Her Name Was Mrs. Hong, Wizard and Member Choice Winner Options

[Siren]

Note: a somewhat rewrite :)

Member Choice Award Winner

*Graphic provided by
Celtic Castle Designs

*Graphic provided by
Celtic Castle Designs

Rewrite


The first time Ben saw her was when he passed her at the dining area. She was holding her lips open as the nurse fed her. Years long past had defined the lines of her Asian features, but even they couldn't douse her inner glow when she looked up at him.

He paused in wonder, captivated by her happy face. His mission forgotten, he bent down and whispered, "You're very beautiful, ma'am." Her skin flushed sweetly, as a droplet got caught at the edge of her lashes. She blinked and lowered her eyes back to her meal.

All through the visit with his forgetful mom, Ben would pass her way. They'd share a glance, a nod, a smile. But by the end of his stay he lost sight of her and had to ask which was her room. Seconds later he peered through her doorway, smiling, "I'm leaving and wanted to say goodnight." His voice croaked with emotion; he felt as though he was leaving a part of him behind. Shaking his head and unable to understand his own reaction, he left with her image twinkling before him.

After another sleepless night of tossing and turning, Ben finally gave up trying and at dawn got up and sat on the porch steps sipping coffee. Almond-shaped eyes peered at him hauntingly, and all he could think of was: Why?

As the day wore on he got some chores done and packed a few more things for his mom. His shoulders drooped from the weight of worry that seemed to grow by the day. His mother was getting worse. Though this disease has been eating at her brain for so long, she used to remember him at certain hours of the day. She was the only family he had and it was hard seeing her pass the stage of recognition and being in her own world. He never knew what to expect anymore on his visits, and though he was grateful for the care she was getting at the center, he felt a measure of guilt at the relief he felt and hated the emptiness that filled this house. He should have been used to it by now, but it was in those late hours of the night that he could feel her loss more profoundly. God knows he was way past the stage of needing a mom. But maybe there wasn't an age limit to that need, maybe those feelings of being a lost young boy would never go away. He knew that if he allowed himself to let go of all the misery and loneliness; if he accepted that weakness, he'd cry endlessly.

Later on in the day, as the sun carried itself west, leaving a copper tint in its wake, Ben climbed the steps to the Center carrying two paper bags of treats and essentials. His visit with Mom was truly short, but it felt as though it crawled on for hours. His duty done and conscience relieved, he began to seek out his captor.

She was sitting in the garden, bracketed by beds of lilacs. Her silver streaks glowed in the early evening light, and her head bent slightly to the side as she looked on to nothingness. Her blank stare placed a lump in Ben's throat. Gulping it down, Ben came closer and croaked a hello. She looked up at him and smiled warmly, her face lighting up in recognition. The twisted knots in his gut loosened and he smiled.

Minutes fell into hours as they sat beneath the glowing moon, Ben's voice piercing through the silence every now and then and her head bobbing in comprehension. Beneath the blanket she held his hand, their fingers laced together in warmth. It had been years since Ben felt this rapport with anyone. Her nurse came to take her announcing the end of visiting hours.

Unable to let go of her just yet, Ben asked permission to come along and tuck her in. As he carried her into bed and laid the covers just beneath her chin, she pressed his head forward onto her chest and held him in a loving, motherly hug that broke through the strained walls of his soul. Crumbling, he began to cry; his tears spilled effortlessly- drops held back by endless nights of worry, helplessness, and loneliness.

Drained, Ben staggered, stood, and looked down at her sweet face. Her sad eyes stared back at him knowingly. It was like looking in the mirror. Ben recognized that look of helplessness and loneliness. After all, wasn't it that same look he saw everytime he glimpsed his own reflection? Finally understanding why she touched him so, Ben was even more reluctant to leave. Sighing, he placed his lips on her forehead and just drew in her scent, kissed her, wished her goodnight, and promised he'd back the next day.

That day came a week later. A snowstorm bogged down his plans to visit his mom. He called the Center every day asking about his mom, but couldn't ask after his Asian lady because he had never caught her name. Ben could still feel the pressure of her healing arms about him. And when bouts of panic hit, he'd only have to close his eyes and relive every moment of that day to recapture his relief. He'd remember her smell, her touch, the serenity that seemed to glow like dancing fireflies upon her face each time he looked her way.

After spending an hour with Mom and making sure she was comfortable, he made his way to her room. Knocking softly, he entered and watched the sun filter through the open windows onto an empty bed. He turned around looking for her silver brush upon the dresser, and the huge picture frame that held several black and white pictures of her and what he believed was her family.

All that greeted him was emptiness.

A breeze swept through the gaping windows and played with Ben's hair. He heard a soft murmur and knew. She was saying goodbye through the wind, caressing him one last time.

