Dinner At Six

A/N: I'm experimenting with form and some new techniques a bit, want to know if its not enough, if its just right

***


There’s a sort of hysteria that grips one in truly disgusting moments – the horror comes first and the revulsion soon after but it very quickly fades, replaced with a numb resignation. When you become aware of the numbness and that tiny voice in the back of your head reminds you of what it is you’re doing, that’s when the moment becomes surreal and giddy.

I feel like giggling.

It’s a cold and bright Saturday that streams through the window, burnishing the blades with a golden light. It’s hypnotic. Is it funny that I should think of Jane now? Not really, I suspect, but I’m smiling anyway – stop being such a goof, she would say if she were here, in that practical manner. Her voice is clear, so strong that I almost jump and look about me; there’s no point of course. I feel silly even thinking about it.

-

I work in a factory.

Not in the exciting part, where things are moving and you’re packing, moving, lifting, sorting – no, locked in the back, in a tiny cubicle with sheet after sheet of lists that need checking. I’ve become fairly artistic with a pen, artful flicks of the wrist sending an immaculate, contained streak of ink in a delicate black tick. I should do calligraphy; I’m good enough, I’m sure. It’s a hopeless notion, trapped in the monotonous routine of this brick and mortar cemetery of dreams.

My life has become one long set of lists. Get up, eat breakfast, come to work. Go home, watch the news, dinner, sleep. Everything else becomes a distracted footnote, penciled in as 'leisure time' from 12.45 to 1.15. It's an insidious disease that creeps under your skin, and coils around your bones, rewiring your circuitry until you begin to think it's normal to be this way, its okay and safe.

I fucking hate it.

-

The cracks are beginning to show, little lines and edges on my face, hands and arms. Memories seep out of them. One by one, they’re deserting me. The gradual lessening – the actual process of becoming thinner and smaller is the worst part of it all, the awareness that I am not as much as before.

I’m in the kitchen; there’s no food. But it feels appropriate.

My thoughts tiptoe along the silver edges.

-

She was the bright spark in my world. I like to think that I was for her, too. God said let there be light and so for each of us, there is. Comes a time when you can’t stand the illumination and the glare gets too close, shows too much you don’t want to see; dirty shames and monstrous faces better left to the shadow of obscurity. Comes a time when the flame fades and the world is returned to darkness.

-

I remember seeing her in the small diner I go to for lunch or the odd Thursday dinner. She’d never been there before - I would have seen her. It was captivating, like being introduced to a whole new colour, an inconceivable shade in a painting you’ve adored for years.

My heart was tap-dancing in my chest and all the fluids evaporated in my mouth, leaving it barren and raw. I wanted to go up to her, wanted to say something but I didn’t. What if I spoiled it? How do you touch a bubble without popping it? So, I did nothing and just watched. It was like hearing spoken words in a silent world for the first time. It was three weeks before I saw her again.

‘Would you like to dance?’ I said.

She looked up from her newspaper, eyes crinkled up like the same. She asked me to repeat the question, and, feeling light-headed and dizzy (knowing it was a ridiculous thing to ask) I said it again. Her mouth opened wide, startling white teeth poking out beneath wide red lips.

She laughed.

It was the appropriate reaction, of course, and I joined her. We danced on the black and white tiles until the waitress came over and dryly informed us that this wasn’t a nightclub and could we please leave now, before disturbing the other patrons.

-

I unravel in silence. There’s something about it that’s so greedy. Words pour into it in a constant tumble but its never good enough or not good enough and so they skirt and skid across the velvet surface, awkward birds that haven’t learned how to fly.

I can hear it chomping, horrible teeth gnashing on the memory-reels of film and with each one further mangled, the distance within becomes greater. It’s not so bad, I guess, to have something to listen to in this cold, uncomfortable place. I just wish I could witness it, actually see and recognise its shape and so discern its reasoning, its origin – to give meaning to the situation.

But I can’t see in the darkness.

Even the pain has become routine, a sort of buzzing drill in the back of my mind. I can feel the anguish building, as more and more of me goes into that black maw and each photographed moment vanishes; I’m losing myself.

-

‘Dinner will be ready at six.’

It’s always ready at six. The statement is unnecessary but she says it again and again, at just this moment, every night.

‘Yes, dear.’

