eggo

She knew he would be there. Waiting like a surgeon, ready to pick apart her existence. He would surgically remove her self-worth, filet her emotions and leave her esteem bleeding on the cold linoleum floor.

The wind blew gently from the east as she walked home. The high wispy clouds sped past the moon as if in an atmospheric rush hour on this warm summer night. The moon's light was obscured by the cypress tress that lined the road.

She thought as she walked home from her job at the Truck Stop Diner. Lonesome men would wander into the diner beaten from the road. The drivers bowlegged from lack of blood, unshaven and unwashed, tottering towards the restaurant. Most of them were good men who didn’t quite fit in society. Left over from when renegades where revered and misfits gloried, when the world was new and society a misshapen patchwork of ideals. Left now to ride the asphalt.

For the most part they tipped well, anxious to see a women’s face smiling after hours of seeing a grizzled man in the rear view mirror.

The road's angle grew steadily now as she neared her driveway. She thought about him. What had changed him?
Was he different from the man he was before? She remembered the night they met him 10 years ago.

It was a hot August night, when the sun reluctantly set. The heat was still radiating from the ground up into the empty night, the only leftover from the smoldering day. The carnival had arrived in town dragging the accumulated dust from a hundred other towns. Workers scattered amongst the dust, pulling this lever or that, shouting to or at the locals, odd little ants grinding out coins. She was there with her friends, Jody and Ellen, when she saw him. She watched him throw some baseballs at a pyramid of three concrete milk bottles. The hawker wouldn’t let him go so easily and made him produce more of the green from his battered jeans pocket. She giggled with her friends at his foolishness. He turned his head at her quiet laughter and smiled right along with her. He then won a small Spuds Mackenzie stuffed animal and brought it right to her, the conquering hero. They ended the night counting the stars entranced by promise intoxicated.

That was ages ago. He never finished anything he started, then or now. Their progress littered with various half-shaped ideas and two-dimensional dreams. She only served now to shoulder the blame. It was her fault he couldn’t hold a job, her fault he didn’t pay the rent and God Damn it, it was probably her fault the lazy bastard left his dirty socks on the floor.

The road crested as she saw her home. Tuesday night he would be home, no bowling or cards. He would be sitting in his chair with dog-eared fishing magazines jammed at all angles into the side table. He would be watching “Cops” or some other show, happy to view some poor lost soul wrestled to the ground before his brains are smashed in.

Maybe today is the day. Today could be the day she would lose her fear and tell him to “get the hell out.”
Loneliness in comparison would be joy. The silence wouldn’t be so bad.

The front light was off as she walked over the crunching gravel to the front step. She held her keys up to the orange streetlight to pick the right key and went in.

“ Bout time you made it home,” he called from his chair “ thought you stopped for drinks.”

“ Suzy was late for her shift,” she replied.

“ I ran that place I would fire her.”

“ Have you eaten yet?” she asked.

“ No, there is nuthin in this house”

She made her way into the kitchen.

intoxicationofasleeper

This is very good, I like how you made it seem all innocent when they first met each other. It's good, but the plot needs to be clarified a little and the story stopped very abruptly. Besides those two things, I believe you did a great job. -Ioas

P.S
Oh eggo, can you do me a favor? Can you check out my short story too?

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journyman161

You provide very coherent insight into her internal world.

To comment on work I read it, & if anything interrrupts my reading, I look for what caused it.

This was a smooth read right through, although I'd be quite disappointed if this was as far as it went; it seems too good as an intro into a whole range of plots, from angst-ridden exploration of her psche through to the courtroom drama when she is up on a murder charge.

Good read.

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Chris Miller

I'm liking your work more all the time. I will have to disagree with the others here: I really liked the ending. I thought it had a very nice feel. Almost anything else might have seemed melodramatic or pat. This story had a very real touch to it.

moon's

road's
Also, double use of road here is awkward.

had met
maybe "she met him" = "they had met"

In fact, I think all the reminiscing needs to be in the past perfect tense. It is hard to distinguish the reminiscing from the current narrative because they are both in the same tense. Perhaps if the narrative was in the present tense, her memories of their meeting could be in the past. Otherwise put these in the past perfect.

Very nice work though eggo.

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gohn67

Hey Eggo,
I like this also, completly different from what you've been writing lately, but I like it. Very vivid details, which I liked alot.

I agree with Chris I liked the ending also.

To me it doesn't leave the reading hanging, though it looks like it. To me it just says things aren't gonna change.

The first sentence doesn't seem to connect with the other sentences in the paragraph. Not sure what she's thinking about. Then you got to a description of the diner. Which you did really well.

Add an If

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eggo

intoxicationofasleeper & journyman161

Thanks for reading, Itos and J-161. I ended the story leaving you and her with the decision to break out or remain where she was. A bit of a thinker.

Chris Miller

I do tend to grow on people over time. By the time they actually like me, they are too senile to remember me.

I did my best to climb into the mind of a woman on the edge. Not easy, because i'm neither a woman and not near the edge.

The carnival pargraph was suppose to be in italics to break it away as a flashback. I will take a careful look at your edits

Thanks
gohn67

Yeah brother,

it was time to move on for a bit from my Douglas Adams meets Rod Searling formula.

The creative well can run a bit dry and I am happy to be away from it for a while. Perhaps I will go back to some of my longer works for a while, who knows?

Thanks for your input on the edits. In retrospect that sentence does seem a bit awkward.

waylander

Hi, I got a bit lost in the story, although it is quite short, but I enjoyed the
atmosphere.
My favourite sentence is :

Loneliness in comparison would be joy. The silence wouldn’t be so bad.

