Writing 101: Give and Take

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Hello one and all, I’d like to re-emerge from my hiatus with a long overdue apology.

I am sorry.

 I’ve been neglectful of my blogging habits. This has been due to a powerful combination of work, life and procrastination. I’m easing my way back into your homes and hearts by continuing with the blogging U I was doing before my mysterious disappearance, “Writing 101”.

The challenge I tackled for this post is a challenge in contrast. I have to present 2 conflicting, or opposing ideas or elements through the piece. The challenge however has a twist, and the twist is that, for this challenge, I have to present this idea in the form of a dialogue. There is no better way to get to grips with something new than to get your hands dirty. So here it is, my attempt at weave together a dialogue.

Enjoy

 

“Every time!” He said. “Every time were in need of swift action, you waylay our efforts with this, your obsolete moral babble!” Brendan’s bark was a bitter one, abrupt and cloaked in malice. It often was this way, he was a passionate boy, quick to anger, quick to love. He paced around the room intoxicated with agitation. The old floor boards creaked in protest of his frenzy. Each step of his, agitated and brisk, punished the worn fibres of the old carpet.

“You need to calm down Brendan” Said Frederick. “Your pacing is sure to give me a head ache. Quieten your legs and use whatever is left in that little head of yours” His disposition maintained its usual calm and controlled air. His sombre eyes searched the corners of the room. There was a solution hidden in the thick of the confusion, his patience hadn’t failed his pursuit for resolve before, he trusted his temperament.

“How could you possibly consider calm at a time like this?” Brendan said, “If the tables were turned , I would really hope that you’d be out there,” He gestured to the window “Out there doing what needs to be done!” he struggled to ease himself and paced some more.

All the while there was a third body in the room, a body that sat quietly, under the roaring tides of a sibling dispute. Fading under the waves of dissonance.

As the young men vied for justice and resolve, the small room grew smaller by the minute. Fire and Ice, spiralling in abrupt bouts of diction, passion and sensibility caught in mortal conflict. Brendan’s fires, though periodically subdued by Fredrick winds of reason, offered a glimpse of the infernal the young man harboured. Fredrick was determined to douse and simmer  the crescendo of Brendan’s passions, as he had always done.

“This isn’t wisdom Freddie. There is nothing wise about your flap-able courage.” Brendan spat out his words, attacking the empty spaces in the room, “I just want to get my hands on the …”  he stifled his words as the seething ambers of revenge coursed through him. His steps boiled into a heavy march that rattled the delicate little house. He drew himself close to, and turned towards the seated boy with some semblance of calm. “I’ll find whoever did this, and I will make them truly pay!”

The little home their mother kept in tact till the time of her passing was rattling at the hinges. Shaky floor boards, faded walls and wavering spirits.

“He is as much my brother as he is yours, maybe the hatred and fury of your little black heart blinds you!” Fredrick said, now projecting with some power, through his wavering calm “Can’t you see this cuts me just as deep as it does you!” a surprising flicker of passion flashed through his air of  tranquillity. “Your senseless taste for blood will only stir the violence” once again he restored his timbre, that rhythm of reason that kept the peace. “There will be no such foolishness.”

Malachi, the third body in that room, the youngest of the three siblings, remained glued to the seat of his trousers. A normally jovial young man, now wore his severed stare and wounded pride with emptiness. His gaze, a cold and empty gaze, was lost in everything. He stared into and through through the faded walls, his face dotted with bruises, the dark foot prints of a fray tracing his body and face. Every bruise that kissed his skin was a twisted dagger in each brothers flank. As plain as it was to see that the two brothers were nurtured by completely opposite impulses,  there love for there brother was a deep and mutual one. It showed oh so clearly, as is only expected, t2hey only had each other.