‘Have you paid the billsyet?’

I keep my eyes on the television set, frowning at me from within its grumpy brown confines. The cast of its features is always brooding and unhappy. I think to myself what a nice change it would be for it to smile and wonder briefly if it's only a reflection of myself. The lights flicker and shimmer over my face.

‘Yes, dear.’

I need a new TV.

-

I need to let it out.

Need to break the crusted cast of dreariness that has wrapped me in a cocoon of newspapered reality. The heaviness of it in my hands is surprising, but comforting at the same time. Shadow-burdened clouds have crossed the face of the sun and the blades look thick and heavy, purposeful. I know how sharp they are. I pull the trigger and watch them suddenly begin to dance, whirling faster and faster with an increasing whine; the shrill scream echoing the one lodged in my chest.

It's lodged deep, slipping and scrabbling for purchase in my throat. I bring the device closer to my head, its squeal rising in pitch until the tone changes, meets resistance and deepens. I wonder what kind of eggs I’ll make.

Skin begins to fly.

-

Jane's smaller than she used to be.

Not as thin, more compact and with more utilities - like an old sports car you can't afford to maintain anymore, dusted over and neglected in the garage. Except I don't have a tarpaulin of size. Her hair is frizzy and dull as she washes the dishes. The fading light from the window frames her face, but it's not pretty to look at. I can see the meanness in those little piggy-black eyes as the plates protest the rough treatment with a squeak, squeak, squeak.

The muscles bunch beneath her polka dot dress as she scrubs faster and harder. I can't remember how many times I've seen her like this; she's become a part of the decor, another piece of functioning equipment. I grit my teeth.

Harder.

Faster.

All the while, the plates squeak, and squeak and squeak.

With a sickening crash, something breaks; her hands suddenly plunge, as the ceramics gives way and come out red-streaked and raw. Her chest is heaving. The smell of detergent rises in the air. She turns and looks at me with wild eyes.

Neither of us say a word.

-


I could see it stretching out before us; getting older, fatter, meaner while the days got cold and dim and short. Just another sheet of statistics in the factory that needed to be scrapped. Something had to be done.

I’m making quite a mess. Someone will have to clean this tomorrow and I don’t envy them the job. It’s all numb now. My lips twitch in anticipation of the giggle; it gets caught in a bubble that drops on my lips. Muscles are beginning to spasm and I jerk violently, catching sight of the clock on the wall. It’s nearly six.

Dinner will be ready soon.

Hey This thread looks lonely and it's been a while since I've read something of yours.

Hmm, well, I'm not entirely sure what to say. That was a wonderfully written to piece in terms of its excellent prose and sentence structures, but, I failed to grasp much of the story. One moment we're talking about someone being sad, then another of a factory, then meeting a woman, then shooting her. It confused me--my advice would be to lengthen this out by about 1000 words, and keep just characterisation in it. Specifically, avoid going into more in-depth tellings of how this guy's all messed up and keep to action, flashbacks, the relationship between the two people; there's no real centrepiece at the moment, so create one. Build a premises around something concrete, not just unhappiness which is so vague. A lot of us hate routine, and so it's difficult to feel pity. If you can expand it and focus on what makes his life so bad, we'll care more--all I have to go by is that the woman is horrible but don't know exactly why. So show us.

Now, some nitpicks:

Not really, I suspect but

Stick in a comma after "suspect".

Get up, eat breakfast, and come to work. Go home, watch the news, and sleep; rinse and repeat.

The flow on this is great until... the last phrase. Get rid of "rinse and repeat", because it's so overused that there's just not much meaning in it anymore.

its okay and safe.

"its" = "it's"

I’m in the kitchen; there’s no food. But it feels appropriate.

What does? The fact that there's no food? If so, ignore this sentence.

as a delighted animation

I think you mean "as if".

but she says it again and again

That's my rant over with, and I hope I've been of some help! To conclude: lengthen it out with concrete characterisation, showing us the situation. As always, excellent writing style. And don't repeat yourself so much. Can't think of much more to say, but good luck with the competition.

Best,
Blinky

Blinky!

Hola and thanks for commenting. Uh, shooting her? Where did you get that from exactly? I do so detest being obvious; I was deliberately being vague. Just recently learned of a technique called periphrasis, in which you describe a certain process without actually using a defining word for the action or situation in question. Well, I didn't follow that completely, but I sort of wanted to try it out you know? In a general sense anyway. Epic fail.

