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helium
November 14th, 2011, 06:34 AM
Hi, this is a story I started




The pipes all along the skeletons of the old apartment clanged. The family had awoken one by one, following the sense of each other’s presence to begin the morning. Sun light brimmed under the crevices of broken curtains and shone against the laziest. He mumbled warily in his sickening throat and awoke from a pleasant dream.
Under his lids it shone brightly red. It was comforting to hear the pans clang on the stove and yet be able to hear a subtle breath. And he opened his eyes to the marvelous light dust fly around the tender brown carpet against the sun’s radiating rays.
The room was glowing. And the birds behind the rancid windows sang at the brick ledges. This he wished he could have for eternity. But denied to have it any longer, because when he looked back on the days when he wished, it only brought tears to think of anymore.
It even brought tears to think to the time when he wished to think of it. It was increasingly provocative to his mind’s jumbled litter. A mousy knuckle knocked at his door. “Hello?” An unbelievably quiet voice spoke behind the wooden door. “Grandpa, are you awake.” It murmured even more at the end and stated instead of questioning.
He lay still on the bed. The warmth from the sheets had already escaped through stretched out arms. “Grandpa?” The child mumbled again and left abruptly.
“Is he awake?” The child’s mother asked at the stove. “No mother.” The boy called out. “Really?” She handed her husband the pan and walked up the stairs, wiping hands on apron. The door knocked louder. “Dad?” She called and twisted the brass knob. It was locked. “Dad, come down for breakfast.” “I will later.” He answered solemnly.
The room’s glow faded slowly as the clouds moved in. It had saddened him to see it go so soon. He tucked his sheet to his heart and tears shivered in his closed lids. “Well get up soon, you need to take your morning pills.”
He dried the almost fallen tears and watched the curtains darken. Then he turned his gaze to the bottle of pills at bedside.

Olly Buckle
November 14th, 2011, 09:29 AM
I like the images, and the use of unusual adjectives, 'broken curtains', 'rancid windows'.

But this-:
I call it "Putting things together that go together." Look:-
The family had awoken one by one, following the sense of each other’s presence to begin the morning.There is the family waking, waking one by one, the sense of each other's presence, and in order to begin the morning. 'To begin the morning' qualifies the family waking up, not each other's presence; but so does one by one. It can get complicated sorting sentences like this, sometimes it pays to split them up or the sense changes subtly to mean things like 'following each other to begin the morning' rather than 'waking up to begin the morning'. You do the same sort of thing with:- 'And he opened his eyes to the marvellous light dust fly around the tender brown carpet against the sun’s radiating rays.' The brown carpet is not against the sun, but it comes between the dust and the sun.

Spelling by the way, marvelous - marvellous.

You have a way with words, but I don't like the way he is eyeing the pill bottle.

seyelint
November 14th, 2011, 01:09 PM
Hello. You describe well but often go outside the story to do so, in other words you are using the descriptions as only descriptions and not part of the story.

awoken/awoke - you should be able to use other words rather than repeat the same in such a short piece. Always be aware of the words you write.

I always felt detached in places from the story, a narrative pov, which is fine but switching back and forth lessened the empathy.

Is the mc lazy or was he still just sleeping?

control your 'ly' there are times they help (i'm not at all against them) but other times a root word is more powerful.

Thanks for the read, remember it is a story you are showing, not just telling a scene.

S

L Marrick
November 15th, 2011, 12:24 AM
This he wished he could have for eternity. But denied to have it any longer, because when he looked back on the days when he wished, it only brought tears to think of anymore.

Great imagery with this piece. But the above quote took me several times to read, and I still came away a little confused. He was laying in bed, wishing he could have this for eternity. But the next sentence implies that he doesn't wish things anymore. I don't understand the last sentence. Is it that looking back on the days when he wished, and feeling sad about them, means he is denied to have the present moment or to wish for anything more?

bazz cargo
February 24th, 2012, 11:25 PM
Hi Helium,
tough to write a scene like this. The point between sleep and being awake. Loved your descriptions. Got a feel of how life for the family was going.

I would use the singular of skeletons.

And I would indicate that Grandpa was hearing what was going on beyond the door, and imagining/remembering it. Help preserve the POV.

Brilliant stuff! I enjoyed this very much.