#1
There was something about her that made me think that she wanted me. It may have been the dark wet patch on her light blue thong but I also thought I saw something in her eye. Normally, I wouldn't advance on a girl that is more or less a stranger to me but she was naked already and to be honest I felt that gave me an advantage. We played catch for a bit, tossing the ball back and forth before she dropped it and pulled me towards her. She kissed me hard on the lips, her front teeth clinking with mine. She smelt faintly of apples. I held her up, steady, put the palm of my hand on her back and returned the kiss. Swaying slightly, we made out for several minutes before the two of us fumbled naked and fell into the duvet. I thought I heard her cry during, but I wasn't sure.

Once we'd done the dirty dance enough times for it to be called a night, I held her hand as she slept. I placed my chin on her stomach, looked over her breasts and studied her face. There were the tears, dried on her rouged cheeks. Whatever had been around her eyes had been smudged and drizzled down like rain on a window. Even asleep, her face was shaped in permanent pain, as if there was fear overriding all her other emotions. However peaceful she looked from afar, I knew she wasn't dreaming.

Sunshine, frost and the morning. No wake-up call was nice, and let me have a few moments to try and complete the puzzle of last night. I almost had it bar a few pieces, which I hoped she held. With impressive grace I lifted from the bed and found the kitchen, where I made two glasses of orange juce and a few slices of toast. When I returned to the bed, she was up, combing her hands through her bitty hair. Over breakfast we made small talk on other occurences we remembered, and what people were wearing and the like. It was only on our last swallow of juice did I bring up her crying. She started mumbling, so I had to move around to face her, each syllable was so quiet that I made an attempt to lip-read. Somehow, I ended up watching her eyes more than her mouth, just letting her tone of voice guide me through her story. There was malcontent in her childhood, difficult parents and loneliness. I didn't hear the words, I just knew. I noticed my hand was clutching hers, and wondered how long it had been there.

Later that day, when all the house had been cleared and everyone had gone back to their own, I stayed with her for a while. We sat on a cold brick wall further down the road. Kicking our legs like we were on swings, she told me how thankful she was for my comfort and support, how much she had needed a night with someone like me. She titled her head and gave a shy smile when she was done talking, and my stomach pinched. I purposefully placed my pinky on top of hers, made a funny sort of sound and nodded a thankyou back.

Walking back home I assessed. It had been a weird sort of week. A few days ago me and my girlfriend had parted ways quite amicably, and although I was still sore there had been no bitterness. Yesterday, I found out that my older sister was pregnant with her fourth child, so I had helped my brother-in-law pick her out a present. I guess all the drink I'd had last night was in celebration for them. It becomes a new sort of high, alcohol, when drank in between smiles. So I thought what this new girl in my life meant, if she was significant. At the very least, it was a skip in the right direction. When she had thanked me on the wall, I really felt something.

***

That was seven months ago. I'm lying in bed with that same girl, watching her wake up again. Her eyes have changed, the colour is stronger now. Her cheeks have become flooded with new blood and the rock that had made them up before had been eroded away. She didn't cry as much, and when she did I thanked God, because to hold it in I knew would be disastrous. Besides, comforting her was one of the greatest feelings in the world, and how she'd kiss me afterwards tickled my spine.

Although, sometimes, during the night when the day's over and we've said our goodnight love-you's, I'd worry, I'd wonder. There was things that she'd held back, such was her way, things she hadn't told me that morning after we'd met, and I knew that there were darker stories then what she'd told me before. So every dawn, I'd trace my finger from her toe to the tips of the hairs on her head, just waiting to touch a nerve. Her eyes always remained closed. Maybe she was dreaming.


This was a joy to write. I'm happy with this and how it turned out, the ending messages for me are there and I also hope to the reader that they take something away from this. I feel there's someting for most people, be it the humour in the first paragraph to the emotions involved, or the situations.

Thematically I felt I wanted to express my feelings on truthfullness and honesty, but also on what the real definition is of th right action or the right thing to do, and I feel the whole thing of a teenage party is a good way to do that because how people feel in the night compared to the next day, and how this is in contrast to parents and adults; for instance, this boy has found a girl he really treasures at a party that most adults look down on. But then, his older sister is having a fourth child, and the children in that family would all be competing for some sort of love and affection.

The ambiguious ending is important for me to. Does she know she's being tested? Or can she not/will she not remember this past pain because she's dreaming of a better future, or possibly she's not dreaming, she's stuck in her nightmare and just can't get out of it, no matter who she's with/ what happens.

