daytondamn

Please share any thoughts, ideas, comments, suggestions etc...



I enjoyed passing my time alone and was comfortable with it. Each day I spent in solitude with the exception of necessary public outings. In many ways I felt the most alone during these times when I was forced into public areas. The looks of others passing over me reassured me of how alone I actually was. The wooden floor of my rented room did not look over me as if I were an unimportant and common thing unworthy of attention. It creaked and cried out under my weight as I walked slowly to my window to crack it open for the night. White paint flaked off the latches as I rotated them out of their locked position. The upward motion of the window awakened dust and I sneezed. I turned from my window as I began to feel the cool air drifting in. From 2 stories below on the street I heard a voice. The sound from this voice was rushed and uncertain and it came past my window with greater coolness than the chilled air. The urgency of this voice was so great that it could not even form actual statements. Even only moments later I could not recall the exact sound that I had heard. Surely it was a human voice. It was a short and sharp blurt. The kind of sound one might make involuntarily in some situations. My attention had been grasped. I kept my ear on the open window as I reclaimed my seat. The chair molded to my form and took me in.

As awkward as this sound may have been it had not been awkward to me. I had already begun considering any number of situations which would have led to the utterance of the sound in question. It was most likely some lonesome vagrant in a random moment of stupid intensity. Even though not once before now had I ever heard anyone make a sound like this from outside my window, it seemed usual to me. Barely any time passed before I heard another sound; this time a slightly more definitive kind of shriek, almost certainly from a woman. It quickly faded to nothing. I reopened my book and shifted my weight in my seat. I relaxed as I took in the words. Something was nagging at my corners. Floating just out of my sight were those brittle sounds. What was their source? As a little time passed I became involved again in my reading. I was happy to be met with another sound from outside my window. It sounded as if a fair amount of objects had now fallen onto the street. The first image that came to my mind was a tipped trashcan. I ceased all movement so as not to create any noise. I focused and listened. For some reason I could not bring myself to move out of my seat over to the window to try and see what was happening.

The challenge of deciphering the noises and possibilities of the events that were causing them was proving enjoyable. Why bring and end to it? I am lying when I say it was enjoyable, it was much more than enjoyable. I felt the kind of excitement that had I felt only in my youth, the kind of excitement that made my most valuable memories. With my age this once thick and nearly tangible feeling had become horribly distorted and faded away to nothing. I felt this excitement in its pure and original form now for the first time in decades. How long could it last? It appeared now as if it had ended already. I slid my thumb back inside my book and pried it open. I had not covered more than half a page when the next in the sequence of sounds from outside rushed in. It sent a flinch through my body that automatically flexed and popped all my muscles and nearly caused me to drop my book into my lap. A light sweat broke out across my forehead. “HELP!” Only it had been quickly muffled. In fact the ‘P’ sound not been pronounced at all before the sound was cut off. The “L’ sound that she had ended with sounded like it had been jerked into another direction and so even it was barely clear. I froze myself and readied my nerves for more. No sounds floated in through my window. Perhaps the hiss of tires against the concrete or a pair of squeaking breaks but these were all too common.

asdar

This is a good start Dayton.

My first suggestion would be to use paragraphs.

When describing the sound from below I think it'd be better to use a phonetic approach. It draws the reader in when you involve more of the senses into the story.

The second section where he stills himself to decipher the sounds is awesome, absolutely inventive. The lack of paragraphs damages the whole section but also there's a lack of direction here. I'm not sure if the man was enjoying the thought of harm coming to the woman or just the act of deciphering sounds.

It's got a good feel and I like the wording throughout the story. Just the paragraphs would jump this story up a big notch.

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Asdar