Monday, January 22, 2007

My fable

There once was a town called Crayola, a place of great variety, where no two inhabitants looked exactly the same. Its plain cardboard walls contained vibrant streets filled with townspeople of every shade imaginable, from lemon yellow to robin’s egg blue. These townspeople, called Crayons, sent their children to the Academy of Chromatics, where young Crayons learned important things about their world, like why red mommies and yellow daddies have orange babies.

Children of all colors attended this school, but the most popular of them all was a little girl named Patricia. Patricia was a beautiful shade of neon pink, and her vivid hue complimented her bubbly personality perfectly. Her outgoing behavior and attractive color made it very easy for Patricia to make friends with the other children, and she was always the center of attention. Unfortunately though, she wasn’t always a very nice young lady. Patricia’s father was one of the wealthiest Crayons in town and since the moment she was born, Patricia had received every doll, dress or dessert she ever requested, and she was used to getting her way.

Another student at the Academy was a young boy by the name of Brandon. Brandon lived with his parents in one of the poorer areas of Crayola, and instead of sporting fancy new shoes every week like Patricia, Brandon rarely owned a pair of sneakers that his older brother hadn’t worn thin a couple of years before. Though he was very kind and caring, Brandon was also horribly shy and spent most of his time alone. To make matters worse, he was a plain shade of brown, making him an endless target of schoolyard teasing.

Every year on Patricia’s birthday, her father threw her an extravagant birthday party, with all of her favorite treats and whatever entertainment she desired, whether it was a petting zoo or a traveling circus. All of the children in town loved Patricia’s birthday parties and eagerly awaited their invitations in the mail. This year, however, Brandon’s mailbox was empty. The little brown crayon sadly dragged his feet into house and sat down at the kitchen table where his mother Betsy flipped through the Crayola Daily Chronicle. Noticing her son’s visible distress, Betsy asked him what was wrong, and when Brandon told her about the missing invitation, she reassured him it must just be a mistake.

“Go ask her tomorrow at school,” Betsy advised him. “Maybe she had our address wrong. I’m sure she meant to send you one.”

The next day before class, Brandon walked up to Patricia in the hallway where she was surrounded by a multicolored group of giggling schoolmates. Mustering up every ounce of courage he had, Brandon tapped Patricia on the shoulder. As she turned to face him, Brandon quietly explained his empty mailbox, nervously grinning as he suggested that maybe his invitation had gotten lost in the mail.

Patricia stared back at him for a second before she burst into laughter. “Your invitation wasn’t lost,” she replied. “I didn’t send one! I don’t want a loser like you at my birthday party!” All the other students in the hall joined Patricia in pointing and snickering at Brandon as he ran off down the hall in shame.

That weekend at Patricia’s party, all the children of Crayola – that is, except Brandon - brought presents in colorfully wrapped boxes and bags. After they had all stuffed themselves with cake and ice cream, it was time for Patricia to open her gifts. She excitedly tore at the first one, a striped package from her best friend Gretchen, a spring green Crayon with evergreen freckles. However, once she had ripped away the wrapping paper, Patricia’s beaming grin fell into a stormy frown.

“I already have this doll,” she pouted. “And I didn’t even like it in the first place.” Gretchen looked around the room in horror, completely embarrassed by bringing such an unacceptable gift to the party of the year. The rest of the presents were opened in the exact same fashion though, with Patricia promptly insulting each and every one. By the time she had whined about the final gift, all of the other kids at the party were more than ready to leave. Patricia had hurt the feelings of all the children of Crayola and this was the last straw. As the last of her supposed friends filed out her front door, Patricia yelled after them, “Fine! I don’t need any friends anyway! I’d rather be all alone!”

That Monday, Patricia walked into the Academy of Chromatics determined not to speak to anyone. She was better off by herself, she reasoned, and her wish was granted. None of the other children would even acknowledge her presence and the little neon pink Crayon spent her entire day alone, even sitting at her own table at lunch. When she felt a pang of loneliness, Patricia reminded herself how lucky she actually was – most days she ended up sharing all her cookies because they were from the best bakery in Crayola, but today, she had them all to herself. Little carnation-colored tears welled up in her eyes as she forced the last bite of cookie into her mouth, feeling a bit sick from all of the sweets.

