posted by WDavid at 7/23/2006 02:18:00 PM
The Exorcist
By W. David MacKenzie
July 23, 2006
Elijah Beck stepped down from the long, barrel-shaped caravan, closed the door, smoothed out his musty sackcloth habit, and snugged the rope belt tight around his belly. He walked up the length of the caravan, passing the faded yet still colorful sign painted on its wooden side. In bold flourishes, it proclaimed: "Brother Elijah, Exorcist and Confessor, Dispenser of Graces, Doctor of The Sacred Reliquary". Elijah traced his hand along one weatherworn swirl of painted gaudiness and wondered again why these anti-tech fundamentalists found comfort in such audacious claims. It was the damnedest thing, but each time he repainted the sign more troubled souls flocked to his caravan seeking relief from their torment.
As Elijah mounted the ladder and pulled himself up to the driver's bench, the rope belt rolled off the downward slope of his potbelly and settled loosely on his hips; he just left it there. It would be an hour before he pulled into Pinnacle and there'd be time enough to tidy up his costume before he got there. He picked up the reins, gave them a couple of brisk shakes to wake the four mules and yelled "Hey-yawh!” The animals dug in their hooves and the caravan bounced and rattled its way down the rutted trail.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Sitting at the computer terminal tucked in at the front end of the caravan, Elijah placed the holographic data disk into the media drawer for safekeeping. A week in Pinnacle was six-and-a-half days too long as far as Elijah was concerned, but his results were quite spectacular. Forty-six disks from this little burg was amazing. Elijah couldn’t wait to get the disks back to his office and make a few phone calls to his most wealthy patients. In no time at all they’d be relieved of their dreamless nights and he’d be a rich man.
A soft knock sounded on the caravan's door. Elijah closed the media drawer in a guilty rush then stood up from the computer console and composed himself. He pulled the curtain across the nook to conceal the taboo equipment and the room was once again transformed into the Chapel of the Reliquary. Elijah walked the length of the chapel, casting myriad candlelit shadows on the ivory-tinted wall coverings, and reverently opened the door.
At the bottom of the steps stood a young girl. She was clad in a simple linen frock and wore a plain white bonnet that framed her moonlit face. She carried an equally plain rag doll in the crook of one arm. A young man and woman stood a few steps behind the girl. Elijah supposed they were the girl's parents, though they seemed scarcely old enough for the job.
"Child, it's late for you to be out. What can I do for you?"
The girl held out her free hand and Elijah stooped down to receive a crumpled five dollar bill.
"For the Saint," she said. "Mamma and Poppa say it's time for me to get exized."
"You mean exorcised," Elijah corrected and the girl nodded. Elijah looked up at the girl's parents for confirmation but their heads were bowed so he gave his full attention to the girl.
"What is your name, daughter?"
"Sara"
"It's nice to meet you, Sara." Elijah stood up and held out his hand to the girl, palm up. "I'm Brother Elijah." Sara took his hand and he steadied her as she climbed the steps. Together, they retreated into the chapel and closed the door, shutting out the cool night air and Sara's praying parents.
Elijah dropped Sara's donation into the urn beside the door, then, placing his hand on Sara's back, he urged her forward to the altar at the center of the chapel. He helped her kneel on one side of the stone altar and took his place on the opposite side. Normally he’d begin with a Latin chant to reinforce the Catholic trappings but he figured that was overkill in this situation.
“How old are you, Sara?”
“I’ll be seven next month.”
“And what has your mother told you about exorcisms?”
“That it would save my soul.” She paused, apparently trying to work the words out in her mind before speaking them out loud. “That it would stop the demon from poss…poss…”
“From possessing your soul at night?” Elijah suggested.
Sara nodded her head slowly.
“How do the demons come to you, Sara?”
“It’s just one demon.”
“Ah, well, that’s because you’re still so young. Does the demon take the same shape each time he tries to possess your soul?”
Sara nodded her head again.
“Tell me how it happens, Sara.”
“I had a puppy named Zeke…” Sara’s voice trailed off.
“Go on,” Elijah urged. As Sara gathered her thoughts, he lowered his right hand below the edge of the altar, popped open a recessed panel, and used the silent-touch keyboard hidden there to make adjustments to the instrumentation embedded in the altar.
“Last winter Zeke was playing on the iced-over lake and he fell through the ice. He died and Poppa couldn’t save him.”
“And?” Elijah prodded.
