Until Night Becomes Day

Well guys, this is my first real attempt at fiction. Please, tear it apart. Sorry it's so long, but I didn't think it would be smart to split it up.

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“Holy shit, is this guy following me?” I’m abruptly pulled out of my thoughts. That guy in the tight blue coat has been on my tail step-for-step and I just now noticed. God, am I that caught up in myself?

I look back at him. He’s middle-aged, good-looking, with a calm, sharp face. He’s probably some serial rapist murderer – wait, serial murderer rapist, no, serial – fuck it. He’s probably a bad guy. No, I’m just paranoid. I’m just paranoid and he’s just a guy who likes to walk around early in the morning and follow other people and wait until they go down some secluded alley and murder them. Shit. I’m getting out of here.

I start running. Maybe that was a stupid decision, I mean, now he knows that I know that he’s following me. But I couldn’t just keep strolling along. How does a person keep calm in that kind of situation? THEY DON’T, I scream to myself. My nostrils flare in the morning cold, my lungs are on fire, and each of my over-exercised muscles burns in pain. But I ignore the fatigue as I fly through the streets, fleeing from my serial bad guy.

I look back. He’s running too. Oh shit. I was right, he’s after me. And even worse? He runs faster than I can. I haven’t gotten a substantial amount of exercise in weeks, and I’m trying to outrun an experienced stalker who probably works out. I think back at the penny from earlier, that damn coin lied to me.

Just as I’m sure I’ve lost the battle, been caught by the baddy in the blue coat, a neon “OPEN” sign flickers on in the building in front of me. Thank God.

No, scratch that, I think as I see the sign above the building. Thank Jon. Thank Jon and every ounce of bubbling liquid in his amazing, fantastic, wonderful, beautiful, warm, inviting, store that has, I’m sure, the best deals in all of town with the greatest service and the nicest people of anywhere. “Jon’s Soda and Spirits,” what I great name for a store. I couldn’t have named it better myself.

I run inside and look out the window. The man in the blue coat is gone. He must have ducked down some alleyway when he saw me go into the building. I smile and start looking around, trying to seem nonchalant, like I hadn’t just been running for my life. As I’m catching my breath, a girl walks up behind me. I assume that she’s the cashier, look at her, and say, “You’re not Jon.”

---

I go to sleep at seven AM on a usually day. Summer is too hot. I can’t stand the inferno of the daytime, so I stay up until late becomes early and try to sleep through the worst part of the day. It works like a charm. My life is filled with the comforting cool of night, the first rays of sunlight in the morning, and the lazy and fantastic experience of sleeping in.

Sometimes I go for a walk in the morning before I tuck in for the night, just a nice stroll through downtown, or up the hill to 11th Street, or to a park where I can enjoy the sunrise. It is so peaceful in the morning. I see only a few cars and even fewer other walkers. I think about things; about work, about Mary, my mom, my apartment, the news. It’s like small talk in my brain; I go back and forth conversing about my life and the world I live in. It’s a no risk, no pressure kind of talk. I never seem to get that when I’m actually talking to a person.

It is July 21, early morning after a night of catching up on my favorite TV shows, and I’m in the mood for a cup of coffee. I figure that I need to sleep soon or I’ll ruin the daily schedule, but I can’t resist. I haven’t had a Cup O’ Joe in weeks. I leave my building and walk down the two flights of stairs to the exit. I look outside and smile. The world is shaded a dull blue by the waxing sun, but everything still looks clear and pristine, magnified and glass-like. This is another reason why I walk in the morning, it is too beautiful to ignore.

My destination is the Corner Store a few streets down. I set off on my casual stroll, breathing in the pure morning air with both nostrils. “Mmm,” I say out loud, and I mean it, the air tastes like cool dew. I look down on the ground and see a coin; I drop to the floor and pick it up. It was a penny with the picture of Lincoln smiling up at me. “Ha ha, heads,” I mumble to myself, “good luck.”

I look around as I get up and notice a man walking slowly behind me about a block away. He is wearing a tight blue coat with the hood snuggling his head; long strands of light blond hair escape from it and cover his face. I’m a little taken aback to see another person walking around this early, but I let it go and keep walking.

