crowe1120

He just sat there looking at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. This white wall seemed to intrigue him; almost to the point of turning him into a zombie. There was nothing there. He sat in his favorite ripped blue jeans and black t-shirt. Sweating from the sweltering heat of late July, which visited Omak every year. Still he just sat there staring at that damn wall. What was so special about that damn wall? Snap! Someone snuck up and grabbed him on the shoulder, it was his mom. She had come to tell him dinner was done. He could smell it now and couldn’t believe he would ever love the smell of steak that much. After being back in college he had grown tired of that shitty cafeteria food, which by the way can not be FDA approved.
“Do you want to grab a beer for dinner real quick?” His mom asked.
“Nah mom I’m ok. Thank you.” He replied.
Lately he had quit drinking as much as he use to, due to the recent events. He was about ready start football after two years of many set backs. Many of which he had caused himself. This is the best introduction. I will now be turning this story over to this young man, and the mind of this young man can tell his story better than anyone.
Hey there. Yeah my mind likes to wonder like that it becomes troublesome at times, but keeps things interesting. Any who, my name is Max and yeah I am a 21 year old freshman. That in itself is a terribly long story which I really would like to put behind me. I came back home for a while until I start daily doubles for football, so until then I get to be back home. I really love it here especially during the summertime. There is something about the heat, yeah, over 100 degrees seems crazy. I just became use to it I guess during the all of those summers playing baseball.
Where was I? Oh yeah! So it only took me about two years to make a college football team. It took me this long only because I like to fuck myself over and a couple of other reasons. The point is I made the team. However, being at this school does get a little rough on me from time to time. About six or seven months ago the girl I who made me believe she loved me up and dumped me. It hurt, I’m not going to lie to you, but I handled it well with my friend. You may know him if you have ever had heartache like that, Uncle Jack or Jack Daniels whiskey for those who are unaware of that term? Well that is all behind me now. She can go fuck herself for all I care.
Let’s just move on from that dreadful subject, and I will talk about happier events. Being home is weird sometimes because it seems as if it changes every time I come here, but it’s not bad.
“Are you going to come eat Max?” someone yells.
“Yeah be there in a second Dad!”
Dad, now there is a character if you have ever met one. He gave me some strong Appalachian blood lines. When I say strong I am not exaggerating one bit, example, He does the treadmill in his underwear. I love him to death though, I couldn’t have asked for a better role model. Mom, she is a character as well. She means well but sometimes you want to pop off her little head. I love her to death too, and she is always there for me when I have a relationship problem or something.
“Steak tastes pretty good Dad”
“Thanks” he replied.
“Dave these are fricken awesome” Mom always seems to say.
I finished up dinner and thanked Dad for the delicious dinner, gave my Mom a kiss goodnight and headed out. I honestly do not know where I am heading, but it is hard for me to stay in the house all night. Since I moved to Montana I really do not have any friends around this town anymore. Sometimes I like to just drive around, especially during the summer. Summer nights are probably one of my favorite joys in life. It really just relaxes me. The smell of baby’s breath in the air, or the cool breeze against your sun kissed skin. Being able to roll down the window at night and have fresh air rather than A/C. I drove around for just a little while popped in a dip and listened to music. It was all in all a pretty good evening, so I just passed out.
While he slept he had a strange dream. They come around from time to time and usually are just as strange. He finds himself inside a two story Victorian house; at the base of the stairs he sees a beautiful face. A face that would not even be familiar in a conscious state of mind. She walks down slowly, and as they meet at the bottom she grabs him. They stare into each others eyes and kiss deeply.

