Arcadia Italy

With the fictional short story "Say Her Name", Arcadia's Emmalee Gagnon receives an Honorable Mention from Dell Magazines.

Emmalee is an English major with a concentration in creative writing. She is currently studying in the Rome program where she's also doing an internship at mediterranearete.org

We at Arcadia in Rome were thrilled to discover such a talented student and took the occasion as an opportunity to ask some questions about her experience in writing this story and also about her semester here with us.

What is the story about?

"Say Her Name taps into the ghost stories told around campfires, and the nostalgia associated with going to summer camp, while bringing the element of realistic horror surrounding what people can do to one another. The short story switches between the point of Anna, a girl working at Camp Whiteman, and Sarah, the ghost of a girl who was abused and murdered there, revealing Sarah’s obsession with Anna. The story touches on ideas of justice and human drives, and how those themes can become twisted."

What was your reaction when you received the news?

"I received an email from the Dell Award, telling me that I had won an Honorable Mention. I was really surprised that I had won, because the professor who told me about the award had explained that it is difficult to win. When I received the news, it was a little bittersweet, because I am abroad and will not be able to attend the conference that all winners are invited to. However, I feel honored to have been chosen and I see being in Rome as an equally good opportunity."

How long have you been writing? Do you still write while studying abroad?

"I have absolutely continued writing during my semester in Rome. I have, since middle school, tried to create a habit of writing every day. My goal is to write 500 words a day. I don’t always meet that goal, and most of the time what I write doesn’t turn into a great story or poem, but it is good to keep up the practice."

When did you start writing this story?

"I wrote Say Her Name in a fiction workshop class that had the objective of writing a 20-30 page story. I started it a year and a half before submitting it to the Dell Award, and it had been through two workshop classes during that time. I think that the help I received from my peers and professors helped my exponentially in shaping the story I submitted."

What is your source of inspiration?

"For this story, in particular, I was inspired by a summer camp that I worked at during the summer of 2017. In general, I take inspiration from places I go and people I meet. I take everything in, and what gets regurgitate is many details based on truth, but it is rearranged into a fictional creation."

Is there a place in Rome or in Italy that could be the perfect location for a future story?

"Any street in Rome could be the perfect setting for a story, but so could any street in any place. What I see as important for me while here is stretching my understandings and expanding my catalogue of people, personality traits, nuances, and expectations. I have been introduced to a new culture with many differences from my own, and I believe this will enhance my ability to write more diversely and accurately in the future."

Which genres do you write in? Is horror (short or long) your primary genre?

"I wrote this story because I had issues with the way a camp I worked at was being run, and I also wanted to dabble in the horror genre. Horror is always something that has intrigued me, having a background in writing fantasy and enjoying watching horror movies. This was my first attempt at adding my voice to this genre, and I found it very rewarding."

Who are your favorite writers? Are there Italian writers that you particularly like?

"Some of my favorite writers are Amy Tan, J. K. Rowling, Lorrie Moore, C. S. Lewis, and Toni Morrison. As far as Italian writers go, I know of Petrarch and Virgil, and have read Dante’s Inferno and some poetry by Leopardi, but there is definitely a wealth of Italian writing that is worth reading and I have not read yet."

Here is an excerpt of the story chosen by Emmalee for you, if you would like to read the whole story get in touch directly with the writer!

Excerpt from her story:

The Game Room. It smells like old carpeting and open kid-paint sets. A milde dampness here crawls across skin that holds still too long. Mismatched armchairs sit around circle tables and face a glowing fireplace.                                                                 I am drawn to the light. The warmth. The freedom of
outside-my-cabin. Three kids are sitting in front of the flame, all leaning close together. Which
one said it?
I edge closer with tired legs and outstretched arms. I crouch with the fireplace to my
back. As the heat ignores my needy body, my eyes scan the faces. One boy, two girls. Their
voices are low. Who said it? My fingers pull at the rug I sit on. Only one—a girl—is young. So
young. Young like me. Her eyes are open wide as she listens. I listen, too.
“She died screaming and begging for help. But nobody could hear her out in the coal
caves…” The boy pauses to nod knowingly at the little girl. She gulps. I crawl nearer to the
story.
“And,” he goes on, “she was chopped up into bloody pieces!”
The little girl screams.
“She was not,” the older girl says. She has long eyelashes that I want to touch. I want to
feel her butterfly kisses, like my mom used to give me. “She died quietly, and she was all alone.
She got lost exploring in them.”
“Not uh, I heard it was the maintenance man.” The boy is frowning at the girl with the
eyelashes. I am right at his feet. Did you say my name?
The girl rolls her eyes. “Well, they say she is still out there. Haunting the caves. But
when you say her name, she comes for you.” I inch towards her now.
My eyes flick to the little girl as she whispers, “Ben.”
“What?” he asks. The little girl’s face is drained of blood.
Her lips hardly move as she says, “You said her name.”
He said my name. “Ben,” I try to say. My hands reach towards the edge of his pants. I
want to feel the skin and hair beneath the cloth. I need it, to feel his realness. He is smiling a
little, but I can see the goosebumps creeping across his arms.
“It’s just a story,” the name-sayer tells the little girl. My story. It’s mine.
The little girl is shaking her head. Her hair follows, hair dark like coals.
“Well she isn’t here, is she?” say the butterfly eyelashes. I am. I’m right here. “Watch.”
The butterfly takes a breath that fills her lungs all the way up. She is full of all that life-giving
air. I need it. I crave the life. Finally, she gives it to me, yelling, “Sarah! Sarah! Sarah!”I quiver. The name shakes me like driving over the rumble strip. I can smell the fire, and
the voices outside are clearer. I want to touch her face. The boy is laughing, saying something. I
reach out towards the butterfly face. I can just barely feel her warmth.
Then the boy’s words hit me. “See,” he says, “she isn’t real.”
Suddenly, it’s cold. I feel small and far away. The little girl is smiling, but her eyebrows
are knit together. I can see one is cut in half. Those three eyebrows are looking back at me, but
the cabin named Meyer is pulling me back.

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