Pica Week 2

[maura]

Pica_Week 2.docx (19.82 KB)

[adadio]

So there was a lot of points in this story that I wanted to write something so I just copied it and pasted it here to make it easier. Great piece! Enjoyed it thoroughly! Hope it makes sense how I have done this.

Everyone was talking about the Smurl house. It was the current favorite subject of the nuns at St. Mary’s, and now my parents too. “She said one of the men had a pig face. He picked her up out of bed, and threw her down the stairs,” said Mom, as if she were asking a question.

Who is "She"? And who is the pig faced man? Someone who lives in the Smurl house? Would like to know more here about the inhabitants of the Smurl house


I shivered and straightened in my seat. The rainy ride home from Kmart suddenly became high stakes. Sister Jacinta had also mentioned these events earlier this week. She spoke excitedly of the priests who came to the house to exorcise the demons. They hadn’t yet been successful. In fact, as one waited outside in the car for the other priest, “He saw a great ball of fire roll across the street.” It wasn’t just the Smurl house that contained evil. “The devil is everywhere,” said Sr. Jacinta earlier this week, her beady, coal black eyes suddenly wide. “But the priests are fighting God’s battle. If you are devoted to God, he will protect you.” But this seemed doubtful.

Great details here. The fire rolling across the street. That would have scared the crap out of me as a child! But why are you doubtful about God's ability to protect you? Did something happen to cause that? Would like to know why here.

The anxious violins of “Papa Don’t Preach” abruptly piped over the radio. The song took on ominous and threatening sound. “They threw the dog against the wall too,” Dad said. He sounded angry, like he often was. Unlike one of usual complaints about rip-off prices or poor service, there was no one to direct this toward. “Patty is cousins with them, but she doesn’t really talk to them anymore.” He was probably talking about a lady at the hospital. Almost everyone my parents knew was from Mercy Hospital, where they both worked.
“Where’s West Pittston?” I asked nervously. I needed to know that it wasn’t close to Dunmore, especially if people near us were connected to the terrible Smurl house in any way.

Great description of a part of your Dad's personality. Gives clues into how you viewed your dad. Who throw the dog against the wall? I am guessing West Pittston is where the Smurl house is? Maybe state that in the beginning. Give a little bit of background about the house and its history. Helps clarify things to make the story flow a bit better.

Dad furrowed his brow in the rearview mirror, and Mom turned around and looked at me as if she were surprised that I was in the backseat. Matt was asleep. I was happy that he was. I didn’t care about him often, but he was too young to be scared. “We just drove past the exit,” she said, as if I too drove and could find it. Drive faster, I though, let’s get as far away as we can. My parents stopped talking about it after that.

Love how your describe your mom and brother here. I can see your Mom's reaction because of the way that you describe her answer and I have insight now into what your relationship is like with your brother.

The song was almost over, and I wondered what Madonna’s papa was preaching about, especially since he wasn’t a priest. Sr. Jacinta had said that only priests had the right to preach. The nuns hated Madonna, and told us not to listen to her. In fact, they said most rock n’ roll was made by devil worshipers. Grandma said that too, and her I wanted to believe. It was both a scary and intriguing thought. When she told me not to even look at the cover of the Ozzie Osbourne album in Sugarman’s with the ugly dragon man and the lady twisted around in tight pants, the devil’s influence seemed obvious. My mom said Ozzie bit the heads of off bats. Wasn’t he afraid of hell? That wasn’t an easy question to ask, so I asked Grandma another time, “Is all of the music that I like by devil worshipers?” “Most of it, yes,” she said, and I sadly, incredulously pictured Belinda Carlisle praying to the devil at a strange altar.

This is Awesome! I grew up in the 80"s and 90's and I totally remember these attitudes about music and Satan. Love the image of Belinda Carisle!!!


When we got home and unpacked the shopping bags, I happily realized that I gotten had a new Care Bears coloring book at Kmart. The Smurl house made me forget this. It was almost bedtime. “I’m going to color a little before bed,” I told Mom. I was happy to retreat into my room. It was my favorite place in the world, and being sent to it was usually not a punishment. But tonight, it didn’t feel like my room was my own. After I got ready for bed, I tried to sit at my roll-top desk to color, but had the unnerving sensation that someone was watching me over my shoulder. I often felt like I was not alone, and not necessarily in a good way. The nuns said that God was always watching us, each one of us. But they also said the devil was too. Watching us, and waiting for us to fall. It hadn’t felt so real until I knew that he and his demons could come into your home and stay. I looked around the room nervously. What if they lifted up the furniture, or worse, me? How did it start? I decided I wouldn’t sleep tonight.

Love how you describe the nervous feelings of being a child who does not know what exactly is going on and what they should do. And the feelings about God and Satan and the nervousness about what could happen and the questions that are brought about from hearing what adults say about such things in front of kids. I remember being nervous about Satan as a child as well.
I hardly did. I got dressed for bed and Mom tucked me in. But after a few excruciating minutes in the dark, I gathered the courage to turn on my bedside lamp. My parents were already in their bedroom, so I knew I probably wouldn’t get in trouble. It was worth the risk. I started coloring again. The hue of the aqua blue crayon looked strange and sad to me as I colored in the Care Bear’s belly. I will just stay up all night coloring, I thought. My usually carefree activity felt like a furious mission. I didn’t care if I used up my whole new book.
But my hands were shaky, and I was going out of the lines. I was so nervous that I felt clammy, and I started crying. I knew it was time to pray. There was really nowhere else to turn, even though I always felt like I was praying incorrectly, and that God would judge me harshly for it. “You should pray every night… and you shouldn’t pray for selfish things,” were just some of Sr. Jacinta’s directions for prayer. In a way, it was a perpetual homework assignment. Is it selfish to pray for the devil to stay out of your room? I wondered. I was going to try to do it right this time. But “Papa Don’t Preach” was still playing in my head. I always had a song in my head. “Papa I know you're going to be upset / 'Cause I was always your little girl.” Did God think of me that way?
I couldn’t pray out loud, since I might wake everyone up. Instead I spoke over the music in my head, “Dear God, please protect me tonight from the devil. I’m really sorry about anything bad I’ve done lately.” My prayers were usually short and awkward, and I wished I didn’t feel like I was addressing a stranger. I also worried that silent prayers wouldn’t make it out of mind and into God’s realm, wherever that was. But the nun’s said that God could see into your mind and heart. There really wasn’t much privacy. I was happy that I had my own room, but I knew it was an illusion, and God could see me in it just like he could see my soul through my body.
When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t remember falling asleep, but was relieved that I was safe for at least another day.

A great descriptive journey through the thoughts of how a child can process something as big as God and Satan. And how a child moves through those emotions.
I would have like to have had more information on the Smurl house and what the story was with that situation. Would have painted the picture a bit more thoroughly. I am guessing that you went to St. Mary's a Catholic school? Maybe give more details about that. Would help round out the story. Great job...enjoyed it!

[moll22]

This scene reminded me of the beginning of a gothic novel. I remember talking to you about Shirley Jackson and gothic novels in general, and your descriptions in the piece show how much the genre interests and influences you!

I love how you describe the instruments of the song with "anxious violins," it's a great way to describe your ominous feelings about the trip home. I didn't quite understand what you meant when you said "the rainy ride home from Kmart suddenly became high stakes." You describe it more later when you describe your thoughts about wanting to get home quicker, but I wasn't sure why it was "high stakes" at first.

I love the contrast you made between your eagerness to color, the "furious mission" combined with your sense that you "weren't alone, and not in a good way." Maybe you could add more about how you felt to make the reader see what made it a bad feeling.

I like how you highlighted your worries about praying correctly with the line, "Is it selfish to pray for the devil to stay out of your room?" because it's a typical fear to express that some keep the monsters away. Great scene! 

[patricia]

Oh, my, the Smurls! I have my own Smurl memories from working in the Pocono Record newsroom. Police reporter Joe McDonald always got the weird, crazy stories. He and I sometimes commiserated late at night after most of the reporters went home and I checked the news pages for typos. On the carpeted wall of his cubicle was tacked the opening pages of a chapter of Mr. Smurl's book, the chapter named "Raped by a Succubus." On the blank spot across from the chapter title was taped a xeroxed photo of Gerald Smurl, who claimed he was sexually assaulted by a she-demon.
Joe also regularly covered FaFa the renegade monkey, and the paranormal activity at the Kieffer house on Ann St.in Stroudsburg, where the house rained oily water from the floor up, or sideways.
I had my share of weird assignments as well. The community editor told me to get a story on a woman who had crocheted 100 lap robes for veterans. I went to her mobile home only to find it surrounded by hanging deer corpses. There was a strong smell of cooking meat and vinegar. Inside, the woman I was assigned to interview was cooking huge vats of venison into barbeque. She told me she picked up road-killed deer and made them into barbecue dishes for veterans.
Maura, I love how your voice in this story takes us back to your childhood with such vivid details and realism. It all rings true, especially the Care Bears coloring book and the "Papa Don't Preach" Madonna song in the background as a soundtrack as your parents discuss demonic activity.

