Well thought out and well written. Why is it when men show their toys it is considered either funny or vulgar? I don't mean actually showing them, but revealing them through tight pants and open shirts. Why is that?
Thanks for writing; I enjoyed reading your poem. Anya
What a great subject to write about. We have all been there and try to be polite and listen to that person who goes on and on. I firmly believe that small talk is an art, and I am not good at it.
I usually hang back in a gathering and become one of the listeners. The worst situation for me is getting stuck with a non-talker like myself, then I end up being the one who nervously talks on and on about nothing.
Help! I'm open to any suggestions.
Thank you for writing this short story. It made me feel better about myself and I enjoyed it for its content. Anya
A neat little piece about the morning routine. We all do it at all stages of life. It might be interesting for the writer to keep this piece and change it as he/she goes thorugh life. It is something we can all relate to.
A story of first love that is very well told. The worst part of this tale is the loss not only of the first person you ever loved, but also the friendship that cannot continue. When you fall in love with your best friend, you have no one to turn to when the love part fails, and in fact you have lost the two most important people in your life.
You write very well for 15 years old. This is a very good story and it is well told.
However, and I am also guilty of this, you have to describe your characters in order to give them life and make the reader care about them. Just a few sentences will do or a hint here and there, like - "Carol had a habit of twirling a lock of her golden curls around her index finger when she was worried about something." Now we know something about the main character.
Additionally, even though the protagonist of the story lived most of his/her life in darkness, there must have been patchesof light where he/she caught a glimpse of something. Also, what did it smell like in this place. You did say it was also a "restroom."
I hope I didn't go overboard, I would just like to see a good story become much better. Good luck with your writing. You have a gift. Keep on writing.
I found this piece on the review page. I have to admit that Steve's review made it sound so fascinating, that I had to take a peek and stayed for the entire story.
I like most anything written about Africa whether it's the people, wildlife or terrain and this descriptive story did not disappoint.
This was so good that I read it a second time. It tells of the beauty and the violence in the daily life of the lion on the African plains.
I liked the description of the lion's roar from the sound, to the message it sent to all who heard it both predator and prey.
Death is a daily occurrence on the Serengeti where sometimes even the most powerful are felled by a younger, smarter foe.
Wow, so many thoughts are going through my head! This cryptic tale was such a change from the usual story of what happens after a bachelor party . I love it when I read a story and it takes me to a place I never expected to go.
I have to admit that I had to go back to the beginning to find something Important that I missed, but it did not take away from the story.
I loved the "wagging his eyebrows suggestively." It made me think of Groucho Marx.
The ending leaves the reader wondering, which I usually find annoying, but in this story, it caused me to conjure up my own conclusions.
Hi Piper, This was a charming story of love and remembrance. It brought back memories of my own grandmother who embroidered beautiful flowers on tablecloths and sweaters. Sadly, I never learned this art.
I never got to sit on my grandmother's lap, but I am happy to experience it through your descriptions.
Mothers and daughters take note, teach the young child in your life something. It can be as simple as a drawing of stick figures playing ball.
This is a story that sadly, many parents can closely identify with. I liked the phrase "fatted calf." This is what we do, try to remind our children of how good life was and still can be by serving them a fabulous dinner on a perfectly set table.
And who hasn't been through the waiting? You go through a myriad of emotions while sitting there, starting with mild annoyance all the way to anger and fear.
"Finally they had agreed that 'tough love' was the way."
Tough love is the way to go most of the time. Thank you for putting this lingering sadness into words. Anya
I was stopped by the title of this story because I say this to myself every time I take a pair of scissors to an expensive piece of fabric - Measure twice cut once. Then I was drawn in by the first paragraph which I thought was masterfully written and decided to continue reading even though I knew that this story was going to be an investment of time.
However, I was not disappointed because this was a very good read. I kept trying to figure out where the writer was going and along the way, I enjoyed the vivid descriptions that painted clear pictures of the different scenes that were brought to life.
"Brandon was in the back yard, doing his best to assemble a playhouse kit that he had bought from one of the local “Big Box” stores. Holding up the picture on the instruction booklet, he saw a sprawling masterpiece of richly stained wood, shining metal and bright, pastel colored plastic. But when he lowered the picture, he saw a grizzly disaster of nuts, bolts and miscellaneous pieces that did not seem to be related to any other part.
