Thread: Not So Much A Living Hell

All criticism is appreciated

We saw of this day far approaching, our family reunion. Polished or rugged presented the same, but I felt more winsome when it the latter. A roomy light jagged my vision and I followed the ting in my right ear out. A shroud left along with, although no obscenity spurred off the thought. What transpired among the socials became the weight of the hours that passed lightlyacross the echoed air.

From what the rest I could patch from the room, it had turned worse. Unexpected and pleasing to my conscious, they continued in a sort of way, “We can’t afford that, and you should know that.” “Then ask Phil for it then, I don’t know.” Preceded with agitating sounds I couldn’t make out in action. Like a silk ghost I fled my pouted ears that lent as steps neared earshot from the tapping shoes. Some fruitful nostalgia endowed as I crouched beside my old wooden bed, then asliver of shadows conformed at the door and diffused after what I suppressed as a pause.

Before I could relax my apathetic lungs, glass dropped outside. Followed by them who’ve I expected watched over me had rushed out.“I’m not going on without the money!” He shrieked avariciously. The steps before each escalating crash felt monstrous. The darkness in my mind kept asteady animation at slow frames, creating even more tension before each frame flicked over to the next.

It seemed the collateral damage has seen no light of day,that morning of a foggy August. The sparks in the fireplace became our new grail as we huddled around it, tempting unstring eyes to mingle with the abysmal mess that seemed to lack earnest. In a flash of nebulous transactions of hand gestures two left wanderers. From what was picked up and wasn’t left a hole in my heart. Placing such pity towards defunct and plentiful surrounded drenched decisions urgent to escape.

Once all disappeared, I plied my eyes to search for any missing and left with little satisfaction. “That’s just messed up.” I heard before leaving out the door, “I know, it’s upsetting to hear such awful news.”The two were in the bathroom, coiled in blankets and sitting sheepish of what transpired outside. A bit of work tardiness and a bottomless chest pulled me inside, transcending bitter disgust in their scrutinizing brows. “Get out!” She whined, jutting her numbered teeth. “Yeah pervert.” He continued, adjusting his blankets to hide the shameful width of his belly. “Sorry, I needed to use thetoilet.” They sighed, almost simultaneously. “Alright, let’s go.” She gruntedand stretched her arms in my direction, with one conceited eye closed then theother. “Yeah let’s go.” He spat and led her out dragging the blankets. Vexed at what I expected wasn’t worth the effort, I left out the door.

A vacant sun arose from the drooling clouds. I parked my car outside the market. The grey sign welcomed as I passed by it to enter thelittle brown villa next to it. A sturdy one, lined from top to bottom with blue paint and a promiscuous little balcony hung heavy of lost vines and overgrown flowers. “Come out!” I called with fists, “We’re late as it is!” Wasps poured from the balcony as the door slid an inch short a head.

Mousy or half sleep she peaked from the darkness. A glossy streak in her hair soaked of sweat, bulged in her sockets were blackened deadeyes. The empty lot dropped their pens as she fell. Trembling, I held her in mya rms, wishfully. It followed rhythmic of a home run for the hit, but no cheers.Winded by the thud flushed bygone worries and as I stared all about the walkers in the lot, watchfully as with my unbelievable drought on the brightening sky.Like some deviating puck had tinkered it, layering the stacks high.

Relentless and borrowed notion of emotion blossomed as I satin the waiting room. No one has spoken solid words of weight for hours, busy powdering out the cluttered walls. Jelly beans washed out of life laid on a table of magazines – next to a paper coffee cup. Out of boredom I inspected a bean,seeming to have been born yellow but was now a tropical tangerine. Dirt sparkled as I shifted it in intimate gesture.

What hunger could’ve brought me to down such filth? Brewing in my stomach was a gust of temptation, and I vowed to follow its command. A snap, a click and gulp all forms downed with a cup of a slight warm coffee. When my hunger whipped back into submission for time being, I realized a magazine open. I read aloud for my conscious to think and due lack of compressing noise.“Hmm,” I turned the pages, unattached by what I saw.

“Sing for yourself, Nancine says to World News Weekly” Iread the caption of an intriguing photo of a singer in mirrored reflection. Shemustn’t have been one in reality, she looked too lax. I followed a stair way ofwords, “From sunny side Florida in small town Fredrick, we are brought up a gemand rising superstar Nancine(stage name) She beeps the beep and honks the honkin her grand tour this summer of 21’.” I stopped to venture a date; it was 23’today, this year. Looking back at the photo, I remembered. Whom I’ve known for twomonths was this superstar of two years past, but it tailored years ofdifference.

(Wondering if its too boring)

In the first few paragraphs (all I read) you've made numerous grammatical and stylistic mistakes.

These are two of them:
"We saw of this day far approaching, our family reunion" Is both verbose and convoluted with odd word placement. 'We watched the day of our family reunion approach" is simpler and more concise.
"A shroud left along with, although no obscenity spurred off the thought." Fragment

Aim to be more economical with your word choice, and respect each words individual nuance, too. Your prose is 'purple'.

You create some nice imagery though. Spend more time editing and trimming and you'll find it reads much better.

There seems to be no narrative or story line that is obvious. Are you just stringing along stream of consciousness? Serious editing needed to make it palatable. I feel a direction but there is not enough light on the subject to be sure.

Thank you Flaps. I have alot of difficulty with grammer and being too 'purple' and I'll try my best to fix the problems.

samit, I haven't really started the story yet and I am working on it, thanks for clearing that up (I am also unsure what 'stream of consciousness' means exactly, I've looked it up but couldn't understand. Can anyone explain it to me?)