Roxane

Stern

At some point, every man must face his limitations. He may not want to, but eventually they will catch up, and corner him. My own limitations, were profound as the wrinkle that crossed my forehead. A wrinkle that had developed from rooted impatience, rather than thought.

In the mirror, I watched a man who held his back, as he stiffly bent to tie his laces. Everything about him was rigid, as the right-angled spectacles that rimmed reflections, but hid his gaze.

I thought of fields of green, of sugar and milk, of games...
Still my eyes were stern, flat as polluted snow. I tried comparing the mirrored eyes, to what I had always believed them to look like. I saw their edges fall away, as the ice crystals melted in the sun. So that’s what it feels like, elapsing from summer into fall. As the prime of life descends into night, and the mirror reflects unknown features.

I eventually overcame my new found vanity, and stepped out of the door. It was not raining, but there was a kind of sullen humidity in the air. My shoes were black and perfectly polished. With staccato I stepped down the garden path, as my umbrella tapped against the ground. Clack, clock-clock, clack. My walk was erratic, through the slight limp of my left foot. Suddenly a breeze stole my hat, and I pulled a frown. All my life I had been an bull, who pushed cattle out of his way. Now my left leg dragged behind my right.

I did not bring a suitcase, but had my bank card for identification. I have never been impulsive, but there comes a time, where every man must break his principles. Despite logic, I got on a plane, -a random flight to Paris.

When Lisa opened the door, the color drained from her cheeks. She lost her posture like a puppet whose strings have been dropped. We stood in the doorway, stare against stare, and I wondered how I could put some paternal warmth behind mine.

Despite the emotional distance between us, she was too close to remain silent. However, she did, and it made me think about how similar we are. Finally, I spoke first. The words fell into her ears, like raindrops into water. In any case, there was no reaction.
“How’s your mother?”
Silence...
What was she thinking? Did she feel disappointment? Astonishment? Anger?

In spite of the cold wind, my hands started to sweat. I let them run over the uneven fabric of my coat, and the sudden movement revived her limbs. Someone had jerked the strings of the puppet, and all muscles in her body tensed. Without words, she stepped aside to let me pass.

There were no signs of Christina in the modernness of these rooms. Christina must have been Lisa’s age when we married, and I was over forty. Strange young thing, with fizzy red/blond curls, and green eyes. I could see her clearly in our daughter.
“How’s your mother?” I asked again.
Without uttering a word, Lisa put her arms around my neck. I felt dizzy, but managed to meet the embrace as my eyes swept across the untraditional tapestry.

Mike

Comma usage needs work. An example: "My limitations, were profound as the wrinkle that crossed my forehead."

Quote:

A wrinkle that had developed from rooted impatience, rather than thought.

This sentence is vague. It's almost a metaphor upon a metaphor; you're comparing limitations to a wrinkle on the head to rooted impatience. What is rooted impatience?

Can a man hold his back while tying laces with both hands?
Another vague sentence. Ditch the alliteration for something more concrete.

It's hard to figure out where we are in the story. Sequence from one image to the next appears to be random, as images in a dream. A lot of grammar mistakes and discontinuity make me think that perhaps the author is not a native English speaker? What's happening is that I'm seeing a lot of ideas presented, but they aren't finished. We're bouncing around from image to image with no apparent order, no concrete point of view; the character, who we don't really know by name or description, seems to be teleporting. He is watching a stiff man tie shoes, then thinking of sugar and milk and games, and then we're off on a plane to Paris - no descriptions whatsoever of the airport, of other people, of sights and smells - and meeting with someone named Lisa, where and when, asking "how's your mother?" is (supposedly?) a dramatic, climatic moment in the story....

The story needs huge organizational help. Create a scene, expand upon it. Why does the character go to Paris? Why is the character watching the stiff man tie shoes? What surrounds the character? What motivates the character to go to Paris?

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- Mike

Non Serviam

Hi Roxane

Keep at it. Considering you're a teenager whose third language is English, this is absolutely excellent.

I think you're using commas for emphasis, or to show where you'd put a pause in speech, like in your third sentence. They don't quite work like that in English.

Try using the German rules for placing commas. You can use them more liberally than that in English but you don't have to, and if you use the German rules the commas will never be in the wrong place. Treat them as a way of separating clauses.

In your third sentence the comma's there to emphasize "my limitations". You can emphasize the "my" by adding "own", so you could say, "my own limitations were profound as..."

You're using verbs confidently and well, stay with that. "Suddenly a breeze stole my hat" is nice.

I think it'd help if you tried to put more visual imagery in there, and gave the reader a few more details. You can slow down a bit and elaborate on each idea a bit more.

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Quote:

Originally Posted by Olly Buckle The ways of the world are twisty and unknowable, the only way to be sure you are not caught out in something you regret is not to do things you may regret.

Roxane

Thank you very much, Mike and Non Serviam, ill go over all the gramatic work, and try to elaborate more. yes, my own limitations, of course...

Mike, I don´t really think the character needsa a name, especially since its in first person. We know that he is Lisa´s father ("paternal gaze"). The images of "milk, sugar etc." is him trying to think back to childhood, but I realize that it may not be clear, maybe its clear to some people though, I dont really know if it matters. You are right, there is no reason for him deciding to go to Paris, because it is a completely abrupt decision and descriptions of the airport are unneccesary to the story line, I think. But I see that is may all be clear in my head, but not clear on paper. the "rimmed reflections," is perhaps too suggestive, its supposed to show that when you look at his eyes, you see reflections of yourself and the room, rather than seeing your eyes... Oh, and the stiff man in the mirror, is himself, except he does not recognise himself because he does not often look in the mirror too carefully "new found vanity", and he has grown old, perhaps he does not want to regognise himself either. You are of course right about holding his back to tie his laces, it was to pick up a black suit case at first, but that did not fit with him walking later. Although, itsnt it possible to hold your back while bending, and then tying your shoes? Ill try to think of something else though!

Thank you again, and I will edit as soon as possible but first I have class, boarding school saturdays are a pain in the ass!

KangTheMad

ROXANE! Welcome back!

It needs some work, making it flow together, but its good.

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