Mack - Writers Forum

aubie84 · 06-02-2003, 09:26 AM

Author's note: Taking maitaman's advice, I'm posting this one here hoping to get positive or negative feedback. I think writing is a continual growth process and I appreciate constructive criticism. Please read and be brutally honest. Thanks!

It seemed he was everywhere.

At the IGA Food Store, the Pony League baseball games --- even at the Dairy Queen on Sundays when Daddy used to take us to get a bucket of broasted chicken and those potatoes I loved so much.

Mack was there.

And on Sundays, at the Dairy Queen, he was dressed to the nines. He wore a black suit that, looking back, was a bit short in the arms and legs. His white shirtsleeves peeked out, starched to a stunning crispness, and when he sat, not only his socks, but this thin legs showed, too. His wiry neck had plenty of room to move about within the confines of the collar, even with his tie knotted all the way at the top. His hair was the color of half-lit charcoal and rimmed his mostly bald head.

I thought him regal --- perhaps, judging by looks alone, the most important and wise man in the town. I loved the crescent-moon smile that beamed from the purple sky-like darkness of his thin and wrinkled face. I loved the laugh that roared from within his wiry body --- a laugh made thick and phlegmatic from years of smoking hand-rolled cigarettes.

But mostly, I loved the nickels.

Every time our paths crossed, Mack and I would go through the same routine. Whoever saw the other first would call out and Mack would reach into his pocket, pull out a shiny new nickel and say, “Got somethin’ for ya here, boy!”

At that, I would run to him, grab the nickel from his long, dry fingers and smile up at him as he reached down to playfully tousle my hair.

Mack would look at Mama and say, “Miss Ann and Mistuh Jack’s boy sho’ is growin’ up big and strong! I bet he a head higher’n when I saw im last.”

Mack would say this every time --- even if I’d seen him the day before.

Mama never worried about Mack, but she did scold me sometimes for taking his nickels. She said all the nickels he’d given me could probably buy him something he really needed. She said that Mack was poor and worked hard at odd jobs around town just to make ends meet.

Then one summer, Mack came to work for us. Daddy was away at school working on his master’s degree and Mama was teaching summer school. She left me --- the youngest and the only child that needed supervision --- in the custody of Ruth, who’d been our maid for as far back as I could recall.

But, with Daddy away, someone else would have to work the garden, do the weeding and fertilizing and such.

That’s where Mack came in.

I’ll never forget the day Daddy rolled into our driveway, Mack riding ramrod straight and peacock proud in the passenger seat. When the car came to a stop, Mack got out, and, before the door could close behind him, he was fishing deep into his overalls pocket.

“Got somethin’ for ya here, boy!”

He held the nickel arm’s length in front of his face and I, like always, walked to get it.

“Tell Mack thank you,” Daddy said, his voice ringing with authority.

“Thanks, Mack.”

“Why, I got so many of them nickels, I’m just glad you like 'em so much, boy. They weigh my britches down. And yo’ Daddy’s fixin’ to put me to work in the garden. I don’t need no extra weight out in this here hot sun!”

His smile danced across the darkened stage of his face as he spoke. Daddy looked at him, then at me.

“I just hope he lets you get some work done, Mack. If you let him, he’ll pester you all summer. You may have to run him off.”

Mack’s laughter rumbled, then turned to a coughing fit.

“You okay, Mack?” Daddy asked.

“Yessuh. 'Cept I needs to quit smokin’, Mistuh Jack. But I’ve been smokin’ those dadblasted things since I’s this here boy’s age and it ain’t easy quittin’, no it ain’t.”

With that, Daddy led Mack out back to our garden.

I watched them for awhile as Daddy pointed out the different things he’d like Mack to do. Then I went inside to put my shiny new nickel with all the others.

Mama had been home for an hour or so when she called to me.

“David, I’m gonna go pick some fresh peas for supper. You can either stay here or go with me. But if you go with me, you leave Mack alone. He’s out there working in this heat and he doesn’t need you bothering him.”

I told Mama I wanted to go to the garden with her and assured her I wouldn’t bother Mack.

Just to see him would be enough for me.

The heat was unbearable that day. There was no wind blowing and the humidity was thick after a late morning shower. I followed Mama, my head lowered to shield my eyes from the sun.

Suddenly, Mama stopped. She grabbed my hand and started running back toward the house, forcing me to run behind her to keep from being dragged.

We ran into the house, Mama dropped my hand and hurried to the telephone. She dialed quickly.

“Send an ambulance to 811 East Hart Avenue, please. I believe our gardener’s had a heat stroke or something.”

Mack!

My heart sank. I ran to the door, wanting to run to the garden to see if I could help. But Mama stopped me --- just as the tears started to roll down my cheek.

“Baby, I’ve got to go out here to see if I can do anything to help Mack. I want you to stay right here, okay? He’s gonna be all right. You need to be a big boy for Mama and Mack, okay?”

I nodded a feeble yes, but I knew.

Mack was gone.

The ambulance had come and gone, Mama had told me the bad news about Mack and I had retreated to my room --- remembering, crying. There was a knock on my door and Mama let herself in.

“Baby, I need to go pick those peas, okay? Do you want to go with me or stay here?”