“And the demon comes to me as Zeke when I sleep.” Sara’s words were coming out in a tumble now. “He leads me to a sunny field filled with flowers and tries to get me to play with him and follow him across the field to the dark forest on the other side.” She gulped a big breath and pressed on. “Momma says that if I go into the forest my soul will be lost and I’ll go to hell. She says I have to resist the demon’s temp… temp….”
“Temptations?” Elijah asked.
Sara nodded her head.
“Does the demon tempt you every night?”
“Not every night. Some nights I sleep all the way ‘til morning without the demon trying to get my soul. But Momma says I’m too young to resist the demon so I need a ex…or…sizz…um.”
Elijah nodded at her for tackling the big word and was rewarded by a brief smile.
“Yes, I think an exorcism is exactly what you need, Sara. It will chase the demon away and he won’t bother you again as long as you lead a life free of sin. But Sara,” Elijah’s voice took on a note of grave concern, “to chase off the demon you have to let him visit you one final time. You have to make him believe that you’ll follow him wherever he wants you to go. Have fun with him and play with him as if he really were Zeke.”
Sara's eyes showed her confusion and fear so Elijah changed his tone to a joyous piety that lightened Sara’s mood. “Then, just before you go into the forest with Zeke, the power of the Saint & Martyr will flow through you and chase the demon away forever.” Out of Sara’s line of sight, Elijah took a disk from a spindle of blank media next to the keyboard and slid it into the recorder and closed the hidden panel. “Are you ready to begin?”
Sara hesitated just a moment then nodded her head one more time.
“Excellent, you're a brave girl, Sara” Elijah stood and walked around to Sara’s side and helped her up onto the stone then eased her back to a lying position. She clutched at her doll like a mother and daughter in repose. “Does your doll have a name?”
“Mary.”
“That’s a lovely name. Our Savior’s mother was named Mary.”
“I know”
“Let me take Mary and I’ll just set her here by the altar.”
“Will Mary need a ex-or-sizz-um?”
“Oh no, not at all,” Elijah consoled her. “Mary’s blessed against demons. All dolls are.”
Sara smiled at this piece of happy news and allowed Elijah to take Mary and set her beside the altar.
“Now, Sara, I want you to relax and take steady even breaths. Close your eyes and think about Zeke when he was alive and you used to play with him.” Elijah moved to the head of the altar, opened a panel, and pulled out a helmet covered with glowing lights. A bundle of colorful cables protruded from the apex like a ponytail of hair. “I’m going to place the Cap of The Martyr on your head. It’s a holy relic that will give you strength against the demon and help the Saint and Martyr to capture the demon that’s trying to possess your soul.” Elijah slid the helmet into place on the young girls head and braced it with his hands.
“Are you frightened, Sara?”
Sara shook her head and the helmet wobbled slightly. The pattern of lights changed.
“Keep your head steady, Sara, and tell me your answers out loud.” Elijah lowered the tone and volume of his voice. “Listen to my voice, Sara. Pay close attention to my voice and the way it sounds. My voice makes you feel relaxed and safe. My voice gives you strength. As long as you hear my voice there’s no need to worry about anything. Demons can’t get you and Zeke can’t hurt you. My voice is a blanket that covers you with warmth and security. My voice is trust and God’s love.” The lights on the helmet slowed and began to pulse white in steady waves as Sara slipped into the hypnotic trance.
“Can you hear me, Sara”
Her voice was whisper soft. “Yes.”
“Sara, do you see Zeke?”
“Yes, he’s jumping around at my feet.”
“Good. That’s good, Sara. Are you in the house or outside?”
“We’re in the kitchen. There’s a cherry cobbler on the counter and it smells good.”
“Ah—“ Elijah stumbled then a thought came to him. “That’s a sign that the Saint and Martyr is there,” Elijah said. “His presence is like the comfort of home. Play with Zeke, Sara. Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’m chasing Zeke around the kitchen like you said. I’m playing with him. He’s barking and panting. The kitchen door’s open and Zeke’s going out into the yard.”
“That’s good, Sara. Follow Zeke into the yard.” Elijah listened to the girl recounting her dream, watched with his own mind’s eye as she relived a moment of childhood joy with her lost pet. How could they believe that this image of pure innocence was demonic possession?
“Zeke’s running out to the field where Poppa let’s the cows eat.”
