam of light was coming through a hole in the wooden lattice. Robert's father glared at the hole, willing it to close up, but it remained stubbornly in place. In a fit of rage he threw the shutters wide open, so that they clattered obnoxiously on the hard granite walls. Outside the whole world seemed to have changed.
Robert got to his feet meekly and softly made his way to the window. He carefully hoisted himself on to the window ledge so that his diminutive stature would not prevent him from seeing the full extent of the changes. Outside the window everything was bathed in the warm glow of sunlight. Trees became a lustrous green and the sky a cerulean blue. There was a lake whose halcyon waters were a golden siltly colour, and next to the lake a dusty stone wall, which stretched into the as far into the distance as Robert was able to see. Suddenly a bird darted from one tree to another, triggering a whole flock of dazzlingly coloured birds to leave the same tree. Their red and purple plumes fluttered in the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of the trees. There was an audible babbling of water, which emanated from behind the dry stone wall. Robert strained his eyes to try and catch a glimpse it but it remained tantalisingly out of sight.
Suddenly Robert's father lashed out at him and knocked him from his lofty perch. Robert fell on to his hands and knees, letting out a feeble moan as he grazed an elbow. As he lifted himself up he saw his father slam shut and bolt the shutters. Next his father took a pencil from the kitchen drawer and forced it neatly into the hole. The beam of light subsided. Robert returned wistfully to his seat at the table and began to eat his meal. His father glowered at him and Robert realised that his father had not yet begun to eat. He cowered as his father stormed back to the table and started to fiercely devour his meal. Robert looked in vain to the shuttered window. Not even a flicker of light could be seen. Robert stared gloomily at the tasteless food before him, and thought of how sterile it looked when illuminated by the harsh electric light above him. His mother looked old and wrinkled in the uncomplimentary glare, her features wilted in the uncompromising birghtness. His father's face appeared more ragged and unforgiving in this light. Robert had been amazed to see how approachable his father looked as his face had been flooded by the light outside. His features that had become softer, more friendly, now appeared even harsher to compensate for his earlier indiscretion.
With a loud buzz the electric light failed. Robert's father remained motionless. Slowly and with absolute control he rose to his feet, and moved towards the light switch. Having turned it on and off a number of times he abandoned the idea of saving the light and returned to his seat. Robert sat in the semi-darkness and glared as his father once again started his meal. He heard the clinking of cutlery as food continued to be consumed. The meal was soon to be completed. Robert jumped off his chair and started to walk to the window. His father immediately rose to block him. Robert pushed his father back and continued to walk towards the shutters. Robert's father began to roll up his sleeves in quick, measured movements. Robert ignored him and reached for the bolt on the shutters. Before he could unfasten it his father had clouted him heavily accross the back of his head. Robert moved as if to hit his father but instead turned rapidly and pulled the pencil from out of the hole. The beam of light returned and illuminated Robert's father's face. It lost its look of anger and even became remorseful. Robert turned slowly and lifted the bolt to open the shutters. He carefully opened them until light flooded the kitchen.
His father's face again hardened into a mask of pure anger. He turned and swept a hand across the table, sending carrots and crockery all over the floor. Then he picked up his wine glass and cast it down on the floor so that the crystal glass shattered into a million tiny fragments. Finally he crunched over the glass to the cupboard and proceeded to scrape all of his glasses and bottles of wine on to the floor. The light from the window illuminated each tiny shard of crystal so that it gleamed unbearably. Robert's father brought down his clenched fist hard into Robert's mother's face. She began to sob. He turned to face Robert, who towered over him ominously. He averted his eyes to the ground but felt Robert's disapproving stare burrow into him.
Red wine ran into rivulets on the tile floor and merged forever with the tears of Robert's mother. His father turned and ran out of the room. Robert looked at the glinting fragments on the floor, the crying woman who he didn't really know, the sterile food that lay abandoned in his place and turned back to the window. Outside was a whole new world. He opened the window and easily vaulted the ledge to land outside. The world opened up to him. He ran to the grey stone wall and saw that there was indeed a river behind it, whose waters glided between high banks. Robert dived into the river and having cleansed himself, climbed out on the other bank. Love was not a word often discussed in the Thwaite household, you had to discover it for yourself.