writings

[chu_totoro]

Essay Option 3. Chicago author Nelson Algren said, "A writer does well if in his whole life he can tell the story of one street." Chicagoans, but not just Chicagoans, have always found something instructive, and pleasing, and profound in the stories of their block, of Main Street, of Highway 61, of a farm lane, of the Celestial Highway. Tell us the story of a street, path, road - real or imagined or metaphorical.

assignment: uchicago supplementary essay
comments: this isn't really an essay. and I really should edit it more, but I don't think I'll be able to before the deadline, so whatever.

The Tale of Apple Street There once was a road in a town by the sea that had no apple trees, but for some reason everyone called it Apple Street. Three children lived on Apple Street. Their names were Honey, Vera, and Themis. All the citizens of the town whispered about the beautiful children of Apple Street. Honey had golden-brown hair that fell in waves around her shoulders and eyes the colour of her name. Vera had sleek black hair which she tied back in two braids, and soft grey eyes like smoke in the sky. Themis’ hair was a fluff of light, paler than pale can be, and her eyes glittered a clear, piercing blue. People believed the three children of Apple Street could work miracles. Rumor has it they once lifted all the poison out of the sea, seeped it out bit by bit until the sea itself lightened and the waves sparkled in the wind. Nobody knew if this was true, but the stretch of sea by Apple Street did seem that much clearer than all the sea around it, and the town more prosperous. Whenever the townspeople found themselves caught in a particular spot of trouble or torn by a particular need or desire, they ventured down to the edge of Apple Street and held their breath, hoping for a miracle. Themis would appear. Never Honey, never Vera, always Themis. She tossed back her mop of hair and her eyes flashed as she looked you up and down, scourging you with a clear blue gaze. Then she stared right at you, eyes glittering, and those who could not hold her gaze were turned back. Of those who remained, some were turned away (we cannot help you), some were driven away (we will not help you), and some were admitted with the slightest crook of a slender finger (come). These latter folk returned from Apple Street in wonder. They told of how Honey came to sit by them and sang in a tongue they did not know, and how the words of the song filled them with a great warmth that started in the heart and spread to the rest of the body, leaving a tingling feeling in the fingers. They told of how Vera pressed into their hand the purest, whitest, smoothest shell from the shores of the sea, and how, as they clasped the shell with both hands and looked up into Vera’s rapt grey gaze, they felt a sudden surety, as though a weight had been dropped from their chest. A certainty that things would turn out for the better, an unwavering belief that there was a way out, that miracles could happen. And they did. Illnesses cured, long missing husband returned from sea, small wishes granted... nobody could say for sure whether or not they were coincidences, but the children of Apple Street had a lot of respect. Then one day the turtle man, polishing the shell of a turtle with a star-shaped pattern on its back, had a great idea. “Hey,” he said. “It’s just those two pretty gals workin’ them miracles. That third one, her wi’ the pale unnatural hair, she ain’t done nothin’ but turn us down. If we gots rid of her, why, ev’rybody could get miracles!” This resonated with the rejected hopefuls of the place. On a dark and stormy night, a group of young men flocked into Apple Street by force and drove Themis out of the town. She went without complaint, only turning to give the men an icy stare. Her hair glinted palely in the night, and as she went crows circled the sky above the town, caws echoing, “Themis! Themis!” Now a curious thing happened. After Themis left, Honey and Vera began, bit by bit, to lose their sight. Honey bumped into chairs and tables when she walked, and had to feel in front of her with her hands, cocking her head and listening intently to the flow of the air currents. Vera squatted on the beach and sifted through the sand with her fingers, feeling for the smoothest shell. Yet Honey still hummed, softly, to herself as she went about the place, and Vera, once she had found the smoothest shell on the beach, clasped the speckled thing with both hands, hard, against her heart, and there held her conviction of sight until she could see once more. After Vera saw, she pressed the shell into Honey’s hand bid her clasp it until Honey, too, saw again. And thus they were cured. But the townsfolk that braved Apple Street reported that Vera’s eyes fogged over more than ever, and those more attentive to detail came back shivering, because in the centre of Honey’s pupil where a dot of black should have been, there flashed only a dot of blankness blanker than white. Folk who sought miracles were no longer turned down. Some came away unchanged, cursing. Some came away worse off than before. Many came away rumpled, anguished, bedraggled though they had received what they asked for. The stretch of sea by Apple Street was the same colour as any bit of sea beside it. As they had done once long before, Honey and Vera strode out to the beach in the midst of a hurricane. Honey, wet hair flapping in the wind, sang a high wild song that soared above the battering gales of rain. Vera clasped her hands in silent prayer for many moments, then all at once tore the seashell necklace from her neck and spun, flinging it into the heart of the storm. In their eyes, the hurricane calmed and withdrew. In their eyes the sea lightened as all the poison departed with the storm, and its waves sparkled in the wind. There is a road in a town by the sea called Apple Street. The stretch of sea by Apple Street seems just a shade murkier than all the sea around it, and the town just a little less prosperous. Nobody goes near Apple Street. People whisper about the two blind but beautiful girls that live there. Rumor has it they’re crazy. Crows can often be seen circling above the town of Apple Street. Their caws reverberate off apple trees that don’t exist, echoing “Themis! Themis! Themis!” off into the distance. fin

original intention/interpretation here unlinked for the time being. relink later.

Comments

[monoyuki.livejournal.com]

Wow that's a really good story! =D I like it a lot. ^w^ And I like the symbolism and the interpretation.