crowe1120

Ahh shit that always happens, especially when they get good like that. I have always had those dreams, and it never ceases to amaze me how real they are. Sometimes I will just lie in bed trying to recall what I have just dreamed about. That dream was nothing though, sometimes when I have had a few drinks they get pretty wild. It could be the alcohol, but I think it is God trying to kick me in the butt for not staying sober that night. Oh well, better get up and shower.
He usually likes to get in the shower and let the hot water run over his skin to sooth the soreness. All of the horse kicks, tackles, punches and baseballs tend to wear after awhile. The pain doesn’t get to him or at least you could never tell. Often times he frustrates people with his stubborn pride. He learned a long time ago though you have to with his situation. What is his situation? Well, where can you start? He stands at about 5’ 7’’ but makes up for it in his strength. No, there is no little man complex. He is honestly a big softy, and would rather just keep to himself. You could use the cliché he is a lover not a fighter, but he wouldn’t. If you do decide to push you better be ready to throw down. This kid has never backed down, example, which one do you want? The only one he will honestly brag about would be his during his junior year in high school. He was getting ready for football season, and worked out all summer. Come to find out the coach decided to put about five undeserving players ahead of him on the depth chart. This honestly pissed him off. That was his position; he put the time and effort in, who was this asshole to take it from him. Long story short he took that spot, and now looks at him, playing college football. That is just who he is thought; oh well looks like he is done in the shower.
I told you my mind wonders a bit from time to time. What? You didn’t believe me. You know what it is ok I do not feel like chatting today anyways. You can hear about my day from him.
He got dressed in those blue jeans that he loves so much, even though the holes in them are increasing by the day. He has been working out heavily lately, so he is looking more chiseled than ever and large. He grabs a sleeveless shirt to show off his muscles a bit, yet he would never admit to it. Lastly, to tie his outfit together his trusty hat is placed on his wet wavy almost curly hair. Today he is working for his dad, and it is his day off from working out. He really likes going out and doing this job. The missions today, drive up to the boonies and take pictures of homes. Yes, it is legal; his dad is a realtor and has him do evaluations for the bank. Each one pays anywhere around fifty to one hundred dollars. It is a nice little hobby for the summer plus it gets him out of the house.
He starts into town; usually tries to get in and out of there fast, for some gas, can of cope and something to drink. You could almost bet on the time he will be out of that gas station. He is driving to the next town about thirty minutes away. Oroville is not much of a town, but pretty much a village. Heavy redneck population, sprinkled with Mexicans, but it has some of the most beautiful country in the valley. After passing a couple of truckers and Mexican family cars, he pulls into town. Time to time he likes to just stop at a simple park positioned near the main drag of town. The grass is often quite green, and has a walking path cut right through it. Benches are sporadically placed in the park with no rhyme or reason; of course that town makes nothing in that town makes sense anyways.
Slowly he pulls up to some shade to park his pick-up in so that the heat is a little bearable. He opens the door slightly, checks to make sure he has the keys, and begins to step out. As he does something strike his boot, almost as if he had stepped on a twig that snapped.
“Shit! What the heck is that?” He yells out.
When he looks down he cracks a crooked smile to himself. There it was a small black and green garter snake beneath his Ariat boot. The tiny serpent had wrapped his slinky, slimy body around his nemesis. The little guy did not mean any harm just scared. I’m sure he meant no harm.