“Follow Zeke, Sara.” How could they deny this precious child one more romp with Zeke in the privacy of her sleep? His data drawer was packed with adult nightmares of greed and lust and violence. Melancholy and want and perversion deserved to be cast out—but this perfect moment of happiness?
“We’re in the field with the big tree, next to the creek. I’m sitting under the tree in the cool shade and Zeke's licking my hand.”
This should be Sara’s treasure and solace as she comes to experience the heartache of womanhood.
“Zeke's running in the creek now and splashing in the water. He’s coming out of the creek and shaking his body. The water’s going everywhere. Now I’m all wet too.”
Elijah’s throat tightened and he rubbed at his watery eyes. Maybe that was their point. Maybe twisting this happy dream into demonic temptation would inure her to the misery she’ll one day know in this backwater.
“Zeke's running across the field again.” Sara’s voice changed slightly. “He’s running toward the forest.”
“Don’t be frightened, Sara.” Maybe life really was God’s punishment for original sin and sparing this child one happy dream would lessen her pain by giving her nothing hopeful in comparison.
“I’m following Zeke but I’m scared. The forest is dark and scary.”
“Zeke can’t hurt you as long as you hear my voice.”
Nothing hopeful except the promise of Heaven.
“Stop at the edge of the forest, Sara. Feel the power of the Saint and Martyr through my voice, Sara. Feel God's love and truth in the sound of my voice. The forest is fading away, becoming misty and white. The forest is gone.”
“The forest is gone,” she whispered.
“The field and the creek and the tree are fading away. The house and the yard and the kitchen are becoming more and more distant. You can’t see them any more.”
Nothing good except God’s love and the promise of the Resurrection.
“I’m all alone with Zeke,” she said.
“Zeke is a demon, Sara. He has no power over you if you’re strong and believe in the Lord. The demon is getting smaller and smaller as your belief grows. The demon is so small and the power of the Saint and Martyr that flows through you is so strong that you could step on the demon and end his power forever.”
No faith but faith in God.
“Step on him Sara and be free from demons for as long as you live.”
On the altar, Sara’s foot twitched. “The demon's gone,” she said.
“Listen to my voice, Sara. Pay close attention to my voice and the way it sounds. My voice is a beacon. Follow my voice. As you get closer to my voice you will start to wake up. The closer you get the less you will remember about the exorcism. You’re getting closer to my voice and you’re coming more awake. You’re forgetting everything that happened while you were on the altar. You’re almost to my voice and almost awake. When I tell you that you’re awake you will keep your eyes closed and you will remember only that the power of God’s love will protect you and stop the demons from coming to you in your sleep.” All of the white lights on the helmet had faded away and only the swirling dancing colored lights remained. “You’re awake, Sara.”
Elijah removed the helmet and tucked it back into the protected nook at the head of the altar then moved around to face Sara. “You can open your eyes now.”
Sara blinked her eyes a few times. “Did it work?”
“Yes, it worked. You won’t be bothered by demons again.” Elijah helped Sara to sit up and then to stand.
“Thank you, Brother Elijah,” Sara said, then smiled.
“You run along now. I’m sure your parents are worried about you.”
Sara walked demurely to the chapel door, opened it, and was gone.
Elijah swallowed hard and turned back to the altar and opened the control panel. He was glad he’d be leaving Pinnacle in the morning. He removed the holographic disk from the recorder and went toward his computer nook. He’d never worked his scam on someone as young as Sara, someone so innocent. He pulled the curtain back to reveal all of his high tech gadgetry and wondered how it stacked up against the hopes and dreams of one little girl. Was all the money hurled at him by the self-centered and witless scions of his society worth robbing this child of hope and love and joy?
A gasp from behind sent a shiver through Elijah’s body and he reflexively hid the disk, slipping it into the habit’s pocket as he turned around. All he saw before the father’s fist impacted his jaw and sent him sprawling to the floor, before the man’s kicks raged against Elijah’s chest, was Sara’s mother holding the young girl to her protectively so that the child could not see the forbidden computers and machinery that their faith equated with devil worship and sin, or the violence meted out by her father as punishment for Elijah’s duplicity. Her father’s words, however, punctuated by pain, burned into Elijah’s soul.
“…trusted you with our daughter…came to thank you…to retrieve her doll…you consort with the devil…use the demon’s machines…dress in pleasing garb…bring shame and damnation to us all…”
-=-=-=-=-=-
When light tore its way through Elijah’s black unconscious mind, it brought pain: physical pain of a wracked body, mental pain of wrongs remembered, spiritual pain of hopes and dreams stolen by him and from him. He rolled over onto his side and forced his tortured body to sit and, eventually, to stand.