I definitely think it needs more as well, I will be adding something extra for sure, you're right there. And I did mean for it to be 'as a' although the 'a' can be deleted.

Thanks again for your input.

Cheers

[Revised]

Well, hello again. I've come back because no one else has replied. =)

The muscles bunch beneath her polka dot dress as she scrubs faster and harder. I grit my teeth and mentally urge her on.
Harder.
Faster.

As immature as this may seem, it made me laugh. Then I reread it and it made sense... I just have one twisted mind.

Alrighty. I didn't find any nitpicks this time, and quite frankly, that was fantastic. I couldn't find much fault with it, and it was neither too long nor too short. You really must tell me the secrets of your writing style. It's implausible! (In my humble opinion.)

Now, to be a little less one-dimensional, I'll go through the improvements:

• We have a greater link between the narrator and "her".
• There's something physical involved (not just telling us everything).
• What you tell us, is shown in those parts.

I know, that wasn't particularly helpful. But now I am to move onto what I would change. That's pinpointed down to just a single notion. And that is, I'd say a little bit more about the factory. I get the idea that it's monotonous and dull and horrid, but if you could bring in another character to detail that, it might benefit the piece. For example, maybe a 100 word scene or so where the boss walks in, apparently all happy, or dull, and just gives the guy more work to do. Then we see how outside, we've got the narrator saying "yes, sir" etc, but he's angry inside, which is where we again see reason for his behaviour. Just a thought, in which you are in complete right to disagree.

Anyway, fantastic!

Blinky

Cheers, Blink!

Glad at least someone read this. Much appreciated.

Really.

Thanks again,

~ SJ

Hey Jiggy!

Well, Blink already did all the technical stuff so I'll say that this was written well and it was quite dull at the same time, which I'm sure was your attention. I mean, if I were that guy I'd seriously lean towards being suicidal but then did he kill 'her' who I'm assuming is his wife?

Favorite part:

She was the bright spark in my world. God said let there be light and so for each of us, there is. Comes a time when you can’t stand the illumination and the glare gets too close, shows too much you don’t want to see; dirty shames and monstrous faces better left to the shadow of obscurity. Comes a time when the flame has to be extinguished and the world returned to darkness.

When I read that, I thought you was going all soft and mushy and stuff.

But ooh I think I know what picture you used. It was either the one with that man who had pictures of himself behind him and they showed different facial expressions. I could be wrong but I think that one fit because I couldn't figure out who the hell this guy was, which you did a good job in doing that.

Good job, as always,

~Angel

Hey! The picture prompt was number 8, the guy holding the egg-beater to his head. I think I may have been a bit too ambiguous lol. I mean, to be fair, my understanding what happened changed between this version and the one beforehand but I don't want to state what happened outright - even here - let you guys think what you will about it xD.

It was quite intentionally dull; his life, his personality, all of it. At its heart, in my mind, this is a really sad story. If someone else comes along and doesn't understand it as I did, lol, I'll just tell you.

Anyway, thanks for the comments. :p

Hey! I'm here, finally.

So I like this. Or at least, I like what you're trying to do with this piece. I haven't read anything by you in a bit, and I think this is a step away from your usual writing, anyway. I like it. It's poetic and despairing and quite nice.

Having said that, I think it still lacks cohesion. As it is right now, it's kind of all over the place, and not in a good way — there's the routine, and the aging, and then the woman who is a habit but not a habit, and none of these things really quite fit together, you know? None of them bang or clash or come together in any meaningful way, and that's kind of the undoing of the piece. The woman, especially, is kind of contradictory; you describe her as "ever-practical" at one point (I'll note it specifically when I go through line-by-line) but then she represents his moment of diversion from habit (when he goes to her and asks her to dance), and then she slips into being part of the routine, part of the monotony.

But then he says that she is the light in his life, which ... kind of goes against all of the bits where he dislikes her and the routine that she represents. Which then gives the last line less impact, less oomph, because she wasn't really his routine, she was something he loved. And that was her line, Dinner will be ready soon, so instead of representing something he hated, it represents someone who actually blessed his life.