Yes, sometimes you can feel the silence much more strongly when it is somebody else's.

strangedaze

*First, the title bugs me. Seems so harlequin, ya know?

She knew he would be there. Waiting like a surgeon, ready to pick apart her existence. He would surgically remove her self-worth, filet her emotions and leave her esteem bleeding on the cold linoleum floor.

*BAM! Awesome opening! As a rule I like to start off strong, and I’m already excited to read more.

The wind blew gently from the east as she walked home. The high wispy clouds sped past the moon as if in an atmospheric rush hour on this warm summer night. The moon's light was obscured by the cypress tress that lined the road.

*Two moons, but I think that the writing saves you from sounding redundant.

She thought as she walked home from her job at the Truck Stop Diner.

*You’ve already told us that she’s walking home. This sentence can be taken out if you add the diner thing to the earlier walking home sentence.

Lonesome men would wander into the diner beaten from the road. The drivers bowlegged from lack of blood, unshaven and unwashed, tottering towards the restaurant. Most of them were good men who didn’t quite fit in society. Left over from when renegades where revered and misfits gloried, when the world was new and society a misshapen patchwork of ideals. Left now to ride the asphalt.

*Great writing, though I’m not sure how I feel about your last fragment.


For the most part they tipped well, anxious to see a women’s face smiling after hours of seeing a grizzled man in the rear view mirror.

The road's angle grew steadily now as she neared her driveway. She thought about him. What had changed him?
Was he different from the man he was before? She remembered the night they met him 10 years ago.

It was a hot August night, when the sun reluctantly set. The heat was still radiating from the ground up into the empty night, the only leftover from the smoldering day. The carnival had arrived in town dragging the accumulated dust from a hundred other towns.

*Great description.

Workers scattered amongst the dust, pulling this lever or that, shouting to or at the locals, odd little ants grinding out coins. She was there with her friends, Jody and Ellen, when she saw him. She watched him throw some baseballs at a pyramid of three concrete milk bottles. The hawker wouldn’t let him go so easily and made him produce more of the green from his battered jeans pocket. She giggled with her friends at his foolishness. He turned his head at her quiet laughter and smiled right along with her. He then won a small Spuds Mackenzie stuffed animal and brought it right to her, the conquering hero. They ended the night counting the stars entranced by promise intoxicated.

*Promise intoxicated doesn’t do it for me at all, but up to this point you had me spellbound.

That was ages ago. He never finished anything he started, then or now. Their progress littered with various half-shaped ideas and two-dimensional dreams.

*2D dreams – love it.

She only served now to shoulder the blame. It was her fault he couldn’t hold a job, her fault he didn’t pay the rent and God Damn it, it was probably her fault the lazy bastard left his dirty socks on the floor.

The road crested as she saw her home. Tuesday night he would be home, no bowling or cards. He would be sitting in his chair with dog-eared fishing magazines jammed at all angles into the side table. He would be watching “Cops” or some other show, happy to view some poor lost soul wrestled to the ground before his brains are smashed in.

Maybe today is the day. Today could be the day she would lose her fear and tell him to “get the hell out.”
Loneliness in comparison would be joy. The silence wouldn’t be so bad.

The front light was off as she walked over the crunching gravel to the front step. She held her keys up to the orange streetlight to pick the right key and went in.

“ Bout time you made it home,” he called from his chair “ thought you stopped for drinks.”

“ Suzy was late for her shift,” she replied.

“ I ran that place I would fire her.”

*If?

“ Have you eaten yet?” she asked.

“ No, there is nuthin in this house”

She made her way into the kitchen.





Abrupt ending. I’m torn, Eggo, because the writing is spectacular but nothing really happens. She recounts her past, then comes home, wishing he would leave. No action, really, though you do a solid job of characterization.

Overall, great, great writing, but the plot falls a little short. Seems a bit like a sketch, but with more plot. You could do a lot more with these characters, I think.

Andrew

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anetjie

I really liked this. It was innocent, clear and easy to read. It could have doesn with more plot but personally I think that it definately does justice to my reading liking...lol, does that make sense?
Nice work

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eggo

Hi anetjie,

Thanks for the Kudos. I think I understood you.


Hey Waylander,

Thanks for reading. I hope you were lost in an entranced way, rather that you just confused the crap outta me way.

Hey SD,


Thanks for reading, man.
It was intended to be a character study into a life of someone who has no easy way out. The rank and file of those who have the keys but won't drive the car.
It is meant to leave you a bit bankrupt at the possiblitys lost, dust in the mouth so to say.
I appreciate you time,

Pete

Taz

I loved it. it was an easy read keep up the good work

anetjie

agreed

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Keridwen

Hey Eggo!!

Contrary to some people, I liked the ending. You can really see her sighing and her resolve breaking before she goes into the kitchen to get him dinner.

This story is a really good example of how something so sweet and innocent can go so, so wrong.

I really, really loved this paragraph. It wonderfully reflective and philosophical, and sets the scene, also its good for your central character's characterisation, as well as getting the reader to feel sorry about life in general. Which is what you want with a story such as this.
[/quote]

eggo

Thanks guys,

I thought this piece had progressed into the bowels of the forum.

Keridwen,

That was my favorite paragraph in the story as well. I wrote the paragraph and then went on to write the story.

Thanks

Supreme Radness

There really isn't anything else for me to say but what has already been said, but basically I read this and really liked it (including the ending). I do agree that there could be more, though, and that it may not be a short story but something more.

Great work.

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