It was noon. He was outside in what passed for a town square. Occasionally people walked in or out of the general store and the blacksmith’s hammer rose and fell in staccato clangs, but no one looked at him in his battered and bloody monk’s habit. No one commented on the charred odor of his smoldering caravan—his Chapel of the Reliquary. Everyone turned their back on his burned and smashed computers. His digital recordings, now amorphous lumps of plastic slag, did not exist to them. Sara’s father, indeed the whole community, could not bring itself to murder, even in what they probably judged a righteous cause, but they were not without recourse.
He was shunned. His existence—past, present, and future—erased from their world by sheer force of will. Why? Because he pretended to be something they could understand to achieve his own goals? Because he used the wrong tools to achieve their desired goals? Or because their dogma could not encompass the truth that God uses all the tools at His command to achieve His own goals and teach His own lessons?
Elijah limped out of Pinnacle. Each step hurt in his chest and his hip but the pain helped him focus his thoughts on movement, on getting away from this place and these people. He held his hand to his side to ease a sharp twinge, felt a hard shape, and remembered slipping Sara’s dream disk into his pocket just before the bottom dropped out of his world. He pulled the disk out of the pocket and examined it in the noonday sun. Flashes of light danced across its surface and refracted in rainbow coruscations through its translucent matrix. Miraculously, this fragile recording of a young girls last innocent dream had survived his beating and abuse.
He smiled, slipped the disk back into his pocket, and resumed his limping stride down the dusty road.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Elijah Beck stood before the dressing room mirror straightening his tie when the intercom sounded.
“Doctor Beck, Mrs Cobar-Solana is waiting for you in the treatment suite.”
“Thank you, Rachel.” Dr. Beck examined his appearance in the mirror one last time, tugged his vest down over his protruding paunch, and winced as the constricting garment pressed on his still tender ribs. Elijah looked askance at the battered monk’s habit hanging in the closet. The bruises and abrasions had healed but some mementos, some aches and pains, kept the memory of Pinnacle fresh in his mind. Six months or a year from now the hypnotic suggestions he implanted would weaken, “demonic possessions” would again trouble their sleep and those backward sods wouldn’t have Brother Elijah available to exorcise their demons. He steeled himself against the pain and put on an air of confidence before striding out of the dressing room.
“Wilhelmina…” Elijah oozed charm as he sauntered across the expansive treatment suite and sat on the upholstered stool beside the instrumented couch where his patient reclined. He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “How are you this afternoon?”
Wilhelmina Marianna Cobar-Solana was, at first glance, a handsome middle-aged socialite, impeccably dressed and curvaceous in all the right places. In actuality, however, she was a septuagenarian taking full advantage of the widely available anti-aging gene therapies.
“Oh, Elijah, where have you been?” Her tone was theatrical, almost melodramatic. “I’ve been trying to make an appointment for weeks but that horrid woman of yours kept telling me you were unavailable and I refuse to see any of those other hacks. Eduardo and I are off to Madrid tomorrow and I simply cannot go in my current condition. Elijah, I must have my dream treatment at once. It’s like I’m sleeping in a cave now. Totally dreamless. I’ve never been so bored in my life.”
“Wilhelmina, I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” Actually, he was sure she wasn’t. Total dreamlessness, what physicians now called anorphia, was a persistent side effect of the gene therapy and often lead to acute depression and even suicide. Happily for his patients, however, Elijah offered a treatment that was effective. The fact that Elijah’s treatment was expensive, temporary, and somewhat addictive was not coincidental. However, with more people taking the gene therapies and competing anorphia treatments cropping up, he’d met with skyrocketing expenses for his raw dream recordings. After the disaster at Pinnacle, another source was closed to him.
Elijah moved to the console behind the couch and pressed a few buttons—the instrumentation inside the couch hummed to life. “As it happens…” He paused to ease a brain interface helmet onto Wilhelmina’s head then plugged the bundled wires into the console. “…I can give you a treatment right away.”
“Oh Elijah, that’s wonderful. I just knew you’d be able to help me.”
Elijah extracted a holographic disk from his vest pocket and studied it for a moment. He recalled the price that had been paid for this particular dream recording, paid by him and paid by Sara; a price he’d have to pass on to his patients if he was going to start the search for another source of dreamers. He slid the disk into the drive slot on the console.
