- TheAgent
- Feb 16, 2002
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The call is coming from inside Dr. House
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Grimey Drawer
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Hello.
Unfortunately this story goes nowhere. I know that sounds harsh, but there's a lot of build up, a lot of head games and extraneous material to end it like you did. Did the girl turn out to be his dream woman? Did they gently caress in a public bathroom and the main character, guilt and regret overflowing, checks himself incessantly for STDs every week? I understand that you were trying to give us a sort of "choose your own ending" here, but I don't think it works at all. You need to give us an ending which justifies sitting through your story. I'm being very direct here: do not, ever, end your stories like this unless the middle meat completely justifies it. Do not end your stories with "but then I woke up!" or "who knows what could have happened if only" or "maybe it was all in my head all along??" unless the journey is so goddamn poignant it washes away the taste of terrible endings like that (and they never, never do).
If you were going for a wistful prose / poetic piece, I could maybe understand it.
I remember the first time I saw her. It was late in the evening, approaching midnight and cold, but not frigid. Pleasantly chilly. Jacket weather. It was about a week before the college went on break, and I was sitting on a bench near the library. I’d had a rough night at work; it seems that just about everyone in the entire city had decided to order pizza. After we closed for the night, I had decided to walk the few miles to the library and unwind. I wasn't terribly into drinking, so sitting and relaxing in the night air was my prescription.
There were a lot of people out walking that night, many of them couples. Easy in each other's company, they walked hand in hand or arms entwined. They talked and laughed and enjoyed being together. I watched them, distracted at first, but slowly becoming more and more aware of my own loneliness. I remember this because for so long I had been utterly content in my solitude. Any thoughts of a relationship were met with disinterest and dismissal. So it was with no small amount of surprise that I reflected upon my isolation. True, I had friends and roommates, coworkers with whom I associated, and family member, but nothing of a non-platonic nature, apart from vague, infant infatuations with female acquaintances.
I was lonely. Suddenly and achingly lonely. I sat on that bench for some time, emotionally exploring the sensation, foreign to me for so many years. I was lonely. The thought made me smile, as if I'd just discovered a new delight. The moment was short lived, and immediately replaced by the ache of emptiness. I watched the people walking to their unknown destinations, content. I wished I was them.
quote:
It was then that I saw her. I don't know what stood out to me about her. Maybe it was the streetlight that enveloped her like the rays of God. Maybe it was the way her earrings glinted like snowflakes. Maybe it was way her black hair tumbled down around the pale curve of her neck. Maybe it was the way her laugh, light and tinkling, floated through the night. Maybe all of these things. Maybe none of them. All I knew was that my stomach clenched when I saw her and my pulse raced.
You also need to edit quite a bit. Writing is about providing information without providing direct citations. You aren't writing a wikipedia article. I'd suggest something more like:
quote:
The streetlight enveloped her like the rays of God. Her earrings glinted like stars, surrounded by the night of her black hair.
quote:
She was at the bus stop at the corner, across the street and to my left. I rose, madly determined to talk to her. My hands were shaking and my legs felt weak, but I moved of an engine unknown. I breathed deeply the chill night air, the cold burning my throat and snapping the world into focus.The cold burned my throat, my legs weak with deep chill.
quote:
I was going to talk to her. I could scarcely believe it when I looked down and saw my legs moving me toward this impossibilty.
quote:A few dozen feet and I'd be at the crosswalk. Step across the street and I'd be at the bus stop. With her.
quote:
I continued walking, marveling at the unknown impetus that was driving me. Then, I heard the slow squealing of brakes. I looked around.
quote:The lights of the bus, coming to take her away, were glaring like the rubies of Hades. The gears ground and the bus slowed to a stop, she and I on opposite sides now. Blocked.
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Maybe, I thought, she isn't waiting for this one. Maybe, just maybe, she'd still be there when the vehicle left.
Moments passed, and I stood there, unmoving.
The bus released the brakes, transmission protested and howled, and the wheels rolled. It cleared the bus stop, and I held my breath, looking for her.
Gone.
My heart fell like a child's when a beloved toy shatters. Dejection descended upon me like a thick, wet fog. She was gone. Without even so much as a name, she was merely a specter. A moment in time lost forever.
Each step home that night was heavy.
#
quote:
A few days passed. I tried to put her out of my mind, not wanting to be some kind of weirdo creep who obsesses over some random girl. But, every day without warning, I would be reminded of her.
quote:A customer walks in, I catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, and my heart skips.
Not her.
In the distance, through the window of the shop, I see a girl similarly dressed, standing and waiting for a bus. She turns so that I see her face. Your italic was off here by one character.
Not her.
Every day.
quote:
I felt like I was in high-school again, with a crush on the unattainable popular girl. Sure, I knew deep down, that I didn’t really know the girl beyond her looks, but that did little to dull the teenage ache.
quote:And, here I was, years later, feeling the same longing. It was almost funny to me, how cyclical life can be.
I confided to my roommate, Dan, late one night.
"Is this stupid? Like, high-school pathetic?" I asked him. We were in the living room, playing Risk and having some beers.
"It is a little, sure. You don't know her name. You don't know anything about her. You saw her across the street. Not a lot to go on," he said, taking a swig of beer. "I know you, Chuck. You're a softy. A romantic.”
