Hey all, this is my second time posting an original piece...well, this is actually a revision of my first real writing i've done in my life. The original thread can be seen here:
http://www.writingforums.com/short-s...me-poster.html
After spending a considerable amount of time writing other things, I decided to step back to this and see what I could do with it. I'm personally much happier with this revision, and would like to see what others think.
Thank you for your time.
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Ok I'll have a go...
The warm vapors drifting from his coffee soothed the inside of his parched nose. Unfortunately for him, he had been careless.
Nice, I like this opening- the first sentence has good description while the second does well to hook the reader He realized his mistake as the spoon within his mug made the dryness of his nose even more apparent with an abrupt jab. The memory of how she used to rub hers back and forth on his as a sign of her affection felt friendly to him. However, now the only thing he
really-not needed here had in terms of a confidant was bitterness. He noted the mug was particularly hot today as it licked at the surface of his hands, but the absence in his eyes was a poor representation of how his scalded skin felt. He
disregarded the pain, as he was so used to such cold emotion that he welcomed the warmth, too hot or not. He stirred his coffee, and placed the spoon down next to his makeshift ashtray fabricated from a napkin. There were small dots of coffee splattered upon the surface of the table. He cursed the idiot who didn't design this particular spoon to be more concave in shape. In reality it was just the alcohol deprivation driving convulsions down his arms, but he liked to point fingers anyway.
Ok for me, it's seems to be moving a little to slowly..perhaps the idea of the coffee and the spoon has been laboured enough
As he motioned for the waitress, he remembered how upset she would get when he
disregarded I wouldn't use disregarded again so soon after the last time you mentioned it the fact that her daisy-covered seat cushion wasn't in an upright position, and he would make coffee like stains on the plastic surface. Often times he would sit on the edge of their bed waiting for her to exit the bathroom in a small rage due to his error. Most of the time
we she would be wearing nothing more than her favorite towel, which she preferred because of it being particularly soft. He preferred it because it was particularly short. He now realized he purposely didn't aim very well.
Ok although the description is very good, the narrative seems to get a little confusing here. You need to distinguish more clearly between his reflections and what is actually happening, perhaps using itallics for the parts that are memories would help.
"Yes sir?"
"Top er' off, please"
His vision went to a blur, voices becoming nothing but another electronic buzz. He transitioned back to her apartment,-
this seems a little awkward why not try:
He closed his eyes and was back in her apparment.
or, usuing the itallics rule:
Sudenly, he was back in her apparment
to some particularly sunny morning that for some reason struck a chord in his head. Just like any day, he sat on the edge of her bed, annoyed. He only wanted more time before they both departed for work. It was like this every morning it seemed. And just like every sunrise before this, she would plop herself down right next to him after her morning shower. He anticipated the drops that managed to cling to her skin, as when they glided down her back they seemed to only amplify her natural sweet smell. It would leave him breathless if he happened to be downwind.
The bells in the entryway of the Coffee shop awoke him from his
relieving not needed flashback. He sighed, and ran his tongue along the insides of his teeth. The oh so familiar, yet odd texture of artificial sweetener and coffee reminded him how he would meticulously brush his teeth before kissing her. They would often brush together, but now he was alone. Companions with only his coffee and never ending memories. As he blinked slowly, he grazed the sides of his face with his hands. It had been days since his last shave. It was amusing to him how the communication between the cracks of his torn, dry, palms and the recently acquired stubble on his cheeks was more appealing than their recent conversations. Her bad news was always worse news to him than she thought, but at least he got to hear her voice.
...sam?
.....sam.
"Yes, darling?"
He darted his head around to make sure no one caught him speaking to an empty bench. He could feel the cold, conditioned air penetrate the worn areas of his favorite pair of Calvin Klein jeans as he reached down to his side. He fumbled in the darkness of his pocket, much like he did with her bra-clasp the night he tried to make sure everything was perfect- almost full moon, candles, rose petals, and confidence. The webbing of his fingers caught on a newly broken strand. It figures, she actually washed his prized pair more than once a week weather he wanted to break them in properly or not.
The butt of his cigarette was already stuck to his bottom lip like a pretzel as he brought the lighter to his mouth. A perfect distraction, he thought. He couldn't stand the way the paper of his square pinched and pulled upon removal following each drag- perhaps it was because it reminded him of how she would playfully bite at his lower lip when she was in a good mood. He made a futile attempt at igniting the lighter, only to unfortunately find it was fresh out of fuel. The bits of hot flint stung him as they licked his skin. It felt no different than her fingernails trickeling down the crevice of his spine. In a fit, he hoped the lighter would function from the threat of a vigorous shaking less it prefer being cement overshoes at the bottom of the small fish pond outside, but he had no luck. He grabbed for the nearest pack of matches and lit his cigarette; usually another nail in his coffin, except he was convinced it was already hammered shut. He inhaled the smoke, and held it in for a brief moment-a brief escape as the nicotine made it's way to his brain. He exhaled out of either side of his mouth, like a bull would release hot breath from its nostrils. The milky smoke reminded him of their white sheets floating down to her body in a gentle summers breeze, perfectly accenting her silhouette. He would run the tips of his fingers between her breasts and watch the sun accentuate the goosebumps that followed soon on her soft mocha skin.
He squeezed his fists together until his knuckles turned white, then released them as he knew he had lost all sense of motivation weeks ago. He didn't know how much longer he could maintain control over this need to return to his previous life. But he knew it had to be this way... there simply was no other option. As he raised his head back in pure disappointment, he noticed something reflecting on the surface of his newly positioned spoon. There she was, sitting across from him in the opposing seat. For a moment he looked into her eyes and knew he could see it; see the dozens of flashbacks he had daily, played like a filmstrip within her blue eyes. As she sat in silence, it was clear she struggled to put her thoughts to word. But as she finally muttered something, he then understood why she was having such a difficult time.
"I think I made a mistake"
Ok, well this dosen't strike me as a short story but more of an ongoing piece. The description is very good but at times it could be cut down a little just to allow the story to move a little faster. All in all it's a nice piece with only minor work needed
...To be continued.
