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Friday, April 23, 2010

BODY LANGUAGE BLOGFEST

I'm on call tonight, and things are starting to heat up.

So I'm entering the BODY LANGUAGE BLOGFEST a little early.

And I'm truly happy to enter Harley D. Palmer 's BODY LANGUAGE BLOGFEST

http://thelabotomyofawriter.blogspot.com/2010/04/announcing-body-language-blogfest.html.

{My entry comes from my urban fantasy, FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE. At this juncture of the novel, Captain Samuel McCord, owner of the haunted jazz club, Meilori's, is heading towards the New Orleans Convention Center the first evening following Hurricane Katrina. Helpless women and children are being threatened by drunken gangsters in that maze of halls. He is going to do what he can.}

As I made my way down the flooded street towards the Convention Center, I looked up at the full moon. It seemed closer than civilization or any semblance of rescue. If there was to be any help for those suffering at the center, it would have to come from me.


As I waded along into the night, the black mists curled and creamed in the humid darkness like an unspoken fear trying to form itself on the edge of consciousness. A trick of the thick air, the moon of blood leered down upon its reflection on the dark waters of the flooded street. Ripples of its long bloody image flowed from the floating dead body of a cat, looking like fingers caressing its kill. The cat’s death apparently hadn't been pretty nor was its corpse. The night became colder than it should have been. Much, much colder.

I didn’t need Rind, the Angel of Death, to tell me that the night was not my friend. Too much death had happened too recently. Spirits, lost and angry, were walking beside me. Torn clothing. Hollow eyes of shadows. Sharp, white teeth. Long, writhing fingers slowly closing and unclosing.


Because of Rind's blood in my veins, I could see them slowly circling, hear their trailing, splashing steps behind me, feel the heat of their sunken, hungry eyes upon my back.


Were they soul-echoes, mere refracted memory of a will? Or were there such things as literal ghosts? Just because I could see them didn't mean that I understood what they were.


I turned the corner and came upon the startled, fragile grace of a too-white egret standing alert in the middle of the flooded street, staring back at me. Its long sleek neck slowly cocked its sloping head at me. Then, gathering its huge wings, it launched itself into the air with its long black legs. I saw the spirits of the dead around me longingly stare after its curved flight of grace and freedom into the dark sky.


I felt a tug on my left jacket sleeve. I looked down. My chest grew cold. The dead face of a little girl was looking up at me. Or rather the face of her lost, wandering spirit, her full black eyes glistening like twin pools of oil. Her face was a wrenching mix of fear and longing. She tried to speak. Nothing came out of her moving lips. Looking like she was on the verge of tears, she tugged on my sleeve again and pointed to the end of the block. I followed her broken-nailed finger. I shivered.


She was pointing to her own corpse.


I took in a ragged breath I didn’t need to compose myself. The Convention Center would have to wait. I had sworn a long time ago that no child would ever ask my help without getting it.


A haunted singing was faint on the breeze. Somewhere the dead had found their voices. I nodded to the girl’s spirit and waded to her corpse, the force of the rushing flood waters having washed it up onto the sidewalk and against a store front where it slowly bobbed in place. I saw the girl’s spirit out of the corner of my eye, studying the shell of flesh she had once worn. Her head was turned slightly to one side. The expression to her face was sorrowful and wistful at the same time. She pointed again.


I looked where her tiny finger was gesturing. She was pointing to her corpse, then to the sidewalk at her misty feet. She did it again. I frowned. What was she trying to tell me?


I looked up at the girl’s spirit. She just stood there frowning as if in concentration. Her brow furrowed, and her jaws clenched. I could swear beads of sweat appeared on her ghostly forehead.


She was silently crying by this time. Bending down, she kneeled by her body. She pointed again, then slid her hand under the water lapping at the sidewalk. She repeated the gesture. I frowned, not understanding what she was trying to tell me.

She made as if to scoop up her body, rose, then walked to the alleyway. She bent again as if laying something down. She turned to me, her eyes intent and begging. Her hands took the position as if she were holding a baseball bat or stick.

She cocked her head, the black tears flowing freely now. She bent again and made digging motions with the stick. I growled low at myself.

I was an idiot. She wanted to be buried. She didn't want to lie out here to be eaten by dogs ... or worse. I started to talk to her, then stopped. If she couldn't speak, maybe she couldn't hear. So I nodded.

She gave me back my frown. I pointed to her body, made my own digging motion, and nodded again. She looked like she didn't quite believe her eyes.

