Module C:

Craft of Writing
Imaginative Narrative “Mother”
& Reflection

Name: Milena Skinner

Class: 12ENA6A

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 Mother
Imaginative Response (832 words) ~

They say that time, as it grows old, teaches all things. Perhaps this is true, in part, yet

despite knowledge, it is what humanity chooses to do with this that matters most.

This was all Gaia had ever known. This small rock hurtling through night they called

‘Earth’. She had learnt every crevice, traced every path, yet seemed to no longer recognise

herself.

Her body was alien now, her skin deformed — there were bomb-shaped craters

beneath her eyes where there should be forests, steel and concrete titans spewing acidic

onyx clouds that unfurled with a hiss, shrouding the earth in darkness where there should

have been mountains. Gaia looked to the skin stretched across her arm, worn and thin, and

to the glistening bodies of water growing dry and cracked where her collarbone dipped.

Rolling hills and mountain folds canvassed the pane of Gaia’s stomach, the trees

replaced with skyscrapers and fields with cities and sludge-painted streets. The flowers —

an assortment of hyacinths, peonies, violets, and roses — threaded and tucked between her

eyelashes had begun to wither and wilt, swallowed up by weeds.

Her knees had begun to crumble, chipped away at inch by inch, the sound of metal

and machinery drilling into them, each screech of scraping rock another tear that collected

into stone-walled wells. Breaking the very ground which Gaia had put so much care into

moulding. Uprooting the trees she had so cautiously planted.

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 She almost, in instinct, reached up to swat away the swarm of workers like flies, yet

couldn’t seem to bring herself to do it — they were her children after all.

Did they not like it? Were her gifts displeasing?

She turned away, unable to bear the sight of it any longer, only to have her eyes land

on the rivers cascading down the curves of her back like webs, forming beads of crystal

where her tears had gathered in pools, turned into rancid, spilled ink. The surface, once

sparkling with light, was speckled with the indiscernible carcasses of the scaly, finned

beings who lived beneath, the swirling night and rainbow water seeming to taunt Gaia. She

could only watch, a soft hint of sorrow drawn upon her face, at the creatures her children

had become.

It was she who had witnessed the emergence of nations, the fall of empires, the birth

of millions and the genocide of them. It was a cycle destined to repeat. They could slaughter

a thousand in a day, weep over it, then fall prey to the sirens singing promises of power and

opulence, only to do it again. It was almost unfathomable the form which Gaia’s creations

had taken.

Was humankind forever insatiable, yearning for more?

Did they crave destruction? Tasting it on their lips like honeyed poison, sweet with a

bitter aftertaste.

It had always been like this, in some form or another. Such pain, such fury, such

despair.

Each new generation was determined to change the deeds of their forebears, and yet,

as though the boulder of King Sisyphus would, no matter how far it got, always come back

down. The thought had, uninvitingly, occurred to Gaia that perhaps despite the teachings of

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 the past humanity would be forever condemned to repeat such things. She shuddered at the

prospect, her body reverberating.

It seemed rather pointless to her: hatred. Such a strange thing to waste the precious

time of a mortal life on, wasn’t it? She supposed that in the mortal eye, hate would almost

be expected of her towards them. Yet how could one hate the thing they cherished? The

thing she had sacrificed herself, her body for.

She mourned for her children each day, watching them as they grew into brightly

coloured flowers, swaying to the caress of her breath, their thorns tickling the great blue

stretch painted across the sky. She watched as they withered, fell and bloomed, petals

washed away by a flood as though the onslaught of a glacier. Yearning for promise, for more

than Gaia could give.

Petals drifted towards the the moss-cloaked ground — the last breaths of those who

had nary seen the world.

Oh! How Gaia wished the greatest for them — for her children to at last see their

promise for change to emerge in fruition. For their sacrifices and stolen breaths to be worth

more than the verse of a song long forgotten.

And perhaps they would, in time, whether in a century or in a millennia.

And Gaia would be there to see it all, just as she had since the yawn of time. As she

had witnessed the birth of light from darkness a gigaannum ago, she would, too, see it

return.

Her eyes, glowing with an indiscernible source of kaleidoscope colours, drifted to the

palms of her outstretched hands. The corner of her mouth upturned slightly at the sight, for,

among the meadow of viridescence, were the pink, purple and yellow specks of tulip buds.

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 Millions of flowers shined. One Mother watched.

Reflection (544 words) ~

The piece I have written was crafted to develop the thematic concerns evident within Kae

Tempest's Picture a Vacuum. Within my imaginative response, Mother, I have incorporated

a several of language techniques as conscious creative choices, such as imagery, metaphor,

simile, personification, and allusion, to achieve meaning, ensuring that they efficiently

convey the concepts I set out to explore. Furthermore, I utilised the conceptual and technical

practice of Picture a Vacuum to inform my creative writing process and the way I structured

my imaginative response.

The concepts and techniques of external reading analysis of writing has a significant

influence on the process of crafting an imaginative response, inspiring these elements to be

utilised within one’s own work. I incorporated a selection of thematic ideas and language

techniques throughout my creative writing piece Mother as they were evident within Picture

a Vacuum. Of these included the extended metaphor of the persona, Gaia, being the physical

body of the Earth, whereupon the narrative explores, in third person, her outlook on the

destructive behaviour of humans towards the natural world. Additionally, I attempted to

further Gaia's characterisation by integrating that present in Kae Tempest's work of being a

sacrificial mother figure, as indicted by the quote, “The sadness of mothers as they watch

the fates of their children unfold”. The conceptual concerns of the degradation of the

environment due to industrialisation and treatment of humans was a primary theme within

Picture a Vacuum, and thus remained a significant inspiration in the creation of Mother.

Hence, in regards to the conceptual and technical elements of Kae Tempest's Picture a

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 Vacuum, the study of texts remained essential in guiding my creative choices and the

concepts utilised within my imaginative narrative.

Mother was purposefully crafted with language techniques which would allow me to

more effectively convey the concepts for the piece. The personification and extended

metaphor of the earth as a living deity was essential in addressing the concerns I sought to

address, as they were additionally investigated within Picture a Vacuum, as aforementioned.

Throughout my creative process, I decided on creating an imaginative response which

would explore a philosophical outlook on humanity and society. Additionally, I wanted this

to discuss the ways in which humankind has ‘destroyed’ Gaia's creation, and how they treat

the environment. Due to the characterisation of the persona as Gaia, derived from Greek

mythology, I decided to incorporate allusion, which supported this context, of King

Sisyphus' eternal punishment. Furthermore, I utilised rhetorical questions to invite the

audience to join the narrator in questioning the nature of humans and their treatment of the

natural world, and their contribution. This is demonstrated within the quote, “Did they not

like it? Were her gifts displeasing?” Furthermore, the short story ending with the imagery of

blooming flowers signifies birth, wherein the glow of the flowers in Gaia's eyes serves as a

reflection of the creation of new life, in which Gaia is temporarily rejuvenated. The choice

of these flowers being tulips was with the thought in mind of tulips as symbolic of change,

and thus concluding Mother on the idea that change constant, much like the cycle of life and

death. I conveyed these concepts and themes throughout the imaginative response through

purposefully selected language devices to attain meaning.

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