View Full Version : Untitled Short

January 30th, 2013, 06:44 AM
This isn't finished yet, but I'd like to know what everyone thinks before I continue.

The only sound was the tapping of the rain and the tree limbs as they hit the window, looking like twisted, broken hands reaching for a body to snatch into the night. A storm was coming; one that wouldn’t stop for anything and someone was going down tonight. The two of them sat on opposite sides of the room, a foreign gesture in that house. Almost every night they sat together, wrapped up in each other, both in body and mind. They were a them. Now, they were a he and she, a world of silence, hurt, and desperation between them. No eye contact had been made, no words exchanged for what seemed like hours. Her head hung low; because for the first time she had to watch the only man she had ever truly loved destroy what she had built. The only man she ever trusted broke that scared bond, broke her. She knew the end was coming, a war was coming. But that war would be fought in vein, because, like that of two trains colliding head on, no one ever walked away unscathed.\

He never took his eyes off her; she was the only woman to understand him. The precious look on her face, the one he fell in love with. The face that was always welcoming and loving, that made any bad day seem bearable. He knew what he did, they both did by now. He knew she’d never be able to forgive or forget him; it began to eat away at him. He could understand not being forgiven. But he wished with every ounce of life in him that she could forget he ever existed, forget the hurt, forget that she’d never love another man the way she loved him. But there was no forgetting for her, no moving on. She never said it, but she didn’t have to say things like that to him. He knew her inside and out. He knew she never respected, trusted, or loved anyone the way she did him, and she never would again. He wished if he wasn’t going to be in her life anymore, someone else could. But he left his mark on her, like that one scar you get as a child and remember how you got it on your deathbed.

The object of their attraction was always each other’s minds first. They could talk about anything and everything with each other that they never could with anyone else, something they’d both been yearning for their whole lives. Her mind was so mature, far beyond her years. She understood things; things she shouldn’t have. The first time he looked into her eyes had him hooked. There was a story behind them of someone who had lived through more in her short lifetime than some people did in their whole lives. He wanted to know what lay behind those eyes. But what really got him was that her words could kill. They could cut so deep, no one dared crossed her. He used to welcome that, bring it out of her to sit back and watch the fire in her eyes, hear the passion in her words. He never knew he’d give her a reason to cut into him like she did. He never knew that same talent would shatter his world to nothing. But he deserved it, he bit the hand that fed him, and that hurt them both worse than any words ever could.

They sat there like that, her and him, probably never to be a "them" again. She thought about all the good memories they had, every time he made her smile. Every conversation, every dream shared between the two of them, every horrid memory of her past that to everyone else was locked away in the back of her mind. They could share those kinds of things with an ease that felt more natural than anything else in the world. Every time she opened up, he was right there totally enthralled, hanging on her every word. There were things she hid from every guy of her past, her dark nature, her terrible history, her twisted perspective of people and the world around her. She was bitter, a cynic even. There was no other way to be given what she'd endured in her young life. He reveled in every minute of those stories. To him, she was beautifully broken. He wouldn't take her any other way. Everything she was ridiculed for, everything she pushed to the back of her mind flourished. She could be herself;he saw to it that she wasn't anyone else. All those things, in his mind, put her above the rest. She was far from average, cocky even. She knew she had an understanding of the world that exceeded the people around her. Always multiple moves ahead of the game. She knew if anyone dared to challenge her or cut her down, she'd take those same words and use them to tear the other person down to dust. And he knew it too.

He sat there, trying to wrap his mind around how he could love someone so much but hurt her so badly. He was a writer at heart, a little more creative than most. His words could drop someone to their knees, out of pure poeticism or a stinging insult. It didn’t matter to him, either way; there was a game to be played, a game to be won. Always won. He was a confident man, who not many knew beyond that. Not many dared to try to get close. He wore his mental superiority on every inch of him. Every expression, every gesture conveyed something unapproachable to most. A quiet confidence that no one ever thought to awaken or challenge. He taught a writing class. It was the only true love in his life, the only outlet he’d ever known. With every stroke of a pen, an idea was brought to life. She happened to take the class. Both thought by chance, others by fate. In the beginning, he would size up his class, mostly filled with people who had never written anything in their lives and thought this class would turn them into a novelist. But she was different. He knew it as soon as he saw her walk in. She was about 5’2, small, but you wouldn’t have known it by her body language. Maybe he was over-thinking things, he thought she’d just sit through the class, do average work, and be done with it. Never making a sound, never sticking out. But something kept nagging at the back of his mind that she was different.

And she was.

The weeks went by, an hour and a half class, two times a week. Neither could hide the growing attraction. They began counting on that short time spent in the same room, both always wanting more but knowing the risk of putting themselves out to the other. She rarely spooked easy, but there was something about him that was so intimidating, but so intriguing at the same time. His quiet confidence, the way he came off as if to say “I know I’m smarter than you.” But it didn’t intimidate her the same way it did everyone else. He was just like her, something she’d never experienced. She didn’t know how to handle it but she wanted more.

Her papers were always flawless. Even the most mundane topics such as research papers. Something that normally would be filled with statistics and facts with no room for creativity, she turned into a work of art. She rarely asked questions and never asked for help. For the first couple weeks, she hardly made a comment at all. That was her way, observe without being observed until she got an accurate feel for the situation presented. It was then he knew she wasn’t like the rest. It was then he knew he’d do whatever he could to bring that out of her, let it flourish. Always in a very subtle manner, no one else would know what he was doing. Except for her.

