I move closer to the glass, as close as I can get to it, begging her, begging Lily, begging Grace, begging all of them to tell me what's left, to just tell me, while the girl pushes against the window, turns her tiny hands into tiny fists, begging me for a taste of - life. My life. Lily disappears. Grace. They all leave, they're gone, they will never be here again. But the weight of what they've shown me is settling into my bones. I don't know if I will keep it, but just in this moment, however brief, I feel closer to it than I ever have before... The dead girl presses her face against the glass. She waits for me to tell her what's next.
We've assembled a group of people, your team, people who love you and pray for you. Take a look around the circle. These people represent thousands of words spent in prayer before the throne of God, begging for your safe return to the fold, begging for your peace, your faith, your heart.
I remember an old catholic joke about a man who spent his whole life going to a church every day and prayed to the statue of a great saint begging "please, please, please, let me win the lottery." Finally the exasperated statue comes to life and looks down at the begging man and says "my son, please, please, please, buy a ticket." So now I get the joke, and I bought three tickets.
He is sorry- For everything- For Prentisstown- For Viola- For Ben- For every failure and every wrong- For letting his pa down- And he's looking up at me- And he's begging me- He's begging me- Like I'm the only one who can forgive him- Like it's only me who's got the power- Todd?- Please- And all I can say is "Davy-" And the fright and the terror in his Noise is too much- It's too much- And then it stops. Davy slumps, eyes still open, eyes still staring back at me, eyes still asking (I swear) for me to forgive him. And he lies there, still. Davy Prentiss is dead.
Keep your shirt on," she said with a laugh at her bad joke. "Your clothes are at the laundry. They'll deliver them as soon as they're ready." "And in the meantime?" "Looks like you're naked." His jaw worked as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I beg your pardon?" "Beg all you want, you're still going to be naked." Tabitha paused at the wicked image in her mind. "Come to think of it, a gorgeous, begging, naked man... that's the stuff of fantasies. Begging won't get you your clothes, but it could get you something else." She wiggled her eyebrows at him.
With a regrettable sigh he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but this isn't going to work out." "What the hell are you doing, Trevor?" Hank demanded anxiously. No doubt the man wouldn't be getting laid tonight, but Trevor couldn't help it. He had his standards and this woman failed them. "Maybe we could go grab a cup of coffee somewhere and get to know-" He held up his hand, stopping her before she made an even bigger fool out of herself. "Please stop." "But, I was only-" "Don't beg." "I wasn't. I was just-" "Begging?" Trevor guessed, sighing. "I know, but you're going to have to accept that this would never work out." She frowned up at him. "I wasn't begging. I was just going to suggest that we should-" "Look, " he said, reaching for the door, "this s just getting sad. I'm just going to go before things get out of hand.
Questions, I've got some questions I want to know you But what if I could ask you only one thing Only this one time, what would you tell me? Well maybe you could give me a suggestion So I could know you, what would you tell me? Maybe you could tell me what to ask you Because then I'd know you, what would you tell me Please tell me that there's time To make this work for all intents and purposes And what are your intentions, will you try? Impressions, you've made impressions They're going nowhere They're just going to wait here if you let them Please don't let them I want to know you And if they're going to haunt me Please collect them Please just collect them And now I'm begging I'm begging you to ask me just one question One simple question Because then you'd know me I'll tell you that there's time To make this work for all intents and purposes At least for my own What is a heart worth if it's just left all alone? Leave it long enough and watch it turn into stone Why must we always be untrue?
Write if you will: but write about the world as it is and as you think it ought to be and must be-if there is to be a world. Write about all the things that men have written about since the beginning of writing and talking-but write to a point. Work hard at it, care about it. Write about our people: tell their story. You have something glorious to draw on begging for attention. Don't pass it up. You have something glorious to draw on begging for attention. Don't pass it up. Use it. Good luck to you. The Nation needs your gifts. Lorraine Hansberry speech, 'To Be Young, Gifted, and Black, ' given to Readers Digest/United Negro College Fund creative writing contest winners, NYC, May 1, 1964.