Disgusted, he threw the instructions aside and added another curse to the stream of profanity that had been flowing over his fence throughout the morning."
Above is just one of many descriptions that I found to be put in such profoundly simple words, yet conveyed the feelings of many a man on a Saturday morning.
"Bill wasn’t a bad guy, but he had an unmistakable attitude of superiority that wore on Brandon’s patience. On the occasions that Bill happened to strike up a random conversation with Brandon, it tended to have the condescending quality of a conversation between a feudal Lord and his Serf"
I loved the above paragraph! We all know people like Bill and you put what we feel into words.
A few little things I picked up and please know that this really is my opinion and you of course, know what is best for your story.
“My hand got stucked under the book-thingy. Mrs. Lanham had to get the cleeny-guys to take it off so I could go to the bathroom.” Julie supplied.
The above passage spoken by Julie, who is five sounds a little too babyish. Usually by this age children have a decent command of the English language. Also carting Julie around on the hip didn't sound right either. Unless she is quite tiny. Have you seen the average five year old? Not a big deal in the larger sceme of the story, but I was picturing it and it didn't fly.
There was one other description that did not fit with all the others that were so fitting to this story.
"pushing reason aside like an aggressive old lady at a supermarket with a nearly expired coupon."
As I read it I felt that it stood out, but not in a good way as compared to the excellent similes in this story.
I hope that I have not done damage to this story that I thoroughly enjoyed reading. Anya
"I know now why the wide, unnailed boards have been groaning after midnight, beneath the weight of all this clamoring art;"
One can hear the creaking boards of the attic and the paintings pleading, asking, and demanding to be set free.
"I can hear them whispering. as I sweat, hunched over first, touching the odd frames;"
The reader can aImost smell the dusty attic and hear the paintings in their odd frames, all shapes and sizes. Do they whisper to each other? Paintings do speak to the viewer, and some speak so loudly, that we must possess them.
I gave this little tease to a fuller story a high rating because I could not find anything to pick apart.
I was drawn in from: "The wind screamed at the windows and pounded at the doors..." That is a powerful description of the mood of this piece. It gave the feeling of extreme urgency, and that if the wind could get into the house, it would blow the gun out of his hand and stop Jack from hurting himself.
If I could read and cover my eyes simultaneously, that is what I would being doing while reading this story!
This was truly a hair raising story that had me on the edge of my seat. It is about what could happen when you don't fit into the norms of society. After I read it I thought it was almost a metaphor for how people who are different often times are not tolerated.
I think you could add some descriptions in a few places to really intensify the action. For instance, I would describe the chaplain who comes out of the shadows, and maybe expand on how you helped people with your healing powers. Also, the heat and colors that emanate from the fire.
Hi Ambush, I went to your port after you reviewed my story "Always a Soldier."
This is a very emotional story, told in the third-person omniscient, and this is where I think it can be improved.
First of all, I am very respectful of any story about service in the military, of which I know very little. However, if this story were told from your POV using sights, smells, and memories, it would have a far more powerful impact.
For example, your opening sentence reads,
"Once upon a time in a country far away there lived a young man."
I respectfully suggest that you give your opening sentence some truth. Try opening with a memory of a relative who served in the military. To follow is a suggestion:
The faded photograph of my Uncle Pat rested proudly on my grandmother's mantle. He was a soldier in WWI, also called The Great War, and The Trench War . My mother said he had problems with his feet after the war and that is why he always wore white socks.
This is something I just made up from my knowledge of WWI and I guarantee you that when you start remembering little bits about your life, it will make a far more interesting story than the made up sentence I gave.
I hope that I have not been insulting because that is not my intention. I think there is a great story to be told here and quite possibly a book. In my opinion, it is well worth your time to go back and rewrite.
Good luck and thank you for protecting our country, Anya
I feel so unqualified to review poetry! However, I really felt that this poem was very well written and thought evoking.
Last week I had a dream that my favorite uncle, who died last year, appeared to me, said not a word just gave me a loving hug. When I awoke, I felt as though I had received the comfort I needed to go on.
I liked the contrast of Stanley and Homeless Guy. Stan did not have enough time and Guy had nothing but time. It was almost like Guy was his inner voice telling him to slow down, live your life and ask out the bus driver.
I loved the twist at the end of the story. Bravo for not having the building blow up or some other tragedy where being late saved his life.
Thanks for sharing this story, Anya
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