I gently took off my Stetson so as not to spook her, allowing the moon to show her my face clear. I put my right hand over my heart in a silent pledge, and nodded firm three times.

Her face lit up brighter than the full moon overhead. She smiled wistful and sad at me. And with that, she looked up into the night. I followed her eyes. She was looking at the retreating body of the egret slowly flying into a filmy, billowing cloud. I looked back to her spirit.

She was gone.

I sighed from the sudden emptiness hollowing out my chest. I bent down, picked up her frail corpse, and headed to the garden in the back of my jazz club. I blinked back hot tears.

I had a promise to keep.



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36 comments:

  1. I will be visiting your blog often. You certainly have a rare artistic talent for telling great stories!

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  2. Great post.
    I wanted to say thank you for supporting my daughters' book review at Paper Dolls, lovely comments. I have some awards for you at my blog:
    http://clancytales.blogspot.com/2010/04/t-is-for-timelines-and-thanks.html

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  3. Roland - You've painted a very vivid picture here, and you ceratinly have the skill of sweeping the reader up in what's happening. I want to know what's going to happen next!

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  4. delicious shivers down my spine!

    poe's poem is a propos, too...

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  5. Now ~that's~ a body-language entry! Nice job communicating with non-verbal cues.

    I wonder how often you need to do that if your story is one of cowboys & Indians.

    - Eric

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  6. I came once before to say thank you for your visit to my blog and your follow. I read your story again,Wow! I was mezmorized by your words from the beginning to the end.

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  7. Wow, what imagery!

    I don't know if you want a few suggestions, but here they are:

    "Her face looked a question at me." This reads a little awkward.

    For this paragraph, I'd make a couple of changes:

    "As I waded along into the night, the black mists curled and creamed in the humid darkness like an unspoken fear trying to form itself on the edge of consciousness. A trick of the thick air, the moon of blood leered down upon its reflection on the dark waters of the flooded street. Ripples of its long bloody image flowed from the floating dead body of a cat, looking like fingers caressing its kill. The cat’s death apparently hadn't been pretty nor was its corpse. The night became colder than it should have been. Much, much colder."


    I think mists should be singular.

    Instead of "the moon of blood", maybe the sanguine moon.

    Other suggestions:

    "eyes openly crying" sounds a little disembodied.

    Maybe you can find a different word for colder. It takes away from the prose-like quality from the rest of the piece.

    I like these bits that you share.

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  8. I like this take on Hurricane Katrina... Very creative and interesting to see it from this point of view, particularly with the richness of the description you presented. Well done.

    By the way, the photograph in your blog header is absolutely stunning. Beautiful.

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  9. You have a lot of great description here, and the world is very real for being so ghostly-- but some of the images get a little bit repetitive in this sequence.

    For example, the sentence "I followed her broken-nailed finger." is used twice in three paragraphs. You describe the moon as being of blood, and then in the next sentence talk about it's bloody reflection. I think less might be more, here. Trust your reader to see the images you're painting the first time!

    That being said, I think the emotion is spot on, and it is certainly very eerie. You have a great sense for atmosphere, and this was a nice take on the body language blogfest!

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  10. I'm so glad you found my blog which gave me the opportunity to reciprocate the follow. :)

    I absolutely loved this piece. The imagery was intense and poetic. I loved the portrayal of the little girl. Great job!! I can't wait to read more from you.

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  11. Very haunting and realistic. The poem goes well with it.

    Love your style.

    I hope you have a slow weekend.

    ......dhole

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  12. Wow, excellent. I love the egret flying away and the spirit of the little girl flying after it, once she is sure her body will be buried. Very, very nice, and definite conversation.

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  13. Nice one. Very haunting and poignant.
    Who needs dialog? You could write a whole book like this.
    Good job!

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  14. Great job! Okay the scene in my novel I found wouldn't quite work... unless I do some tweeking. I'll have mine up today. :-)

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  15. Amazing descriptions! I could tell how emotional your character felt about the experience.

    Thanks for reminding me about the blogfest. My excerpt is now posted on my blog. :)

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  16. Love the descriptions, you do that very well. My strength is more in dialogue so this blog fest was a bit challenging.

    I finally put up a short story I have written before. Check it out.

    http://www.mynewhitmanwrites.com/2010/04/accident-blogfest.html

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  17. Roland, what a master of painting the canvass with gothic images! I love the line about the fingers caressing its kill...*shudder*.

    Great job using the parameters of the challenge.

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  18. "She was pointing to her own corpse."

    WOW! Very powerful description!