“You do like puppy dogs, don’t you, Wilhelmina?”
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Sunday, July 23, 2006
The Exorcist
10 Comments:
Hi Everyone…Sorry I’ve been away from PPTP for nearly a whole week, but I’ve been struggling with a story and today I finally finished my first draft. Well, second draft, really. I’ve been getting a lot of private input from Ruth1. Here’s the genesis of the piece: The assignment from my in-class lesson was to write a four to six page (double spaced) story based on a dream. Well, I hardly ever remember my dreams so I commented to Ruth1 that there should be a dream repository to help people who didn’t remember their dreams. That triggered a thought about a world where people had lost the power to dream and needed to have other peoples dreams implanted. The story above is my take on that world. The piece is 14 double spaced pages…WAY over the limit so I won’t be able to have it read in class but I’ll hand out copies to the students and get their comments the following week.
I welcome any and all comments and critiques: typos, plot holes, logic flaws, anything you can come up with. If you happen to get them in quickly then I can consider any suggested changes before I submit the lesson, if not, then I’ll consider them later. I like this piece and feel it might be publishable. With your help I hope I can refine it. I do not bruise easily so be as harsh as you like. It’s what I need to improve my craft.
By
WDavid, at 7/23/2006 02:27:00 PM
Very interesting story. Was trying to figure out what was really going on while reading it. Since it was obvious the guy was a fake exorcist at the beginning I thought maybe the demon possession would end up being real. But I was confused as to what all the computers and gadgets were for. And wondered why he made them go thru the exorcism if they were instructed that they wouldn't remember any of it. You know, just hypnotise them, wake them up then tell them it worked. Of course, that was revealed later. After the beating I just figured he had changed cons. Didn't catch on right away that the cons were connected. Nicely done.
There are a bunch of typos though. Here are the ones I saw, in order of appearance.
"Sitting at the computer terminal tucked in at front end of the caravan," (should have the word "the" before front.)
"Elijah supposed they were the girl's parents, though they seemed scarcely old enough for job." (should have the word "the" before job.)
“Does the demon temp you every night?” (tempt)
"Sara eyes showed her confusion and fear so Elijah’s changed his tone to a joyous piety that lightened Sara’s mood." (Sara's) (Elijah)
"A bundle of colorful cables protruded from the apex like a pony of hair" (Did you mean to say ponytail of hair? Or is this the correct wording?)
"Occasionally people waked in or out of the general store" (walked)
Also when you use words like He or His or Him, referring to God, you inconsistently capitalize them.
I like the story, very interesting idea.
By
Fred MacKenzie, at 7/23/2006 04:50:00 PM
Fred...Thanks for the comments. I fixed all of the typos you found in my WORD copy and I'll go back here and fix them as well.
I checked the only place I remembered where I use dhte God pronouns and they're all correct. Can you tell me where you found the inconsistencies?
Elijah went through the "exorcisms" or hypnotic therapy, if you will, to relieve these people of their dreams/possessions and give himself credibility. Hynotic suggestons are rarely permanent so when they dreammed again they'd chalk it up to some sin, real or imagined, and welcome another exorcism when he passed through town again. i hope that come through in the story and that you didn't have to struggle too hard as a reader to get the scope of what was going on.
By
WDavid, at 7/23/2006 06:20:00 PM
Great story idea -- I took it as a parable of modern day evangelists with their hi-tech communications systems, hi-tech "medicine" with it's deadly side effects, and closed minded individuals who can only see things their own way.
I also like the leapfrogging through time idea... I was imagining a "snake oil" salesman going from town to town 150 years ago -- but then the salesman worked in what sounds like a big church -- and then in some ultra modern wacked out new age therapy clinic.
However put together, I think the time shifting makes the story too complicated/compressed. Particularly that first transition... I think if you develop the issues that the townsfolk of Pinnacle have with the computers, we can be better prepared for the hysterical mob that chases him out of town. Also, I think the presentation of the computer gear was too sudden. A suggestion:
Tucked in the back of the Caravan was a media drawer where Elijah kept recordings of all his treatments. If the people of Pinnacle saw these, there'd be trouble. That's because the people of Pinnacle thought recordings where the work of the devil. So a week in Pinnacle was six and a half days to many...
Sorry -- I can't mimic your voice -- but something like that.
