“Eleanor, for the last time, stop asking if you can go out on Friday night. You are just banging your head against a brick wall. There is no way you can go to party” argues Mum.
“I hate you, I hate you. You are mean” yells Eleanor
Eleanor pivots on her red strappy sandals and storms out of the kitchen. She flings the door back onto its hinges and stomps up the wooden stairs. Even though she is only tiny, she sounds like Mali, the baby elephant. Up in her room she slumps into the uncomfy wooden chair. She thinks about putting her feet up on the table, but changes her mind. She tugs at the pink and yellow duvet and drags it onto the floor. She flings herself onto the bed and furiously punches the yellow daisy pillows. She can’t sit still. She flings open her window and yells at Judy, her dog. She slams the window shut, the glass shudders in the frame. She storms back to the uncomfy chair.
She puts her feet up on the table, surveys her red sandals and thinks of Mary and Jane going to the party. Mary’s Mum has bought her a new purple cotton shift and Jane looks simply wonderful in that white trouser suit.
“How can I go too?” she muses
“I must. I need to”
“I need to be cleverer than Mum”
Eleanor starts to think. Who can she collude with? Who will take her to the party? Mum and Dad will be out, the baby sitter will arrive at 5 pm.
“That’s it, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll get Joanne to take me. To baby sit me at the party. It’s only round the corner, we can walk”.
“Phew” and Eleanor relaxes. “It will be easy peasy”
Eleanor starts to read her favourite book “Gulliver’s travels”. Now she is curled up on that uncomfy wooden chair, but she doesn’t notice the pain.
Unconsciously, she starts to rub her forehead.
“ooh, that hurts, oh no, my headache has come back”.
Eleanor has been sick for 2 weeks. She’s been in bed for most of that time. The doctor said it was a type of flu. Of course that’s why Mum had said no to the party.
She can feel her face getting hot and sweaty, little tears run down her face and run into the corner of her mouth. They taste salty but comforting. She wipes her face with her sleeve and pushes her blond ratty pigtails back behind her ears. Her head is thumping now, just like a couple of drums beating time in her ears. She’s also feeling a bit sick.
“Oh, Mum” she mumbles.
As if by magic, the door opens softly and Mum’s lovely kind face peers around the edge.
“Darling, are you OK?”” she eyes up the room but doesn’t say a word.
“Mum, I don’t feel very well”
“Poor you. Let’s have a cuddle. You will soon be better. You’ll be able to go to the next party. Don’t worry”
4 comments:
Eleanor tries to take on Mum and get to go to a party regardless of how sick she is. She storms off to her bedroom and plans how she might outwit Mum. But when her pain comes back from her flu, her "brick wall" of a Mum melts into the saviour of her pain.
I like how you portray Eleanor, a little girl who wants to get her way no matter what. (Had experience at this perhaps, Sue?) She takes out her rage on the house, the dog, herself, the window and anything else in range. But in the end, maternal wisdom wins out over pouty child.
A good children's story. I can't see too much to improve on. There are a few sloppy grammatical error that you could pick up with editing. (You find them). They're minor, but they do cause the reader to stumble.
Heather says:
Eleanor has her heart set on going to her friend's party. She has a tantrum and schemes for a way to get her way. Later we discover that Eleanor is and has been quite sick, which may have influenced her behaviour.
I like the temper tantrum scene - something very liberating about blankets flying, windows slamming, dogs cringeing, sitting stubbornly in uncomfortable chairs!
Suggestion: I'm a bit confused about how old Eleanor is. She's "only tiny" but she's reading Gullivers Travels and her friend has a white trouser suit. Her behaviour could be anywhere between 3 year old tantrum and 12 year old sick-kid behaviour. Perhaps a few more clues...
Kerry says:
A story about a young girl who is frustrated by her mother's refusal to let her go to a party.
I really like your description of Eleanor's behaviour after she storms out of the kitchen. All the way from pivotting on her sandals to storming to the uncomfy chair. It's a very physical paragraph and tells us a lot about Eleanor's state of mind.
It was a bit awkward transforming Eleanor's thinking from the need to go to the realisation that she was too sick, but perhaps that's the nature of a child's thinking.
I bawked at the 'uncomfy' chair, Sue. Perhaps just call it wooden or use the full word 'uncomfortable'. Picky, that one.
Eleanor is sick but wants to go to a party. Mummy says no way. Eleanor is plotting how to get there.
I loved the imagery of Eleanor stomping around upstairs like a baby elephant. Seemed all very real, think I probably behaved like that when I was her age. Actually probably still do!
The backstory of her illness seemed to change POV? I thought the transition from wellness to sickness seemed a bit sudden.
Would joanne have taken her I wonder? Suspect not.
A good read Sue.
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