And also, while I like the purposely vague writing, I think there are some parts that are just too unspecific. See: his wife/general lady-friend. Does she die before the end, and how? The "how" wouldn't even necessarily be relevant, although it might help thematically, or it might help the story come together. But I do think you need to take a stance on this, particularly because there are a number of lines where you reference her in the past tense, and hint that she is gone by the time the story is done. But by the ending, she's apparently; in the last segment, he says he has to stop the habit of their lives. And then he does. I don't know if this is just a wonky tense thing, a mistake in the way you were writing the story, or something intentional.

So in summary:

[(1) Make the story more cohesive. All of the separate elements of the story — the aging, the factory, the routine, the woman and what she represents, need to intersect. You match up some of these things: the aging with the woman, the factory with the routine, the routine with the woman, but they all need to link to each other. It's like you're on the verge of saying something but don't quite say it. Does that make sense?

(2) Make it seamless. As in, if you have the woman representing non-routine, don't have her all of a sudden start signifying routine.

(3) The vague is good but the fate of the woman needs to be slightly less vague.

(4) The title: I didn't mention this earlier, but the title needs to be 20% more interesting. "Habit" is too easy and too bland; I know you can definitely come up with something better. You mention in one of the reviews that you detest being so obvious; well, the title's obvious. And there must be something more interesting that represents your story equally well. I have faith in you to find a better title; this one just seems like a cop-out.

Okay! Onto the story itself.

* * *

When you become aware of the numbness and that tiny voice in the back of you’re head reminds you of what it is you’re doing, that’s when the moment becomes surreal and giddy.

The "you're" before "head" should be "your".

Not really, I suspect, but I’m smiling anyway – stop being such a goof, she would say if she were here, in that ever practical manner.

I mentioned this earlier in the critique, and I just wanted to stop and point it out. If she's ever-practical, would she really have gotten up and danced with him in the diner? The moment of dance is so frivolous and whimsical, and it immediately sets her up as a light-hearted, silly character. So when you suggest that she's a practical person, it jars with the later scene.

Her voice is so clear, so strong that I almost jump and look about me; there’s no point of course, I feel silly even thinking about it.

The comma after "course" should be a period.

Not in the exciting part, where things are moving and you’re doing things, packing, moving, lifting and sorting, no – locked in the back, in a tiny cubicle with sheet after sheet of lists that need checking.

I like the excess of commas and you kind of kill the flow with the "and" between "lifting" and "sorting". You don't have to do this, by any means, but I'd do it like this:

Not in the exciting part, where things are moving and you’re doing things, packing, moving, lifting, sorting – no, locked in the back, in a tiny cubicle with sheet after sheet of lists that need checking.

That way, you maintain the flow of the beginning of the sentence and the no packs more of a punch.

I should do calligraphy; I’m good enough I’m sure.

There should be a comma after "enough".

It’s a hopeless notion, trapped in the monotonous routine of motion that predicates all movements in this brick and mortar cemetery of dreams.

Wayyy too wordy. "Monotonous routine of motion" doesn't say anything that "monotonous routine" doesn't. In fact, I'd say you could cut out "that predicates all movements", too. (The word routine kind of suggests that it's predicating all movements, y'know?) Which makes it:

It’s a hopeless notion, trapped in the monotonous routine in this brick and mortar cemetery of dreams.

Otherwise, the sentence gets so bogged down by words that's it's a little difficult to slog through. And the pretty bit ("brick and mortar cemetery of dreams") is lost amidst all of the other unnecessary bits.

Get up, eat breakfast, and come to work. Go home, watch the news, and sleep.

I would suggest throwing in something about dinner in the list of routine. Partly because, you know, dinner is probably in there somewhere, but also so you can have that to tie into the ending.

Once, I went to a nearby park and saw some ducks. It was quite exciting. It creeps under your skin, an insidious disease that coils around your bones, rewiring your circuitry until you begin to think its normal, its okay and safe.

You jump from talking about the routine to the ducks and back to routine. Either qualify the "it" in the second sentence, or rearrange the sentences so you're talking about the routine and then the leisure. (I support just qualifying the "it", it's less hassle and then you get to keep the I fucking hate it right where it is.)

Also: the two uses of "its" should be "it's".

