Short Story Writing

Turned Blue

     I told it I was lost in a dark hole; no one can hear me and I can not even hear myself. The place is lifeless; I do not see anything around me except black emptiness. I told it the place was beginning to scare me because I could not find the exit sign, a door that led out of this place. I asked it if I was ever going to get out, get away from this one memory. That memory flashed in front of me in an a manner so insidious and imminent. Every time it popped up, I jumped, and it seemed to silently laugh at me, pulling me deeper into a feeling of devilish fear.

     Everything is very confusing from where I stand. I keep asking it questions but it never replies; it only chuckles maliciously. His face is part of that memory. It's the only vivid thing out of the whole memory; everything else is vague, blurry. I think he was angry with me, but I can not be sure of it. His eyes were red with fury and it was like he was under a trance of some sort.

     Again, I ask it what was wrong with the man, but nothing.

     I think I was on the ground because he loomed over me, like a skyscraper over a city. He yelled and whispered and I tried to listen attentively, but I could not hear; I was focused on something else, a sharp shooting pain sent right through my body like a knife in the heart.

     Again, I ask it what the man was saying, but nothing. I asked why I felt a pain, but nothing.

     My hair is mangled, full of leaves and dirt. The perfect curls are gone and it makes me very sad; I had gotten so many compliments on my hair that day and now they will no longer think I am pretty. He doesn't have nice hair like me. Even though it is dark, I can still see his hair, it's gray. But, before, it was not that color.

     Again, I ask it how this has happened, but nothing.

     Extreme loneliness creeps up on me. All I have is that memory and all I want is for it to go away. So many parts are missing and I can not figure it out. Was I put in this place to find these missing pieces? Is someone looking for them? Who could it be? It laughs loudly at me now, laughing at my thoughts. It can hear me thinking. Why won't it answer my questions? Why is this all so funny to it? It continues to laugh as my questions pass in front of me through the dark hole frantically. I start to feel something wet on me and my vision blurs. Streams of salty water are falling down upon me, but I can not seem to find where they are coming from. I think my body is numb because I can not feel anything. In fact, nothing is moving.

     Again, I ask it why I can not move, but nothing. I ask what is going on, but nothing.

     “You,”, I scream. “You, filthy little girl. How could you lie to me? Now everything is messed up. This is not how it was supposed to turn out. I hope you know you made me do it.”

     Once a beautiful, vibrant girl, she lies in the woods on the cold ground. But, she would never again notice how cold the floor is.

     I frantically pace back and forth in front of her. I'm sweating bullets but it is 23 degrees outside. I can not explain what happened that night. Everything happened so fast. My hands are frozen in a layer of warm red liquid. My head hurts and I can feel the blood dripping down my cheek.

     As usual, she had come over earlier that night. She acted normal, as if I did not know her dirty little secret. But I had found out and I was furious. I heard her voice and her arms wrapped around me in a hug. That is when I lost it. My pulse was racing. As soon as I had lost it, I was back to normal, as normal as I find myself to be. The carpet was soiled, glass was everywhere, the walls spun like a carousal. It was over; everything was over and I sighed with relief. Now, no one would know what we had.

     “Silly little girl.”

     I shot up from what little sleep I had gotten. It finally answered me.

     “You know that face very well. Remember. Pull that night out of the back of your mind. Come on, you know everything that you have done.”

     I listened. I started to shake with anxiety and fear. I could not find where the voice was coming from. But, it did not matter, I had to remember, just like it told me.

     It was dark and I thought really hard this time. His face appeared in front of me. I knew him. I loved him. But, he lied to me. I was young and naive, but to me, it did not matter. It was just a number that kept us apart now that he knew, now that I knew. Before, I thought he knew because he was different. That night when I went over, his hair was not brown anymore; it was gray. I was so blinded by my fake life I was living, I did not even recognize the change.

     I was so confused. Why had things suddenly changed that night between us that night.

     “You know what you did to him. It is your fault. He did not lie to you, you lied to him. Remember?”

But, I did not lie to him. I thought he knew who I was. I thought he lied to me because he was not the person I found him to be before.

     I could not think anymore. I fell deeper into the dark hole.

    “You need to remember. Think, and think harder than before.”

     I hear it again. It is trying to help me; at least I think it is.

