Stealing Stuff - Writers Forum

darkportal_4 · 10-28-2003, 03:53 PM

Just something I wrote for a little while back.

Quote:

Stealing Stuff

It was a bright and sunny sunset; something unusual for a day so late. I didn’t have a worry; I could have cared less at the moment.

I had a 1987 Volvo 240DL 4-door sedan. That car was worthless: a $650 piece of shit that was out valued by the high powered sound system worth $1000.

It was a green light if you went straight, but red for a left turn. That’s where I saw him: a cherry red Porsche 911, brand new, hell, looks like it was just taken off the lot a few days ago. This was a convertible; his top was down and his stereo up as he played some shitty rich boy music he probably heard all fucking day. He wore a white business suit, ironed crisp and wrinkle free, with a white hat to complement. Sitting next to him was his wife/girlfriend/mistress/fuck-buddy/whatever, smiling in her late 30s and as ugly as any middle-aged chain smoker could pretend they weren’t. Her skin was artificially worn, pockmarked with freckles and crease lines. She had breasts so fake she could make Pamela Anderson blush: two large, freckled perfectly-shaped cantaloupes tried with all their might to break free of the mighty binds of a low, overly tight v-neck t-shirt. Her smile was an eerie cloud white—another artificial touch to cover up her true colors. She wore shades: tacky, 80s shades. It was like I was looking into a window of the past, as portrayed by comic satires of tacky beer commercials targeted at sports bums.

My car began to sway to the left, gradually becoming more and more misaligned with the lane. I should be braking right about now, but somehow that became mysteriously and intentionally forgotten as I pierced into his horrible, wicked, possibly doomed soul. My foot gradually became heavier and heavier, and even though it is currently broken, the needle on my speedometer would have begun to rise 15, 20, 25 miles over the speed limit. I left my course uncorrected and tightened my seatbelt, checking to make sure I would not emerge a martyr to a cause that was all my own and entirely personal.

I stared—glared, burned—into his eyes ones last time. The moment was almost unreal; I could hear the opera singing in the background as our two vehicles collided, slowly, surely, in a muted ballet of dark beauty.

Tired squealed, others said, but I heard no such noise. Someone screamed, but again, they were silenced against the collective crowd that silently cheered on in my mind.

Time was frozen at the point of impact, and at that moment I basked in the sun shared by revolutionaries. I didn’t even feel myself being thrown within the confines of my seatbelt.

* * *

I walked away from the crash with almost a bruise. The “couple” barely survived, and the bastard Porsche was now an $80,000 heap of scrap metal.

I had done it: I had stolen something from The Man. It was the only thing more important to him than money: happiness.

Lily · 11-12-2003, 02:23 PM

First of all: You don't need to put your whole story in quotes- you can just type it in directly

Now, as for the story. I'd like to know a little bit more about what the narrator is thinking. Is there something in his/her past that would make him or her react so violently against this couple? Secondly, a suggestion:

Quote:

It was a bright and sunny sunset; something unusual for a day so late. I didn’t have a worry; I could have cared less at the moment

-These two sentences need to be worked on. First of all, you don't need to say 'sunny sunset'- a sunset is already sunny since it's the sun setting. Also, you should probably say 'unusually bright', since sunsets are usually bright, right? So why should the narrator have worried in the first place? Am I making sense?
Secondly, 'I didn't have a worry; I could have cared less at the moment' is redundant. All you need is 'I could have cared less at the moment'.

That's about all I can think of to say, except: interesting story