Also, do insidious diseases really coil around your bones? You lose me with this bit of imagery, especially because the "coiling" imagery doesn't work with the insidious disease or the circuitry-rewiring. I'd suggest keeping one of those and then find some imagery that fits with the one you keep, even if it's only "rewiring your DNA" or "rewriting DNA" or something.

Because that’s what life is all about isn’t it? How much you have, how substantial you are and to think that we look down on fat people.

The "that's what life is all about" is kind of cliche and the "to think we look down on fat people" is a bit preachy, and they're both incongruous with the rest of the story; they're too direct and ham-fisted to work with everything else. I'd suggest cutting it out. You don't lose anything in terms of flow, and certainly little (if any) of the story's substance.

My thoughts tiptoe along the silver edges, a tightrope of despair.

Silver edges of what? Otherwise, I like this sentence.

I like to think I was for her too.

There should be a "that" after "think" and a comma after "her".

Comes a time when you can’t stand the illumination and the glare gets too close, shows too much you don’t want to see; dirty shames and monstrous faces better left to the shadow of obscurity.

The semi-colon after "see" should be a colon or a comma, or even a period.

(This is, in case you were wondering where there are hints that she died, where there's a suggestion that she leaves or dies or somehow goes away. You talk about her in the past tense and then, of course, there's the following sentence, where the light — as in, her — is extinguished. This part makes me think that you intended for her to be dead, but the end of the story suggests something entirely different.)

I remember seeing her in the small diner I go to for lunch, and the odd Thursday dinner.

"And" should be "or". Or you could just cut it out and have "the small diner I go to for lunch, the odd Thursday dinner."

She’d never been there before, I would have seen her.

The comma after "before" should be a period, a dash, or a semi-colon, but not a comma.

My heart was tap-dancing in my chest to some abhorrently out of tune beat and all the fluids deserted my mouth in a mad and sudden dash.

I like the imagery of the tap-dancing heart, but the "to some abhorrently out of tune beat" kind of kills it dead. Tap-dance is already erratic, we don't need the added idea of an out-of-tune beat, and it just clutters up your sentence. (If you do keep it, though, "out of tune" should be hyphenated to "out-of-tune".)

Also, the "mad and sudden dash" makes it sound like he regurgitates his dinner in front of her, not that his mouth is suddenly dry. Calling them "fluids" doesn't help. Something about evaporating would work better, or anything along those lines.

I wanted to go up to her, wanted to say something but I didn’t.

There should be a comma after "something".

How do you caress a bubble without popping it?

The idea of caressing something, especially a stranger, especially a bubble is (a) creepy and (b) unlikely. "Touch" instead of "caress" would give the meaning you intend, I think, without the same (as in, with better) connotations.

It was like hearing spoken words in a silent world for the first time; transformed my normal reality into a perfect hell with the introduction of difference. It was three weeks before I saw her again.

Two things: one, the the semi-colon should be a comma or a dash. Secondly, the "transformed my normal reality" part of sentence is too wordy. It also kind of kills the first part of the sentence, because it goes to the effort of explaining exactly what the simile means. I'd cut it out. It does nothing but undermine the effectiveness of the first part of your sentence.

Also, what is it that makes her so radiant and new and amazing? Is it the way she looks? The fact that she's the first girl he's ever noticed? His admiration / entrancement is hard to buy as a reader because we have no idea what he's so smitten with. As far as we know, he sees her eating breakfast / lunch, something at the dinner, and that's it. What's so captivating about her?

She looked up from her newspaper, eyes crinkled up like the same.

Like the same what?

Her mouth opened wide, startling white teeth poking out beneath wide red lips, as a delighted animation infused her cheeks.

I don't know if we are supposed to find her attractive based on this description, or if she is in fact supposed to be, but "poking out", for teeth, is definitely not an attractive image. It also kind of suggests that she has buckteeth.

Also, "delighted animation"? The rest of the story is so specifically and vividly descriptive that this falls pretty short of the mark. Especially because it's not hard to find a more vivid way to describe her blushing. "Delighted animation" just feels lazy, to be honest.

It was the appropriate reaction of course and I joined her.

There should be a comma after "reaction" and "course".

We danced on the black and white tiles until the waitress came over and dryly informed us that this wasn’t a nightclub and could we please leave now, before disturbing the other patrons.