I liked the writing -- it was a page turner -- and the ending seemed like it could be the beginning of another story.
By
Peter, at 7/23/2006 11:13:00 PM
I tell you what, that Fred has an eagle eye. I'm glad he and Peter gave you some other feedback that was different from what I gave you privately before you posted it here. I guess we all definitely need more than one set of eyes and ideas to truly see how a piece might look to the general public.
By
Ruth, at 7/24/2006 01:38:00 PM
Fred...I found one place where I was talking about "The Saint and MArtyr and used the word "his" with a lower case "h". That's probably what you were referring to with the comment about inconsistant capitalization of the God pronouns. I changed it to "God's love" instead of "his love" just to clarrify things.
Peter...Thanks for your comments. The events of the story happen over about one month. Elijah starts off disguised as a no-tech exorcist, then we see a little of the tech he's hiding, then we see him use the tech, then he's discovered and beaten for using the tech even though he really was exorcising their perceived demons, then he goes back to his hi-tech society to sell the remnants of his scammed goods. So, it's not a time-hopping tale but one of a con game spanning both no-tech and hi-tech cultures. To help make that a little clearer, I changed "yokel" in the first paragraph to "anti-tech fundamentalists". LEt me know if that works to make things a little clearer.
Ruth...Your personalized help in the writing stage of this piece was invaluable. I can't wait to get started on the "Crafy Ladies". :-)
By
WDavid, at 7/24/2006 02:57:00 PM
I didn't mention it earlier but I also thought the beating seemed strange to me. I couldn't figure out just what I thought was wrong but Peter said it well, I think. There just wasn't enough reason to think something like that might happen.
I was thinking there were more than one instance of the capitalization issue, but probably not. I'll check again later.
Ruth, It's pretty ironic that someone with such bad vision has an eagle eye.
By
Fred MacKenzie, at 7/24/2006 04:27:00 PM
David, I know you appreciated my help in being a sounding board for this story while it was being written, but I can see there were things (such as Peter's confusion, and the apparent lack of enough information for the average person to figure it out)which I was not able to help you with simply because I knew from the very beginning what your intentions were with the story, and, knowing that, I understood it completely and didn't notice the places where more information might have been needed for someone who wasn't privy to the plot before it was written.
Good grief, does that make any sense to anyone? I don't know whether I said what I meant to say or not!
We've just learned a good lesson here. So don't stop asking for my help, but maybe you need to post bits of the story as you go and get a feel for what others think too before you actually finish it.
I'm stopping now. My brain if fried!
By
Ruth, at 7/24/2006 05:09:00 PM
Well, A young woman read my story aloud in class tonight. I feel silly that I don't know her name but hopefully she'll join up here and tell me. :-) She did a great job.
To my ears the story read very smoothly and natually and in the round-robin commenting afterward the smoothness was remarked upon. Overall everyone seemed to like it. There were plenty of comments on technical aspects that needed tweaking as well as plot aspects that need examining, such as...
There's no need to say Sara blinked HER EYES because she's unlikely to blink anything else...no need to say she nodded HER HEAD for the same reason.
A couple of people commented on Elijah's arc....scammer to concerned and introspective...and back to scammer.
Some thought it seemed wrong for him to be concerned about Sara and then go off and sell the dream anyway. In my mind he might have had second thoughts about his whole scamming business but the beating he got from the fundamentalists basically put him in "screw 'em" mode.
Others pointed out that the "God uses all his tools" theme near the end gave Elijah a "way out" that allowed him to use the dreams with a clear conscious.
Another asked why Elijah was so morally troubled about wiping out Saras's dream when the hypnotic suggestions were just going to wear off in time anyway.
One commenter said that he wanted the story to go a little further and have Zeke actually BE a demon and get transferred into Wilhelmina.
I really enjoyed getting the comments and made lots of note...thought I may have difficulty deciphering my chicken scratch. They also made notes on the copies that everyone read along from so soon I'll go through all their written comments and see what else I can glean. There's bound to be something that I missed.
I must say I was very nervous when the teacher said my story was going to be read but in the end I found it quite exiting and energizing too.
By
WDavid, at 7/24/2006 10:33:00 PM
I thought you said stories couldn't be read if they were over assignment length. I wonder what made your teacher change her routine for this story?.... Must have been because it was so good, eh? ;-)) Anyway, congratulations on some good reviews.
By
Ruth, at 7/25/2006 09:47:00 AM
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