When she got home that day, Patricia decided to have a tea party with her toys; after all, they couldn’t ignore her like all of the kids at school. As she set her little table and poured the cups of tea, Patricia turned to her favorite doll and asked her about her day. Not surprisingly, the doll stared mutely back without a word. Patricia sighed in disappointment. With no one to talk to, she was starting to feel quite isolated and lonesome.

“I’ll go for a walk,” she said to herself, thinking that the fresh air and colorful streets would perk her up. At first, her idea did the trick – with the waves from her neighbors and the smiling faces of the vendors lining the streets, Patricia didn’t feel so alone. After a bit of walking and a few wrong turns however, Patricia began to feel much worse. She had left her familiar neighborhood and had no idea where she was; Gretchen had always been the one who was good with directions. Patricia was terrified and felt more lost than ever, so she sat down on the curb and began to cry. Through her sobs she could hear footsteps approaching. She lifted her head to see Brandon staring back down at her tear-streaked face.

“Are you lost?” he asked her, tilting his head curiously. She sniffled and peered around the street before looking back up at him and nodding. Brandon thought to himself for a second, then smiled and extended his hand to her.

“Here, take my hand,” he offered. “Let me help you up.”

Stunned, Patricia took his hand and pulled herself to a stand, brushing off her peony-colored sundress. Why was this boy being so nice to her? She had made him the laughingstock of Crayola, yet he was the only child in town who would speak a word to her.

Her train of thought was broken by Brandon’s voice. “If you’d like, I can help you get home,” he offered. Thankfully she accepted, and the pair headed back to Patricia’s neighborhood. As they arrived at her front door, Patricia turned to Brandon and asked him why he would show her such kindness after what she had done. Brandon shrugged and answered simply, “It’s what I would want someone to do for me.” Patricia smiled back at him and began to open the door before spinning back around and wrapping her arms around Brandon in a grateful hug. After a moment, she stepped into the house, leaving Brandon blushing on the front step.

That night, Patricia climbed into bed feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Brandon had taught her an invaluable lesson – if she wanted to be treated with kindness, she must show others the same. The next day at school, she apologized to all of the children and promised never to treat them so badly again. Once again, Patricia was surrounded by friends, but this time with Brandon by her side.

My response:

What process did you use to select and narrow down anecdotes to use in your piece?

When picking anecdotes in my piece, I wanted to choose elements that would go together logically in a story, but would build on each other and become more significant, as the assignment mentioned. For example, in my second cycle of actions, I picked three things that Patricia would do by herself, with each one making her realize a little more how lonely she was.

Is your Resolution positive or negative?

My resolution is positive – Patricia realizes how she should treat people and becomes a better person because of it.

What is the Moral?

My moral is to treat others how you would like to be treated. This concept is sometimes called the “Golden Rule” and I really believe in it – treating people with respect is really important to me and I think that kindness is often an overlooked characteristic these days.

Do you think your Reversal comes off successfully; does it “surprise” the reader? Why or why not?

I think my second reversal is more surprising than my first. In the first reversal, Patricia just goes from being very popular to very lonely, which is a big change, but not as drastic as her change in attitude that comes in the second reversal.

Did you return to Machiavelli’s fable as an example and point of reference while you constructed your piece?

Machiavelli’s piece was helpful for me because it helped me see how the elements of a fable can all go together with the feel of a story rather than an outline, but what really helped me was the exercise in class where we constructed our own fables with that format.

What was the most challenging part of the assignment?

The most challenging parts of all these assignments for me has been the choice of language. I like my pieces to show, rather than tell, and it takes me a long time to write them because I keep stopping and rewording almost every sentence. This piece in particular was difficult for me because I couldn’t fit my whole story into 2 or 3 pages. I actually had it written as a bedtime story a mother is telling her children, but with that element it was more than a page longer than it is currently, so I took those out.

Do you feel better prepared to construct your next story after having done this assignment? Why or why not?

I do to a point – this assignment helped me think about the construction of stories and writing an outline for a story much like a paper. That helps me focus the piece and write in a way that leads to the intended outcome.

No comments: