Special, an old Pandora challenge Options

[Ephiny]

Special

They finished the oath, as always, the moment before practice began. In the silence, Hannah jumped up on her bench, declaring loudly,

“Never mind being brave, I want to win!!”

A few parents looked over at her, smiling, but at the sight of June standing nearby, their smiles turned sympathetic. Hannah was always causing problems. If she wasn’t shouting at the coaches, she was bullying the other athletes, challenging them and causing scenes that inevitably ended in forced and terribly insincere apologies.

“Hannah, get down!” June hissed, “winning isn’t everything!”

Awkwardly, Hannah clambered down. “It is,” she muttered, and walked over to where the coaches were beginning to gather small groups together.

June sat down, caught for a moment, somewhere between irritation at her difficult daughter and a vague, fierce pride that she couldn’t quite explain. One of the other mothers, noticing that she was alone, came over to sit beside her.

“This is great for them, isn’t it?” she said, gesturing to the line at the starting point, poised for the whistle.

“Yes,” June said sadly, “I suppose it is.”

She watched Hannah crouch low, her eyes fixed on the finishing point and for one moment remembered holding her, hours after her birth, the child she’d been prepared to give birth to, gone, and replaced with this fragile creature and a group of forlorn doctors telling her about how much could be done these days, what supports there were, and then when they reached the moment that their careful words ran out,

“And of course, you’ll have other children.”

It took weeks before that same baby would cease being a Down Syndrome child and simply became Hannah, awkward, cheeky, funny, grumpy, sometimes downright impossible and always, beautifully, annoyingly and gloriously determined. You only ever had to tell Hannah that she couldn’t do something and she’d set about learning how to do it. That was how they’d taught her cycle, read, manage a cash register in the local shop, and catch a bus by herself when she demanded lifts into town. Telling Hannah that something was impossible was the sure way of ensuring she’d learn to do it by herself.

Since the age of eight, Hannah had been obsessed with running. Physical education was the one activity in school where she was no longer the disabled child, sitting apart, always waiting for assistance. Her abilities matched the others, more than matched in some cases and in secondary school, she realised that sports could become competitive, that you could win prizes and challenge your peers rather than run with them all the time. She joined a team, regularly beat the other girls in races, began to learn cross-country running. It was also the year that the curriculum became too much for her. A sheltered workshop was mentioned tactfully to June and then to Hannah.

“I can’t work here” she said when taken to see it, “they’re too slow. It’s boring”. She glanced around the room, where small groups of adults, many much older than she was, worked at long tables, taking little notice of her. She glanced at her mother, as if bewildered at their decision that this was the perfect place for her. June remembered her own inability to meet her daughter’s gaze.

“It’ll be ok,” she had whispered to her, “you can keep on your running.”

But she couldn’t, not at school anyway. The local sports groups were curiously hesitant as well.

“Would she not be better in the Special Olympics Group?” one instructor suggested.

And here they were. Hannah had a drawer full of medals, throwing each new one into the back of it with a derisive laugh.

“Everyone gets medals here, Mom. It doesn’t matter if you’re good or not.”

One day, Hannah had visited the local sports ground by herself, without June’s knowledge. She sat by the instructor’s car until he eventually accepted that she wouldn’t go away and approached her. Later, he told June about their conversation; how he had heard she liked to win. There were many professional runners in his team and Hannah wouldn’t be able to keep up. Wouldn’t that be upsetting for her when she was doing so well in Special Olympics?

“I want to run properly,” Hannah insisted, “I’m sick of everything having to be special.”

But that failed to convince him and Hannah had returned to her own team, shouting at the others in her attempts to make them compete with her, annoying the other parents when their own children came to them with complaints about no one ever really winning.

“She’ll spoil it for them,” one mother said to June, “it’s all the poor things have.”

June forced herself back to the present where the race had finished and Hannah had come in second. The group of parents tensed slightly, waiting for some sort of outburst, but she merely glanced sideways at the winner, a tall girl with long legs and a forced-looking smile. They shook hands and walked together towards the stand of drinks.