Ben retraced his steps into the hallway and looked at the name placed in bold on her door. It read, Mrs. Hong.




_



Original

   Ben passed her at the dining area. Her fine lips were held open as a nurse fed her. Years long past had defined the lines of her Asian features, but even the years couldn't douse her inner glow when she looked up at him.

    He paused in wonder, captivated by her happy face. His mission forgotten, he bent down, whispered. "You're very beautiful, Ma'am." Her skin flushed sweetly, as a droplet got caught at the edge of her lashes. She blinked and lowered her eyes back to her meal.

    All through his visit; spending time with his forgetful mom, he'd pass her way. Blue eyes smiling, held by her gleaming browns.

     By the end of his stay, he had lost sight of her and inquired of her room. Seconds later he peered through her doorway, smiling, "I'm leaving and wanted to say goodnight." His voice croaked with emotion; he felt as though he was leaving a part of him behind. Shaking his head, unable to understand his own reaction, he left with her image twinkling before him.

     Another sleepless night. Tossing and turning, Ben finally gave up trying and at dawn arose and sat on the porch steps sipping coffee. Almond-shaped eyes peered at him, hauntingly, and all he could think was Why? All through the day he got his chores done and packed a few more things for his mom. His shoulders drooped from the weight of worry that seemed to grow by the day. His mother was getting worse. She had long passed the stage of recognition and seemed to always be in her own world. Spaced out. He had thought that by now he would've gotten used to it, but being forced to put her at the center made him feel her loss more profoundly. He was way past the stage of needing a mom. Heck, at his age he would have been a grandfather. Still the lost boy drummed his misery through him. If he opened the gates and accepted that weakness, he knew he'd cry endlessly.

      Later on in the day as the sun carried itself west, leaving a copper tint in her wake, Ben was climbing the steps to the Center carrying two paper bags of treats and essentials. His visit with Mom was truly short, but it felt as though it crawled on for hours. His duty done and conscience relieved, he began to seek out his captor.

     She was sitting in the garden, bracketed by beds of lilacs. Her silver streaks glowed in the early evening light, and her head bent slightly to the side as she looked on to nothingness. Her blank stare placed a lump in Ben's throat. Gulping it down, Ben came closer and croaked a Hello. She looked up to him and smiled warmly, her face lighting up in recognition. The twisted knots in his gut loosened, and his lips twitched upward.

     Minutes fell into hours as they sat beneath the glowing moon, Ben's voice piercing through the silence every now and then and her head bobbing in comprehension. Beneath the blanket she held his hand. fingers laced together in warmth. It had been years since Ben felt this rapport with anyone. Too soon, a nurse came to take her in, announcing the end of visiting hours.

     Unable to let go of her yet, Ben asked permission to tuck her in. As he carried her into bed and laid the covers just beneath her chin, she pressed his head forward onto her chest and held him in a loving, motherly hug that broke though the lattice walls of his soul. Crumbling, he felt a downpour drench him as his tears spilled- drops held back by the endless days and nights of worry, helplessness and loneliness.

     Drained, Ben staggered, stood and looked down at his savior, finally understanding why she touched him so. She was a kindred spirit, held captive by the hopelessness of her illness and years of loneliness. He placed his lips on her forehead and just drew in her scent, kissed her and wished her goodnight. He'd be back tomorrow.

      Tomorrow came a week later. A snowstorm had hindered his plans to visit his mom. He called the Center every day asking about his mom, but couldn't ask after his Asian lady since he had never caught her name. Ben could still feel the pressure of her healing arms about him. And when bouts of panic hit, he'd only have to close his eyes and relive every moment of that day to recapture his relief. He'd recall her smell, her touch, the serenity that seemed to glow like dancing fireflies upon her face each time he peeked a glance.

      After spending an hour with Mom and making sure she was comfortable, he trekked his way to her room. Knocking softly, he entered and watched the sun filter through the open windows onto her empty bed. He turned around looking for the silver brush had lain upon the dresser, and the picture frame that held a younger image of her. All that greeted him was emptiness.

      A breeze swept through the gaping windows and played with Ben's golden strands. He heard a soft murmur and knew. She was saying Goodbye through the wind. Caressing him one last time.

      Ben retraced his steps into the hallway and looked at the name placed in bold on her door. It read Mrs. Hong.

