Blake

** I've never posted anything I've written before. I wrote this short piece the other night because I felt I needed to. Curiosity will always get the best of me, and this is why I am posting. I hope for constructive criticism. I know I need work on my grammer and such, but I would greatly appreciate guidance and critique on the major content. Thanks in advance. **



The smell of stale popcorn hung in the air like a never ending cloud. The small cinema was in no mans land and had been there for ages. It stood meaningless against an ever changing world. The insides were dirty and run down, and the smell clung to everything. The sound of walking feet can be heard down the cream green halls, and the old carpet, speckled with green, orange, white, and brown, is faded but has traces of dirt tracked in from the outside after years of use.
A man in a new black suit stands motionless in the middle of the hall in front of an unmarked double door. In his left hand he holds tightly to a blank movie ticket, the only identifying marks are the perforated edges where the cinemas ushers would have torn it.
The man cranes his neck to the sound of a boom coming from one of the other unmarked doors down the hall; a soft symphony of violins hums from another. The sound coming from behind the doors fades off and the only thing that can be heard is the sound of the air conditioner breathing softly into the hall.
He stands still as a statue for a few moments only to break his stillness by taking off his black hat to run his hands through his brown hair. The man is remarkably young looking yet his hair is a testament to a life of stress and hard work bearing a few gray streaks. His face shows more marks of age with wrinkles, yet he still holds a look of youth.
The young man steps ever closer to the nearby door and places one of his hands on the cold wood. He lets it drift softly down until his hands slips back to his side. A short, smudgy trail of moisture is left where his hand had pressed seconds ago.
Stopping for a second he takes one last look at his run down surroundings. His heart beats hard in his head. Reaching down he grabs the cold steel handle and pulls it open. A blast of cold air that smells like ice dances over him and makes his spine tingle and his heart misses a beat.
Stepping slowly into the darkness, his feet crush spilt popcorn. Any silence he had provided while slipping inside was now gone as the popcorn crunched under foot. Inside there was no smell of age; instead, it was suffocating sweet like chocolate, tobacco, and leather mingling together. His eyes have to slowly adjust to the new found darkness. The screen is dark. The room is empty. He is alone.
The man removes his hat but decides to keep his jacket on. He knows it will be colder when he sits down.
The theater has many rows of black wood chairs with white material cushioning. The walls are barren and white save the small brass light coverings that keep the room dimly lit. Gripping one of the wooden chairs he slides into the back row right to the middle seat. He moves with choppy, short steps. His heart is still beating so hard, and the sweat that was on his hands has broken out on his arms and his back too. The chair squeaks as he shifts his weight around again and again.
From above he hears a noise that sounds like metal hitting metal. A soft light radiates from the projector onto the black screen.

He holds his breath.

What if he walked through the wrong door? What if he had been wrong?

Black and white images sail across what was once a dead and barren screen. There was no sound. The shadows in the room jump to and fro as the objects on the screen move, light up, and dim. The man can’t blink and the cold air begins to sting his eyes until they well up. He closes his eyes but streams of tears trickle down his cheeks. He opens his eyes and surveys the screen for a few more minutes, but he cannot handle it.
The man stands up and tries to move briskly to the end of the aisle and to the door he had entered in. He holds his clenched fist to his mouth until he gets to the door. Putting his hand on the door he tries pushing, but the door won’t budge. He puts both hands onto the door and pushes with all of his might. The only sound that can be heard is his hands pushing over and over again against the door. The shadows continue to dance across the room. The screen is still playing behind him.

“Help! Can anyone help me,” the man yelled.

He begins to bang against the door. Over and over again his open hands slam against the dark wooden door. He seems to be doing it for hours. With grief the man crumples to his knees, head against the door and arms limp at his sides. He hits the door one last time in desperation.

Outside, a woman walks into the stale building and into the hall. She hears the final hit on the door but thinks nothing of it. She stands in the middle of the hallway with a small blank movie ticket in hand. She looks vibrant like the sun, but an uncertainty clouds her face. She cranes her neck to take in the sounds coming from the other doors.

A few steps away, behind the door, the man shifts his back against the door. He closes his eyes as the film ends and the room dims to almost black. As the light washes away a soft sound of violins begins to play.

Chris Miller

Hi Blake,

Since you have suggested you are not interested in a grammatical (there are a number of errors of course) or stylistic critique (there is always room for improvement) I will just say this:

Your writing is pretty good. But, I didn't get it. I didn't understand the story. And you made me read quite a bit to not get it too. Oh, I have theories. The movie theater is some sort of metaphor for death or the afterlife or something. But there is no character development of "the man" and no story line, just a lot of sometimes quite good description.

I liked this bit the best, actually. Nice rhythm and feel. Simple.

Chris

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Viqto

Hey now, Blake. Welcome to the forum. If you're looking for a critique, you should post it in the critique section. That being said, let's get down to it.

WARNING: My critiques are meant in no humiliating way, and are purely from an objective stand point. Please don't take them as bashing your work. (Oh and I'm very in depth in my critiques, but I will give an "overall" feel at the end.)