crowe1120

Ahh shit that always happens, especially when they get good like that. I have always had those dreams, and it never ceases to amaze me how real they are. Sometimes I will just lie in bed trying to recall what I have just dreamed about. That dream was nothing though, sometimes when I have had a few drinks they get pretty wild. It could be the alcohol, but I think it is God trying to kick me in the butt for not staying sober that night. Oh well, better get up and shower.
He usually likes to get in the shower and let the hot water run over his skin to sooth the soreness. All of the horse kicks, tackles, punches and baseballs tend to wear after awhile. The pain doesn’t get to him or at least you could never tell. Often times he frustrates people with his stubborn pride. He learned a long time ago though you have to with his situation. What is his situation? Well, where can you start? He stands at about 5’ 7’’ but makes up for it in his strength. No, there is no little man complex. He is honestly a big softy, and would rather just keep to himself. You could use the cliché he is a lover not a fighter, but he wouldn’t. If you do decide to push you better be ready to throw down. This kid has never backed down, example, which one do you want? The only one he will honestly brag about would be his during his junior year in high school. He was getting ready for football season, and worked out all summer. Come to find out the coach decided to put about five undeserving players ahead of him on the depth chart. This honestly pissed him off. That was his position; he put the time and effort in, who was this asshole to take it from him. Long story short he took that spot, and now looks at him, playing college football. That is just who he is thought; oh well looks like he is done in the shower.
I told you my mind wonders a bit from time to time. What? You didn’t believe me. You know what it is ok I do not feel like chatting today anyways. You can hear about my day from him.
He got dressed in those blue jeans that he loves so much, even though the holes in them are increasing by the day. He has been working out heavily lately, so he is looking more chiseled than ever and large. He grabs a sleeveless shirt to show off his muscles a bit, yet he would never admit to it. Lastly, to tie his outfit together his trusty hat is placed on his wet wavy almost curly hair. Today he is working for his dad, and it is his day off from working out. He really likes going out and doing this job. The missions today, drive up to the boonies and take pictures of homes. Yes, it is legal; his dad is a realtor and has him do evaluations for the bank. Each one pays anywhere around fifty to one hundred dollars. It is a nice little hobby for the summer plus it gets him out of the house.
He starts into town; usually tries to get in and out of there fast, for some gas, can of cope and something to drink. You could almost bet on the time he will be out of that gas station. He is driving to the next town about thirty minutes away. Oroville is not much of a town, but pretty much a village. Heavy redneck population, sprinkled with Mexicans, but it has some of the most beautiful country in the valley. After passing a couple of truckers and Mexican family cars, he pulls into town. Time to time he likes to just stop at a simple park positioned near the main drag of town. The grass is often quite green, and has a walking path cut right through it. Benches are sporadically placed in the park with no rhyme or reason; of course that town makes nothing in that town makes sense anyways.
Slowly he pulls up to some shade to park his pick-up in so that the heat is a little bearable. He opens the door slightly, checks to make sure he has the keys, and begins to step out. As he does something strike his boot, almost as if he had stepped on a twig that snapped.
“Shit! What the heck is that?” He yells out.
When he looks down he cracks a crooked smile to himself. There it was a small black and green garter snake beneath his Ariat boot. The tiny serpent had wrapped his slinky, slimy body around his nemesis. The little guy did not mean any harm just scared. I’m sure he