My mind wanders now, gives in to its usual small talk. The conversation goes like this:

“I should go to bed earlier.”

“But it’s so nice out in the morning.”

“Then wake up early. People are meant to live in the day, not sleep through it.”

“I’ll live in the day when it becomes bearable again.”

“But then your whole summer will be shot, gone, and all you’ll have done is walk the streets at night and watch TV.”

“What else should I do?”

“Summer stuff.”

“Bike rides and hiking and fishing and frisbee?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” That’s a weird thing to say to myself.

“Then call someone up. You haven’t talked to Mary in a long time.”

“That’s because she’s in Mexico. With her new boyfriend. And her new life.”

“Why should that stop you?”

“…She’s in Mexico?”

My mind continues like this for a few more blocks, the constant back-and-forth between the two parts of my mind. One side craves a difference from my usual routine and the other is content to go with the flow.

I look at myself through the sheen of a window across the street. My bright flannel shirt and blue-dyed jeans stand out in the bare streets. I keep staring for a moment, and suddenly I notice the man from before, the one in the blue coat, in the background of my reflected world.

“Holy shit, is this guy following me?”

---

I’m back in Jon’s Soda and Spirits. “You’re not Jon,” I say. I stop browsing the shelves of drinks and look at the girl in front of me.

She giggles, “No, he’s my dad. I open for him sometimes.” Her voice is nice, inviting me to keep talking.

“Do you actually get business this early?” I ask. I can’t imagine there being anybody besides me out buying things this early.

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? Anyway, I like the morning. It’s so pristine and clear, you know?” She says.

“Yeah,” I grin, “that’s why I’m out here, mostly. I was going to buy a cup of coffee, but, meh, it’s a bit late for me.” I bite my tongue, my face turns red. I didn’t mean for that to slip out.

One eyebrow rises on her round face and she says, “Early, you mean? You know that’s the best time for a cup of coffee.”

I want to tell her my more about me, something tells me she’s a good listener, so I gather up my words and briefly explain to her about the early morning walks and my routine. She hears me with an open ear and then says, “Oh, I used to do that in when school was out, you know, during summer break? It was always tons of fun. I’d get a bunch of friends and we’d run around town at night, doing, well, whatever.” She grins at me. I smile back and stare into her eyes.

“Yeah it’s great; getting kind of old though. I’ve been thinking about giving it up, going normal and all that,” I tell her. It’s true, I have been thinking about it, but then again, I’ve been thinking of lots of things that I don’t plan on doing. I don’t bother telling her that, though.

“Well, you know the best way,” she pauses and winks, “is to go all night. Just don’t sleep. If you wanted to, I mean, maybe I could help you to that cup of coffee?”

I stand for a second, considering. On one side I have my long, mundane nights of television and walks. On the other, I have an exciting girl urging me to change my life. The choice should be obvious, but I stand there for a bit longer. I look at her, and then at the streets outside, streets that are beginning to fill with the life of a new sun and the people who bask in its rays. I suddenly decide that I want to be one of those people.

“I’ll take your biggest cup,” my face bursts with a grin.

I walk out of the store satisfied a few minutes later, all memory of the stalker from before left behind in the jumble of happy thoughts that scramble throughout my brain. I finger the piece of paper that’s now in my pocket, thinking of the number written on it. I can’t wait to call her later tonight, wait – maybe tomorrow night, I smile to myself, tonight I’m going to be… I have to think about it – sleeping, for once.

I guess good things can come from bad situations. Maybe I would have died today, but instead just maybe I’ll finally be able to start living again. I take a sip of the coffee in my hand. It sears my tongue but I barely notice. All I see is the sidewalk ahead of me, leading me towards a new beginning.

“Holy shit, is this guy following me?” I’m abruptly pulled out of my thoughts.

First, if you're deep in thought, you're not going to suddenly think some guy behind you's following you.

Second, unless someone's a number 10 on the paranoid scale, they're going to start off a little uneasy, maybe turn a corner to test their theory, and then they're going to start inwardly freaking out. Somebody would have to be pretty darn obvious to make that pop into someone's mind like a slap to the face.

I think back at the penny from earlier, that damn coin lied to me.