It seems unlikely that they wouldn't have already disturbed the patrons, and that the waitress wouldn't cite that (as in, "could we please leave now, we were disturbing the other patrons"). In my long and illustrious career of watching workers bully/generally discipline their customers, that's usually the first thing that they say. "You're holding everyone up," or "You're bothering everyone else." A minor nitpick, but still.

There’s something about it that’s so greedy, always wanting filling, a ceaseless void and words pour into it in a constant tumble but its never enough or not good enough and so they skirt and skid across the velvet surface, awkward birds that haven’t learned how to fly.

A couple of things here.

First, it's not entirely clear that you're talking about the silence, because it's not the subject of the previous sentence.

Secondly, this is one epic run-on sentence with a lot of unnecessary phrases that cancel out other ones, or just bog the general sentence down in needless detail. "Always wanting filling", for example — the "greedy" and "the ceaseless void" cover that pretty clearly, you don't need to re-re-re-inforce it with the "always wanting falling". (Plus, it's awkwardly phrased.) Also, either stick with "it's never enough" or "not good enough", not both.

I would suggest stopping the first sentence at "a ceaseless void" and then having "words pour into it" start the second sentence. It's just a little easier to read, and a little less cluttered.

And do voids have surfaces, let alone velvet ones? I suspect not.

Also, "its" should be "it's".

I can hear it chomping, horrible teeth gnashing on the memory-reels of film and with each one further mangled, the distance within becomes greater. It's not so bad, I guess, to have something to listen to in this cold, uncomfortable place. I just wish I could witness it, actually see and recognise its shape and so discern its reasoning, its origin – to give meaning to the situation, but I can’t see in the darkness.

This is where the vague stops being vague and starts getting confusing. What's "it"? The silence? If that's the case, you're mixing metaphors now and it's getting to be a bit too much. Also, "the distance within" what? Himself? Between what? (Which is to say, what is being distanced from what?) Or is this the Thing that he kills himself with? The second sentence and third sentence of this paragraph suggest as much. And if it's that, then I'm not sure where you're going with the "memory-reels" of film. All of your imagery starts to fall apart around about here.

(And if it is silence that you're talking about, which is kind of suggested by the last paragraph, specifically the "black maw" — well. Like I said, everything starts to fall apart and it's not really clear what you're trying to say from the "I can hear it chomping" onward. You can't hear silence. That's the point.)

It was the factory that did it.

You say this, but then you jump right into the domestic life. So this bit doesn't quite make sense, either.

The cast of its features is always so, brooding and unhappy.

No comma after "so".

I think to myself what a nice change it would be for it to smile and wonder briefly if its only a reflection of myself.

"Its" should be "it's". There should be a comma after "wonder" and "briefly", making it, "and wonder, briefly, if it's only a reflection of myself."

And it's less "it" that he'd like to see a smile on and more "them", no?

Need to break the crusted cast of dreariness that has wrapped me in a cocoon of newspapered reality.

Again, you have a lot of nice images but they're all getting cluttered together and contradicting each other. You have the "crusted cast" image, and then the cocoon, and then the "newspapered reality", with the newspaper suggesting a flimsiness that the crustiness does not. Choose one and stick with it — otherwise, all of the different images (nice as they are) clash and make the overall sentence a lot less effective.

Shadow burdened clouds have crossed the face of the sun and the blades look dull and blunt, purposeful.

"Shadow burdened" should be hyphenated, to "shadow-burdened". Also, I don't know that dull blades represent purpose. Sharp blades, sure, but dull blades are ineffective. And represent that ineffectiveness.

I know how sharp they are.

This contradicts the previous sentence. I don't know if that's intentional, but if it is, I really don't see how it helps the paragraph at all.

I pull the trigger and watch them suddenly begin to dance, whirling about faster and faster with an increasing whine; the shrill scream echoing the one lodged in my chest, the one even now twisting the muscles entrenched on my skull, warping the skin and lips wrapping them.

You don't need the "about" after "whirling" — it just adds unneeded wordiness to the sentence. The semi-colon should be a comma. Also, "muscles entrenched"? There aren't really any muscles entrenched in your skull — if anything, your skull is entrenched in muscles.

I'd also suggest breaking this sentence up. It's epic and and the subject changes at least twice. By the time you hit "the one even know twisting", it starts to get pretty out of control. This is a pivotal scene in the story; it's okay to devote a couple of extra sentences to what's going on.