“This is really stupid,” the girl said to Hannah, as if sensing a fellow conspirator. June watched them rejoin their group to repeat their oath.

“Let me win, if not, let me be brave in the attempt.”

As they finished, the community cross- country group in the next field raced past, waving enthusiastically. June watched, biting her lip, as the two girls raised their hands slowly, staring past the group of running adults, into the paths of hills and bends and trees before their eyes, stretching far away and out of sight.

[Guest_Kathy_*]

I love the far away ending. There's a sense here that these girls are not fooled by anything; these well meaning adults are not making anything better. They don't want platitudes, pretend victories; these girls are honest. It is this honesty, this brave clearsightedness that stands out, for me.

It's terrific. It needs a bit o' tidying, of course. I wafted about a bit in the beginning, trying to get a fix on where the story takes place, and who the principle players are. Once that's sorted out, the story takes on a flow and a life of its own.

It's heroic. Well, Hannah is. There are other heroes too. The mother, for instance. She knows more than the authorities; her mother's intuition sparks and makes her proud of Hannah without knowing why.

I like the things unsaid in your story. I like your voice. Good one.

.

[Ephiny]

Hi Kathy,

Thank you so much for your lovely comments. I'm really glad that you read and enjoyed this and it's great to know that you "got" what I was trying to describe. I'm not very good at writing stories, and particularly keeping them tight so I thought I would just post this and see what hints and comments I would get!! I appreciate your comments..thank you:)

[JLY]

Lucie,
I was so caught up in the story, that I didn't focus on offering much editorial comment. One thing jumped out at me at the very beginning...it's just a typo

shouting at the couches should be coaches...

I liked how you gave Hannah some characteristics that are a bit different from what the reader might exect. She is very strong-willed, competitive, and she is very free and easy to demonstrate her personality.

I think overall, you could add some more background and scenerly(time, place, etc) to this story. The premise of your tale is a very good one and it champions the spirit of those children who face challenges that we have difficulty understanding.

JLY

[Ephiny]

Hello John,

Thank you very much for reading and for your comments..hadn't noticed that typo!! I'm really glad you enjoyed it and your suggestions have given me something to think about to work on it further. You really "got" what I hoped to convey..

Thanks again, very much appreciated:)

Lucie

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi Lucie.

I've always admired this story (isn't this one in our Syntax & Musings chapbook)? I've many things to attend to but hope to be in soon to offer some thoughts, there's a few I need to read.....

Best,
~Cleo

[Ephiny]

Hi Lori!

Thanks for stopping by and no worries at all..whenever you can, I'd be delighted to hear your thoughts!

Thanks again,

Lucie

[galoutofdixie]

Hi Lucie,

I enjoyed your story. I did waver a little bit in the beginning, not quite sure who/what/where, but then it really took off. I especially liked your descriptions of Hannah. You really breathed life into her character. I felt as if I would know her if I met her on the street

[Ephiny]

Hello Leigh Ann,

Thank you very much for reading and for your very kind comments. I am working on the beginning of this and using the great comments that people have given me to change the structure a little..but I am so glad you enjoyed and really appreciate your reply,

Lucie

[Terocon101]

Hi Lucie,

Good stuff, I'm a sucker for a rebel so I liked Hannah immediately. She has so much character.
I really was transfixed at that moment when you brought us back to Hannah's delivery and her mothers discovery, it was really well done, very subtle.

A couple of typing mistakes; paragraph 11"That was how they thought her(to) cycle" and a couple of paragraphs down "you can keep on(up) your running".

Another thing that got me in such a short story was how quickly other peoples/parents pity gets on the nerves. When the other mother said "Its all they have, the poor things". I just felt like telling her to sod off. Or "you can always have more children" as if this wasn't a proper child or in some way incomplete.