I could hear the unspoken addition. An idiot.
“You're getting some ideal in your head of her every day, aren't you?"
I looked down, embarrassed. He was right. I had been building up some imaginary angel in my head. Every time I thought of her, another element was added.
"Let me guess," he continued. "She smiles a lot, right?" He peered at me, drawing from our long friendship a knowledge of my tastes. "She doesn't drink every night, but she'll get wild once in a while and belt out karaoke at a bar with her friends? She," he added, "doesn't smoke. She. . . is obsessed with one band. Sorta retro, not too popular, but one that you can appreciate." He grinned and finished off the beer, crumpling the can in one hand. "Finally," he squinted, racking his brain for the coup-de-grace, "she's a painter, or some other kind of artist. Maybe a sculptor?" He shook his head. "No, definitely a painter."
I had to laugh. He'd gotten it on the nose. "Dan, you know me almost better than I know myself."
He stood and walked to the fridge to grab another beer. “You’re not that complicated, Chuck. Seriously, though. You don't know anything about this girl. And there's no way that she will match up at all to the person you've created in your mind. Let it go. You want another?"
"Sure."
#
The dialogue was decent, but could be edited a bit to make it a bit more palatable. Maybe just the scene itself needs a rework, with some additional backstory or story.
quote:
It's not that I thought he was wrong. On the contrary, I knew that Dan was absolutely correct. She was certainly nothing like the version of her I'd made up. No way she could be. But, I simply couldn't get her out of my mind. The memory of her was intractable. Try as I might to scrub her out, she remained, like a cat clinging to a tree, claws digging into the bark. She remained.
I went through my day, struggling vainly to rid myself of her. She haunted me. I answered phones, I took orders, I made pizzas, I walked home, I played video games with Dan. All these things I did, trying to distract myself, but she always returned to me at night when I lay in my bed.
Haunted.
#
quote:
As time passed, my loneliness grew. It began to hurt. I looked trying to find someone to assuage the pain of being so alone. I even went on a few dates with girls I was friends with. Tried as I might, no sparks flew. I spent most of the dates with my eyes constantly roaming, trying to catch a glimpse of her. In the end, it made me feel even worse. I was a terrible date, and nearly lost a friendship out of it. It was then that I realized I was stuck. I couldn't get her out of my mind by force of will, I couldn't even replace her. I was lost.
I was more depressed and dejected than ever. I'd never get her out of my head, and I'd never see her again. The next few weeks passed slowly and bleakly. The cold of bite of winter began early.
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quote:
Then, one morning, I was woken by the sun shining on my face. I sat up in bed and looked out the window through the blinds. The autumn leaves gleamed a little more golden. Winter, though still a few weeks off, seemed to be at bay. For some reason, I just felt better. I had the day off, so I decided to go for a walk, maybe take lunch at the park. I showered and dressed, a sudden and welcome spring in my step.
I left the apartment fairly bounding down the steps to the street below. Tucking my hands into my pockets, I even began whistling a light tune. A light wind picked up the leaves and swirled them around like dust devils. I smiled at it. A few more leaves floated languidly down from the trees, landing on my shoulders. A few people walked towards me on the sidewalk, smiling brightly as I passed. I felt as if I was waking from a dream, rising from a depression. I felt good.
I walked a few miles to the park. It seemed I hadn't been the only one with the clever idea. A number of families were there, lounging in the grass while their children played. Their joy was a wonderful sight after all the darkness of the previous month. Things were finally looking up. I made my way to my favored bench, facing the lake.
quote:
As I approached, I saw that someone was sitting there. Oh, well, I thought. I can sit in the next area.
Mildly disappointed, I took one last glance at it before I left.
My heart stopped.
It was her. The bench was facing the lake, away from the gravel path I was on, but she had turned to look at a group of pigeons fluttering around.
She.
She who had haunted me.
She who had taken residence in my head.
She who had thrown my entire life into a spiral.
Beautiful, lovely she.
My heart wasn't pounding. It was exploding. Erupting. Detonating. My hands shook. She was there, sitting mere yards from me. The girl of my dreams. The girl in my dreams. The real girl or the ideal I'd created, it didn't matter. She was there.
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Go. The only way you'll ever be free.
Or happy.
I tried to steady my heartbeat and approached the bench. She turned as I rounded the right side of the bench.
Her eyes met mine. My temperature skyrocketed. I could hear my heart thundering in my ribcage.
Now or never.
Your only chance.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi," she answered.
She smiled.
If there's one thing I want to really get through to you, it's that there needs to be a great opening and an ending. Any ending. What you provided here wasn't one. You need to work on filtering out common usage stuff like "my heart stopped," and use more stuff like "she remained, like a cat clinging to a tree, claws digging into the bark." Using your own words is always going to be better; it helps you think more like the character, provides us with some interesting words to read and makes the story a lot better.
I'd say go back and re-write this, expanding upon the obsession and give us an ending. Was the girl his everything? Did she end up disappointing him? You put us into a conflict but have no resolution for it.
I'd be happy to read a 2nd and 3rd draft.
TheAgent fucked around with this message at 20:58 on May 28, 2017
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¿
May 28, 2017 19:36
