Thread: Wounded Heart

I wrote this for a creative writing assignment. I don't usually get much feedback on my short stories, so I'd like some honest opinions. Don't be afraid to knit-pick!
Thanks

As I gaze out the window and into the devastatingly beautiful sunset, I know that regardless of my struggles to forget, the memories of him will never escape me. I wipe my tearstained face and blink a few times to unblur my vision. The vibrant shades of orange, yellow and pink flush my mind with images of our days spent at the beach. I don’t fight to avoid these thoughts because right now I’d do anything to be in his arms again, even if it's only in a daydream.

Sunlight radiates on my skin; I smile as I experience a tingling sensation from the heat. Breathing in the sea air I readjust my position on the beach towel, attempting to find greater comfort on the sand. I listen to the sound of waves rippling against the shore, soothing me into unconsciousness. Fatigue weighs down my eyelids, despite my effort to stay present. I let out a yawn and stretch my arms above my head to regain a sharper awareness.
Sleepily my eyes open, exposing a blinding glare surrounding a tall, dark figure. I startle but am quickly reassured that it’s only Gale with a mischievous grin and a sand bucket in his hand.
Eyeing him and the bucket suspiciously I ask, “What are you--”
Before I even finish my question, a sudden splash of freezing saltwater cuts me off. Loud gasps of shock escape my lips as I spring to my feet. Quickly snatching up my sandy towel, I furiously rub it over my drenched body. Terrific combination. I’m now cold, wet and sandy. I stare daggers at Gale as he doubles over in hysteric laughter. Oh, he’s going to get it now. I laugh menacingly in my head.
Just as his giggles begin to subside I abruptly stampede towards him. I’m the bull, and he’s the targeted red cape. Spinning on his heels at the realization of my attack, he sprints for the ocean but I’m already right on his tail. Cool water thrashes and whips against my thighs just before I tackle him, plunging us both under the water. We both come up gasping for air but fail to attain it due to our uncontrollable laughter. I can never stay mad at Gale for long. He always finds a way to make me smile.
Gale spits the saltwater from his mouth before speaking, “Damn Hanna, I forget how short-tempered you are.”
A smirk spreads across my lips, “Yup, I’m a bomb with a very short fuse.”
To emphasize this I send a violent splash of water directly at his face before fleeing to dry land. It doesn’t take him long to come to his senses and chase after me. I get a rush of anxious adrenaline when I hear him closing in. He’s a very fast runner, and most likely would have caught me by now if he didn’t love the chase so much.
I’m just about the reach the towels when, swiftly, I’m taken down by his masculine grip. We roll around in the sand for a while: play fighting, laughing and kissing until our lack of energy forces us to rest. I lay my body next to his, completely breathless, and admire the setting sun. It’s beautiful. I sense observing eyes and turn to meet his gaze. He lifts his hand and moves a delicate strand from my face. He then whispers three of the most wonderful words. As I lean for a kiss, just as my lips barely connect with his, I whisper, “I love you too.” He moves in to complete the kiss that always leaves me dizzy and breathless.

I wake from my dream-like state to find myself immersed in darkness. I cradle my legs against my chest and take deep breaths, holding back the sobs as best I can. As the memories fade, my only happiness follows. I am left with nothing but a wounded heart.

Hi Ames

An interesting read. It held my attention. One question I would ask: Is it a daydream, or is it a specific memory? In the first paragraph you allude to both so make clear which it is. Personally, I tend to find dreams in fiction a little cliched. If it is a memory it may strengthen the piece, and allows you to add context: when did the scene occur? Which beach? Was it a honeymoon? Maybe their first shared holiday? You understand, I'm sure. It may add emotional impact, and that might mean your reader becomes more attached to the narrator, and is left a little sad at the end, or thinking what might have happened.

One thing I picked up on:

I’m the bull, and he’s the targeted red cape. Spinning on his heels at the realization of my attack, he sprints for the ocean but I’m already right on his tail.

Maybe he should be the matador to your bull, especially as he spins on his heels, seemingly so lithe, to evade your attack.

Thanks for the read.

Scott.