Step by step, I head closer to her. My heartbeat fastens with each step as I drag my feet on the sidewalk. Instead of heading straight inside, I go to the side of the church to a dark alley. Without thinking, a half empty pack of cigarettes appears in my hand as I take out another one. After about 10 minutes, I head to the big two front doors. As everyone walks in wearing the color of death, nobody is smiling, in fact it’s tense. We all enter a beautiful Gothic architectural church and even though I know sacred choir music is playing, I hear nothing except a faint sound of bells ringing that’s unusually loud today.
The traditional wood cross in the middle of church with Jesus staring down at humanity with love, I can’t help but be filled with melancholy. People look at me with sympathy and a couple have reached out to check up on me but I know my face says everything I have to say. The last thing I want to show is weakness but being weak is all I am right now. Everyone passes by the casket that’s placed in the front of the church with a large black portrait next to it, saying whispers or quiet sobs. My wife was born to be loved, but I know nobody deserved her like I did. And so, as I force my way to the front of the open casket, I hold my breath.
There she was, my beautiful wife. Her pale, lifeless body right in front of me as I swallow the lump in my throat threatening to spill all my emotions. She's wearing an off the shoulder, floral white dress that reveals her collarbone, and perfectly hugs her dead body. Every piece of jewelry she's wearing, I remember putting on her for the first time. Her wavy layered brown hair that doesn't look exactly how she used to style it, considering someone else did it this time, yet she looks ethereal. As I get closer, a scent immediately hits my face. Her perfume. The very perfume that lured me to her, the one she wore to our first date, the one lingering in my jackets that she often borrowed, the scent I always adored waking up to. That very scent is the last thing I smell before I collapse to the ground.
‘The scent’ is made to show a short story with an eerie plotline that is being invented on the way so there’s no telling how it will end, demonstrating how people should be careful what they wish for and what they’re willing to sacrifice for it and how things are never truly what they seem. What inspired me to write this story was how scents have been known to be strongly linked with memories, triggering the main character to revive his moments with his wife before she passed.
This story reflects universal issues such as grief and the passing of a loved one by putting the main character through the passing of his wife. Leading to a state of despair and yet great amount of hope that he can somehow change things for the better ; making this story more of a fiction but something readers who have experienced losing something precious would hope to relate to or wish things were different as well.
My choice in the plot (although it’s not complete) is going to be complex. The main theme is going to be thriller, confusion, difficult situations and emotions that people go through, although part of it will be fiction. I intend my plot to have different perspectives, flashbacks, contradicting opinions in order for the reader to get the full view of what’s going on, almost like connecting the dots one after another.
My writing process is honestly all over the place. I’m not sure myself of how this story will go but will try my best to keep the mystery/thriller going, therefore my plan is to be unpredictable but with a good amount of emotion where the reader can stay emotionally connected. I’ve faced challenges such as characteristics to give my main character or his wife since I want to specify how connected they are, so I’m planning on adding flashbacks to show important moments.
One passage that I pick is Zoom Yoga by Liza as she uses her words wisely by connecting the reader and character, as it demonstrates what the character is going through by showing and telling (using 5 senses etc) and my narrative pacing is what I consider very specific but a little unhinged. The narrative distance is the space between the reader and the story’s events or characters, in this case I try to not keep much space which is by showing it through the character’s senses or actions. And lastly, my narrative voice for my story is first person, and I chose this because we get to see the main character's thoughts and what he’s going through rather than what’s actually happening, only knowing what he knows.
I learned from working on this story so far that instead of saying what someone or something is like, you have to show it. We practice this by explaining something using your 5 senses or explaining settings and details very specifically to demonstrate the scenery or actions better rather than simply saying it.