Its a very emotional piece and not a topic I would relish trying to write or even read about, but I enjoyed it.

Where there is love, distance doesn't matter.

* Mata Amritanandamayi

[Ephiny]

Hi Terry,

Thank you very much for reading and for your positive comments..I'm delighted that you enjoyed this and that you "got" just what I was hoping to convey. And that you felt that way about the "pitying" comments..that was just the way I hoped the story would come acorss. I'm not great at short stories so I'm sticking to very short ones at the moment and working on them and the comments I have got have been really helpful.

Thanks again, Terry:)

Lucie

[Psyche]

Hi Lucie!

I finally reached Stonehenge! Of course I went straight to your story because the title 'Special ' attracted my attention, and I believe you've had close contact with these 'special' children and/or adults.

Your story shows enormous understanding of the way their minds work. I didn't find the opening paragraphs confusing, but that may be because I already suspected that you were dealing with the Down Syndrome. All the same, I think it's a good idea to start off the way you did, and then go back in time to childbirth, for the reader to slowly get the gist of your tale and about the mother's sorrow and adaptation.

I was so engrossed with Hannah and her mates' Catch-22 social integration problems, that I didn't notice the couple of grammatical slips, but agree with the others' nits, which are minimal. No more nits from me!

I think your story is just the right length for Stonehenge. It's an unfortunate fact that members don't read long stories, probably due to lack of time. You've given us a perfect picture of one aspect of Hannah's life, an aspect that can be extended to other areas, I'm sure. A race that symbolises universal problems for all 'special' people.

I agree that you could fill this story in with more details and anecdotes, or even turn it into a novel. It's all there, waiting for you to decide!!! Congrats!

Hugs, Sylvia ***

[Guest_Cailean_*]

I found this piece very touching - I find it an interesting coincidence that my webmistress happens to be a teacher of Down Syndrome children and other children with disabilities and her name is Hannah! I might have to link this to her.

I think I remember back in the day when this was in the Pandora's Challenge. It seems familiar. I like the sharp edges, so to speak, in three lines particular:

“This is great for them, isn’t it?” she said, gesturing to the line at the starting point, poised for the whistle.

“And of course, you’ll have other children.”

“She’ll spoil it for them,” one mother said to June, “it’s all the poor things have.”

These sections show the horrible patronizing attitude that someone with a disability is suddenly just a problem, not a person. Supposedly not worth time spent on, they're not expected to succeed or do anything with their lives except be a liability. Disability is not liability, an inability to do one thing may end up being an extra ability in another area. I particularly dislike when people with disabilities are casually "written off" and it's always in the guise of pity or care. Care, to me, is about empowerment and understanding.

June, thankfully, does not share this attitude. The same with Hannah herself - who has empowered herself to maximize her ability, rather than be constrained by disability. There are many so-called "normal" people that cannot do this. They allow themselves to be stopped by all manner of reasons and perhaps if they had to develop the strength to endure a disability, maybe they would make something of themselves too!

(as an aside, I'll say this extends to the purely mental illnesses which are just considered with not even patronizing pity but horror and fear, hardly a better response for someone suffering!)

But, ahem, I should probably stop before I go completely into rant mode. As to the piece, I think some of the words could be enhanced with a few formatting changes, notably italics. Especially in Hannah's speech. I think having these changes may help? :

“Never mind being brave, I want to win!!”

“they’re too slow. It’s boring”.

It's just me, but I see Hannah as a teen or just on the verge of being a teen and I can see her using a little overemphasis on certain words in speech, because when you're in your teens, like EVERYTHING is an emergency! Everything's bigger and more tragic and all that jazz, haha :) But that could just be a style thing from me, I'm not a dialogue expert but from her general "I'm going to kick ass and take names" actively assertive approach to life, I think it fits - but she's your character, or if you're writing it about someone you know in real life, then let that dialogue stand instead!

Hope it helps, this is also Western Australian Shiraz inspired. *takes another drink*

Cailean