     I see the same picture again. I am on the ground; he is standing over me. He keeps talking about a flower. It was so beautiful and lively. But, it was deceitful and complex and now everything has changed now that he knows the flower's story. I can see that white orchid in his hands. Those are my favorite flowers. This one, however, is destroyed. The man is mad and upset about it. Had he known the true identity of the orchid, he would not be here now.

     Again, I ask it what the flower has done; it is just a flower. I ask why he destroyed the flower. Nothing but a silent whisper.

     I plead this time. I need to know. It answers.

     “It is not just a white orchid, child. This man was in love with a girl he should never had loved. She was blinded by a haze of desire. She lied to him, but she did not even know she was lying; to her, it was reality. So did he. They saw each other as people of different identities. To him, she was a grown woman with great ambitions. To her, he was her prince charming who swept her off her feet when they met at a high school football game. Put it together, girl.”

     I began to picture it again. What reality was real? The young girl's reality or the older man's reality? I feared I would never figure it out. I wondered, but, why was I here? What did any of this have to do with me? Why was it showing me this picture and why am I in this dark hole watching it?

It laughed at these thoughts I had.

     “Silly girl.”

     I could not move or scream. I wanted to squirm myself away from here and as hard as I tried, I could not call for help. But, then, it started to hit and it hit me hard. I realized that I had everything to do with this picture I saw over and over again. I began to realize that I was that white orchid turned blue. Then, it all slipped away from me and soon, I slipped away with it.

Short Story Lyrics

"Blue Orchid"

Artist: The White Stripes

Album: Get Behind Me Satin

You got a reaction
You got a reaction, didn't you?
You took a white orchid
You took a white orchid turned it blue

Something better than nothing
Something better than nothing, it's giving up
We all need to do something
Try to keep the truth from showing up

How dare you
How old are you now, anyway?
How dare you
How old are you now, anyway?

You're given a flower
But I guess there's just no pleasing you
Your lip tastes sour
But you think that it's just me teasing you

You got a reaction
You got a reaction, didn't you?
You took a white orchid
You took a white orchid turned it blue

Get behind me
Get behind me now, anyway
Get behind me
Get behind me now, anyway

You got a reaction
You got a reaction, didn't you?
You took a white orchid
You took a white orchid turned it blue

Song Analysis Two Writing

      Musically speaking, the 1970’s were marked by an explosion of artists and shining creativity with poetry of song and storytelling with instruments. It became a time of breakout artists, as it was the first time in history that record labels made money for producing music. They forged their names on their own work and their own project. Money was being transferred and bands and artists were coming out of the wood-work like no one had ever seen before. Fueled by drugs, haste, and pain, a particular band came together as “a marquee combo with true superpowers”, as so put by Rolling Stones, and forever became a rare thing in super groups. This band played with a virtuosity of blues like never heard before that was fueled with the affliction and longing present in Southern Rock and Blues. Men that had just become exiles from their previously disbanded bands were united under the title of Derek and the Dominos. Within a six week period, during the late summer of 1970, they recorded the album so famously named Layla and Other Assorted Drugs, which is now one of “rock's greatest broken promises” (Rolling Stones). The true, belting treble-despair was real and the songwriter hit a sumptuous course of honesty and “an immortal lick” (Rolling Stones) with the songs produced on the album. One specific song spoke of Eric Clapton's built up agony over a woman who he so loved in vain. In the song “Layla”, Eric Clapton gives his account of this varied allusive narrative anchored by pleading apostrophe and crying imagery in words and guitar in order to provoke deep emotional sentiments belonging to a vain, secret love affair.

The name Layla is not just any name and is not just that of any girl. The name Layla itself stems from a book written by a Persian poet, Nizami. The book was so named Layla and Majnun; it told a story about a man who loved a woman with whom he could not be with due to her parents disapproval. Eric Clapton favored the story; he enjoyed and connected with the novel's theme of unattainable love. He alludes to the title and its story by symbolically naming his modern-day song “Layla”. However, the allusive story behind the song is that of an entirely different story from that of the novel. The name Layla represents Pattie Boyd, wife of Beatles George Harrison, with whom Eric Clapton was involved in a scandalous love affair. It is achingly sorry for Clapton, for Harrison had been his best friend at the time and he was profoundly in love with his wife. Clapton had made it clear about his love for Boyd, but she was uncertain if she wished to enter into such a thing. When the song went public, so did the love, and it made things clearer for Boyd and Clapton.

