Today is not meant to be pretty.
Today is the day for a fight.
Today also has no time for late-comers. Kiyoko makes this clear with her eyes like iridescent beetle wings and wild hand gestures. I navigate the tree she’s perched in like my childhood years on the monkey bars. When I finally bend my ragdoll-limbs into an acrobatic criss-cross-applesauce, she lectures me about native Arizona trees. I’m not listening. I’m surveying the beautiful sunrise projected like a utopian film over the Golden Canyon Golf Course bunkers. They’re sugar-soft and raked clean. But everyone knows this is not a utopia. The sight is interrupted by flashlights glaring on phones and cardboard signs and the escalating chants of the neighbors.
Kiyoko fiddles with her bullhorn. “How do I turn this on?” she mumbles, and eventually hands it over to Jamie’s patient, wide-open palms.
I see-saw on the branch, not dangerously enough to tumble down but enough to wake myself up from a stuck-in-animation night. Kiyoko is on high-alert, eyes scanning down effortlessly like she’s got nocturnal vision, ready like an owl for anything that comes skittering her way. She smells sweet like butterscotch but holds herself like she can easily employ a sword without a shield. She and I are friends only because of the trees. We’re so different but I set my alarm for 5:30 am to be here. If we were the rainbow spectrum, she would be the striking red at the frontline of the march. She’s the hero. She wears her cape because she’s in it for everyone else. She doesn’t care about me, or Jamie. I’m a tipsy violet. I’m in it because I need to be a part of something bigger. I’m in it because I want to be the hero. I’m in it because in some way, it affects me.
Kiyoko planned this weeks in advance. She sent out lengthy emails and even made me distribute neon orange fliers to the neighbors. Most of them had already caught wind of the revolution, so I folded the papers into a fisherman’s pyramid hat and handed those out instead. By the looks of it, people had read the fliers. They come prepared with axes and sunglasses in case the Arizona heat sets in.
The bullhorn is fixed. Jaime clicks a few switches and scrubs sweat off his forehead. He is a kid with rectangle glasses and a fair share of black-and-white zebra stripes to fit into the crowd. He and Kiyoko are best friends, if that’s even possible for someone as distant and focused as her.
He tosses her the bullhorn. She clears her throat like she’s breathing desert sand and begins. “Good morning residents of Golden Canyon!” Only a bit of the chatter wilts away. People still giddy with adrenaline in the back still sing “Stop Asian hate!” like an anthem for a country they’ve yet to discover. Although she’s on the same side as them, Kiyoko becomes mildly irritated and finally unravels like a bee about to dive its stinger into an unsuspecting victim. “Good morning residents of Golden Canyon!” she repeats, louder, “Thank you for joining us today. As you all know, we have worked tirelessly to elect a mayor to address the segregation in our hometown. But this mayor has done nothing since moving into City Hall! Now we’re going to take matters into our own hands!”
The protesters respond with a sizzle of cheer. Kiyoko does not smile. She continues to speak but my eyelids begin to droop and my legs are shaking like dandelion fluff scattered in the grass. I remind myself why I’m here: the trees. The looming Arizona sycamores that sway in the wind and litter our streets with leaves that hitchhike on the bottom of our shoes. If there’s anything I know it’s that I hate the way they change colors as easily as fireworks burst and disappear. If there’s anything I don’t know, it’s how Kiyoko plans to cut them down.
Golden Canyon Golf Course just recently allowed women and people of other races and ethnicities to join the club. Because it used to only be white male Christians hitting double bogeys and blaming it on the wind or the toughness of the grass that day.
Imagine this: an Asian community sharing a fence with a racist golf course. The owners of the club complained overtime, diligently throwing around baseless complaints as if they were making up for slacking off at their normal day jobs. They wrote letters to the ex-mayor that they were losing members because the view from the golf course was horrifically ruined by the sight of citizens dragging their heels and watching pollution drift like waves on the other side of the fence. The mayor, an impartial guy who had lived in our town his entire life, did not play golf himself but eventually gave in because all the town was known for was its pristine, well-maintained golf course like the suites of the men who played it.
Now imagine this: the mayor, instead of helping clean up our community’s streets, made the town more segregated by having billowing Arizona sycamores planted on the golf course-side of the fence. Hallelujah, the golf course had its members back. But our community no longer got a view of the golf course. In fact, the sycamores completely blocked out the sun.
Kiyoko does not call any tree-removal services. She takes matters into her own hands. In the end, those hard-hearted golfers are too blind to see that even when they mistreat us, we are metal and they’re only wood. Kiyoko holds the bullhorn. She is talking about the trees and the rude pigs at the golf course. The protesters are silent—or rather silenced by the power in her words, by the destruction they’re about to cause. It’s a calm feeling, a nervous feeling. Like the smoke detector alarm inside their heads has quieted and the world stands still. I’m everywhere but my mind, outside my body, watching myself next to Kiyoko, her lips moving but only speech bubbles coming from them.
