Blog #4 No Happy Endings

       I really enjoyed reading Cecilia Valdes for class this week. That and The Slaughterhouse were the most interesting things I have read for this class all year. This of course is due to the fact that these are works of fiction. The last Discussion Question for Cecilia Valdes asked what we thought would happen in the end of the novel. This lit a spark in me, and the ideas started flowing. Creative writing used to be one of my very favorite pastimes, I would write short stories all the time, based on people in my life, far off adventures, or the most randsomest of things. It was my favorite thing to do. But then, my stories started turning out all wrong. Never did I write a happy ending, never were my stories filled with happiness. I stopped writing. I refused to write anything outside of class, even when I had a great idea come to my mind. I did not like my stories. I would write quickly and become filled with the ideas of it all, but upon completion I could not understand how such a nice idea could have turned into such a dark story. It had been years since I had written anything, so I thought hey, why don't I try to finish Cecilia Valdes? Here is what I came up with.

Cecilia ran through the alleyway. “I must escape” she thought. Her beautiful white dress was now torn into shreds and stained with blood. Her usual pretty face was now a haunted view, her eye blackened, her hair tossed and tangled bout. The expression she wore was grotesque, twisted from her fear.
 

            She heard him approach much too late. Cecilia tried to run but was pushed onto the ground like an unwanted doll. Cantalapiedra stood over her, grinning madly.
 

            “Did you really think you could escape me, you filthy mulatta?” He kicked her to the ground as she tried to flee once more.
 

            “Please stop this! I have done nothing to you!”
 

            “Do you think me a fool?” He shouted, “You are the sole cause of this revolution and I will see you pay!”
 

            Cecilia held the hearts of many men- all who saw her were filled with a desirous longing for her. She toyed with them all, using them to advance herself, and when their usefulness wore off, she left their hearts mangled in shreds.
 

            She used black slaves to get her fine things, stolen from their maters’ wives. She used mulattos to get herself invited to finest parties. She used poor Pimienta to make her the belle of the ball. He now played the part of the village fool, playing his broken clarinet on the lowly street corners for spare coins. She used Lorenzo- marriage was not enough for her, she was still seen as a lowly mulatto. What she needed was racial equality, but not for the betterment of her people no, she solely wanted to take what she perceived to be her place at the top of Havanan society. She manipulated Lorenzo into lighting the spark that struck the revolution into a flame.
 

            “Spain will win this war, and it shall start by consuming the viper that started it all.” And with those words he struck his dagger into her heart. “Viva Cuba.” he spat as he turned and faded back into the darkness.
 

            The revolution was soon put down by the Spanish soldiers. The people of Havana had once adored Cecilia, almost worshiped her. But at her funeral only her grandmother, Sena Josepha remained.
 

            “My poor child,” she wailed, “Had you not learned your place, not been so beautiful, blossomed so brightly, then the world might not have plucked you and carried you away."

 

          So yeah, I guess I still cannot write a happy ending. Oh well, maybe I'll try writing again in another few years. Sorry if you hated my ending to the story, I realize it is probably nothing like the original ending so my apologies. This turned into a bit of a personal experiment, sorry if it's super weird.