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  19. New Orleans is such a great setting for a novel, especially anything dark live what you've got here. Good descriptions!

    P.s. And thanks for reminding me about this blogfest. I had totally forgotten. lol

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  20. I could just see the little girl pointing to her own corpse *shivers* eery.

    Brilliant post :~)

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  21. Wow, this was really good! Let me know when this gets published becauase I would check this book out in a heartbeat. It has the exact sort of dark, sinister feel to it that I just eat up. Thanks for popping over and following my blog. I've done the same on yours.

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  22. I still can't believe you do not have a publisher. Send an entire manuscript to Penumbra Publishing, Pat Morrison Editor: penumbrapublishing@gmail.com or check out their website at www.penumbrapublishing.com

    They will at least give you a fair read. I can't complain, Penumbra Publishing committed to my entire 13 book series in November, and my 2nd book will be out any day now.

    The worse that can happen is a rejection slip. It does not cost anything. I would love to see your work in print. I think you are really standing out, and New Orleans is a hot backdrop for your work.

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  23. Cool! I love the way they "spoke" without speaking verbally. I really like the story, too and that main character. Great entry in the body language entry.
    Ruby

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  24. Touching and spooky at the same time.
    Excellent post !

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  25. very good mood to the whole piece, excellent descriptions! Very good dialogue without words! Well done! BTW - my entry is up now.

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  26. Hi, Roland. You have an intriguing and haunting passage here. I especially love the imagery of the egret and, of course, the little girl. well done.

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  27. Great post! I really loved the emotion you presented in this scene - and of course I have to say, I can't resist a guy in a stetson!

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  28. I just read, Walter Knight's comment....

    There you go, Roland. 'You stand out'. Now get on to it ASAP!

    PS. Nice piece of writing. As always :)

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  29. *shivers* You did a great job. This is excellent!

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  30. Spine-tingling to say the least. Very good images. I could feel the fear of a city in pain. Awesome!

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  31. I really can't add anything more to what has been said. Just know that I enjoyed the tenderness in this piece. I love when the MC is as tough as he need be but still has a heart.

    Body language? It was so good I forgot to pay attention.

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  32. I thanked each and every one of you who were so gracious to comment. A very long comment. And the cyber-daemons ate it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    I do not have the heart to re-do. To everyone who cared enough to comment : Thank you.

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  33. It happened a 3rd time. I will try to split it up to see if that helps.

    All right. If you, my friends, cared enough to comment, then I care enough to be individual in my thanks. It's what Sam would have me do.

    Charity : That were so absorbed you forgot about the limits of the entry, I did my job. You're were so nice to tell me that.

    Kathi : Spine-tingling, huh. How great of you to say so.

    Danyelle : Shivers, too? You make me happy with those words. Hey, I sounded like Dexter just then, didn't I?

    Wendy : Your high praise keeps me trying. And after two rejections {one for THE BEAR WITH 2 SHADOWS, the other for FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE} that gets increasingly difficult.

    Harley : Thank you for having such an interesting blogfest. And I'm partial to Stetsons, too. I prefer mine worn by pretty cowgirls though.

    Tess : It means a lot that I can evoke haunting emotions with my imagry. Come back again.

    Sharon : Dialogue without words was a definite challenge. Thanks for thinking I passed the muster.

    Icepick : Touching and spooky were what I was aiming at. Glad you think I hit the target.

    Ruby : I'm always happy when you visit and comment. We Sci_Fi lovers have to stick together.

    Walter : I can't believe I'm not published either. But then I am a tiny bit prejudiced there. I will look into the website of Penumbra Publishing tomorrow. I sound like Scarlett O'Hara, don't I? Thanks for continuing to drop in. You're always welcome.

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  34. My Comments II of III : The Valiant Never Give Up :
    Angie : You will be one of the first I let know when I'm published. But with the two rejections I received this morning, it is truly an uphill battle.

    Mia : That my words visualized the scene in your head is quite the compliment. Thanks.

    KM : I'm glad I reminded you of this blogfest in time. Many thanks for liking my entry.

    Beth : I'm pleased you liked what you read. Don't be a stranger, hear?

    Raquel : You're a fine painter of the verbal canvas yourself. Thanks for the visit and comment.

    Myne : Your dialogue is strong. But you're no slouch at descriptions either. Come back, please.

    Amy Jo : I'm happy I was able to remind you of this little get-togther in time. Fine writing in your entry, by the way.

    Angelica : Keep your dream alive. And thanks for visiting and commenting. Come again.