I really enjoyed this challenge, and if anyone can manage a comment or critique it will be well appreicated and fully returned.

Thanks anyone who does.
Last edited by Jammydude44 at Apr 11, 2008,
#2
To be honest, this was much better in my eyes than all of your poetry and song writing. It feels more complete and less "sketchy." A lot of times your poetry feels like it needs to be filled out to be relatable... it feels bare, but this was rich in detail.

Lines that bothered me:

So I thought what this new girl in my life meant, if she was significant


This just read strangely, and honestly sort of took me a minute to wrap my head around. I kept stumbling over it everytime I read it, even on the fourth try.

The whole description in the first stanza... it felt... like a list almost. Like you were going through: Smell, check; sight, check; ect. It could have been executed more smoothly and generally been more striking.

looked over her breasts and looked.


absolutely abhorred the double "looked." It read terribly.

When she had thanked me on the wall, I really felt something.


for being such a pivotal line and generally a "climax" in idea and direction of the piece, this line was boring. Look at the second part of the line... its bland. Honestly, it was such a let-down after the story was building.

All in All, this was good. It was an enjoyable read. However, its not something that I can honestly say I'll find myself coming back and re-reading 2 or 3 times... and it won't be something I remember come a week from now. However, I certainly am not upset I read it, it was quite enjoyable and I did take some personal truths (Specifically about my relationship with my g/f) from it, so I enjoyed the message.

There's a new one in the sig. Comments/Bump appreciated.

-zC
#3
Quote by ZanasCross
To be honest, this was much better in my eyes than all of your poetry and song writing.


+1
#4
Thanks a lot Zach, much appreaciated. I'll get back to you.

Alex - Hi. And thanks. How you been?
#5
I kind of fell in love with this piece, possibly because this girl reminds me of how I act sometimes. Especially when you said "She didn't cry as much anymore, and when she did I thanked God, because to hold it in I knew would be disastrous."

I do like the point behind your ambiguous ending, but there's a difference between being ambiguous and ending your story awkwardly. It just doesn't feel like it makes sense to end where it did. I think that's because you don't hold the switch to present tense. The first line after your break makes the natural switch to the present, but the rest reverts back to the past tense, and I don't think it should. It sounds more ambiguous rather than unfinished if you hold the switch.

There are a few lines where your syntax is wrong, but I'm sure a quick re-read will reveal them to you, so I won't bother to point them out.

I agree strongly with the things zanascross pointed out, especially the bit about your climax sentence being too weak. It will add a great deal if you can fix that one line.
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
#7
Synth, I'd owe you a make out behind the bike sheds if you got to this in some sort of depth with a few witty comments.

Ardent, thanks for your time.

I however like my last line. I like it's effect. Or perhaps I'm just stubborn.
Last edited by Jammydude44 at Apr 10, 2008,
#9
Just one thing I stumbled upon:

Quote by Jammydude44
We played catch for a bit, tossing the ball back and forth before she dropped the ball


Two times 'the ball' just disturbed me. Maybe change the second one to it?

As for the rest, pretty impressive. Couldn't any mistakes/weak parts in it. I especially liked the ending. Just leaves you wondering what it is she's hiding.

Could you be bothered to crit/bump mine? It's in my sig.
#10
You didn't really have anything new up so I just thought I'd return and tell you how much I loved this again.

It really is much better than anything else I've ever read from you. And that's not putting down your poetry, or songwriting (both of which I always enjoy reading). This is just fabulously entertaining. I've read it about three times, the second two out of want and not just interest in the forums or whatever. It's got something to it, some kind of personality in the narrator.

it reminds me of the man who spent his whole life going on talent contests and pop idol to get famous and then he went to the supermarket to buy mustard and one of his friends was filming him with a diary and then he put it on youtube and then he became a star.

write a book or something.
#11
I just wish I had more perseverence in long-term projects.

I might try something in the summer, someting a bit more adventurous and challenging.

Much love for the comment.
#13
Before I start critting, I have to say, this was the first piece by you I have actually loved reading since you posted "Walls". Really good job man.


