SevenWritez

She said first that she wanted love, and only after I gave my heart did she realize love was too large a burden; so we became friends. Her name was Susan. My name would not matter even if I were to tell you what it was.

We met in high school, and we were both naïve, as is true of the young whom believe to understand the world and the nuances inexistent but existent for those who demand they are. Though I was reluctant to speak with her, it was with a charm and elegance I have not seen in another since that she weaved past the barriers I’d set. We became a couple, and still then I chose a conservative manner.

“You know,” she said to me once, “You’re a mystery. That’s cool.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I’d never intended it as a question.

“So why’d you say yes?”

“What?”

“Why’d you say yes?” We’d been at her father’s restaurant drinking whichever malt I’d lost count of after our fifth. She slurped it down and when finished removed the straw and pointed the puffy cream end of it at me. “Why’d you go out with me? You’re like, really shy.”

I blushed. She smiled. “But really cute. So come on.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “You’re just neat. I guess.” I didn’t know what to say.

She stood and grabbed my hand and pulled me from the booth. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s make you a man.”

I never understood what she saw in me. Unzipping my jeans as I sat scared on her bed, I feared whatever it was. I’d not stopped to think but as any young man given the opportunity rushed forward, on her, in her, primal and in lust for the first time. I’d sat there after, my hand on the swell of her breast, hers cupped over the deflated sack of my scrotum. It was then I believe that, in what innocence I still maintained, I revealed to her my demons and my saints, and so too did she to me.

We were in college when I first caught her in bed with a man whom I’d known for that semester and considered my friend. He was large, built, and an athlete whom had the reputation of womanizing, and I had trusted him. Though small, I could not control my rage and went at him, and he hit me right there. It is humiliating to be beaten by a man whom has entered a woman you loved and in your foolishness you thought loved you. I sat in snot and tears as he dressed next to me. He called me a faggot as he left, and I had to wait as Susan dressed before she came to my side, controlling her own tears.

Neither of us talked outside the nurse’s office on campus. When I came out, stitched at the brow, I asked her to drive me home. I had no car.

Neither of us talked. It would be months before we spoke, and it was then I’d learned she had two others while I waited patiently for her. The first question was obvious and needed no build up.

“Why?”

She wouldn’t look at me.

I lowered my voice to a point I have not since taken it. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and she watched the people behind me. We sat a picnic table, the shade of leaves checkered across her face. “I’m sorry, ____. I just…I can’t.”

“Can’t what? Be honest with me? Huh? Hey.”

“I”—

“Fuck it.” Months and still I remained bitter. “I don’t care.” As I walked, I turned. “If you do this to another guy, at least break up with him first. Alright? Don’t do that shit to someone else.”

She wouldn’t answer. She wouldn’t look at me. I walked. That would be the last time we spoke before the phone call. She was pregnant, and the father had left. She’d found my number in the directory, and we were both out by that point. I a journalist, she a drop out.

“_____,” she said.

“Hey.”

“You sound nice.”

“I’ve had a nice life.” I wanted to say more but did not. “How are you?”

She told me. Despite it all, I listened.

“Oh,” I said.

“Do you think…do you think you could come down?”

No, my mind said. No, my heart said. No, my anger said. “Yes,” I said. “Where at?”

“Franklin Heart.”

“You’re already”—

“They say I have a month. Please, ____. You’re the only”—

I didn’t want to hear it. “I’ll be there soon,” I said and hung up.

The hospital brought thoughts that it should not have. Even in the years away I’d not forgotten, and I suppose recording this now I can say that those cheated stay bitter in their hearts, forever and always. I imagined her baring my child, and as I walked to her room, I imagined on her hand a ring given by me, on mine one from her. The wish left as soon as we met again. Reality is never as kind as we implore it through art to be.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

The time came. I held her hand. I told her to be strong. I was told congratulations countless times, and countless times I murmured that I was not the father.

This is how it ended: one final push, one final scream. No one knew she would die. I did not expect to gape, and I did not expect to fall to my knees. No one said anything, and a doctor held the crying child, wriggling and bloody. I did not expect to cry.

Through documents, I became the guardian, though no name was ever given, and so the decision was left to me. The child was a boy. The doctor’s awaited as I looked at Susan and her lover’s son, who now through death was mine.

“Sir?” a voice asked.

“_____,” I said. “His name’s _____.”

__________________
As long as some suffer, the river flows forever
As long as there is pain, the river flows forever
As strong as a smile can be, the river will flow forever
As long as you are with me, we'll ride the river together

-Tupac Shakur

terrib

Oh my gosh, this is beautiful.....really, really beautiful.....

kidstaple

Dude... you made me freakin' cry... and in front of my girlfriend no less...

Beautiful.

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"True genius resides in the capacity for evaluation of uncertain, hazardous, and conflicting information." - Winston Churchill

"You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life." - Winston Churchill

La Moza

I think you have a good idea for a story. It really gets your emotions stirring when you realize how deceitful she is and how pathetically weak he is.

The parts that I see that need a lot of work are you dialogues. They really need to be more interesting:

“You know,” she said to me once, “You’re a mystery. That’s cool.”“Oh.”“Yeah.”I’d never intended it as a question. “So why’d you say yes?”“What?”“Why’d you say yes?