But on example of misused flashbacking, or whatever you want to call it. In some cases, yes, you might want to start off with the action, but the way this is written it's mostly confusing. I'd either start with the above quote, or simply slide in the details about the penny--and whatever other details are mandatory--and simply bypass the flashback.

When reading the flashback, I was confused to who was talking. Granted, you stayed in first person, but since the scene change was so jarring, I wasn't sure whether it was the same guy, what happened to the stalker, or what.

I walk out of the store satisfied a few minutes later, all memory of the stalker from before left behind in the jumble of happy thoughts that scramble throughout my brain.

This all seems a bit abrupt to me. I know it doesn't really seem it, but this is actually a rather short piece. I'd add in more description, and not have him get over it so fast.

Overall, this has some good potential, but it's not quite there. Put in some more descriptions, slow things down and leave more time for him to fully take things in, and you should be doing good.

Here's a link to a tutorial that will help with description: Show and Tell. Oh! And I like this article too: Description.

Hoped I've helped.

loveness, ultraviolet <3

Okay, so the first part kind of jumps the gun and the character rushes straight into panic-mode. This could just be your character, but it seemed a little irrational, even if he was right about the follower. All the same, you did a good job of kind of portraying the suspense, and I almost felt my heart skip a little faster for a second, as if it was me in the alleyway. Just work on building up to that first, okay?

I go to sleep at seven AM on a usually day. #FF0000 ">Oops, usual, not usually.

Sometimes I go for a walk in the morning before I tuck in for the night, just a nice stroll through downtown, or up the hill to 11th Street, or to a park where I can enjoy the sunrise. It is so peaceful in the morning. I see only a few cars and even fewer other walkers. I think about things; about work, about Mary, my mom, my apartment, the news. It’s like small talk in my brain; I go back and forth conversing about my life and the world I live in. It’s a no risk, no pressure kind of talk. I never seem to get that when I’m actually talking to a person. #BF0000 ">Wow, this feels like a completely different person! But I like this character; you've cemented a friendlier perspective, somebody with a really catchy happy-go-lucky attitude.

Anyway, I like this story. I think that you should have added more about the follower, make it an even more risky-seeming situation, but it was still pretty solid plot-wise. But storyline aside, I really love your characters; they seem cheery and optimistic, and generally friendly, something you don't see in a lot of people anymore. That warmth gave them qualities natural but unique.
Keep writing,
StoryWeaver

I really enjoyed this piece, but there were some things that kind of irked me. First of all, the opening. It's been mentioned in previous reviews, but I just want to talk about it for a second as well. If someone is walking behind you, even if they have been for several blocks, you're not going to suddenly come out of your thoughts and start sprinting because you think they're stalking you. I would elaborate on the circumstances, make it seem more plausible that the man was malicious in some way.
Second thing: I didn't realize that you had done a flashback for a while. I thought this was the following morning or something, and was confused about the chain of events. I might try to make that more clear in the transition. Third thing: I had no idea that the character was a man. I had assumed that this was a woman throughout the entire piece, until the very very end. I would also try to clarify that earlier in the piece.
Altogether, I really enjoyed this piece despite the confusions. Your imagery was fantastic, your character development great. Nice write.

-Coral

Well generally as a reviewer I try hard to work on storyline and not grmaaer or anything. There were a few of thoes mistakes but I wont focus on thoes. So here goes.
First of all I love your use of launguage. The use of words like shit, fuck, and damn makes it seem real. Not a lot of posts on here use a lot of thoes words.
Second. When I first started reading this I saw it heading in another direction. It is refreshing to be wrong. A lot of modern writing is predictable whih draws from the story itself. Nice job.
Now I've given you your praise which was well deserved, but here is my one tweak.
The use of the serial rapist murderer – wait, serial murderer rapist, no, serial – fuck it whatever was a nice way to introduce the girl. Though you make a big deal out of how his daily routine changing is giving him a new life. And in a big way it can. Night and day are very different and its like two different worlds. (I personally prefer the night because living in Louisiana the heat is unberable) but you should explain more. Mabey like an epilouge explaining how his life changes, and mabey if the girl comes into play in his new life.
Overall though, I liked it.