Ashes - December 31, 2011

[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "ashes". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out]

Ashes - Squiddy Geiger - December 31, 2011

Zoe stirred the pot absently. Her mother had warned her not to come here, and she'd been right. She hated when her mother was right. Which was most of the time.

"Almost done?" Jeff asked. She nodded. He watched her stir the pot for a minute, then wandered over to the others.

She didn't think she could do it, but they'd assured her she could, and so far, it wasn't bad. She stirred the rest of the ashes into the plaster; the consistency was good, it held together but was easy to work with, It was ready now. She carried the bucket over to the others.

Jeff tested the consistency and nodded. The others watched Zoe expectantly as they waited for her to begin. She took a deep breath and grabbed a handful of the plaster and started to work.

It was difficult but she didn't dare dawdle. The plaster would only be workable for a short period. She quickly built up the wire frame, covering it with the messy concoction. The bust quickly took shape, thanks to the wires.

As she worked, she thought of her mother. Yes, she'd warned her not to come here, not to be part of this, but she'd always spoken of this ritual as necessary. Zoe hated it but also welcomed it.

She sighed, then looked at what she was doing, and her eyes watered. Without warning, it had stopped being a blob, and was now recognizable , as if the ashes in the mix were lending themselves to the form, forcing the plaster to take her mother's shape - as if the ash remembered its former likeness.

A hand tapped her shoulder. It was Jeff. "You've done it. She'd be proud." Zoe nodded, as she looked at her mother's final resting form.

Posted by Squiddy at December 31, 2011 08:30 PM | TrackBack