[Guest_Zeus˛_*]

Dani,
a beautiful story. Like how you present him, torn between two loves. One to be lost and another to possibly resurrect, creating a small sliver of hope that could ease his mind. But alas, she fell victim too.
Great ending using metaphors.
Nothing to change with this. Very well done.
Larry

[Guest_Cailean_*]

This is poignant and intriguing. It's mysterious without being confusing. OK, now slight critique :)

At the start, some of the sentences seem very short, I'm wondering if they could be connected together? Just it gives the start a sort of fast pace that seems inappropriate. Of course, writing like this is really important if you write action scenes, and ironically, I can't seem to write like that when I can, so maybe it's just me :)

But I think if the beginning sentences were longer that it would be a bit more soothing to begin with. I think to suit the rest of the piece, that being soothed into a sort of sad day to day existence, as if sliding into the swimming pool, works a bit better than being pushed in :) But I really don't think there is a lot to change, just the short sentences at the beginning jarred me.

But all in all, very touching and beautiful :)

May your life get a little better every day. Blessed be.

Cailean Darkwater.

[Siren]

Dani,
a beautiful story. Like how you present him, torn between two loves. One to be lost and another to possibly resurrect, creating a small sliver of hope that could ease his mind. But alas, she fell victim too.
Great ending using metaphors.
Nothing to change with this. Very well done.
Larry

Larry,

Hi and thank you for the glowing praise... :)

I'm glad this had the right affect... I was really nervous about posting it...


Thank you

Dani

[Siren]

This is poignant and intriguing. It's mysterious without being confusing. OK, now slight critique :)

At the start, some of the sentences seem very short, I'm wondering if they could be connected together? Just it gives the start a sort of fast pace that seems inappropriate. Of course, writing like this is really important if you write action scenes, and ironically, I can't seem to write like that when I can, so maybe it's just me :)

But I think if the beginning sentences were longer that it would be a bit more soothing to begin with. I think to suit the rest of the piece, that being soothed into a sort of sad day to day existence, as if sliding into the swimming pool, works a bit better than being pushed in :) But I really don't think there is a lot to change, just the short sentences at the beginning jarred me.

But all in all, very touching and beautiful :)

May your life get a little better every day. Blessed be.

Cailean Darkwater.

Cailean,

Your thoughts about the first part of the story is so true... I too feel it lacks more... I will revise the first part and hope you venture back and check it out....


Thanks so much for coming to this and I'm looking forward at sharing more...


Hugs
Daniah

[Guest_orestes_*]

I thought this was a really interesting and highly unusual story.  It had a really sensual quality to it which one wouldn't expect in a tale about an old people's home, but was all the more effective for that. It's such a refreshing challenge to common conceptions about old age -to the idea that people lose their ability to seduce and attract when they pass a certain age. Ben is drawn to Mrs. Hong because she is a fellow sufferer -yet I think you leave it open for us to interpret that his attraction has a sexual element to it too, as though Mrs. Hong represents a refreshing alternative to the merely depressing vision of old age that his mother embodies.
I loved your final imagery of the photo of the young Mrs. Hong and the curtain blown by the breeze; they reminded me vividly of the part in Daphne duMaurier's famous novel [i]Rebecca -don't know if you've read it?- where Maxim de Winter's second wife enters the bedroom of his deceased first,the Rebecca of the title, and is confronted by a similar set of images -such as an open window, a photo -which are all eroticised to the hilt. I felt that the same sort of thing was going on in your story -but maybe not!! Do put me right if so!
If I have to quibble, I would have liked you to expand more on the nursing home and on Ben's relationship with the two women. More dialogue and more 'action'' would work very well I think, also more dramatisation of the conflict that Ben feels between his two ''loves''. You jump into the main theme straight away, whereas I think your theme should have more of a build-up and context to it. Ben is drawn to Mrs. Hong in part because of his own inner need and emptiness, and perhaps you should describe this aspect of the story in more detail.  But it still stands up very well without doing so.

Really enjoyed this story. Look forward to seeing more of your work.

Have a great day,
Stephen

[Siren]

I thought this was a really interesting and highly unusual story.  It had a really sensual quality to it which one wouldn't expect in a tale about an old people's home, but was all the more effective for that. It's such a refreshing challenge to common conceptions about old age -to the idea that people lose their ability to seduce and attract when they pass a certain age.

An accurate interp. Everyone has a certain kind of magic and the best ones are always hidden from the naked eye. Magic is seductive as is any level of affection. and quite frankly what sensuality you caught is only a part of my style I guess.

Ben is drawn to Mrs. Hong because she is a fellow sufferer -yet I think you leave it open for us to interpret that his attraction has a sexual element to it too, as though Mrs. Hong represents a refreshing alternative to the merely depressing vision of old age that his mother embodies.

Another correct interp.

I loved your final imagery of the photo of the young Mrs. Hong and the curtain blown by the breeze; they reminded me vividly of the part in Daphne duMaurier's famous novel [i]Rebecca -don't know if you've read it?- where Maxim de Winter's second wife enters the bedroom of his deceased first,the Rebecca of the title, and is confronted by a similar set of images -such as an open window, a photo -which are all eroticised to the hilt. I felt that the same sort of thing was going on in your story -but maybe not!! Do put me right if so!

Of course I have read "Rebecca'' but that was many years ago... and quite frankly I forgot about it till you mentioned it.

If I have to quibble, I would have liked you to expand more on the nursing home and on Ben's relationship with the two women. More dialogue and more 'action'' would work very well I think, also more dramatisation of the conflict that Ben feels between his two ''loves''. You jump into the main theme straight away, whereas I think your theme should have more of a build-up and context to it. Ben is drawn to Mrs. Hong in part because of his own inner need and emptiness, and perhaps you should describe this aspect of the story in more detail.  But it still stands up very well without doing so.

I wrote this in the spur of the moment. The image came so clear in my mind and my emotions got caught up by Ben. I then sat and wrote. It was intended as a short stroy and I didn't want to expand it too much. Though I did feel from the beginning that it does need some build up to it...


Really enjoyed this story. Look forward to seeing more of your work.

Have a great day,
Stephen

Stephen,


Hi and welcome to this one... I deeply appreciate the pointerrs you've given me and I will work on additions to it...

Thank you so much

Daniah

[Guest_Martinus Julius Caesura_*]

Thank you, Daniah...you captured my experience magnificently.

-Martin

[Siren]

Ah! Hello Martinus Julius Ceasar!!! I haven't come in this section for a long while... I had a hunch it would be you... I'm glad I caotured the experience well...

Thanks for dropping in...

Daniah

[Guest_Martinus Julius Caesura_*]

Ah! Hello Martinus Julius Ceasar!!! I haven't come in this section for a long while... I had a hunch it would be you... I'm glad I caotured the experience well...

Thanks for dropping in...

Daniah

LOL! You spelled my last name incorrectly. It’s not “Ceasar,” it’s “Caesura”—a non-metrical pause (that is, either a grammatical pause or a rhetorical pause) in a poem.

-Martin

[Siren]

Ah! Hello Martinus Julius Ceasar!!! I haven't come in this section for a long while... I had a hunch it would be you... I'm glad I caotured the experience well...

Thanks for dropping in...

Daniah

LOL! You spelled my last name incorrectly. It’s not “Ceasar,” it’s “Caesura”—a non-metrical pause (that is, either a grammatical pause or a rhetorical pause) in a poem.

-Martin

OOPs ....


Well you do know that I'm the typo Queen by now Martin... :)


Ceasarus.. got it... :)


Daniah

[Guest_Martinus Julius Caesura_*]

OOPs ....


Well you do know that I'm the typo Queen by now Martin... :)


Ceasarus.. got it... :)


Daniah

ROTFLOL!
Looks like you don’t have it!

Repeat after me: C - A - E - S - U - R - A

-Martin

[Siren]

OOPs ....


Well you do know that I'm the typo Queen by now Martin... :)


Ceasarus.. got it... :)


Daniah

ROTFLOL!
Looks like you don’t have it!

Repeat after me: C - A - E - S - U - R - A

-Martin

OOps .... another faux- pas...


Geeze!!!!

ok here goes....

C-A-E-S-U-R-A

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi Daniah!  :lovie:

What a great story! WOW - love the ending! The surprise and the sadness works well here - a longing never to be fulfilled... but memorable.


I think there's very little (if anything) that cries out - edit me! Tes - the guys have all offered great feedback  :cloud9:  and surely, if you want to make this piece a longer story, you could add more characterization. However, it works fine the way it is, methinks.  :detective:

I found two items that need a little editing for ya..
Nice to read your stories!!!!!

Cheers!
~Cleo  :pharoah:


His duty done and conscience releaved {relieved}, he began to seek out his captor.

He turned around looking for the silver brush {that} had lain upon the dresser, and the picture frame that had held a younger image of her. All that greeted him was emptiness.

[Guest_codger_*]

Just to add my name to the praise--a lovely story.  

Gerry.

[Siren]

Lori,

Thanks for the kind words and the corrections...

changed them


Daniah :)

[Siren]

Gerry,


You're so sweet!!! Thank you... :D

Daniah

[Guest__*]

Dear Dani

Loved it !

You display the same flair and ability to touch us as in your poems !

Love
Alan

[Cleo_Serapis]

Congrats on your December Member Choice Win Daniah!

Way to go!

~Cleo :pharoah2

[Guest_blondie_*]

Dear Daniah,

I couldn't resist dropping by this post just to say what a wonderful story you've blessed us with!  I am terrible for not exploring the short story section as I should.  I obviously have been missing out!  Congrats on member's choice!  Well-deserved!  

I admire your talent. :)

Happy writing to you,
~Amy~