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In Memory of Mr. Bun Bunny
Their mother's as soft and sweet as honey cake. Both girls are usually quiet to start. Sidney's got some sunshine in her smile, though. But Ashley, poor Ashley's got this scared, rabbit look about the eyes, which is really sad for a four-year-old to have. This little light of mine would spark a glow in my heart whenever I caught sight of them.
'Hi, Ashley.'¯
Ashley's big eyes grow even bigger, searching for her mama, for Sidney, who's waiting in a single-file line for the bathroom. 'Hi, Miss Alice,'¯ she says, her voice soft and reluctant. She leans to one side as though the air were standing in for an invisible mother to protect her.
'Where's Mr. Bun Bunny now?'¯ I ask her. I crouch low to the ground so that we're the same height, like we could be friends. My heart wants to hug the fear out of her eyes, but I try not to make any sudden movements. Instead I make my words as soft as pillows, slow as vanilla cake batter. I want her to feel picnics and butterflies whenever I'm around her.
'He dead now.'¯
'Oh, no.'¯ The butterflies pause. I reach out an arm to comfort her small shoulders. She's wearing that same brown plaid pinafore. A dozen plastic barrettes in her hair.
Mr. Bun Bunny came to visit last week. Timid, gray-brown, and softer than cotton balls. He was Sidney's reward for doing well on a spelling test. Sunshine in her smile. Disconcerted me, though, how every finger on her right hand was hooked around the baby rabbit like it was a teddy bear's arm, a wad of fabric.
Sidney's little hand reminded me of those steel, automated claws inside those crane machines, the glass boxes you see in every other arcade, filled to the brim with plushy puppies, bears, and kittens in every color. With a handful of quarters, those sharp, knife-like digits would hunt, guided by a plastic joystick, for a cuddly mammalian victim all yours to keep.
But even more disconcerting was the fact that the animal wasn't even fighting. In fact, it hung so very still in the air that it was either immune to her rough touch, or too scared to claw, bite, and hippity hop away from those hands. And when she thrust him out from the safety of her chest, all I could see was every single digit firmly ' too firmly ' clutched around that Easter ball of fur.
'Here, Miss Alice. You can touch him.'¯ She looked so pleased and tickled with an inner excitement that my heart felt it would break in telling her to be gentler with the bunny. Plus, the bunny didn't belong to me. And I've never held a bunny in my life. Who was I to tell her how to handle it?
'He's very soft,'¯ I said, only venturing to pet his head with the pads of my fingers. 'Does he have a name?'¯
Sidney cocked her head to the side, and in turn, the baby rabbit's four legs were exposed to the air, belly white. I panic for the bunny. 'Sidney ' '¯
'Mr. Bun'¦Bunny,'¯ she said, returning Mr. Bun Bunny to a safer, more upright position.
'Well, we've got to get started, Sidney. Thank you for sharing Mr. Bun Bunny with me.'¯ I indicated for her to return the bunny to her mama. With a jerk, she thoughtlessly plopped it into her mother's arm. Mrs. Simmons' gentle smile is warm and buttery, and for a moment I wonder if I had imagined little Sidney's hands as steel claws. There is love in that face. Maybe too much to see what happened right there.
'Was he sick, Ashley?'¯
'No'¦'¯ Her hands are behind her back. 'We was playing with Mr. Bun Bunny. '
I look to Sidney's mother, who is talking to my boss, Samantha, who is White and blond and driven ' and sees the world in a certain way. Both of them caught up in talking about Sidney's progress, in another world, far away from mine and Ashley's.
'I catched him and throwed him back to Sidney.'¯
I feel sick because I know what happened. But I still ask her, 'Then what happened?'¯
'He was throwed hard. His legs kicking, got tangled up in the fence.'¯
'The fence?'¯
'He stop moving.'¯
Sidney returns from her trip to the bathroom. I hold out an arm for her and she cuddles in close, all smiles. 'Hi, Miss Alice.'¯
'Hi, Sidney.'¯ I look into her face. 'Where's Mr. Bun Bunny?'¯
Her face, so carefree it's unbelievable. 'Oh, he died.'¯
'He died? How?'¯
She shrugs out of my arms. 'He just died.'¯ She takes a place at my table. Ashley follows her close, scared, and in need of some sunshine. 'We gone read a new book today?'¯ she asks.
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Hi Alice - good story, lots of levels, definitely one to read several times. I really liked your imagery and that you were able to create four distinct characters (actually five, counting the rabbit) in such a short piece.
Specific notes:
scared, rabbit look -- not sure the comma is necessary. See what you think of it without.
She leans to one side as though the air were standing in for an invisible mother to protect her. -- loved this image - you really made me see it.
A dozen plastic barrettes in her hair -- should this be a separate sentence? There's no verb. You do that several times, so I have a feeling its intentional. Still I found the use of fragments a little jarring
She looked so pleased and tickled with an inner excitement that my heart felt it would break in telling her to be gentler with the bunny. I think this sentence needs work. I found it convoluted and had to read it several times to get its sense.
As always, it was a pleasure to read your work |
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Comment by: Teri - 2007-07-03 12:15
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Let's try this again. I just wrote a comment only to have my internet connection go 'bye bye'. Stupid thing.
Anyway, hello, Alice.
What a creepy piece of writing. I mean that as a compliment. Two innocent-looking, sweet-acting little girls who have the potential of becoming female versions of Leopold and Loeb. Add bed-wetting and arson, and yikes.