Maybe, I thought, it was all a bad dream. Maybe when me and Mama get to the garden Mack will be there, leaning on his hoe and talking about it being hot as “blue blazes.” Maybe ---

I fell in behind Mama.

We walked to the garden slower than before. She reached down to take my hand in hers. She squeezed it as I looked out across the rows and rows of vegetables.

No Mack.

The tears came again, harder this time. Mama looked at me, but didn’t say or do anything. She went about her business of picking her peas.

I thought about the Dairy Queen on Sunday’s, Mack’s black suit and the way his neck swam around inside his starched white collar. I thought about the Pony League games when Mack would sit on the front row, cheering for everyone, not a favorite team, just wanting to see all the kids do well. I pictured him in the front seat of Daddy’s Chrysler New Yorker just days before, the way he’d smiled when he saw me ---

“Honey.”

I turned to Mama, my lips and chin still trembling with the sorrowful memories.

“C’mere, baby. Look at this.”

I walked slowly toward Mama, stepping over the rows and picking at the plants’ green leaves. When I looked at Mama, she was smiling, but, at the same time fighting back her own tears.

She took my hand in hers.

“Mack left you something, honey. I found this here in the dirt.”

Tears rolling down her cheeks, she opened my hand, placed something in my palm and squeezed it shut again.

I opened my hand slowly.

The shiny new nickel sparkled in the afternoon sun.

cdm · 06-02-2003, 01:56 PM

Very good. This one should be sent to a literary magazine. I think it would be accepted.
%^^$$!! you! I like to give acid reviews, and there's nothing wrong with this one.
Seriously, you have talent. Develop it, and run with it. It will take you places.

HappyTyping · 06-02-2003, 07:52 PM

Congratulations on producing this piece, it's well written and flows nicely. Your characters appear beleivable and real and their speech is appropriate. Here are a couple of things that I thought you might like to also consider.

1. Vary your sentence structure. In some parts, particularly the first paragraph there are a lot of long sentences broken up with commas that have the same cadence. It makes for more interesting and easier reading when you vary the cadence of each sentence so that the pauses fall in different places. You can do this simply by breaking some sentences into two.

2. The description of Mack having a purple sky-like face, was confusing to me. It took me a long time to realise that he was a person of colour. I don't normally associate purple with very dark skin.

3. Tone down the localised speech. Even though Mack speaks with a heavy accent it's just as powerful to only throw in one or two words of localised speech to suggest this. That way the dialogue is easier to read and understand while still getting the idea about how his voice sounds.

4. The beginning, while interesting was a little slow for my liking and I could have done with a shorter description of Mack.

Otherwise it's a very enjoyable piece of writing. Thanks for posting it here.

chiquillo · 06-11-2003, 01:50 PM

I found your imagery really good, and liked it for the most part. However, think your description of the character Mack at the beginning slows the story down.

Because your dialogue is strong, I would interject descriptions of Mack after a brief moments of dialogue.

The story is very strong and evokes a lot of emotion. The use of the nickel is strong and is introduced well and ties up the end well.

Anonymous · 06-13-2003, 12:46 AM

I agree with cdm, you have one hell of a talent. I disagree with chiquillo, I think your description of mack in the beginning should be kept as it is , it adds to the ovorall flaver of the piece and besides this is a story of a rememberance, it should be slow and smooth. Your ending bittersweet, bravo

warm regards,
bob

rcallaci · 06-13-2003, 12:49 AM

opps, forgot to sign in . Great work.

regards again
bob

amie · 06-25-2003, 11:56 AM

aubie...I have to echo the praises of the others. This is a great story, and you kept my attention through the whole thing. I disagree with "HappyTyping" about toning down the localized speach. It gives the story a real sense of place, and heck, it worked wonders for Faulkner. I would recommend going over the story a few more times for editing's sake. I like to read my work out loud to really hear the words and how they work together--you'll find things you never would have noticed before.

Just my 2 cents

- amie -

Bartleby · 06-25-2003, 01:22 PM

Okay kets be blunt. I'm green with envy. Excellent work David. I am impressed with the use of dialogue and local speech, as well as the artful use of description and good narrative pacing. I would have to agree with cdm in suggesting you have this one published. Let me know which magizine you get in and I'll gladly buy a subscription.

jongleur · 06-26-2003, 03:35 PM

I'm new as you see so I'm going to try to give helpful feedbacck without being labled a troll

The beginning like others said was extremely slow. I had to force myself. What the problem is, is that you need to jump in and start moving the characters around. The accent didn't bother me though, the purple skin threw me into a wall. X the poerty stuff there.

<"Mama had been home for an hour or so when she called to me. ">

Thing like that seem blah. Now you have good charaters but you need to work on the narration. The narrartion should move the story at the same pace as the dialogue. But it seems like there's a jolt inbetween the two. Move the characters into the dialogue.

<"David," Mama had been home and hour or so when she called to me. "I'm gonna go pick up some fresh peas for supper.">

Though I don't think it's need to say how long she was home for. Too much information.

From there on out the dialogue and nar. was a major jolt. You just need to blend them together a little better.

All and all the story was nice. The ending had a impact and you characters are believable. Good Job. Keep at it. I hope this helped somewhat.

TTFN
Jongleur