I bring the device closer to my head, its hair-raising squeal rising in pitch until the tone changes, meets resistance and deepens.

"Hair-raising" is kind of bleh. It's a cliche and it's not a very effective one in this particular scene. I would suggest cutting out, especially because "its squeal" works just as well if not better, with less word clutter.

Not as thin, more compact and with more utilities - like a sports car you can't afford to maintain anymore, dusted over and neglected in the garage

The image of a sports car immediately brings to mind something that is pretty and sleek and glamorous — all of the things that she is not. I would definitely recommend changing this to something slightly more effective.

The fading light from the window frames her face but its not pretty to look at.

"Its" should be "it's", and there should be a comma after "face".

I can see the meanness in those little piggy-black eyes, as the plates protest the rough treatment with a squeak, squeak, squeak.

There shouldn't be a comma after "eyes".

See, this is where it gets especially confusing in terms of the woman and what exactly she represents to him. This sentence, especially, with "meanness" and "little piggy-black eyes" reeks of his resentment towards her, and yet she is apparently the light of his life. Unless this is a completely different woman, this makes no sense with the rest of the story and the way you've been setting her up.

The muscles bunch beneath her polka dot dress as she scrubs faster and harder. I grit my teeth and mentally urge her on.

Harder.

Faster.

Gotta agree with Blink — my mind immediately went to dirty places with this. Just with the "muscles bunching" and the "harder" and "faster". I'm sure you can see where that's going. Why does he want her to do this harder and faster, anyway? What's the point, for him?

With a sickening crash, something breaks; her hands suddenly plunge, as the ceramics gives way and come out red-streaked and raw.

I can see where this throws readers off. I mean, it shouldn't necessarily throw anyone off, but this combined with the past tense that you use earlier, and the way he remembers her fondly, makes it seem like (the symbolism of the dish breaking aside) like something horrible might have happened to her. It's a bit of a stretch, but it's sort of the only way that the rest of the bits with her make (kind of) sense. Even though they still don't really.

I could see it stretching out before us; getting older, fatter, meaner while the days got cold and dim and short.

The semi-colon should be a colon or a dash, or even a period.

Something had to be done to stop it from playing out this way, a drastic action to radically change the mould of things to come.

I feel like all of this is rushed and obvious and doesn't quite mesh with the narrative style of the rest of the story. Which is to say, you're being really direct again. I think you could leave it at "Something had to be done," and then jump straight to "I'm making quite a mess" without losing anything really. The readers will make the logical jump that this is his effort to break the mold — at least, most of them hopefully will. So, yeah. Cut the rest of that out.

* * *

Okay! Done! I hope that helped a bit. : ) Whatever it might seem by my critique, I actually really enjoyed this a lot; it's an interesting divergence from your usual work, and I think you manage to do it pretty well. As always, if you have any questions or need me to clarify anything, by all means feel free to PM me or something. I'll try my best to help out.

Good luck with editing, and good luck with that creative writing course! This story will be pretty sweet when you're done editing, I think.

Okay, so I'm semi-late for my lecture as it is so I have to leave this at one line: I think I love you Seriously, that was awesome. Thanks a tonne.

Okay, so yeah, you pretty much nailed it. A few things clash here. Stylistically speaking, as regards the descriptions and such, I took note of the issues you pointed out and did a quick edit to clear it a bit. Content-wise, it gets a bit murky. See, the thing is, the actual story changed quite a bit between the first and second drafts and I think some left over elements from the first are clashing with the second. Namely, the thing that is eating him.

Because the contest is based on the idea of a "monster" I wanted it to work on a few different levels. Initially, the story was, he killed his partner and his guilt was eating him, quite literally - well you, the reader, are never meant to know what "it" is but essentially that's what it was to me. Except, in the second draft I thought it would be much better to twist the story around - or rather, I realised that it could be construed in a different way. Basically, I wanted one of either two conclusions to be reached: a) his habit of adhering to anything she says leads to him killing himself at her command - the smashing plate scene, the meanness of her eyes, the automatic deference in the conversation with the TV and the extinguishing of the light were all meant to in some reference that.