crowe1120

was just sun bathing a bit trying to warm his cold blooded body, then suddenly trapped under a young man’s shit kicker. As his scaly skin glistened in the hot July sun, the snake wiggled frantically. Max reached in to his cluttered truck for half a fishing rod. He uncoiled the little serpent, and let him on his way. Finding this a little weird, he shakes it off and heads to the water banks in the park. The sandy gravel crunched under his feet, as a drop of sweat falls from his brow to quench the dry ground. Smelling the baby’s breath and sage brush that fills this valley, each step feels as if you’re walking over coals. Heat is radiating, as if steam, from the asphalt behind him. There is a faint odor of fish in the air, almost as if they were placed on the bank to cook in the sun. Stepping on the half dead grass, strong smells of fresh clippings radiate through the humid waterfront park. He stops for a moment to listen to the Okanogan River smacking against the rocky river bed, while at the same time he looks for hawk screeching in the distance. The water looks a little murky from a lack of run off from the river this year. The low run off happens often this time of year. By the bank is a bench, and for some reason he feels the need to just sit there for a bit. He starts to stare, just as he stared at that white wall, the water is striking his attention. The sun beaming blindly off of the water, it is a good thing he is wearing those sun glasses. As he stares at this water, he drifts off again looking dazed. I know I know; you are trying to figure out if he is a mental case. Sorry to disappoint you, but no, he is actually sane. What is he doing then? This is his form of prayer. Often when you see him just sitting alone and quite the man is just speaking to his maker. He sits there for a good thirty minutes when he his shaken from his trance.
“Hello” a voice speaks softly.
“Hello” again this voice calls.
He slightly jumps in his seat turns to see a face.
“Umm….Hi…umm.” He said turning his head stunned.
“I saw you sitting over here all alone, and well I was wondering if I might be able to join you in your trance” she requests.
“Uhh….yeah…I suppose that wouldn’t hurt anything” he said half in shock.
“Thank you” she said sweetly
Why was he in so much shock? Why this strong willed individual so rattled by a beautiful girl. Well do you remember the dream? The girl showed up, only not inside a two story Victorian like he saw while he was dreaming. He could not believe his eyes, but did not question what was happening. She had a light tan that looked very natural for her, and short black hair to compliment her complexion. She was petite with curves and only stood at 5’4’’ on a good day. Wore a small white shirt and some daisy duke shorts very well. They talked and stared at the water for awhile making small talk in a way that didn’t seem like small talk. He was enjoying this surprising visit from a total stranger, but he still had a job to do. So he explained his unfortunate situation to the lovely, possible companion, and all she said was call me, as she slips him a piece of paper with numbers on it. He went about his business taking pictures enjoying the dry, but at the same time beautiful scenery. He soon started to head back home for some sweet tea, a much needed sandwich and recuperation from the eventful trip north.
Later that night he sat around with his parents, bullshitting with his dad. A few new fires had kicked up around the valley, so the air was thick with smoke. Smoke that filled the air so thick you would almost think you were in some honky tonk. Even though that think cloud of white smoke can wear on you, there is also something very soothing about it. The smell of the wood burning, the seclusion from town or maybe the way lights hit it at night to let off a unique glow. Never the less, they sat outside on the back porch drinking sweet tea and discussing the wonders of the universe. Sitting there, he noticed a sort of ringing developing in his ear. He was not really sure where it came from but he just ignored it. The ringing dissipated shortly and was out of his thoughts. It was the perfect time in the evening, seven in the evening is the most popular time to do anything outside. It is just the right time temperature, the sun isn’t quite down and it cools to a bearable 80 degrees. He got up from his chair and headed to the corrals. He and his dad built these corrals and arena. The arena was used in dual purposes; it was also put there for round pen use as well. This is where obviously the horses are kept there, but he also kept his hobby of blacksmithing alive out at the corrals. A trade which he picked up a little over a year ago; he had planned to become a Ferrier. Instead he went back to school, so it was a fair trade off. He really enjoyed working with steel though, and kept with blacksmithing as a hobby.
As he walked up, anxious buckskin heads over to meet him at the fence. This horse is just a magnificent creature. He has a long mane and tail, they shine when the sun hits it just right. There are black socks on all four of his legs, but that is all dwarfed when you look at the muscles built up from riding all types of terrain.
“Hey buddy, how you are doing?” said as he strokes the horse’s snout.
“I heard you were bucking around trying to show off today. Did you want some attention? Well I am here now bud.” He put a halter on the gelding.
He hooked his lead rope to the horses halter and led the horse out to the middle of the small arena. He began to lead the horse into some small exercises. The horse responds to every request he gives out. They start off with a slow trot around the arena. As the progress into a gallop, you can begin to see why he loves this horse. The strides are flawless, and every step is perfect. The horse is completely aware of who is in charge, but Max is not trying to break his spirit. He wants to have the horse respect him and embrace the spirit of this horse. He and the horse almost seem to become melded together. As the pair of friends finished their exercises he brushed the horse down. He hung up the equipment and headed into the shop where is blacksmithing hobby resided. Banging on the hot steel puts him into another trance. This time something happens besides a prayer. He hears a soft voice, as he kept pounding away the voice strengthens. As he turns to the forge he is removed from the current setting and frozen. Sent away from Omak, and sent somewhere new, somewhere calm and peaceful. Snap! He is back in the room with a forge standing frozen, and stunned speechless. What just had happened? He had so many times before gone into these trances, but never had he experienced this sort of phenomenon.


