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jamie's
April 17th, 2012, 01:28 PM
Hi, guys:)
Here's my latest story, so criticisms are welcome... hoping you'll like it too...
Bye,
jamie's



Just A Man

On that day he didn't feel like spending spare time by the window waiting for the rising dawn, the sunup. In fact, he didn't bother to even get out of bed at all. He would only stroll to the water closet, now and then and have a glas or two of mineral water. The yesterday's had been somewhat out of the ordinary time. There had been trying to escape, making that extra move, turning away from the calamity, avoidance of turning the other cheek. That's why he doesn't feel lazy about himself now, that's why his comparing the now and the then isn't difficult for his brain to digest. It wasn't him who was courageous the day before. It was some twisted part of human nature that stood between his dear and the wolf and him. He felt something and didn't enjoy the feeling.

In fact, he felt like he needed to puke now.

Nothing prepares humans for things that may or may not occur during the day, during the light years.

We both live and don't live in packs.

You're no wolf. To other people. Or are you.

--

There is something in the way you sometimes get up in the morning. ''Coffee!'' a yell breaks the dream, and consequently the rhythm of the getting out of the aromatic comfort of your lying all over the bed. That rhythm is then hopefully reaffirmed by your assertive yet fuzzy coming down the stairs.

Now, you are on your way to the kitchen and you see the entrance part of it. It calls you.

You're entering it.You've scratched yourself. Your first look at the cleaned dishes, the second at your right, just a little bit behind the half closed door. You're turning your head to your left, because you don't want to really see the split of a second's image that has already caught your eye. You're turning back. And then there is silence. It must be. There are no intruders in the kitchen, the cake is as you left it yesterday, you enjoyed it. So, why checking out the kitchen. Your dear is in there, safe and sound. She'll call you back to her, any moment now. In there. But time passes, and the silence isn't nice, it comes out of the kitchen, it's calling you in.

You choose not to go there, not there, not any further down the suspicion path. The kitchen wall... Sounds of hitting it reach your ears. Ones of agony sounds, dull, dull. You've already chosen to believe in what those sounds are telling you. There takes place passing of primeval laws by which you must abide. You must vote pro. You must enter the kitchen, you must take the wolf by the hair of surprise that he's left you with.

You are waiting for him to call you his way. He's sly. You're not. Not a good combination, but you use it as a mood for thinking. Have you missed something? What is around you?What's diverting you?

The wall of the kitchen is in front of you, and you hear a silent sound. You are afraid to say something, anything. You are diverted, completely. You don't see the possibility that lies in front of you, it's clear as colour white, it's the very kitchen wall itself.

So, an old thought crosses your mind... Call help? Is the wolf going to hear it, and what happens if he does? Is he going to show you your dear safe and sound as only she can be? Or is he going to get furious, all messed up? How messed up are you going to be once you've seen him?

Questions is all you're left with. The answer lies peacefully, there somewhere, just waiting for you to realize it. Now you start to plan. You've come up with the solution and it's so easy. It's got to be, because if it's not...there it all goes down the wolf's hairy den.

''Shhhh...!'' you can clearly hear the wolf's voice reaching her ears.

There's no time to lose! Plan it a bit out or give in! Just enter the den or keep waiting for him to jump out the open window, you dumbass!

Plan!

Plan!

A plan!

You've figured it out! How high is the ceiling?! Okay! How high is the wolf? He's avoiding confrontation, so he's got to be about your size at best.

Okay...cool now...Let's figure it out again.

He's becoming quiet like a mouse, he waits for you to leave the place. He doesn't choose to fight his way out, so he's either very likely not fit enough to charge, or he's got other ideas.
For him, the situation must be additionally complicated. He's found in a kitchen where there are sharp objects, knives and objects likely to knock him unconscious if he were to set dear free for several seconds...she's a brave gal...she'd hit him with some pancake pan as soon as she'd have a chance for it!

Look at yourself, you're smiling. A good sign. A sign of the soothing feeling of the victoriousyou.

Okay...cool now... Let's figure it all out again.

He's thinking he's enjoying some kind of an open position. Open? Not quite. Not from where you're standing...

You open the door, as if you're going out of there.

You're listening: He's changing position, he must've gotten cramps and so on by now. And you are in the perfect comfort of movement. You're warmed up. Your heart pumps like crazy. He's falling in his velvet pit of self-cointainedness. He's the one who's started thinking now; he doesn't need and doesn't want to be a wolf anymore. He's tired of it, he's refreshed by your door slam.

He's loosen the grip, your dear is safer. She's safer, and safer, and safer...soon you're attacking.

You're as close to that kitchen wall as you could ever be. You're trying to find out where exactly is he leaned on the wall, where does he hold your dear hostage, on which place are his filthy fingers endangering your dear's mouth. Your dear's freedom of expression must be restored.

He's hearing you again, and he's confused for real. He can hear your brisk stretch of your left arm in the air, and the left-handed can fool the space. One can never tell where's that left arm coming from, it's a fact. The wall is not hard, it's an easily constructed one.

You have it all, he's losing it. You can tell. You can tell where he is. You're directing the firmness of your fist at the place of the wall where you can with certainty tell his head's leaned. But one direct punch. The strength of it was being released ever since you heard his moving there for the first time.

Your punch's broken the bord like wall. He doesn't know what's hit him: you've caught him by the throat and you're jerking him toward you, you are breaking the rest of the wall around him with his helpless body. Your mad, and your dear came quickly beside you. He's trying to somehow remove the dust from off his eyes, mouth and face. He's coughing. You're letting him come to his senses, then comes your punch to his stupid head and he's unconscious. Your dear holds you tight.

You're calling the police. They come and get him on his feet.

