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Writing Fiction - 5.8 Challenging expectations
(The challenge now is to write a stereotype in a more complicated fashion.)
Here is mine:
Chandria was standing in her kitchen preparing a little snack for her, a sandwich with hummus, lettuce and tomato, when her two lovely daughters walked into the room. Chandria, a woman in her early 40s, tall, thin, with long platinum blonde hair worn in a ponytail, was not the same after a family vacation 2 years ago in a farm. Her whole world has changed.
You see, Chandria was raised in an industrial town and she never knew where the meat she was eating was coming from. She knew that chicken fillet comes from chicken, pork ribs from pork, beef jerky from beef, but she never realised they were real animals: chicken, pig and cow. She was educated, her family was very rich and she had what she asked for, but, I guess, she never really cared that much for knowledge. Heck, she even thought that money grow on trees and her father had a secret forest somewhere and every month he would go to harvest it. Some would say she was a stupid blonde, I know I would, but she was clever enough to finish a university, work as a teacher, and marry a wealthy and successful lawyer.
That day, 2 years ago, the owner of the farm gave his guests a tour and explained to them that everything they ate was fresh. She almost passed out when she saw him take 6 eggs from his chickens and threw up when she saw him kill a rooster to prepare him for dinner. Her whole world was shattered. Her husband, Allan, tried to calm her down and she swore to never touch meat ever again. That’s when she became a vegetarian.
Chandria was not her real name either. She changed it about a month after her decision to become full vegan and spiritual, as if that would make her climb the ladder of spiritual growth faster. She thought that her first name, which was Barbara, reminded her of barbecue and ‘that’s not vegan at all.’, she said. Her second name was Mary and that didn’t sound good at all, such a common name. She needed something that would make her forget her life so far, leave behind the eating-all Barbara who believed in God because her mother said that she will die and go to hell if she wouldn’t believe in him. So she changed it to Chandria, a Sanskrit name which means of the moon.
‘Of the moon. That will make me feel ethereal and I will be closer to spiritually blossom.’ she said one day to her husband who looked at her with terror. Who is she and what has she done to my wife- he thought.
They had two daughters, Amanda and Jessica, 10 and 8 years old, with locks of golden hair and small noses. Chandria loved to dress them alike, she wanted twins but she was bothered for not having twins only the past two years.
‘Twins are spiritually connected, so you two will behave like so, got it?’ she hissed at them one day when they asked her not to dress them in matching clothes, blue dresses and yellow shoes. One could say that she loved her children, if said one saw her in the street or in the club.
But the truth was she loved her dogs more. She took home every animal she found cute, cats and dogs that is, she hated all other animals. Cows? They smell awful but she would never kill them. Ants? She would step on them. Flies? Hit them and sprayed them. One day she caught a spider on fire and when her husband asked her why she did what she did she said ‘Spiders are not animals, duh!’
She stopped eating meat but sometimes when no one was watching she ate leftover fish or bacon.
‘Fish is not meat.’ she screamed to Allan’s face one night he caught her in front of the open fridge stuffing her mouth with leftover salmon.
Amanda saw the sandwich, her stomach made a sound, she held Jessica’s hand and coughed.
‘Ugh why are you here? Go play in your room I don't want to see you until dinner.’ she looked at her daughters in disgust.
‘Mum we are hungry.’ two sets of puppy eyes were staring at the food.
‘I wish you weren’t mine.’
She turned on her heel and went to the garden where she found her dogs ‘Oh my loves, where’s my boy, where’s my little boy. Say mama! I love you my pwetty pwetty loves.’
- Georgia Panteli - Mpraikidi
Writing Fiction - 5.8 Challenging expectations
(The challenge now is to write a stereotype in a more complicated fashion.)
Here is mine:
Chandria was standing in her kitchen preparing a little snack for her, a sandwich with hummus, lettuce and tomato, when her two lovely daughters walked into the room. Chandria, a woman in her early 40s, tall, thin, with long platinum blonde hair worn in a ponytail, was not the same after a family vacation 2 years ago in a farm. Her whole world has changed.
You see, Chandria was raised in an industrial town and she never knew where the meat she was eating was coming from. She knew that chicken fillet comes from chicken, pork ribs from pork, beef jerky from beef, but she never realised they were real animals: chicken, pig and cow. She was educated, her family was very rich and she had what she asked for, but, I guess, she never really cared that much for knowledge. Heck, she even thought that money grow on trees and her father had a secret forest somewhere and every month he would go to harvest it. Some would say she was a stupid blonde, I know I would, but she was clever enough to finish a university, work as a teacher, and marry a wealthy and successful lawyer.
That day, 2 years ago, the owner of the farm gave his guests a tour and explained to them that everything they ate was fresh. She almost passed out when she saw him take 6 eggs from his chickens and threw up when she saw him kill a rooster to prepare him for dinner. Her whole world was shattered. Her husband, Allan, tried to calm her down and she swore to never touch meat ever again. That’s when she became a vegetarian.
Chandria was not her real name either. She changed it about a month after her decision to become full vegan and spiritual, as if that would make her climb the ladder of spiritual growth faster. She thought that her first name, which was Barbara, reminded her of barbecue and ‘that’s not vegan at all.’, she said. Her second name was Mary and that didn’t sound good at all, such a common name. She needed something that would make her forget her life so far, leave behind the eating-all Barbara who believed in God because her mother said that she will die and go to hell if she wouldn’t believe in him. So she changed it to Chandria, a Sanskrit name which means of the moon.
‘Of the moon. That will make me feel ethereal and I will be closer to spiritually blossom.’ she said one day to her husband who looked at her with terror. Who is she and what has she done to my wife- he thought.
They had two daughters, Amanda and Jessica, 10 and 8 years old, with locks of golden hair and small noses. Chandria loved to dress them alike, she wanted twins but she was bothered for not having twins only the past two years.
‘Twins are spiritually connected, so you two will behave like so, got it?’ she hissed at them one day when they asked her not to dress them in matching clothes, blue dresses and yellow shoes. One could say that she loved her children, if said one saw her in the street or in the club.
But the truth was she loved her dogs more. She took home every animal she found cute, cats and dogs that is, she hated all other animals. Cows? They smell awful but she would never kill them. Ants? She would step on them. Flies? Hit them and sprayed them. One day she caught a spider on fire and when her husband asked her why she did what she did she said ‘Spiders are not animals, duh!’
She stopped eating meat but sometimes when no one was watching she ate leftover fish or bacon.
‘Fish is not meat.’ she screamed to Allan’s face one night he caught her in front of the open fridge stuffing her mouth with leftover salmon.
Amanda saw the sandwich, her stomach made a sound, she held Jessica’s hand and coughed.
‘Ugh why are you here? Go play in your room I don't want to see you until dinner.’ she looked at her daughters in disgust.
‘Mum we are hungry.’ two sets of puppy eyes were staring at the food.
‘I wish you weren’t mine.’
She turned on her heel and went to the garden where she found her dogs ‘Oh my loves, where’s my boy, where’s my little boy. Say mama! I love you my pwetty pwetty loves.’
- Georgia Panteli - Mpraikidi
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