Agnes, there mother, was a gentle lady, a sweet, loving mother. A hard working woman, who raised  3 boys and supported them through tireless endeavours.Times had gotten much harder since the love she grew to know betrayed her. Her husband had left her, The father to her sons had vanished without notice. Fredrick and Brendan old enough to remember that moment, had taken with them separate pieces of that broken picture. Brendan, with all his fire, remembered the tears and pain. His mothers wails of pain nourished a seed of passion and fire that grew to serve as his compass. Fredrick, on the other hand, remembered the long hours his mother worked, he remembered her exhaustion and sleepless nights. He wished to put an end to that and relieve her of that burden. After her passing it was Fredrick who kept the peace and sustained what left of there little family.

“All you do is watch things happen, you never take action,” Brendan said, “are these the impotent habits of a learned, educated , man?”, Brendan was working him self up, eagerly teasing another bout of passion from his older.

“There is nothing wise about all three of us rushing at the lions mouth” Fredrick  said “It doesn’t make you a man, to surrender to that thirst of yours,” he added ” That thirst for blood and chaos is a fools lust. You’re only proving to me that you are truly still just a little boy!”

“You really have become him, haven’t you?” Brendan said, drawing a confused glance from his older brother, “Unbelievable! You’re talking just like him. Running away from your responsibilities, just like him. You even look like that dog, smell like that dog. You are barking just like him.” His voice and edge into a menacing growl “You are just like dad Fredrick!” Brendan’s rage was consuming him.

“That’s enough!” Said Fredrick. pressing his lightening white knuckles to the seems of his trousers, flashing a glorious crimson.”I’ll never be that, swine.!” He said, “Who helped keep us all fed, dry and warm after Ma passed? That selfish pig wouldn’t do so much as spit in a trough to quench our thirst”

“That’s it, let it all out.” Brendan said. A sinister air cascaded through his rage, his faint smile found pleasure in breaking his brothers patience.

All the while Malachi, with his melancholy demeanour further drowned him into obscurity, the soul cause of the commotion was speechless and filled with an unknown war.

“Ask the boy!” Fredrick said “Ask the boy what actually happened before you’re madness lands us all in it”

Malachi’s eyes finally wondered out of the depths of bewilderment and back into the room.

“He’s gone!” Malachi finally spoke. “That bastard is gone, finally gone”

His words crashed the tension, his unexpected utterance shattered the bubbling confrontation into shards of curiosity. His older brothers, dazed and confused, searched to piece this new strand of misery into the frame.

“He was there! His face was right there in front of me, repulsive, arrogant and black all the way through” Malachi continued, his brothers were prisoners to the mystery he teased into the coarse air “He mentioned Mum!” He said, Why did he have to mention her?” Malachi was shaking and growing alarmingly agitated  “He had it coming!”

Fredrick finally found his words. His worry and curiosity had set it in thickly “What did you do lad?”

Malachi’s once innocent eyes had finally been sullied, they spoke of malice and grief. His face, war torn and bruised, his garments tattered from unknown fray, spattered in frightening auburn patched. The very disposition that ignited a deep concern had now thrust them into a worry of the darkest sort.

Even Brendan’s lust for commotion was stifled. “You fool!” he said “What have you done?”

“It was that rotten mutt Richard” said  Malachi , through gritted teeth, clenched knuckles and a bubbling soul.  “It was dad!”

The words stripped Fredrick of his balance, he collapsed into the nearest seat, his head fell into his palms, his chest emptied in whimpers of a delicate pain. Brendan’s simply froze, the disbelief had simmered his energies.

Fredrick pleaded with the heavens.”Lord, what has he done!”

The three brothers, stunned by it all sat in silence. Taken aback by the unforeseeable events, sat there, simply sat there.

Unannounced, an urgent knock boomed and echoed through the room. The three faces turned in puzzlement.

Author: The Blissful Nomad

I'm a writer, Poet, Spoken Word Artist who fell in love with words at a weird time in my life. A chance to create is precious, getting to share what my mind pieces together is something special. I hope you enjoy reading, feel free to get in touch, any feedback is appreciated.

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