PIC 1 FLANKS THE LEFT SIDE OF THE TITLE |
STORY: “Forever Angels”
AUTHOR: Ronald Kelly
CD APPEARANCE: Issue #1 (Dec. 1988: Vol. 1, Iss. 1), story 4 of 12 PIC 2 FLANKS THE RIGHT SIDE. BOTH ANGEL PICS ARE CREEPY. |
In the next scene we get a flashback from several years
before when Deanna’s grandfather had passed away. Upon getting lost among the many mourning rooms of the funeral
home, she comes across a tiny coffin and inside it the body of an infant boy
clutching a plastic rattle. With her back turned as she leaves the room, she
thinks she hears the sound of a shaking rattle. Remembering that day now, Deanna
has a nightmare where she looks out her bedroom window and sees hairless,
childrens’ heads bobbing and moving through the field of tall grass between her
own house and the cemetery next door.
Some time passes and Deanna is part of the community’s
annual effort to clean up and maintain the cemetery. While trying to enjoy a
small picnic with her parents and baby brother Timothy, a drunken, old Cherokee
man named Redhawk arrives and rants about sacred lands and the community’s desecration
of the ancient Indian burial mounds. Deanna’s parents ignore her pleas to
leave.
That night poor Deanna has another nightmare where Redhawk
(now sober and respectable in his chief’s full headdress) leads his entire
tribe in a ritual at the children’s section of the cemetery. But when an
earthquake starts to rumble and split the ground apart, Deanna has to escape to
a tree where she finds Timothy already looking down at her from the topmost
branches. The dream-brother has an ashen face and reaches to her with “cold,
little hands.” As Deanna falls from the tree, she wakes from her dream drenched
in sweat. Attempting to calm herself with a midnight glass of water, she hears
a sound coming from the back yard. She opens the door and finds a single pink
bootie on her back stoop. When her mother finds her minutes later, Mrs. Hudson
calms her daughter and prepares a bottle of milk for her infant son. However when
they goes upstairs to feed him, baby Timothy is found dead in his crib.
In the days after, Deanna cried and screamed and begged for
her parents not to bury Timothy in
the children’s cemetery, but of course they do. In the story’s final scene,
Deanna is a full-blown insomniac who lays awake every night with her back to
the window where she believes her dead brother watches and coos at her as he
pays his nightly visit. And every morning another toy is found missing from his
crib.
REVIEW: 4 of 5 Stars. This story is as complex as it is
creepy. Deanna’s character goes through all five stages of grief and the subtle
connection of the dead boy at the funeral home to Timothy (both infant boys/
both shown in those too-tiny baby blue caskets/ both clutching favored toys) is very
nicely done. And despite a handful of minor errors ('century' instead of 'country', 'orthought' instead of 'or thought', 'her' instead of 'here', a double set of quotation marks to begin one piece of dialogue), there are a
number of truly great similes, which never fail to impress me when they are
done right. My favorites are: “Small, hairless heads bobbed through the tall grass and honeysuckle like dolphins cresting the waves of a stormy sea. The pale, hairless heads of a dozen lifeless babies," "A full moon was out, highlighting the tiny [tomb]stones, making them look like bleached teeth sprouting from earthen gums," and "The clouds boiled like the depths of a dark cauldron, lightning jabbing downward, gaunt fingers of blue fire upon the horizon."
CD BLURB ON RONALD KELLY |
As a writer, I’m struck most of all by Kelly's use of figurative language. There are a dozen examples beyond the similes I already mentioned. My appreciation is not in how entertaining each phrase is, but in how each adds to the overall story. When I came across them I could not help think, “Wow, this guy really nailed that one,” or “Damn this guy is good,” and I think that’s the point. A couple of truly well-written sentences in just the right spots really can have the effect of making me see an author as a whole step better than those that came before him. I’m making a mental note to pay more attention to my own choice of words in the future. It's not that every paragraph has to have unforgettable turns of phrase, but I am coming to believe that a great story should have two or three real winners. These are the kinds of things that help a story stick in the minds of readers, and they're always worth the additional effort.
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