The Slam: Slammables
Ghosts
by Annika, Oregon
Ghosts live below water.
When they go out dancing, I see them sometimes, murky lights at the
bottom of the lake, and sometimes they tell jokes and laugh so loudly
that this garbled whisper reaches me, wherever I am. My neighbors tell
stories of the men who wondered what the joke was, who stuck their
heads in the lake and found the ghosts. One, once, claimed to have met
them, to have found them the most charming and genuine and above all, sane people he had ever met. He is gone these three months past, found bloated and floating on the surface. We don't know what the ghosts thought of that. They were silent for a few days, muted and a little anxious, then the parties started again. I haven't told the neighbors this, but I think they were worried he would come join them -- he was a nice man, but a little unnerving, with stooped shoulders and habit of laughing until he broke down in tears, which would then continue while his company stood beside him, never knowing quite what to say.
I would like to show you this lake. It looks like something out of one
of your more recent paintings. It is somewhere where you would kiss the
soil and say that it looks like some place in the midwest that I know
you have never been to. I don't know what you would make of the ghosts. They are not something out of the midwest. They are otherworldly, or else we are, the difference being that we feel pain and they aren't afraid of death. "It doesn't seem that they can be the ones doing things wrong," I told Ms. Glover (the old maid next door whom I wrote to you about once), and she said nothing, just looked at me with these big empty eyes and shuffled back inside. If you're not strong, living with the ghosts can hurt. I have been there.
For whatever it's worth to you, the pain is lessening. I stay on dry
land, I keep my tears to myself, and when they laugh, I tell myself
that the laughter is less joyous, more and more hysterical every day,
and soon it will be hollow and callous. Then the neighbors and I will
tell visitors that the sound is just the lumbermills at work, or the moths buzzing in the streetlights, and we will nod to each other when we pass, smiling vaguely and feeling how the breath clings to our lips. This world kills us all, my love, just you and I and the ghosts quicker than the others.
I wish you would come home.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
So this may look vaguely familiar... In the last Slam Master's Rant, the Slam Master asked us to create imitative work. I decided to try writing something based on another writer's Slam submission. Liz from Pennsylvania wrote a poem awhile back [November 2008], "Belief," that I really loved -- so I took her opening, "Ghosts live above water," and turned it into "Ghost live below water." It was definitely a fun exercise.
critiqued by Annika, Oregon
Nov 29, 2009
Nov 29, 2009
This is one of those stories that lead you on a journey. It starts out with ghosts, and as it dawns on you that this is a letter or message to a person, it makes you actually think about what this message means, both to sender and reciever. The ghosts may be literal or figurative to the author, but to me it doesn't matter. The lovely, lovely imagery ("I stay on dry land, I keep my tears to myself, and when they laugh, I tell myself that the laughter is less joyous, more and more hysterical every day, and soon it will be hollow and callous") says it all.
critiqued by mnms1313
Dec 3, 2009
Dec 3, 2009
I think you jumped into it a little too suddenly. You could keep the line "Ghosts live below water," but the story would be a little less abrupt if it had a good prologue or introduction.
Otherwise I like it quite a lot -- great sentences, no one ever thinks of ghosts as laughing people, but hysteria is sometimes the most haunting emotion of all.
Good work.
critiqued by Aaron Lawrence, St. Louis, MO
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010
I am flattered that my poem inspired you! It has been awhile since I've been on here, but I always meant to comment on this piece. I like that you inverted the first line, made it something more organic. The first paragraph feels connected to the first line, and I am intrigued by these "neighbors." Reading the second paragraph, where you begin by addressing "you," I feel as if I am reading a separate story. I like, "I would like to show you this lake." But the paintings and all... I am not so sure... Also, the addition of a named person in this decidedly anonymous, blank-feeling description (which I liked for the piece) seemed incongruous. Overall, I really like this. I'd be interested to see what else you could do with this, or what other story you could come up with based on a poem.
critiqued by Liz, Pennsylvania
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010
I like where you've gone with this -- taking one line, changing it, and creating something new behind it. I've done stuff similar before, and you definitely made it your own. The ideas and voice behind this have a very unique feel; it shifts from casual to wistful to haunting easily, but with a very faint dryness throughout. I also like how you bring something new with each paragraph, and begin and end it with a single sentence. You also paint a strange, slightly off little place, which fits your storyteller and her(?) letter quite well. I couldn't tell you what to change, if anything. Thank you.
critiqued by ink.stained.fingers, New York
Feb 26, 2011
Feb 26, 2011
Slammings