Just before they take him away you quickly remove his black cotton soft mask: he's just a man who'd entered your den.

riverdog
April 19th, 2012, 05:23 PM
The Point of View really threw me on this one and I had trouble concentrating on the story. Odd choice, writing in a, I suppose this is 2nd person present. Its just a bit weird.

jamie's
April 19th, 2012, 06:37 PM
The Point of View really threw me on this one and I had trouble concentrating on the story. Odd choice, writing in a, I suppose this is 2nd person present. Its just a bit weird.

Hi, riverdog,

It's (as most of my threads on this Forum are) just a 1st draft. I, the 1st part of the story I was trying to show how a man's mood can change ''the day after''; how a man comes to terms with his behaviour used when he's got to think and react quickly, to resort to something when in dear need, to defend what they hold dear. Who knows what are the reasons for the intruder who's come to that kitchen, who's taken the girlfriend hostage, who knows...? Many things are unknown. Who knows which are the principles that made the boyfriend (instinctively, of course) react as he did, he really did take a risky chance; he was trying to determine the place the intruder was leaned on on the other side of the board like, easily constructed wall, a wall that is 'sometimes' ''easily'' smashed if one wants to save a dear person, the saving that took place a bit before the end of the story. The boyfriend, in the end of the story (if I may call the above text of mine so) resembles the intruder: in the beginning of the 2nd part he's just a man who wants a peaceful life; in the end it's the intruder who desperately wants for the situation to end; In the end it's the boyfriend who's, unwillingly, ''the wolf'', ''the den's master''; the role changes, he didn't plan any of it actually, he acted as his animal instinct ''had decided''.
So, what does ''Just A Man'' mean? It means that humans use but 10-20% of their consciousness, the rest of the percentage goes to our using our survivor's, etc. instincts.

I hope I'm making sense all over here; many (maybe all of them: I know there is a subject called Literary Theory of which I'm no expert:smile:) a writer/artist/etc., when working, rely primarily on their instinct, i.e. 'the muses': they go with the flow, they just 'are' writers.

This being a 1st draft, I'm sorry about the weirdness:smile:, and my still poor enough:shame: Grammar.

Many Thanks,
Bye,
jamie's

riverdog
April 20th, 2012, 04:24 PM
There's obviously a lot going on in this story, but in all honesty I'm not going to read it simply because of the POV. Like I said, second person is just weird. It's paradoxical nature, especially in the present tense drives me bat shit crazy. You are telling me what I'm doing, but my physical body and mind are telling me something else.

"you're close to the kitchen wall"

No I'm not, I'm sitting on my couch reading a story.

"you're calling the police..."

No I'm not. I'm still sitting on my couch.

See the problem? At least write it in past tense. You called the police. You walked into the kitchen.

But I would personally prefer, as the reader, first or third person. I called the police, or he called the police.

jamie's
April 20th, 2012, 07:58 PM
There's obviously a lot going on in this story, but in all honesty I'm not going to read it simply because of the POV. Like I said, second person is just weird. It's paradoxical nature, especially in the present tense drives me bat shit crazy. You are telling me what I'm doing, but my physical body and mind are telling me something else.

"you're close to the kitchen wall"

No I'm not, I'm sitting on my couch reading a story.

"you're calling the police..."

No I'm not. I'm still sitting on my couch.

See the problem? At least write it in past tense. You called the police. You walked into the kitchen.

But I would personally prefer, as the reader, first or third person. I called the police, or he called the police.

Hi, riverdog,

Sure, I absolutely understand you, I suppose I just wanted to make a different point of view. And it's just a draft (a bad one I suppose). Maybe I should've introduced the 3rd person point of view. Maybe I shoudn't have. Maybe I shouldn't have answered your comment since we're (I hope I don't get misunderstood here) both intelligent enough to overcome differences in preferance or whatever.

I know that the reader's comfort while his reading anything should come first. And we readers can't all be...unvarying...

Don't sweat it:),
I hope you get my drift:),

Hey...
Many Thanks for Your reading...
Bye,
jamie's

monkey44
April 29th, 2012, 12:04 PM
Nice, interesting take on an odd situation - actually lost me at first, then picked me up again.

Others are accurate, second person POV and present tense - very tough to pull off. BUT, and a very big but, you are the writer, it's up to you to make that connection with the reader. Don't give up on that just because it's confusing, or lacks a dimension ... fix it, if this is your challenge, what you want to do with these particular words, then do it. If we (as writers) don't push ourselves and push that envelope that defines what "other writers think" we should do indivivually, might as well copy notes off cereal boxes instead, because we'll remain mediocre forever. Attack that style and write it, and write it, and write it until you succeed.

You have an interesting story here, a beginning ... find the way to finish it the way you started it. That's another challenge - don't give up because the wolf character fails you the first time - he might rise again in the next sentence and embellish the story.

Read: A Rose for Emily - William Faulkner narrates his tale in the first-person collective - very odd POV -- ... a grand example of pushing the envelope ... as it is difficult to narrate collectively through a group of townfolks - but the 'information' available from so many minds and so many points of view adds a richness to the narrative even though it's only one statement each time for "all of us/them" ... - indeed, probably bizarre in some sense, knowing what's in everyone's mind - more like Gothic SF instead of the simple tale of a dead spinster ... So, let the 'box' dissolve, clear it's wall-you-in restrictions, and write outside the box (Hate to use that cliche), looking inside only for what you need -... but if it works, use the words. Anyway, you chose the POV for a reason, stand by it, make it work ... the story will be better for its inclusion. So, if you want second person present, write it - listen to the fellow writers offer here, but in the end, make your own decisions... Good luck with it = M44