    Andrew : Your last sentence lit up my whole face. Those words were especially needed after the now three rejections of this morning. Yep, a third one thudded into my heart like an arrow.

    Melanie : The scene with the egret flying away and the little girl's spirit following is one of my favorite from FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE as well. Thanks.

    Donna : Your past advise made my entry the stronger. And if you're reading this somehow, I put another music video of WITHIN TEMPTATION after Poe's poem that I think you would like.

    Gina : That you loved this piece means a lot after the three bruises I received this morning. Ouch. I'm a manly man. I only think the word "ouch." Chuck Norris would be proud of me.

    Amalia : Your advise was taken to heart, and I revised my entry accordingly. The praise that followed is partially yours. Take the deserved bow.

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  35. Comments III of III : Boy, Am I long-winded or what?

    F : Glad you liked my supernatural take on Katrina. Having walked those dark streets after that hurricane, I wanted to use what I had seen and felt in some constructive way.

    Theresa : Your advise is always welcome. How else will I be able to grow? And if you come back and re-read my entry, you will see that I took your words to heart and re-did my entry in ways in which I believe you would approve.

    Choices : That you were mesmerized means a lot to me. Come back, please.

    Eric : Thanks for the kind words. And you're right, dialogue was at a minimum in fighting Indians.

    Laughing Wolf : Shivers down the spine? Then I did my job right. Thanks.

    Margot : Thanks for visiting again. And that you want to know what happens next means a lot to me.

    Charmaine : Your daughters have a delightful blog. Congrats to them for their hard work and congrats to you for the hard work of raising young daughters. Thanks for the awards and for visiting & commenting again.

    Rita : Thanks for the kind praise. And please, do visit again.



    Angie : You will be one of the first I let know when I'm published. But with the two rejections I received this morning, it is truly an uphill battle.

    Mia : That my words visualized the scene in your head is quite the compliment. Thanks.

    KM : I'm glad I reminded you of this blogfest in time. Many thanks for liking my entry.

    Beth : I'm pleased you liked what you read. Don't be a stranger, hear?

    Raquel : You're a fine painter of the verbal canvas yourself. Thanks for the visit and comment.

    Myne : Your dialogue is strong. But you're no slouch at descriptions either. Come back, please.

    Amy Jo : I'm happy I was able to remind you of this little get-togther in time. Fine writing in your entry, by the way.

    Angelica : Keep your dream alive. And thanks for visiting and commenting. Come again.

    Andrew : Your last sentence lit up my whole face. Those words were especially needed after the now three rejections of this morning. Yep, a third one thudded into my heart like an arrow.

    Melanie : The scene with the egret flying away and the little girl's spirit following is one of my favorite from FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE as well. Thanks.

    Donna : Your past advise made my entry the stronger. And if you're reading this somehow, I put another music video of WITHIN TEMPTATION after Poe's poem that I think you would like.

    Gina : That you loved this piece means a lot after the three bruises I received this morning. Ouch. I'm a manly man. I only think the word "ouch." Chuck Norris would be proud of me.

    Amalia : Your advise was taken to heart, and I revised my entry accordingly. The praise that followed is partially yours. Take the deserved bow.

    F : Glad you liked my supernatural take on Katrina. Having walked those dark streets after that hurricane, I wanted to use what I had seen and felt in some constructive way.

    Theresa : Your advise is always welcome. How else will I be able to grow? And if you come back and re-read my entry, you will see that I took your words to heart and re-did my entry in ways in which I believe you would approve.

    Choices : That you were mesmerized means a lot to me. Come back, please.

    Eric : Thanks for the kind words. And you're right, dialogue was at a minimum in fighting Indians.

    Laughing Wolf : Shivers down the spine? Then I did my job right. Thanks.

    Margot : Thanks for visiting again. And that you want to know what happens next means a lot to me.

    Charmaine : Your daughters have a delightful blog. Congrats to them for their hard work and congrats to you for the hard work of raising young daughters. Thanks for the awards and for visiting & commenting again.

    Rita : Thanks for the kind praise. And please, do visit again.

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  36. Brilliant! Love your writing. The Katrina storyline was all too familiar as I am from Louisiana - Baton Rouge - and my brother-in-law from Slidell. He lived with us for 3 months after Katrina. Luckily his home survived but the hospital he worked at in Bay St. Louis MS was all but destroyed. The pain of those poor people...some of it still continues. Anyway, great story and wish you luck with your publishing endeavors. Don't understand why you have not been snatched up by a publisher yet!

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