And then suddenly I’m back. She is swinging on a branch with the bullhorn handle in her mouth. She lands. Jamie follows and I do too. My feet ache when they hit the ground. The sun has risen and demands a standing ovation.
Kiyoko stands in front of the crowd. She offers her bullhorn to a middle-aged woman who stands protectively in front of a little boy. In return, the woman hands over a silver axe she’d been storing in a canvas bag hooked around her shoulder.
A few protesters voice their concerns for the children who like to play in these trees and name them silly things. We ignore them. Kiyoko takes a few steps forward.
Today is not meant to be pretty.
Today is the day for a fight.
And metal splinters into wood.
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63 comments
I promised to write but I’m not happy because it turned out shorter and weaker than I thought it would. Thanks for reading. I’m inspired by a protest I attended recently. And I would appreciate title ideas.
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This isn’t short or weak at all! I thought the length was perfect for the theme and conflict you portrayed and this was a great story overall. It’s cool how you took inspiration from your own experience and put it into story form, and I like the character that you put into Kiyoko.
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Today is not meant to be pretty? So this piece is more a revolution type of thing. I like how you bring this all out for us. I'll tell you this: At the start, both Kiyoko and Jamie and the narrator sound like little children. I believed that. I don't know if you intended for it to feel like that or if I'm the only one who got that feeling. As such, it left me wondering why people would want to listen and obey Kiyoko. That is a minor thing, of course, and I absolutely loved this.
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You don’t have to pretend. ;) I know it’s bad and no one understands it. I guess I was trying to say that she’s headstrong and stubborn and people just listen to her because she’s powerful. Not because she’s older, but because of how she carries herself and her words. Thanks Abi!
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I really enjoy how thoroughly you describe color in this story. I think you're giving your story a lot more discredit than you should! This read like a glimpse into an uprising, but only briefly. The last three lines struck me as mantras that people would shout at a protest, and I could hear them so easily over a bullhorn!
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Thank you so much, Shea! I'm sorry I didn't respond before.
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No worries at all!
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good story, scout!! the conflict was well-introduced and stayed well-written throughout the story. i've noticed some conflicts get tiring and over-imposed when we get further in, but yours kept its importance without overpowering everything, so kudos on that. :D. a title idea of mine is 'metal into wood,' by the way. have a great day!
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Great title idea - Thank you. I hope you have a nice day too.
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:D.
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Beautiful as always! Dear friend, how are you doing?
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I’m good! How are you, dear friend. Thank you!
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I'm good too. Waiting eagerly for the new prompts as I might as well write some new stories! Hehe
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That is what I like to hear! Me too...
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Scout, I want to understand how you view this story as weak. I can't bring myself to see it that way. I find that my mind is not as expansive as others on this platform, so I struggle to come up with criticism (maybe because I am inexperienced and not as seasoned as the rest of you?? I don't know) I can relate to you not being 100% proud of " Today is not meant to be pretty" because I felt that way too about a story I had written. Just like many others who commented on " Today is not meant to be pretty" I can wholeheartedly agree tha...
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Ruthy May, I skimmed over the beginning of the story (I assume) that you were referring to, and it's fabulous. I am beyond embarrassed about my first story on Reedsy, it's so terrible. But I keep it there to remind myself how much I've grown. Just because you're new does not mean you're bad. So many winning stories on Reedsy are from authors' first stories. (By the way, what kind of person with a limited vocabulary or writing skills uses words like "neophyte"? Just more proof that you'll fit right in. ;) I must apologize for saying my stor...
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Don't apologize! It makes me feel like a villain:) I was only trying to understand why so maybe, I would be given the grand all-seeing knowledge of criticizing.XD I hope your dog is swell!
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I am slightly confused but have a nice day! You’re not the villain; I am.
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Am I imagining things, or did you try my "narrator isn't the main character" strategy? Maybe it's just because we recently discussed my story Legacies, but I feel like this has a similar vibe. So, obviously, I liked it! A few things I'm bumping up against: first, I'd change "women and people of other races and ethnicities" to "women and people of color." Also, I'm not totally clear on why they want to cut down the trees. I get that it's more of a symbolic thing, but I've never known anyone to *want* a view of a golf course. So if it is mor...
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I did! Although it didn’t turn out half as good as Legacies, I tried my best. It’s a nice technique and I’ll try it again when I’m more inspired by the prompts. I see—will change that sentence. Also, it was a symbolic thing but also that the trees were blocking the sun and that they were there for segregational reasons. I... don’t know how I should change that if it doesn’t make sense. Also what do you think of the first-line title? Thank you!
