In the Park
On an afternoon when the sun goes stone and thuds itself under the horizon, and the trees shake their veiny leaves like hands about to hit, and the bench nearby is a gather of slats holding up the elderly couple we were going to be, him spooning ice cream into her quivery mouth and not even minding the dribble.
“In the Park,” by Francine Witte, from the flash fiction collection The Cake, The Smoke, The Moon
You were right the first time you read it; this isn’t a complete sentence. And yet, it’s a complete unfurling of an atmosphere, with setting and details and pathos and a glimpse at the lost future. The realm of flash fiction puts intense pressure on language to create an experience in miniature. Witte does that, as well as charms and delights with style techniques.
If compression is the key to flash, Witte obliges, using the title, “In the Park,” as part of the body of the piece to establish the setting. She adds another prepositional phrase, “on an afternoon,” building to the dependent clause that begins the seduction of the reader.
I mentioned this last time, but it’s worth repeating (and I need to keep hearing it to push myself). Language that offers a new way of looking at something moves us out of ourselves into realms beyond our assumptions. The world is shiny fresh again, and here is a chance to feel awe and astonishment at the here and now.
So, Witte gives us “when the sun goes stone and thuds itself under the horizon.” She hands us the gifts of personification and alliteration, “sun/stone.” And also assonance with “goes/stone.” Balance, the pairing of two things, extends the comparison of the sun to a stone that also makes a sound. To vary the emotional tenor, she uses a sound, “thuds,” which isn’t pleasant. This also suggests that despite the sun and trees, something is off in this story.
Next, she hands us, “and the trees shake their veiny leaves like hands about to hit.” She invokes a simile, comparing the leaves to hands, and tells us what the hands are about to do. This, too, adds more emotional range. The hands aren’t stroking or waving; they are about to strike something. Again, there is a sense of something not quite right. It isn’t just a sunny day at the park. Like sentence variety, emotional variety via imagery can add more energy to a sentence. Do you hear the assonance “trees/leaves”; and the alliteration, “hands/hit”?
The third part of her series stays in the realm of realism: “and the bench nearby is a gather of slats holding up the elderly couple…” There is the assonance of the short “a” in “gather” and “slats.” I would have used “gathering,” but by using “gather,” she reduces the distance between the words “gather” and “slats,” making the assonance more pronounced. The soft and heavier stresses (heavier stresses in bold) are: and the bench nearby is a gather of slats holding up the elderly couple.
Witte ends with high emotion via imagery. The narrator of this semi-sentence sees the elderly couple on the bench and imagines this would have been his or her future. The critical word is the verb “we were going to be.” Something has ended or is ending. The sentence pulls in closer through imagery: “him, spooning ice cream into her quivery mouth and not even minding the dribble.” Images are powerful because they proliferate interpretation and subtext. One reading is that the narrator wanted this future with his significant other and would have forgiven the mistakes, the flaws, the ugliness of aging—that dribble of ice cream. And here, I think, would be a reason to use a semi-sentence. The sentence is missing the subject. Perhaps the realization that the relationship is ending has, at least momentarily, obliterated the subject.
Do you hear the assonance ringing: “ice/minding”; “into/quivery/dribble”?
Your Turn
Open with two prepositional phrases that establish the setting.
Add a dependent clause that takes an inanimate object and animates it, as Witte did with the sun. Can you give this inanimate object a sound? If the tone of the piece is soft or poetic, make the sound unpleasant.
Add an independent clause and use a simile. If the tone of the piece is poetic, can the simile invite violence or aggression?
Add another independent clause and describe something, not using a simile or personification. Let your narrator/character enter the piece now, merging with whatever is seen.
Add a final image, expanding on the final independent clause.
How did it go?
What else do you see?
To read the Witte’s story:
About Me:
I’ve taught “Style in Fiction,” “Word for Word” and “Cultivating Your Prose” at the University of San Francisco and Stanford Continuing Studies since 2007.
Please visit my website to find all my books: ninaschuyler.com, including my novel Afterword, How to Write Stunning Sentences, and Stunning Sentences: A Creative Writing Journal.
Preorder My Award-Winning Short Story Collection:
I’m so happy that my short story collection, In This Ravishing World, will be published in July 2024. The collection won the W.S. Porter Prize for Short Story Collections and The Prism Prize for Climate Literature.
Here’s what the Judge for The Prism Prize for Climate Literature said about the collection:
“Three pages into reading this fascinating book, I knew it was the clear winner of the third annual Prism Prize for Climate Literature that I sponsor through Homebound Publications. Not only does it cover every facet of the climate issue and the ongoing efforts at dealing with or denying/undermining what needs to be done, Nature’s presence embraces the entire narrative and lends a sense of enchantment. Rivetted, I could barely put it down for the three days it took to read the compelling stories of a diverse cast of characters: there is someone in these pages for every reader to relate to.”—Gail Collins-Ranadive, author of Dinosaur Dreaming, Our Climate Moment.
I’d really appreciate it if you preorder the book. Here’s the link:
Afterword
I’m excited about this upcoming reading! The San Mateo County Libraries purchased over 150 copies of my novel and distributed them for free to patrons prior to this reading. There will be time for questions. I hope you can attend—online! Jan 23, Tuesday, 6:30 p.m., PST. Please register for free here:
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Thank you!
Here's my try:
In the white room while the early hours seep into dawn and slither down the wall, and the fluorescents hiss like the promise of disease, and the bed strains under the weight of my hesitations, the blue nurses adjusting the pillows while I remember the wonder of your smile.
That truly is stunning. It's incredible how powerful the imagination can be - and anyone who thinks there's nothing new to write is just simply mistaken!