Adam Ross

He was sitting in his tent. It was cold outside. Normally the cold didn’t bother him, normally he didn’t notice when it was cold. It was something far away, something he wouldn’t think about. But tonight was different. Tonight he wanted to think about the cold. He wanted it to come into his tent and into his body. To take a foot hold deep in his stomach and not let go. It was something to think about, the cold, something to dwell on.
The phone was cold. It’s plastic casing noticeably harder then normal. His hands shook in his lap, both wrapped around the hard grey thing. He had not been able to put it down, the phone. He had not been able to let it get far away from him. And so it sat, shaking in his hands.
I’m fucking cold, he thought, almost saying it out loud to break the silence held in his tent. He pulled out the letter and started to unfold it. It was like toilet paper, smooth and light, worn in from constant folding and unfolding, reading and re reading. He didn’t want to read it again. He didn’t want to unfold it one more time. But it was cold, and he was alone. Maybe somewhere deep down he thought that it would say something different this time, that it had changed from all the folding and unfolding reading and re reading and the cold.
As he felt himself start to open the letter he could feel the cold come in a little deeper. He breathed it in and started to read.

Garrett,
I hate to have to write you like this. However, it is almost impossible to reach you by phone. I don’t know how long it will take for this letter to find it’s way to you, but as soon as it does I need you to find a phone and call me.
Your father has had a ruff go of it lately. Your uncle Randy died yesterday in his sleep. I know that you didn’t really know him very well, but you father has been having a hard time dealing with the death. It was his brother after all, and no matter how estranged you become from a brother, it always leaves an impression on you when they die.
But don’t worry, we will be O.K. We want you to enjoy your time in the mountains and to have a good summer. I just felt like I needed to send this in case I don’t talk to you in the next few weeks.
Your father and I love you more then anything, and above all we don’t want you to worry about things back home. Just enjoy yourself and keep God close to your heart. We love you and look forward to hearing from you. Be safe.
Love,
Mom.
He folded the letter once again and put it in his pocket. He reached into the other pocket and pulled out the second note. This one, a bit newer, not as worn in, but still had been folded and unfolded many times. However, this note, unlike the first, was torn a bit, stained with tears, and had been crumpled up at one time. Everything in his body and soul begged for him to not read it again. But, it was cold and he was alone. He opened the note and could feel himself start to tear at first sight of the text.


Garrett,
It has been weeks since I wrote you about uncle Randy. Why haven’t you called me? Your father is depressed and I think that it might help him if he could hear your voice. You know that you two have always had such a good relationship. He needs to hear your voice I think. It’s hard for him, having you and your brother gone. He would be angry with me if he knew that I was writing this to you, but I feel like something has to happen. Please call me when you get this, please.
Love,
Mom

He folded the letter. He didn’t put it in his pocket, rather, he simply threw it on his bed beside the third letter. This one looked brand new, still housed inside of the opened envelope, placed back inside after each reading, which had not been many. The door opened to his tent and his tent mate came inside.
God damn it’s cold out there. He said as he shook and blew into his hands to warm them. Despite the fact that Casey had opened the door to the tent, letting in more cold air, the air actually warmed when he entered. His energy was the catalyst. His attitude could have been no more different then that of Garrett’s. Casey was tired from work, cold, and maybe a little annoyed that the heater was turned off. But still, beneath it all he was still somewhat jovial, knowing that he could fix all of his immediate problems in only a few moments.
Why’s the heater of? He asked as he started to remove his work cloths and change into cloths for the night. Not looking at Garrett, he couldn’t tell that his friend was in some sort of shocked space that was unreachable by ordinary conversation. When he received no answer he turned and looked at his friend. Garrett, he said, what’s wrong with you?
I got another letter from my mom.
Oh, another one, Casey went back to putting on deodorant and getting ready for the night ahead of him.
Yeah, another one.
Your mom loves to write. So what are all these letter’s about?
Different things.
Like? Casey had finished getting ready and sat on his bed now facing Garrett and putting on a pair of shoes and sox.
I dunno. His words trailed of. He could hear Casey start to speak, but it was muffled somehow, unable to cut through the cold in the tent.
Hey! Garrett came to.
What!!
Did you hear me?
No, I was thinking! Garrett said it in a fractured voice that contained all negative emotions rolled up inside.
O.K. What the fuck is wrong with you? I come in and the heaters of, your sitting there like a god damn vegetable, what gives?
My father killed himself...
Later in the night Casey would use Garrett’s grey cold phone to call his mother and tell her the news of Garrett’s father. He would explain that Garrett always kept his phone turned off and that if the service was to go at any moment the reason would be that Garrett had left the phone off for so long.

Voodoo

Aside from a few very remote grammatical errors, and a tone of recurring redundancy, this was a bit more than a jog into turmoil. The irony was a bit weak, and the story itself was too short for al the lack of delivery. Work on this one, mate.

valeca

Note: Posts removed.

Play nice, everyone.

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I'm here.

Voodoo

Good call, valeca.

Frabes

My apologies, GV. My comments were rude and unnecessary. (Exam week frustrastions vented in the wrong place, not that that's an excuse.)

As for the story Adam, your ending seems a little rushed. Try working with it a little so it's not so abrubt.

Also, dialogue should be set off from the rest of the story somehow. Dashes, quotations marks, or even italics would do. The way you have it, the reader has to stop to discern what's being spoken and what isn't, which ruins the flow of the story.

-Frabes

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Voodoo

unless he was trying for minimalism, in the florid style of cormac mccarthy. but the necessary stylistic elements for minimalism are't present, so he'd best participle the dialogue.