just like me

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I watched out as a weak red glow marked the fading horizon. Gentle warm waves washed through the air, whilst hidden between them came icy whispers of winter frost. Summer was dying. The darkened sky tinted the leaves pink and orange.

Days of basking on the beach where draining and the prospect of school looked ever more grim. What had first seemed like an eternity had washed away with the footprints in the sand. Soon I would be back to running errands in the bitter rain to pay the rent of my one bedroom flat and surrounding myself with people who would dance in lockstep around my life like a masquerade ball. I was the host, always the host. I would talk to many, hold on to more, always juggling other people’s stories and secrets whilst enjoying being center stage.

Never would I be an onlooker, always in the middle, perhaps that's why sunsets like these bored me. I walked slowly across the main room, couch in the middle. TV, metal stand. Kitchen joining on, always clean, always stocked. A huge metallic bookcase lined with Cd's, music to suit a thousand needs and ten thousand moods. Books that were classics, that almost everyone has heard of. A shy teddy bear on the corner of the top shelf. There on the shelf below, the one thing that didn't fit.

A wooden picture frame, inside which sits a child grinning, with short, tattered red hair, brown eyes that glimmered like embers. An over-sized checked yellow shirt and baggy trousers patched at the knee. Most of her clothes where the same. She wasn't like anyone else. Whilst other girls drove round in their friends’ cars and braided their hair, she was clearing a thin silver path up the mountains on horseback. Most girls have teddy bears to sleep with, she had wolves.

Why am I spending so much time describing this girl who lives a lifestyle completely opposite to mine?

The reason is that on that almost-winter evening she turned up on my doorstep with a huge hikers backpack and windswept hair. Thirteen years old, bordering four foot high and staring up at me as if already tired of seeing my face.

'Ai?'

'Mum left again.' She shrugged and walked past, straight into the flat, dumping her bag by the door as she went.

'Wait, why are you here then?'

'I wanted to say hi and could only afford the one way ticket.' I stopped to think over her predicament before she turned round with one eyebrow raised. Idiot.

'Oh. Right. Well, if you want to stay on the couch for the night, there's food in the cupboard if you want something-'

'Still not much of a 'you' person, are you?'

'What?' She reached up and prodded the teddy firmly.

‘The teddy bear, it's still got two eyes and no juice stain, of course it's been on that shelf since you bought it. And what person living on their own goes out of their way to have cushions accommodating a crowd. And what about-' She froze in front of her picture, running her thumb along the battered wood. 'This is the only thing that seems like it should be here'. Carefully she tipped it face down. 'You need to get rid of that, it doesn't fit'

I didn't know what she meant by that, but the way she glanced back at me, as if she was reminding me of something I didn't know. Much of the time she had a double-layered veil across her eyes as if everything she said was a simple version of what really went through her mind. Every once in a while, like this particular instance, a dark shadow crossed the crimson gleam. It was the kind that made me desperate to find out what secret she knew.

'You're just like dad was'

'You,' I struggled to carry on. 'You've seen him lately?'

'He stopped by our house last week. He told me where you where living, in case anything went wrong.'

'That was nice of him,' I snorted.

'It was.' She nodded sincerely, still browsing through the shelves.

‘So, what makes you stop by for a visit?’

She stopped with her fingers half way up a new candle and stared at me, searching again, expecting more.

‘You don’t understand, do you?’

I shrugged mockingly and shook my head.

Her hand waved over the candlewick, which exploded and crackled into a large flame.

My heart fluttered.

‘I’m just like you’


Extra notes: I’ll probably do a follow up to this at some point, but it was spare of the moment so I don’t really have an in depth plot ready at hand.
Last edited by kokobeans on Fri Dec 07, 2007 12:00 am, edited 4 times in total.




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Hi!
Welcome to YWS. I'm FlyingDream. What I've read here is very very very good. But I suggest that you put spaces in between your paragraphs to make it easier to read. Big blocks of text scare away readers.

Anyway, onto your story. Very good. I like what you've done so far. I really liked the ending too. Nice and mysterious. Good work and I can't wait to read more.

FlyingDream
To give dignity to a man is above all things.
~ Indian Proverb




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A weak red glow marked the fading horizon. Gentle warm waves washed through the air, whilst hidden between them came icy whispers of winter frost. Summer was dying. The darkened sky tinted the leaves pink and orange.