The next day he is still reeling from the evening; trying to figure out what on earth had happened. It only stayed in his mind for a little bit. He had a bit of a day planned for him, and he did not want to be distracted. There were just too many weird things were happening lately and he just needed some fun. The house was empty this morning, like most morning, so he went in and made some breakfast. Not any breakfast though, this was the king of breakfasts. The young horseman starts off with four strips of bacon, with a little of pepper sprinkled on the pork. Next, he mixes the smell of frying bacon with pouched eggs and toast. These aromas fill the air thicker than the smoke surrounding the house better than the U.S. Marines. The only thing left to do is boil up some water for the grits and French press coffee. Once his belly is satisfied, he is probably going to watch ESPN till it’s time to workout.
Later on around ten or eleven o’ clock he gives his cousin a call to go enjoy some bass fishing. Now, Seth is his cousin, but he might as well be a brother. They grew up and were pretty much inseparable as kids. They did everything from riding bikes to just causing trouble that brothers would cause growing up. That relationship has been strained though for the past three years or so. Seth is not someone you would call a bad person, let us just say he tends to end up on the wrong side of bad decisions.
As we pull up to the spot where Zeff’s grandma once lived now abandoned, we park underneath a tree that sits on the lawn of that house. Almost instantaneously memories show up with us. How we use to play hide and seek in the dark annually during autumn. The smell of the crisp cool air on those nights always brought out the scent of wet leaves. Memories of all those summers we went fishing come up without hesitation. When my uncle would take us down here to teach us about this river, and tell us stories of growing up down here. We grab our poles; begin that short walk up to the dyke that leads down to our river as we call it. Sometimes we feel like we own it, with all the time we have spent down here as brothers fishing the day away.
“Remember that damn ghost woman we saw spinning down here cousin” he turns to say.
“Hell yeah cousin! Enit!” I reply in our usual way of communication
“Man, I love this shit down here. It’s good to have you around this summer.” He tells me
“I know man. Last summer was bullshit; it sucked having to be stuck over in Montana all summer. I didn’t get to fish once I was too busy being married” I jokingly replied.
We walked down the narrow dirt path leading to the sand bar; doing our best not to fall victim to poison oak again. The summer before senior year we came down here and like dumb asses ran through it. For some reason we always feel invincible down here. Things look a bit different down here anymore. Back when we were kids I remember the thicket being so great, it sometimes seemed to engulf us as we trespassed on its land. Now, many of the trees have either fallen victim to beavers or man. It is almost saddening to think of what has happened to our little fishing sanctuary. We finally have made it to the sand bar, and that seems to never change.