I just feel that these interactions between people are SO common and boring. I can go to any Starbucks and overhear this unoriginal human exchange. I want you to write something that catches me. No one wants to read the normal: “Hey,” “Hey,” “what’s up?” “Not much.”

And what does she mean when she says, “You’re a mystery to me. That’s cool.”? That has no meaning to me. It is so broad and general; it means a hundred different things to a hundred different people. Tell me exactly what she means to say, even if she doesn’t know. This line, and others like it, is very cliché. And even if this is exactly what the character would have said, make it clear that your character speaks in clichés, not you, the author.

Don’t throw this one away. Keep working on it.

The Prodigy

I enjoyed how "bare" this story seemed. There is much that could have been delved, and yet, wasn't. I like that I can think about this one. Emotional tags were well set and timed throughout.
Critique - write more. This story could have been better presented (that's always possible I believe). The man is a mystery, but to me the reader, he doesn't seem mysterious at all. He is the kind of guy that I would exspect to be cheated on in college during the first semester with the sweetheart he loved and had fallen for and lost his virginity too while in high school. Is he original? Not in the least.
And yet, this story remains a deeply emotional one. What if he was original? Then this story would be better than it is even now.

I've enjoyed reading all you post. Great writing.

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...the writer must live with hope, work in faith.
- J.B. Priestley

Kast13

Great story! I thought the first couple paragraphs read a little choppy and complex compared to the relative ease of the rest of the story. I'm also not a huge fan of the '_____', I don't mind not knowing the main character's name, but I prefer a more creative way of avoiding it. Anyways, enough of that, it was a great story.

alanmt

I liked this a lot, 7w. Very nicely done.

My only criticism is that a few of your longer sentences seem Victorian-clunky, e.g.

Quote:

Though I was reluctant to speak with her, it was with a charm and elegance I have not seen in another since that she weaved past the barriers I’d set.

I think they could be reworked a bit to flow smoother without losing the cool style.

I like the blanks, although I must confess every time I see one, I think of Major ______ de Coverly's triumphant ride through Rome in Catch-22 when he gets hit in the eye with the flower.

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edropus

Right out of my mouth.

SevenWritez

I...have no idea what the fuck just happened. Not sure how this suddenly shot to the top with replies, but I'll respond as best I can.

Um...I've been going through a writer's depression. Like, you know when you take a shit, and it feels so damn good, but right when you turn to flush it still smells like a load of shit?

That's how all of my writing has been for the last two months, this included - a smooth shit that still stinks.

I don't meant to seem unappreciative, I'm grateful for all the kind words, but I just want to point that out for anyone else who may comment.

Terrib and Kid, glad you enjoyed it.

Moza, sorry for the dialogue, I can easily do better, but as said, I haven't been able to write in what feels forever, so I've been taking constant aforementioned shits.

Prodigy, the guy's just a pussy. I don't know why he's a mystery, either.

Kast, I didn't like the '____' either, but I was lazy and the original title (No Two Worries My Darling) made no sense so I just said "Fuck it," and put the underscore in.

Kast and Alan, thanks for the comments, and yes the opening is choppy; I apologize if it was a chore to get through.

I really don't mean to come off as a dick here, but I had no idea this was going to be bombarded with replies. I personally think it's shit. That said, thank you all for taking the time to comment. Regardless of my own opinion on a piece it's nice to know that there are those willing to take the time and respond.

__________________
As long as some suffer, the river flows forever
As long as there is pain, the river flows forever
As strong as a smile can be, the river will flow forever
As long as you are with me, we'll ride the river together

-Tupac Shakur

GodofLiterature

Writing is the cleansing of spirit and mind. So write to release your stress.

But you must understand, Sevenz: storytelling is the retelling of your experiences, so be true to your experiences.

There's always something holding you back from writing the truth. Try writing like Eminem, as if you're Slim Shady. I want to feel some emotion in your piece. Your story is not shit; it's just all right, medicore. The first place where you should look for improvement is your dialogue; therefore, I agree with La Moza. Don't be afraid to say things, you would never say in real life. I don't want to hear, "Cool, hey, oh yeah, you sound nice, how are you?"

I want to hear things like, "Let's fuck, babe."

"What?--what's that?"

"You never had a dildo up your ass?"

"You are not putting that shit up my BEHIND."

"Don't you do it, everyday? I want to return the favor, asshole."

SparkyLT

oh come on, it's not shit. It isn't perfect, but what is?

I sort of like that lack of a name...fifty different people could be telling the story. I don't like the look of the underscores, but I guess it really can't be helped. The sort of choppy dialouge fits, I think. It seems natural for someone who's shy and introverted. One-word responses are about the best you'll get.

Honestly, I can't say it's beautiful or whatever, but it's the sort of thing that would be echoing around in my head for a while. Hope you get outta your writer's depression soon.

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PSFoster

I really like the idea in here. Yeah, it needs a little work, but what doesn't?

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WriterDude

I liked it a lot, and I don't read romance crap. It might need some polish here and there, but again what doesn't?

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Brightside

Aye, its not bad...

I love the fact you thought it was shit, kinda made me like it more... hmm...

Proper writer, hating your work, but obviously bound to it no matter what...!

Yep, definately interesting, I'll say.

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'I'm too old to know everything.'

Who said that? I honestly can't remember...!