Quote by Jammydude44


There was something about her that made me think that she wanted me. It may have been the dark wet patch on her light blue thong but I also thought I saw something in her eye. Normally, I wouldn't advance on a girl that is more or less a stranger to me but she was naked already and to be honest I felt that gave me an advantage. Right, I feel this is the first "indent" in the story, so I'll barge in here. I think the first line was effective, but unfortunately, it felt clichéd. I've read tons of stories that start similarly. A strong first person statement setting the mood and tone immediately, almost predictably. Now, when I say this, I don't mean you should look it over or anything, it works perfectly, but next time you write a story, which you will because I command you to, you might want to investigate a different way to start it. We played catch for a bit, tossing the ball back and forth before she dropped it and pulled me towards her. She kissed me hard on the lips, her front teeth clinking with mine. She smelt faintly of apples. I held her up, steady, put the palm of my hand on her back and returned the kiss. Swaying slightly, we made outthat expression stood out like a soar thumb, the description was great and that was a bit of a letdown. for several minutes before the two of us fumbled naked and fell into the duvet. I thought I heard her cry during, but I wasn't sure.
yeah, above is basically my likes and dislikes. I thought the "fell into" was clever. "during" felt too much like a euphemism for my likings. A bit of bluntness doesn't hurt here and there.

Once we'd done the dirty dancegood but first you say: I thought I heard her cry during, as if you were reflecting on it, but then you jump forward in the time just to when you finish. I didn't notice whilst reading but hey. enough times for it to be called a night, I held her hand as she slept. I placed my chin on her stomach, looked over her breasts and studied her face.this description seems forced There were the tears, dried on her rouged cheeks. Whatever had been around her eyes had been smudged and drizzled down like rain on a window.perhaps a more interesting image? Even asleep, her face was shaped in permanent pain, as if there was fear overriding all her other emotions. However peaceful she looked from afar, I knew she wasn't dreaming.

Sunshine, frost and the morning. No wake-up call was nice, and let me have a few moments to try and complete the puzzle of last night. I almost had it bar a few pieces, which I hoped she held. With impressive gracesounds awkward I lifted from the bed and found the kitchenmore awkwardness, where I made two glasses of orange juce and a few slices of toast. When I returned to the bed, she was up, combing her hands through her bitty hair. Over breakfast we made small talk on other occurences we remembered, and what people were wearing and the like. It was only on our last swallow of juice did I bring up her crying. She started mumbling, so I had to move around to face her, each syllable was so quiet that I made an attempt to lip-read. Somehow, I ended up watching her eyes more than her mouth, just letting her tone of voice guide me through her story. There was malcontent in her childhood, difficult parents and loneliness. I didn't hear the words, I just knew. I noticed my hand was clutching hers, and wondered how long it had been there.
yeah the beginning of this paragraph was alright, but the ending was nice.

Later that day, when all the house had been cleared and everyone had gone back to their own, I stayed with her for a while. We sat on a cold brick wall further down the road. Kicking our legs like we were on swings, she told me how thankful she was for my comfort and support, how much she had needed a night with someone like me. She titled her head and gave a shy smile when she was done talking, and my stomach pinched. I purposefully placed my pinky on top of hers, made a funny sort of sound and nodded a thankyou back. good.

Walking back home I assessed.meh It had been a weird sort of week. A few days ago me and my girlfriend had parted ways quite amicably, and although I was still sore there had been no bitterness. Yesterday, I found out that my older sister was pregnant with her fourth child, so I had helped my brother-in-law pick her out a present.I loved this part, you don't know how much I guess all the drink I'd had last night was in celebration for them. It becomes a new sort of high, alcohol, when drank in between smiles. So I thought what this new girl in my life meant, if she was significant. At the very least, it was a skip in the right direction. When she had thanked me on the wall, I really felt something.

***

That was seven months ago. I'm lying in bed with that same girl, watching her wake up again. Her eyes have changed, the colour is stronger now. Her cheeks have become flooded with new blood and the rock that had made them up before had been eroded away. She didn't cry as much, and when she did I thanked God, because to hold it in I knew would be disastrous. Besides, comforting her was one of the greatest feelings in the world, and how she'd kiss me afterwards tickled my spine.

Although, sometimes, during the night when the day's over and we've said our goodnight love-you's, I'd worry, I'd wonder. There was things that she'd held back, such was her way, things she hadn't told me that morning after we'd met, and I knew that there were darker stories then what she'd told me before. So every dawn, I'd trace my finger from her toe to the tips of the hairs on her head, just waiting to touch a nerve. Her eyes always remained closed. Maybe she was dreaming.
the ending is perfect, who gives a **** about ambiguity.




I connected with this Jamie, more so than ever with your writing.