Since you used your name and it's labelled creative non-fiction, I'm not sure why the races of the characters is in doubt. Or maybe I'm totally off-track.
Anyway, IMO, you set the stage nicely and led us down a very disturbing path. Sidney's mother's indifference is astounding. You don't overplay it, but you do make it apparent, and that adds yet one more worrying layer to your piece.
That last paragraph really hit me between the eyes. The simplicity of 'in need of some sunshine' and Ashley's almost-palatable desperation to be both accepted by Sidney and dealing with her own guilt, however minute, is so well-done. Or at least that's what I got from it.
Thanks for sharing what must have been a difficult piece to put down. It's not overly-dramatic or maudlin. Just enough to make us shudder.
Teri |
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There seems to be a gentle tug-of-war that is going on between the narrator's two approaches to tell the story.
One I favor because I adore surrealism when it brings in an experience of the mind over the landscape of something non-fiction. The other, I favor because it's descriptive, colorful and tells a story with good language and sensual imagery.
My surrealistic impression of the story came when:
I want her to feel picnics and butterflies whenever Iā??m around her.
ā??He dead now.ā?¯
ā??Oh, no.ā?¯ The butterflies pause.
- these butterflies were introduced as a sort of sensation, or even simply an image of something light and airy, but they didn't exist as tangible subjects. When I read 'the butterflies pause' they had taken on an existence all their own and stepped into being somewhat of a chorus (like in classical Bard form) that had the potential to represent the sentiment. I thought that was really cool and I'm not sure if Im suggesting that there could've been more attention to that approach, or whether it would help or hinder the tale, or if simply that I feel that it folded nicely with the tone of the story. I'm saying I liked it I guess.
- then for Sidney, you gave her this sort of steel metaphor with machine claws and a determined demeanor - which was a great contrast to Ashley's character.
overall- I don't know if it goes by too fast (with the images as well as the continuity of the narrative) or if it's this slight tug between one way to tell the story or the other. Maybe there isn't two approaches; maybe that's just how I read it.
Im not even sure if what I'm saying makes any sense.
little things that came out at me were:
at the start - Sidneyā??s got sunshine in her smile, though.
I wasn't sure why the 'though' was included so soon in the game. It seemed sudden before Sidney had a chance to even be introduced.
--I really adore 'vanilla cake batter' but Im not sure if it gelled well with 'slow' as the adjective before it
--and when I read the description of Sidney's hands like 'automated claws in those glass boxes', it actually took me awhile to picture those vending machines that you were taking about. I think 'glass box' is a bit too vague ( or I'm a complete dunce which is quite probable)
All this is just my impression, and if I read it tomorrow I'd probably feel completely different.
thank you for sharing
m. |
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'The butterflies pause. ā??Oh, no.ā?¯ I reach out an arm to comfort her small shoulders. Sheā??s wearing that same brown plaid pinafore. A dozen plastic barrettes in her hair.'
Some very good imagery in the preceding paragraph 'slow as vanilla cake batter' and 'I want her to feel picnics and butterflies'. But then 'The butterflies pause' came a smidge too soon off of that for me and the last two lines of description don't seem to close it well. I think you could just shuffle it round though.
ā??Oh, no.ā?¯ The butterflies pause. Sheā??s wearing that same brown plaid pinafore. A dozen plastic barrettes in her hair. I reach out an arm to comfort her small shoulders.
I'm a terrible tamperer.
'Sidney's little hand..' - Something's off with this paragraph, up to here, I get a distinct rhythm and vocabulary to the narrative voice and phrasing, such as the imagery quoted above and others like 'sweet as honey cake', 'sunshine in her smile', 'softer than cotton balls'. The observations and language here 'steel automated claws', 'cuddly mammalian victim', the aside on the price increase - feels like someone else. Could, of course, just be me.
'It was calm and unmoving' - simply that 'calm' read oddly, sandwiched as it is by 'scared little eyes' and 'too scared to claw..'
'Who was I to tell her how to handle it?' - example of my extraordinary pickiness but 'handle' makes me think of implements or Sidney as bunny-tamer, maybe just hold or grip.
Having agreed with you about the need to loosen up my own constricted prose, I find myself here wishing you'd close up this one a little, just those double line breaks. I think it rolls along nicely counter to their additional spacing. |
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Comment by: karjon - 2007-06-04 16:14
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Creative Non-Fiction - it's that tag again. I'm not sure what I'm reading when I see that, and I'm tempted to read this as a short story - but it doesn't conform to normal short story conventions i.e. most notably, none of the main characters had gone through significant change by the end of the piece.
So, I feel like I should lay those conventions aside and just concentrate on the writing of a 'scene', of characters.
On that level, I think it's very well done - some beautiful, original descriptions. It's quite a disturbing piece - Sidney does come across as quite a 'devil' child - all wide-eyed-sunny-smiled-innocence with some sociopathic tendencies showing so early - and poor Ashley, the child who will always be led, and, probably, blamed for all the things that Sidney does.
A couple of picky points:
'thrusting her out from the safety of her chest' - I thought, because of 'Mr', the rabbit was male, so the first 'her' didn't make sense.
'Maybe just too much to see what happened right there' - 'just' and 'right there' - I'd lose one of them.
That's it - a good read - thanks for that.
Chers
Karen |
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