The emphasis and direction of the song is evident through the use of strong apostrophe. When the song was first written, the intention of the song was not to create a story for the audience to enjoy. The purpose of the song was to directly express the author's feelings for this particular woman. The song genuinely speaks to her. Clapton calls her by name all throughout the chorus, pleading with this woman he calls “Layla” (Chorus/Lines 5-7). He asks her questions and tells her about the things she is doing to him. Every single line contains the word “you” in it, or some form other than the indicative word. The use of apostrophe is the device used; without it, the song loses its meaning and purpose. The purpose of the song is to speak to this woman, to pledge his love for her. But, holding it all together is the usage of apostrophe. Clapton's direct and stern voice, alongside his pleading apostrophe, gives this song the much needed stability to serve its intended purpose.

Working to paint a picture of the emotions and sense behind this situation is the device of imagery. The imagery used is complex; it is the work of synethesia imagery, with overlapping senses appealing to sound, sight, and sense. The imagery overwhelms the listener, evoking varying emotions so deep and intense. The listener gets the experience of the thought-provoking imagery in the lyrics and the mastery and virtuosity of the guitar and piano, especially the exiting solos. Clapton paints the picture of man, presumably himself, crying and pleading for this woman that he loves in vain. He tells her “you've got me on my knees./I'm begging, darling please./darling won't you ease my worried mind.” (Stanza 2/ Lines 5-7) The audience pictures this poor man, just yearning for his loved one; sympathy and sadness is evoked in his words, which is his intent for the girl he is singing to. By falling in love with her, his life has been changed: “Like a fool, I fell in love with you,/Turned my whole world upside down.” (Stanza 3/Lines 10-11) His life is spiraling out of control; this is the last effort for this man to get what he desires. He knows what has happened is not right, but it is all at once. It creates this sense of paradox that is hard for him to deal with. The entire song lyrically is imagery; everything he sings to this girl evokes a picture or emotion. And to strengthen the lyrical imagery, the incorporation of guitar and piano paint an entirely different story that corresponds with Clapton's. Bringing in Duane Allman, who comes from a band that sings almost entirely of unrequited love, gives the song depth. Clapton is thought to be one of the best guitar players of his time; Allman may have been just as good, if not better. His guitar cries and aches as he plays. He plays notes that do not exist, as Clapton put it, which contents to the non-connection between Clapton and the girl. The notes that do not exist but are somehow played almost symbolically represent and correspond to the affair that should not exist, but somehow it does. In the end, Clapton plays his acoustic and Allman plays his electric and the two twining guitars, instrumentally, bring this song to a whole new level of meaning. They are totally different, but are coming together, again painting a symbolic picture of this affair. And to end the song, there is piano solo, which has come to known as one the most famous piano exits. The piano brings in another type of instrument story, as the sounds created for this song are softer and more delicate. The beginning of the song was strong and edgy, forceful, with the yelling, crying lyrics and guitars; the end is more geared toward softness. He does not want to completely push away this woman. He wants to give his authority to her, but to still, in way, say he comforts her and her delicate feelings with the ending piano solo. In another way, the beginning and end of the song contrast with a male and a female figure, strong and soft, as stereotypical as it is. To what it symbolically represents is unclear.

Eric Clapton achieved an emotional and mental challenge with writing the song “Layla.” He is well noted for his intense mastery of the guitar and songwriting. To write this song meant everything to him. It was a fight for a woman he loved, even when he knew doing so was breaking a bond that may be hard or impossible to repair. By sending this song out, he was announcing his love for this woman not just to her, but to the world. The use of language and instruments wove a story that was worthy of notification. The contrasting solos in instruments bring the emotions to a higher level if intensity. His pleading vocals cry out in vain that is unheard of. The twining of such musical mastery between vocals and instruments have left a lasting impression on the direct and indirect audience, which has grown to be worthy of its notoriety.

Works Cited

Fricke, David. “Eric Clapton's Tormented Peak.” Rolling Stones. Mar-Apr. 2011: 66. Print.