What is a vignette?
Vignette is a word that originally meant "something that may be
written on a vine-leaf". In
literature it may refer to: short, impressionistic scenes that focus on one
moment or give a particular insight into a character, idea, or setting.
A vignette is a short, well written sketch or descriptive scene. It does not
have a plot which would make it a story, but it does reveal something about the
elements in it. It may reveal character, or mood or tone. It may have a theme
or idea of its own that it wants to convey. It is the description of the scene
or character that is important.
EXAMPLE OF A VIGNETTE
YEAR 11 TASK BASED ON THE WRITING STYLE OF 'THE BOOK THIEF' by Marcus Zusack
EARLY DRAFT IS POSTED HERE
~A thing about Death~
More than just a creature behind a cloak
More than just a creature behind a cloak
I arrive at a house where the glass is shattered all
over the wooden floor. I proceed to the kitchen where I see a body lying near
the breakfast bar. The motionless body is in a puddle of blood, which is slowly
creeping into the man’s clothing and transforming it into a red cloak which
slowly attaches itself to the stationary body. It is evident that this man’s
soul has been thrown straight into my arms by another’s actions.
As I lean over
and pick up the man’s blood-soaked soul, I can feel the innocent soul struggling
to get out of my palms. I place my hand slowly over his cold soul and calm him
down into a deep sleep for his next adventure. As I walk out the empty dark
corridor, I think to myself, “How could
human beings still stand each other when one kills another and throws them into
my palm like throwing a ball in the playground”.
With the shattered soul heavy in my hands, I continue
to my next appointment. I have to pick up and old lady’s soul, but she’s not
quite ready yet. I don’t have far to go, just up the street. I see a crowd has
gathered.
I walk through the crowd enjoying the questioning looks
on the faces that feel me but can’t see me. What
have I here? A rowdy group of school kids. Must be from the school across
the road that I’ve paid a visit to. I remember those uniforms – blue and grey,
just like in the American civil war.Not much fight in these kids though.
They’re all leaning over an old lady on the ground,
looking as broken as the concrete footpath. At first I had thought this was a
result on another human being’s actions but instead the kids were trying to
help. She was a sad picture lying there, long grey coat open on the ground, her
red scarf lying like a snake and her grey fur hat toppling down the sloping road.
One of the kids was running around collecting groceries which fell from the
shopping bag. Luckily, the lights were red and the cars waited patiently for
the green light. Why don’t the drivers
get out and help? Humans are so selfish.
I walk over and peer into the nearest car. All I see is
a driver muttering to himself and bashing the steering wheel – as if that’s
going to help. The light turns green and the impatient driver steps on the
accelerator. He would have run straight over the old lady’s head if it wasn’t
for the smart student with his arm out stretched with the other waving cars on.
I turn around to see one of the blue and grey students
taking of his jumper, folding it, then placing it under the old lady’s head. Maybe they’re going to save her soul.
I see that one of the boys have distanced themselves
from the crowd and taken the phone out of his pocket. He dials three
consecutive numbers and holds it to his ear. His voice is loud and panicky, and
I hear him saying “an old lady is hurt at Boundary Street, across from Brisbane
State High School, come as quick as possible”. He slips the phone back into his
pocket and rejoins the group.
With the help of these boys, I may leave empty handed.
Not that I would complain.
I hear it before I see it – a lumbering white truck
with an orange stripe down both sides and whirring lights on the roof. It
screeches to a stop beside the lady and two officers dressed in white emerge
from inside the vehicle. The pair of men separate and one of them kneels beside
the lady to assess the situation, while the other runs to the back of the truck
to obtain the stretcher and medicine bag, before quickly joining his fellow
officer.
One of them reaches into the black bag and draws out a
rubbery paraphernalia. He places it around the lady’s arm and begins to pump.
Nodding his head, he reaches into the bag again and places a mask over the
injured woman’s face. The officers look at each other and nod in agreement.
“step back everybody, this lady needs air”.
I always thought school boys were disobedient, but the
crowd magically disperses, worried looks on their faces.
I was wondering what was going to happen next when I
heard both of the officers shout in unison. “One! Two! Three! Lift!” The old
lady was on the stretcher. Just a few steps and they rolled her into the back
of the white truck. One jumped into the back with the lady, while the other
hurried to the driver’s seat. He didn't forget to yell to the boys – “Be proud
of yourselves, you helped save a life today.”
The ambulance tore up the road and sirens blaring,
lights whirring.
The boys in grey and blue huddle together slapping each
other across the back, proud of themselves. “Better hurry or we’ll be late for
class”.
I hope they aren’t late for class after saving
someone’s life.
Perhaps I better follow that ambulance just in case.
Today I have seen both the best and worst in humans.
This is a most wonderfully-written piece of descriptive prose. I felt very much as if I were there watching the scene unfold.
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