He began offering to critique anyone’s papers before the final version was turned in. He knew she’d take the bait. He knew she wanted her paper to be flawless, even though she knew it was as close as it could be to that. He knew she wanted the chance to hear him tell her how good it already was, and how it didn’t need much change. She did just that. He knew half the class would turn them in hoping for help on how to get by with a passing grade. He dreaded reading those papers, everyone made the same elementary mistakes over and over again. But once he read hers, he decided it was worth the tedious work of reading the other ones.

The first time she sent in a rough draft she was terrified. She had seen the other students step up to the desk, him tear their paper to shreds, them walking away with enough red marks on the paper to make it look like it was bleeding. “He’ll read mine and tear it apart, make me feel like an idiot” she repeated over and over, watching his every expression while he was reading hers. But he didn’t. He called her up. She walked cautiously to the desk and started justifying herself.

“I know it’s still got a lot of work, I didn’t know exactly where to…” She sputtered.

He stole a sideways glance at her and arched an eyebrow. And with almost no inflection, without missing a beat said, “This is honestly quite exceptional”

“Really?” She knew, being a writer herself, that was the greatest compliment she’d get from another writer. She knew writers don’t like to drool over work that isn’t theirs.

“Yeah, I like it, I’ve never had a problem with any of your papers. You answered exactly what I asked of you. Do you want to turn it in now?”

“Sure. Go ahead and keep it, I’m done.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but her cockiness got the best of her. He tried to hide a cockeyed grin. She was beaming, he didn’t have to look, he heard the smile in her voice.

Her confidence grew with every class. She started talking more, answering more questions, asking more. She wanted to know “why” behind everything he lectured on. She had a natural curiosity about her, especially when it came to things she was interested in. Her other classes weren’t very challenging. Maths and sciences never really held her attention. But writing was another story. She wanted to know everything she could to better herself. Everyone could see it, especially him, and he started prodding at it with every chance he got. He stood at the same place in the front of the room, her sitting at the same desk every week, but with every discussion, the distance between them seemed to get smaller and smaller. He’d start asking the class questions aloud, leaving them open for anyone to answer but he’d look right at her the second he finished asking it. He didn’t care about anyone else’s answers, they’d never thrall him the way hers did. She wore her excitement about the topic at hand in her eyes. She tried to hide it, everything about her was relaxed, almost indifferent. The way she leaned back in her chair, the almost lazy way she moved, to any normal person she’d have gotten away with it. But he wasn’t normal, and her eyes couldn’t lie to him.

Weeks went by, and the game got more intense with it. He started thinking about her even outside of school. He was in his 30’s, and the dating scene wasn’t exactly ideal. He couldn’t help but give up on finding the woman he needed. Every one was the same, unintelligent, divorcee, single parent, desk job. None of them ran deeper than a puddle. He felt empty, he knew what he needed and where to find it, but circumstance prevented it from ever being obtainable. He’d think about her when he went home, alone, from the bars his friends dragged him to. They’d tried to fix him up with girl after girl. After a while he got tired of being grilled on why it didn’t work and lectured on why said girl was perfect for him. No one knew what was perfect for him. He needed someone who could hang with him, his intellect, his appreciation for the written word, for film. He needed a girl who could hold her own against his wit, and shut him up with a cocky comment every now and then. He needed Jade.

February 11th, 2013, 04:37 AM
Wow. . .I like it.

I like it because it reminds me of a friend I love to death.

I like it because it draws out what shouldn't be important and makes it so important that it's so interesting.

How you developed the characters in a short time. That's interesting.

February 11th, 2013, 05:39 AM
Thank you! :)

March 3rd, 2013, 07:04 AM
Really good, great depth and I like how you describe the characters; you say is an unfinished work so I would like to encourage you to keep writing it, it got me interested on what’s going to happen. Also I liked how you connect with the reader using feeling and senses they can relate to.

July 5th, 2013, 01:22 AM
You used the wrong vain in the first paragraph, second to last line but otherwise, I found this to be wonderful. You can feel the remorse of what had been but maybe later they won't regret what happened. I bet if you asked some of the divorced couples out there after a time of separation, they would at least remember one or two good times. If you are looking for title suggestions, I thought of a few, trying to go with something about their writing connection, but I agree with Raz: it would be lovely to continue you have the inspiration. Oh, and the time of course :)

July 5th, 2013, 11:43 PM
You used the wrong vain in the first paragraph, second to last line but otherwise, I found this to be wonderful. You can feel the remorse of what had been but maybe later they won't regret what happened. I bet if you asked some of the divorced couples out there after a time of separation, they would at least remember one or two good times. If you are looking for title suggestions, I thought of a few, trying to go with something about their writing connection, but I agree with Raz: it would be lovely to continue you have the inspiration. Oh, and the time of course :)

I have much more of this on my page! and even more of it on onparables(dot)com. my author name is JRae10

Vitaly Ana
July 6th, 2013, 05:20 PM
Very well done indeed. Your focus on the details of the relationship are so good in the first 5 paragraphs, that you may want to zoom out and distance the reader from those details. Give him/her a chance to breathe and then suck them right back in, because you have quite a gift for knowing intimacy.

Enjoyed it! :)

August 10th, 2013, 06:35 PM
I liked the ideas of where you were going with each paragraph but in the beginning they all seemed to be repetetive. We read numerous times that she was smart and could hurt people with her words. We read that they wouldnt be the same ever again a few times. We find that he hurt her a few times as well. I think it could be shortened a bit by taking out the repetition and writing a couple of really good descriptive paragraphs that encompass them all.

August 21st, 2013, 04:34 PM
Really good! I was sucked in right away. So descriptive!

November 11th, 2013, 11:05 PM
this is fantastic! it cut me deep really reminded me of a lost love, even down just to describing some of her attributes like the fire in her eyes! really good id love to read more