[lynneheins]

Maura,



Ah, from the point of view of a child whose fear grabs onto rumors, overheard conversations exasperated by the vivid imagination kicking in . It is all exaggerated, outlandish…but not to a child. The first few lines are a little fuzzy for me. In your reference to the nuns- is that your school? The part about your Dad’s comments referring to the dog and the wall seem to be “loaded” with meaning when you use the words angry and complaint. Are you giving the reader a “heads-up” about your father’s personality?

My favorite line…….." Mom looked at me as if she was surprised that I was in the backseat.” (Perfect!, many of us experience that as kids)
I can see that, as simple as that sentence is.  Fascinating!

[saburcat]

You do such a great job of bringing in the innocence of a child when trying to understand adult conversations or topics. You hear what the adults say and you try to deconstruct it, to understand it. I remember being young and doing that myself, and how many times my brain deconstructed things the wrong way! Like with "Papa Don't Preach" (my favorite Madonna song), you wonder, "what Madonna's pap was preaching about, especially since he wasn't a priest." I remember being so confused listening to that song and then seeing the video...I had no idea what he was preaching about! Maybe he didn't like her boyfriend? (Not being brought up in a religious household, I didn't make a "preach=priest" connection). I just thought it was regular dad-bitching. Clean your room, I don't like your boyfriend, get better grades in school. I can remember when the penny finally dropped and I realized "I'm keeping my baby" didn't mean she was staying with the wayward boyfriend. SCANDAL!!! You made me connect with you age/time-wise in this and your first piece (when you mentioned Kiefer Sutherland and Lou Diamond Phillips-WHO I LOVE) and I felt like I was right there with you, trying to figure these things out (Papa's preaching, the Smurl house, that zit). You do an excellent job of showing that child-like thought process (I don't think 'child-like' is the right word for what I'm trying to say...you have a way of showing us how you (and children) process what they hear and make connections with other things they know, and when they don't have enough knowledge to make the correct connections, but the way they think about things still makes sense...but I don't know if I'm clearly getting across what I mean here...I'm sorry, it's been a long few weeks...but hopefully you see what I'm getting at).

Anyway, I laughed out loud at, "Dad furrowed his brow in the rearview mirror and Mom turned around and looked at me as if she were surprised that I was in the backseat," not because it's a necessarily funny line, but because it's such a great description, and it tells me about your Mom and a little about your dad without many details. Then they stop talking about the scary stuff, as if they had completely forgotten they had kids at all, let alone that they were in the backseat listening to them. I also love the paragraph about music; (a quick aside: I'm not religious and I don't mean to insult you with anything I'm about to say, so please don't take it personally) the comments by Sister Jacinta and your grandmother show how mild brain-washing took place and how some people used religion to scare kids into compliance (the nuns more than your family here). I mean, I'll agree Ozzie was definitely a little scary with the bat-head-biting incident, but again, you nail it with the childish innocence/questioning with: "...I asked my Grandma another time, 'Is all of the music I like by devil worshipers?' 'Most of it, yes,' she said, and I sadly, incredulously, pictured Belinda Carlisle praying to the devil at a strange alter." Again, an LOL moment for me. Such innocence and literalness. I also felt like, even though you don't have any description about this conversation with your grandmother, that she didn't even take a breath before answering you, or look up from her knitting...it didn't matter what the music was, it was all devil worshipping.

The awkwardness you have with your religion at this young age, and how you don't fully understand the things the nuns tell you, and how you keep trying to do the "right thing" but you just aren't sure what that is...it just comes across so well, so effortlessly. Then getting worked up over whether you're being watched, and who's watching, and should you pray, but not out loud to wake others, and are you being too selfish with your prayers, and how unsure you are about your relationship with God ("I wished I didn't feel like I was addressing a stranger."), it all works so well together, and you describe it all so well.

I really enjoyed this!

Louise