Some archaic misogyny #Bloganuary prompt for Jan 23

This is an interview with Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. I sort of thought of the interview with Louie from Interview with a Vampire, and what Rice was doing with it as a plot device. I wanted to highlight something here, capturing Heathcliff’s voice. I don’t think I accomplished what I was going for, but without adieu, here’s today’s prompt.

Me: Welcome, good to meet.

Heathcliff nods.

Me: Well, let’s begin. Did you think almost 200 years later, we would still be infatuated with you and your love story?

Heathcliff: Time means nothing to me.

Me: Oh, right into it. How do you feel being the archetype for the tall, dark, handsome man of mystery?

Heathcliff stares off then folds his arms across his chest.

Me: Got it. How is Kathy?

Heathcliff clenches his jaw.

Me: Did you find peace with her?

Heathcliff: I’m here. I still wander.

Me: Are you sorry?

Heathcliff: For what do I need be sorry for?

Me: I mean, do you finally take responsibility for any of it?

Heathcliff: Any of what?

Me: All of it. The pain, heartache, toxicity of it all.

Heathcliff: I loved and found my love lacking.

Me: Two-hundred years later, we still view you romantically. We aspire to be loved by you; seen by you.

Heathcliff: I play no part in that.

Me: None at all?

Heathcliff: Kathy turned me a fool. She left me empty.

Me: That’s your excuse for abuse and violence and neglect?

Heathcliff: I had a right to vengeance.

Me: Is your love reductive?

Heathcliff: My love for Kathy consumed.

Me: Yes, everything, and vomited it all back out.

Heathcliff grinds his teeth.

Me: Is love not patient, kind, sacrificing even?

Heathcliff: I came from nothing and made myself everything.

Me: So, you were owed?

Heathcliff: Kathy was unkind.

Me: Sure, but what about you?

Heathcliff: What about me?

Me: So, it’s Kathy’s fault you brought misery onto so many?

Heathcliff: Kathy, my love, my life, was also a bitter blowen.

Me: Wow, some archaic misogyny.

Heathcliff crosses one leg over another, folding his hands on top his knee.

Me: Where did you go for three years? How exactly did you make your fortune?

Heathcliff: I became a man.

Me: A man who deserved respect?

Heathcliff: Yes.

Me: And you win respect with abuse?

Heathcliff: I took but a firm hand to those requiring discipline.

Me: And what did you gain?

Heathcliff sits in silence.

By Imperfection

Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter is a mom and writer from Omaha, Nebraska but recently relocated to Urbandale, IA. When she’s not chasing children, picking up messes or reorganizing the house, she enjoys yoga or reading to relax. In her spare time (A.K.A. her dreams) she’s a Broadway star. Kuenning-Pollpeter is a freelance marketer during the day, a creative writer at night. Her work has appeared in the Brevity blog, The Omaha World Herald, 13th Floor, Misbehaving Nebraskans, Hippocampus, Emerging Nebraska Writers and Random Sample Review. She has her BFA and MFA in writing from the University of Nebraska Omaha. Her essay “The Body” was a McKenna Fellowship finalist, and her essay “Imperfection” was a 2020 Best of the Net Nominee. She is blind and writes frequently about disability. She’s working on a memoir about the disabled feminine experience. With the kids though, expect it in stores in about a decade.

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