Days of basking on the beach where draining and the prospect of school looked ever more grim. What had first seemed like an eternity had brushed past in seven and a half short weeks. Soon I would be
you changed from describing the scene to telling it from the protaganists perspective. You should start with all of it in the protaganists perspective, including the beginning description back to running errands in the bitter rain to pay the rent of my one bedroom flat and surrounding myself with people who would dance in lockstep what's a lockstep? chances are that most people wont know around my life like a masquerade ball. I was the host, always the host. I would talk to many, hold on to more, always juggling other people’s stories and secrets whilst enjoying being centre stage.

Never would I be an onlooker, always in the middle, perhaps that's why sunsets like these bored me. I walked slowly across the main room, couch in the middle. TV, metal stand. Kitchen joining on, always clean, always stocked. A huge metallic bookcase lined with CD's, music to suit a thousand needs and ten thousand moods. I really like that line! Books that where you probably meant were classics, that almost everyone has heard of. A shy teddy bear on the corner of the top shelf. There on the shelf below, the one thing that didn't fit.

........................ect




[i]I don't really get the part with the girl. Who is she and why does the protaganist let her in the house so easily? Why does he (is the main character a guy?) have a picture of her?

You should explain what the protaganist thinks of the girl and of what she's doing. You should also explain why he has that picture of her ect.


This was really well-written though!
Please, pretty PLEASE PM me when you write more, I would love to know what happens!
Just never ever forget to live ok? Never ever forget to be happy when things maybe aren't the greatest. Yeah, that's right- because every moment is making you who you will be and is really worth it in the end. So just....live.




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"A weak red glow marked the fading horizon. Gentle warm waves washed through the air, whilst hidden between them came icy whispers of winter frost. Summer was dying. The darkened sky tinted the leaves pink and orange. "

*Great attention grabber, really sets the mood. I feel like I'm there.

"What had first seemed like an eternity had brushed past in seven and a half short weeks. Soon I would be back to running errands in the bitter rain to pay the rent of my one bedroom flat and surrounding myself with people who would dance in lockstep around my life like a masquerade ball."

*Instead of saying "seven and a half short weeks", maybe something a little more appropriate to keep me in the dreamy mood, "What had first seemed like an eternity had brushed past in _____. " (a few moments, before i could catch my breath, etc.) Keep readers in the mood, then make the big contrast in next sentence like you did. "...back to running errands..."

*I disagree, I think "dance in lockstep" was genius.


A wooden picture frame, inside which sits a child grinning, with red tomboy-style hair, brown eyes that glimmered like embers. An oversized checked yellow shirt and baggy trousers patched at the knee. Most of her clothes where the same, she wasn't like anyone else. Whilst other girls drove round in their friends’ cars and braided their hair, she was clearing a thin silver path up the mountains on horseback. Most girls have teddy bears to sleep with, she had wolves.

*Maybe you can substitute "tomboy-style hair" with (messy, unruly, etc).
*The wolves line made me smile.



"She froze in front of her picture, running her thumb along the battered wood. 'This is the only thing that seems like it should be here'. Carefully she tipped it face down. 'You need to get rid of that, it doesn't fit' "

*Loved loved loved this part. I can feel the vibe in the room.

" Much of the time she had a double-layered veil across her eyes as if everything she said was a simple version of what really went through her mind."

*Great word choice.

All in all, I think you are very creative, and I really enjoyed reading this piece to the very end. Just a few fixer uppers and this piece is complete. Kudos! :)




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Well... I assumed that if people didn't know what lockstep meant, the idea of dance, lock, and step, would give the general impression of what kind of dancing it is. It's just a word i like.
I agree that i should make it clearer who the 'protaganist' is, (that's a new word for me).
The idea of not telling who the girl is, only that he knows her father, was deliberate.
I'll post the next part soon.




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hey!

i liked this - pretty cool, and you ended it on a nice cliffhanger!

i'm off to read the second part that i saw lurking in ur gallery.

congratulations for a nice read!

cheers,

jai
I have an approximate knowledge of many things.




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Don't forget, punctuation goes inside the quotes.
"The one thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart."
Miles Vorkosigan

"You can be an author if you learn to paint pictures with words."
Brian Jacques



If I were a girl in a book, this would all be so easy.
— Jo March