crowe1120

was just sun bathing a bit trying to warm his cold blooded body, then suddenly trapped under a young man’s shit kicker. As his scaly skin glistened in the hot July sun, the snake wiggled frantically. Max reached in to his cluttered truck for half a fishing rod. He uncoiled the little serpent, and let him on his way. Finding this a little weird, he shakes it off and heads to the water banks in the park. The sandy gravel crunched under his feet, as a drop of sweat falls from his brow to quench the dry ground. Smelling the baby’s breath and sage brush that fills this valley, each step feels as if you’re walking over coals. Heat is radiating, as if steam, from the asphalt behind him. There is a faint odor of fish in the air, almost as if they were placed on the bank to cook in the sun. Stepping on the half dead grass, strong smells of fresh clippings radiate through the humid waterfront park. He stops for a moment to listen to the Okanogan River smacking against the rocky river bed, while at the same time he looks for hawk screeching in the distance. The water looks a little murky from a lack of run off from the river this year. The low run off happens often this time of year. By the bank is a bench, and for some reason he feels the need to just sit there for a bit. He starts to stare, just as he stared at that white wall, the water is striking his attention. The sun beaming blindly off of the water, it is a good thing he is wearing those sun glasses. As he stares at this water, he drifts off again looking dazed. I know I know; you are trying to figure out if he is a mental case. Sorry to disappoint you, but no, he is actually sane. What is he doing then? This is his form of prayer. Often when you see him just sitting alone and quite the man is just speaking to his maker. He sits there for a good thirty minutes when he his shaken from his trance.
“Hello” a voice speaks softly.
“Hello” again this voice calls.
He slightly jumps in his seat turns to see a face.
“Umm….Hi…umm.” He said turning his head stunned.
“I saw you sitting over here all alone, and well I was wondering if I might be able to join you in your trance” she requests.
“Uhh….yeah…I suppose that wouldn’t hurt anything” he said half in shock.
“Thank you” she said sweetly
Why was he in so much shock? Why this strong willed individual so rattled by a beautiful girl. Well do you remember the dream? The girl showed up, only not inside a two story Victorian like he saw while he was dreaming. He could not believe his eyes, but did not question what was happening. She had a light tan that looked very natural for her, and short black hair to compliment her complexion. She was petite with curves and only stood at 5’4’’ on a good day. Wore a small white shirt and some daisy duke shorts very well. They talked and stared at the water for awhile making small talk in a way that didn’t seem like small talk. He was enjoying this surprising visit from a total stranger, but he still had a job to do. So he explained his unfortunate situation to the lovely, possible companion, and all she said was call me, as she slips him a piece of paper with numbers on it. He went about his business taking pictures enjoying the dry, but at the same time beautiful scenery. He soon started to head back home for some sweet tea, a much needed sandwich and recuperation from the eventful trip north.
Later that night he sat around with his parents, bullshitting with his dad. A few new fires had kicked up around the valley, so the air was thick with smoke. Smoke that filled the air so thick you would almost think you were in some honky tonk. Even though that think cloud of white smoke can wear on you, there is also something very soothing about it. The smell of the wood burning, the seclusion from town or maybe the way lights hit it at night to let off a unique glow. Never the less, they sat outside on the back porch drinking sweet tea and discussing the wonders of the universe. Sitting there, he noticed a sort of ringing developing in his ear. He was not really sure where it came from but he just ignored it. The ringing dissipated shortly and was out of his thoughts. It was the perfect time in the evening, seven in the evening is the most popular time to do anything outside. It is just the right time temperature, the sun isn’t quite down and it cools to a bearable 80 degrees. He got up from his chair and headed to the corrals. He and his dad built these corrals and arena. The arena was used in dual purposes; it was also put there for round pen use as well. This is where obviously the horses are kept there, but he also kept his hobby of blacksmithing alive out at the corrals. A trade which he picked up a little over a year ago; he had planned to become a Ferrier. Instead he went back to school, so it was a fair trade off. He really enjoyed working with steel though, and kept with blacksmithing as a hobby.
As he walked up, anxious buckskin heads over to meet him at the fence. This horse is just a magnificent creature. He has a long mane and tail, they shine when the sun hits it just right. There are black socks on all four of his legs, but that is all dwarfed when you look at the muscles built up from riding all types of terrain.
“Hey buddy, how you are doing?” said as he strokes the horse’s snout.
“I heard you were bucking around trying to show off today. Did you want some attention? Well I am here now bud.” He put a halter on the gelding.
He hooked his lead rope to the horses halter and led the horse out to the middle of the small arena. He began to lead the horse into some small exercises. The horse responds to every request he gives out. They start off with a slow trot around the arena. As the progress into a gallop, you can begin to see why he loves this horse. The strides are flawless, and every step is perfect. The horse is completely aware of who is in charge, but Max is not trying to break his spirit. He wants to have the horse respect him and embrace the spirit of this horse. He and the horse almost seem to become melded together. As the pair of friends finished their exercises he brushed the horse down. He hung up the equipment and headed into the shop where is blacksmithing hobby resided. Banging on the hot steel puts him into another trance. This time something happens besides a prayer. He hears a soft voice, as he kept pounding away the voice strengthens. As he turns to the forge he is removed from the current setting and frozen. Sent away from Omak, and sent somewhere new, somewhere calm and peaceful. Snap! He is back in the room with a forge standing frozen, and stunned speechless. What just had happened? He had so many times before gone into these trances, but never had he experienced this sort of phenomenon.


