Write a fragment of narrative in paratactic style. Create a series of phone messages a nineteen-year-old man leaves for the woman who has just broken his heart.*
“Hi Lily. It’s Cash. We’re through? No, please no. I walked all night. The rain didn’t let up. So wet. Why? You’re tearing us apart? Listen. I’m working all day. Don’t quit me.”
“Hi Lily, Cash. Two days. I haven’t heard. Anything. How is this right? Owen saw you with Rosie. You were laughing. I can’t even smile. Tell me why.”
“Lily. It’s me. Was it the party? I didn’t do anything. I was with Owen and Reggie. We were smoking – hardly unforgiveable. I will do anything. Tell me what you want.”
“Listen, Lily. I saw Rosie. She’s not happy either. You don’t understand. Nothing happened. Not a minutes passes. You’re in my head. I can’t sleep.”
“Lily. One week. I don’t want a letter. Face to face. Talk to me. Honesty. You need complete honesty. I agree. I will be better.”
“Lily, talk to me! Rosie still has the ring. I can’t accept it. We are not through. You are tired. You are not clear-headed. I am doing ok. I am still strong. Let me see you.”
“Lily, what happened to your phone? Hard to find your new number. I am worried for you. Talk to me.”
“Lily, what does Rosie know? She stopped returning my calls. Your apartment is dark. So is my heart. Where are you?”
“Lily. Facebook too? Blocked. Complete blackout. Love is an iron fist. It grabs you. Never lets go. My fist clenches for you.”
“Lilliputian. My name for you. But not a small love at all. Giant! My love is giant. And the hole in my heart. Way too big. Why the silence?”
“Lily, two weeks. Nothing but emptiness. No answer at your door. Rosie has blocked me. Your boss says nothing. He won’t let me wait. I can’t wait any longer.”
“Lily, your apartment. Key still works. 3 am. I am here. Where are you? Who are you with?”
“Cops? You called cops? Key is gone. Lily, you talk all the time. Why the silence now? Where did you go?”
“Lily, I am trying. You have space. I have patience. Endless patience. True love conquers.”
“Lily, I saw you. Car brakes. Rear-ender. Your head whipped around. You couldn’t know it was me. So much yelling. Now a court date. Just give me a word.”
“Lily, three weeks. Feels like three years. Give me a sign. Tell me what you need. I will give it to you.”
“Lily, not what I meant. A court order? 50 feet? A joke. Must be a joke. Not laughing. Lily, we had it good. A bold move comes next.”
“Lily. Because of you. Alaska. The Last Frontier. End of the highway. Flight tomorrow. Outta here. We’re done. You’re welcome.”
* Brian Kitely, 2008. “4 am Breakthrough: Unconventional Writing Exercises that Transform Your Fiction.”
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