Thread: Domestic Issues (Language).

Hey guys. I'm new and hope to be a regular poster here. I love to write and have written mostly for me up until now, but I'm hoping to get out there and post more stuff and read other peoples' and be a social writing butterfly. Haha.

Here's a short story I wrote last week.

Some of this NWS and deals with sensitive subject matter.

This story has been revised since first posting for new viewers.


There was a rapping of the door and the man came through in his security garb. He was a tall and dark man and he was handsome in the way that 70s cops were handsome. He wore his jet black hair parted at the center and he sported a black moustache that was thick and that few men could grow.

His wife was waiting for him in the hallway when he came. He looked at her and she at him and she smiled. The man moved into the bedroom and took off his belt and the holster that adorned it and the silver gun with its square barrel. He hung it in the rack on the closet.

She followed him into the bedroom. The bed was neatly tucked-in and near a tierwood bedstand and there was a doorway inside the bedroom which led to a white closet heaped in a whirlwind of dirty clothes. Next to the bedstand was a French window draped with maroon curtains. Everything else was immaculate and the Samsung TV screen was showing an episode of Andy Griffith.

"How was your day?" she asked.

"The same as always."

"Did anything happen there tonight?"

"This woman. This crazy woman. She came in naked. We tried to give her scrubs but she wouldn't take them. Said she wouldn't put clothes on at all."

"My god. What did you do?"

"I had to drag her out and call the police. It took two hours dealing with her."

"My god."

The man sat on the bed and unbuttoned the blue security shirt and took it off and then undid his shoes and took off his socks. He looked at his wife.

"Why did you stay up so late anyway?" he asked.

"I wanted to see you. I feel like I don't get to see you anymore. You get back so late."

"Well, it's work."

"I know," she said.

"I feel like I get home and then I have to defend myself."

"You don't," she said.

The man nodded and glanced at the screen and then back at his clothes. He lay on the bed in his undershirt and felt at the bedstand for his cigarettes and lighter and he sparked the lighter to light the cigarette and then he took his ashtray in his left hand and held it steady.

His wife slid into the bed next to him and put an arm around him. He stayed where he was and watched the television screen. Barney was going on about how Otis had gotten out of jail again.

"The principal called and said John isn't doing his work," she said.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah. I don't know what to do."

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No, I can deal with it."

"I was thinking about a psychologist for him," she said.

"What the hell does he need a shrink for?"

"I don't know. You know we've had problems lately. I was just thinking it might be affecting his school."

"Where is he?"

"In his room."

"John doesn't need a shrink," he said.

"I called your work tonight," she said. "I called Mark and tried to get ahold of you and he said you were out."

"What'd you call my work for?" he said.

"I just wanted to talk with you."

"I told you I was busy tonight."

There was a pause. Andy Griffith was solving the missing Otis problem now and the rest of the room was dark except for the cherry glow of the cigarette.

"Were you with her?" she asked.

"I told you I wasn't. I told you that."

"You have Lortab eyes," she said. "I can tell you have them."

"You're delusional, Lynn. You're fucking delusional."

"Get the fuck out of here."

"I'm not bothering anymore. I'm done. I'm done with your bitch ass and I'm not coming back here again."

"Good, you fucking cheater. I talked to Joy today. She told me everything."

"Joy is a liar. You think she didn't want to fuck me too?" he asked.

"All my friends are liars right? Nobody's telling me the truth Frank? I recorded you. I wanted to see how long you would lie to my face."

His eyes took over with hellfire fury and he reeled back to hit her and then stopped. His lips curled into a dog sneer to show the crooked teeth below his moustache.

"You're a liar. Just like your family. Just like your mother," she said.

He stood up. His face was red and he stormed for the rack and when he turned around there was a flash of gunmetal reflected in the TV screen and she screamed a scream that echoed off the ivory walls.

John was in the doorway. They both looked at him and tears fell off the boy's face like rainforest leaves and in his hands there were torn papertowels and fingernail markings on the backs of his hands that bled deep and gushed as if from an old well.

The man turned to look at John and his face contorted into something deep and he turned and left the room in a fleeting storm. The door slammed and echoed again from the narrow hallway and they heard the truck pull off and the the wheels scream as they fled the house in a hurricane hurry.

John looked at his mother. She was crying too and looking off in the distance and she went to the window to watch him leave.

"This is never going to stop," John said. He draped a stubborn hand across his cheek to bumrush the fleeting tears that fell like shooting stars onto the maroon carpet.

"I love him," she said.

"I wish you would get a divorce," John said.

"You don't have to go to school today."

I really like this piece! The characters feel so natural , and what little narration is there is just superb:

tears fell off the boy's face like rainforest leaves

I think it's important to stray from cliché in descriptions when handling a very emotional topic like this. Powerful imagery really brings out the emotion of a piece of writing, and makes the reader feel it much more - which you accomplish!

However, I think you can deal with the revelation of the cheating a little more believably. It felt like an overly-dramatic leap from a calm situation, and I think some more understandable reactions - even giving the reader a pause that makes them assume a hesitation from one of the speakers - would benefit the reality of that part. It definitely needs a little tweaking; the last thing you want is for the reader to start feeling like they love how you're bringing out these characters, and then have them very suddenly disappointed.

One more small point: lose the very last 'she said', after '"You don't have to go to school today,"'. I think a break after that piece of dialogue is perfect, and the added narration is unnecessary and repetitive.

Overall, I very much enjoyed this. Good job, aland - I look forward to seeing more from you.

You're right about the dialogue Nick.

Also agree with the 'she said'. I'll revise it. Thanks for the critique!

I liked it, aland, and disliked it too, and in part the reasons are one and the same.

Firstly, I liked the change of pace with the onset of aggression bordering hatred, though, as someone on here so eruditely observed recently, such hatred between a married couple can truly stem from a deep love, and the anger and passion showed in your piece backs that up.

The reason for the like and dislike in equal amounts? Reading the narrative is like reading Hemingway. It is so well written, but it seems as though I've read it before and that is because of its likeness to the great Ernest, almost like you're trying too hard to imitate his style. I can't put it any other way, but I do think the story itself works, and perhaps would do so more as an opening than as a stand alone piece.

Scott