The next day he is still reeling from the evening; trying to figure out what on earth had happened. It only stayed in his mind for a little bit. He had a bit of a day planned for him, and he did not want to be distracted. There were just too many weird things were happening lately and he just needed some fun. The house was empty this morning, like most morning, so he went in and made some breakfast. Not any breakfast though, this was the king of breakfasts. The young horseman starts off with four strips of bacon, with a little of pepper sprinkled on the pork. Next, he mixes the smell of frying bacon with pouched eggs and toast. These aromas fill the air thicker than the smoke surrounding the house better than the U.S. Marines. The only thing left to do is boil up some water for the grits and French press coffee. Once his belly is satisfied, he is probably going to watch ESPN till it’s time to workout.
Later on around ten or eleven o’ clock he gives his cousin a call to go enjoy some bass fishing. Now, Seth is his cousin, but he might as well be a brother. They grew up and were pretty much inseparable as kids. They did everything from riding bikes to just causing trouble that brothers would cause growing up. That relationship has been strained though for the past three years or so. Seth is not someone you would call a bad person, let us just say he tends to end up on the wrong side of bad decisions.
As we pull up to the spot where Zeff’s grandma once lived now abandoned, we park underneath a tree that sits on the lawn of that house. Almost instantaneously memories show up with us. How we use to play hide and seek in the dark annually during autumn. The smell of the crisp cool air on those nights always brought out the scent of wet leaves. Memories of all those summers we went fishing come up without hesitation. When my uncle would take us down here to teach us about this river, and tell us stories of growing up down here. We grab our poles; begin that short walk up to the dyke that leads down to our river as we call it. Sometimes we feel like we own it, with all the time we have spent down here as brothers fishing the day away.
“Remember that damn ghost woman we saw spinning down here cousin” he turns to say.
“Hell yeah cousin! Enit!” I reply in our usual way of communication
“Man, I love this shit down here. It’s good to have you around this summer.” He tells me
“I know man. Last summer was bullshit; it sucked having to be stuck over in Montana all summer. I didn’t get to fish once I was too busy being married” I jokingly replied.
We walked down the narrow dirt path leading to the sand bar; doing our best not to fall victim to poison oak again. The summer before senior year we came down here and like dumb asses ran through it. For some reason we always feel invincible down here. Things look a bit different down here anymore. Back when we were kids I remember the thicket being so great, it sometimes seemed to engulf us as we trespassed on its land. Now, many of the trees have either fallen victim to beavers or man. It is almost saddening to think of what has happened to our little fishing sanctuary. We finally have made it to the sand bar, and that seems to never change.

mashowasho

Hello!

I had a read through what you've posted so far, and it's certainly interesting. I quite like the idea of the mysterious ghost-woman, and judging by Max's dreams/hallucinations I guess they are somehow connected?

The writing itself, however, is a bit confusing. A lot of it is almost monologue-like, which isn't bad in itself, but much like the small freewrite you also did, some of it can veer off into rambling territory. Also, you might want to separate out your paragraphs more, as your writing sometimes started running ahead of itself at times.

Near the beginning you start in the third person, then you switch way too quickly into first. You do that a bit throughout, and I know it's just the narrator chipping in, but you need to make that more separate from the third-person sections. On a side note (I know I'm being really picky, but you DID ask me to read this!) you also switch tenses a lot, which I'm afraid is just a matter of choosing one and sticking to it. Don't changes tenses constantly.

I know I've made it sound like I really hate it but I don't; I think it's really got some potential - it just needs tightening up and some editing. Good luck!

masho



P.S.
Sorry to be a freeloader, but could I possibly ask you to take a look at this? I know it's probably not your genre but I'd appreciate someone just skimming through it for me.

__________________

We can only learn so much and live.

crowe1120

I am glad you had a read through of it for me, and I especially glad that you commented on content rather than grammatical errors. That is what editing is for right? The suggestions are great and are much appreciated.

I have no problem reading through your work.

__________________
Live.....long...well...loved....and well written!