I need you to picture what a never ending cloud looks like in your head with a completely aware mind (objective and awake ). I can't picture what it looks like because clouds do change...in fact they are constantly changing because a cloud is made up of particles moving at an extremely fast rate or there aren't enough (close enough) to form a liquid. (Sorry to be all "scientist" on you) The similie just doesn't fit, though I like the smell your trying to portray, just try rewording it. (try making it a metaphor, that might help)

These two sentences could be combined. Play around with the wording.

This is worded pretty weird. Maybe break it into two sentences? As well you switch from past tense ("can be heard") to present tense ("is faded") in the middle of the sentence.

You've set the scene, the camera's are rolling, make the scene come alive! Don't just tell me it was a new suit, decsribe it! "The crisp lapels of his black suit echoed a stiffness rarely seen from the workings of an iron."

How does this identify it? You've already told us its a movie stub. Either take out the part where you told us its a stub (and change the description of the stub) or take out the part about the perforated edges. (redundant)

This could be a symphony in and of itself. Start with the symphony movie, then weave in the boom from the other movie. Make them play off each other.

I think you should reword this. I mean its ok as is, but the potential for it is large.

I know what you meant by this, but you should reword because I can't get past the voice in my head saying "Your heart isn't in you head, its in your chest."

Ice doesn't have a scent. (If you say it smells like water, I'll go nuts. )

There was a smell of age before? (the popcorn at the very beginning?) The description of the smell in hte air was weird. Try rewording starting with the description. (This last part is personal preference.) If the theatre is empty and the screen dark, wouldn't there be "seating lights" turned on overhead? It's not after hours, there were other movies playing....I don't know how you could convey that (or if you need to, I am pretty picky about certain things so this could be just my opinion).

I thought he already took off his hat; and the other sentence is awkward, in that it doesn't flow with how you've written the story so far (so far you've been observing this man, now you've changed into knowing what he thinks). If that was your plan, then this could be changed into actual thought dialogue instead of telling the reader.

You don't need 'material' in there, take it out and it will be fine.

In a theatre, typically the walls are a dark color so that no light is relfected off the walls and the focus is on the screen.

This should have been put where he first started walking.

Don't tell us, show us he can't handle it through his reactions.

I agree with Chris Miller in that I read this, but didn't get the idea behind it. It seems like you left something out, but what I can't pin down. Overall I was interested because you had a mysteriousness that begged to be sought out. There were grammatical and style errors. As well as punctuation in a couple places. A good read, but left me hanging and wanting more.

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semtecks

Hey, Blake.

Stylisticly this story is good. The question of what the movie theatre is, kept me wondering. i guess it's some kind of purgatory type place. You were kind of inconsistant with your paragraphs, sometimes they were single spaced, sometimes double spacedm There were more double spaced ones at the end. Does that mean something?

I noticed a few crits:

it was suffocating sweet like chocolate

maybe:

it was suffocatingly sweet like chocolate.

The man can’t blink and the cold air begins to sting his eyes until they well up. He closes his eyes but streams of tears trickle down his cheeks. He opens his eyes and surveys the screen for a few more minutes, but he cannot handle it.

Too many "eyes" in this sentence. Maybe:

The man can’t blink and the cold air begins to sting his eyes until they well up; He closes them but streams of tears trickle down his cheeks. He opens them and surveys the screen for a few more minutes, but he cannot handle it.

Welcome to the forum. hope to see you around.

semtecks

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Blake

I appreciate the critiques. I understand that I have a lot of work, and it's really the first short story I've ever worked out in my mind and put to page.

For now I'd like to respond to a few of the comments, and later on I'll respond to the meatier things I'd hope to talk about.

Vigto, thank you for the lengthy critique. Ice does smell, by the way. Go to an ice machine (the kind you can put a scoop in), stick in your head, and breath deep through your nose. There's a lot going on there for scent purposes. It's more than just a cold smell.

Perhaps the reason it feels like something missing is because it's personal to me. Ok, maybe that's no excuse.

Really, if I could sum it up, it's about coming to face the life we've lived and the choices we've made. Personally, I'm at a crossroads where I have to decide what I wish to do with the rest of my life. At a young 19, I'm miles away from where home used to be, engaged, and looking at the many paths that I can potentially travel. I used a lot of symbols that might be esoteric to me.

Chocolate is what kids eat - it's the past. Leather is usually worn and old and familar. Lastly, tobacco is, in my opinion, harsh and toxic. I was trying to mix some smells one might find in a theater that would represent the past, present, and the bad. There are more, but perhaps this isn't the place to go into it.

Gramatically, I understand I need lots of work. I need to get back into college (finances are tight living on my own, though.) Style, I understand too that I need work in that department.

Once again, I appreciate the critiques. I will take these into account and make some changes. If you have any more things to add I would be more than happy to hear what you have to say, gramatically or otherwise.

Thank you for the warm welcome.