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Yay! I'm glad it worked for you, and I think this is better than you think it is. It's different from your other stories, but it still has your signature turns of phrase like this part: "If we were the rainbow spectrum, she would be the striking red at the frontline of the march. She’s the hero. She wears her cape because she’s in it for everyone else. She doesn’t care about me, or Jamie. I’m a tipsy violet. I’m in it because I need to be a part of something bigger." I love that. You have a wonderful knack for metaphors that would sound clun...
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Yay!! So glad you’re writing. I’ll be checking every half hour. Thank you so much for the critique. I was unsure about the title because someone told me first-line titles were tacky and bad. I’m so flattered and touched that I have signature phrases/techniques. I feel like every real writer does. You do, anyways. ;)
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It's been so long! I love the opening and closing lines and how they mirror. The descriptions, the silver and sycamore together, are fantastic. This is not my favorite of yours but that's because you are the author of "Believer." That said this is not your worst. I suggest timing. What time period? I think that setting it during or right after WWII could bring a lot of clarity, accuracy, and also power to the story. Maybe they have just come back from the camps the government put the Japanese-American families in. They come home and they...
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As much as I wasn’t planning to immediately respond to comments, I got curious. You brought up some good points. Should I completely take away the Kiyoko speaking part and just say she cleared her throat but didn’t speak? I’d be cutting it close to the 1,000 word limit because it’s already so short. Thank you for the comment & critique.
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I think Kiyoko asking how to turn the thing on fits wonderfully with her character and your message. Then she gets in front of everyone and realizes she doesn't need to say anything. Up to you of course 😉
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By the way, I never ask for reads, but I just wrote a new one after months away. I'd love your thoughts and critiques.
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Oh my gosh, of course! Just been so busy and not checking my activity... so sorry! I’ll get to it when I can, which will be between today and tomorrow.
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kiyoko is now another one of my favorite characters from your collection! i love the elements you put into her. fearless, powerful; sun, back up, kiyoko is coming through. a perfect take on the prompt as well, it is so beautiful. why do you hate your unique masterpiece? my favorite bit: "Like the smoke detector alarm inside their heads has quieted and the world stands still. I’m everywhere but my mind, outside my body, watching myself next to Kiyoko, her lips moving but only speech bubbles coming from them." well done, once again. this dese...
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Thank you, Dorsa! I'm blushing.
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Wow. This needs to be read. I feel something towards Kiyoko that makes me understand her more through your writing. This story isn't terrible at all, and you shouldn't abandon it! I don't hate it at all. The three last sentences ended the story powerfully. Great job, Scout! It was a very beautiful and unique take on the prompt. Loved it. Title idea: Today
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Thank you so much, Magical Energy. Creative username, by the way!
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An amazing story Scout...the way you keep your story so intriguing, it inspires me a lot. Thank you for sharing. All the best for your future stories! :)
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child, seriously, just write. write random words. copy-and-paste one paragraph over and over, i don't care, i just want to see your name in my feed. i miss ya. :(
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I respect the moral. You wrote wonderfully. :)
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Hi There, I loved your story very much. We have organised a friendly story writing competion on our website. Here is the link to submit your story: https://learneasywithaditi.com/story-writing/ We would love it if you participate in this friendly story writing competition. Last date of submission is: 29th September 2021. Thank you LearnEasyWithAditi
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Scout! How are you? I posted today and would love your thoughts if you have the time. The topic I chose is difficult to write about but I want to do it right.
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when we getting a new story ay?
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Not this or next. :) sorry
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hi :)
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VAYD
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Scout?
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How are you? I'm so glad you've returned to talk to me.
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I'm doing quite well, thanks. Yep, I'm back! I plan to write too, when I have time. How are you?
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That is very pleasant to hear, King Vayd. You must alert me when you've posted because I do not check my activity often. I'm good, went through kind of a dark phase during Covid, but I'm better now, and ready to write. :)
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Hewwo fren I’m bored *yellow dot* also dis is prettyyyyyyyyyy maaan
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I really liked this a ton and it's definitely not weak. We are the biggest critics of ourselves, but I think this came out beautifully. I loved the vivid detail. I've been reading through some of your stories and the attention to detail is really amazing.
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:( i need my weekly scout-writing... not to be pushy, but, if you had to estimate, when would you say you're coming back? i understand the prompts not working for you (rivers and windows and xenia, of all things, i mean-) but i miss you, and i'm sure everyone else does too.
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Thank you so much for your very sweet comment! Summer is beginning for me soon, so perhaps I will put pen to paper soon. ;) I'm flattered you found my profile again and decided to leave me a note.
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how could i not leave you a message? you're a reedsy goddess :)
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