Can you see how it could be taken both ways? Him killing her or her killing him? I thought it was actually quite clever (although unintentional, to be honest lol) that the "extinguishing light" reflection doesn't actually say who's monstrous insides are revealed, if not both of them.

Essentially, as regards the apparent conflict in her personality, or the way he perceives her, I saw it as this: In the first scene, with the "ever practical" note, that was the present. [Actually just realised a problem with that line, need to add something there to make it a little more ambiguous as to why she isn't there] And the scene where they both did something whimsical and different was in the past, before they both became robotic [more so for him, as he was to some extent already 'contaminated' but a first for her, which to me gives form to the violence in her] in their movements and feelings, etc. Does that make sense? Does it need to be clearer? Also, since it shifts in time, I take that to account for the shift or confusion of emotions toward her.

The "silver edges" by the way, referred to the blades in front of him. In the egg-beater or whatever it's called. It does need to be more seamless I agree, so if you could help me some more by replying to this and letting me know what you think (if I should keep it to the first storyline? The second? Leave it open for interpretation? [It can be inferred that she eats him at the end, although that by no means is anything definite, just an example.) I think I might have to get rid of the being eaten idea, although when the story changed I substituted 'guilt' for 'habit' as in that very notion which so bound him was actually destroying him on the inside; equally, it could be taken to be his horror at what's happening. In the same way, that is what I meant by 'distance within become greater' - he is, after all, being consumed, though not in the physical sense....Gah! Ambiguous writing. It hurts sometimes


Thanks a bunch for your help, that was awesome. Very, very much appreciated. If you could tell me what, if any thoughts this raises, twould be godly ^^

Cheers

Hey. Sorry it took awhile to get back to you, but here goes:

I don't/can't buy that she "kills" him in any way. For a few reasons:

(1) The light extinguishing bit. First of all, for the same reasons that it's hard to believe that she's his shining light, it's hard to believe she thinks of him like that. Because aside from that initial meeting, there's nothing in the rest of the rest of the story with them that suggests as much.

The other thing is that although we know he's entranced with her, we never get the same sense from her. She never quite reciprocates; it seems like she's interested in him, maybe amused by his moment of whimsy, but there's never any hint that her life revolves around him, or even figures him in any important way.

The thought did cross my mind when I was reading it, that he might be the one who was extinguished at the end, but it doesn't seem plausible given that we don't see how important he is to her.

(2) The washing dishes scene: a couple of things here, too. If this is the moment that she drives him to kill himself, or even encourages him a little, it's hard to tell. He doesn't really adhere to everything that she says, like you mentioned; at least, not within the scenes that you have right now. There's never any point where she says do this and then he does it (the closest is when she asks him if he's paid the bills, but he already has). Besides, the blah routine of his life was already established before she even entered the picture. So if anything, I don't buy that she entraps him, but more that she gets caught up in the monotony of his life.

Also, I read the bits where he describes her as having mean, piggy eyes as more of his resentment and less about her being actually mean. She never does anything that's quite mean, that pushes him; if anything, he's the one who writes her off as a used sports car, who sits at the couch and hopes she'll scrub harder and faster until she breaks the dishes.

As for the actual breaking of the dish, I read that more as something symbolic of their relationship being over and less about her somehow commanding him to kill himself.

(3) He doesn't seem like he is willing to take her commands in any way by the end of the story. If anything, like I mentioned earlier, it seems like she's in the lower position; he describes her as an object, says she's not pretty; she makes dinner and does the dishes as he watches TV or glares at her resentfully. If either of them are in the position of power, it's him.

Also, killing himself at the end seemed less like it was caused by any kind of specific catalyst and more like a gradual growing of rage and tension and despair within him throughout the story. Does that make sense? From I fucking hate it and before, we know he's miserable and sad and a little desperate. So it seems even less likely that she had anything to do with his death.

The killing of his partner and the guilt eating him make a lot of sense, although I like the idea of of this man who follows his same dull routine every single day and then one day just ends his life with an eggbeater. (Although, you know, eggbeaters aren't very efficient killing devices. When I first read this I thought he was shoving himself into a wood-chipper or something, a la Fargo, something he could find at the factory, but whatever.)

I guess what I'm trying to say here is: I don't know what you should go with. It's your call, really. If he kills her, and you did incorporate the guilt as a "monster" that ends up eating him from inside, you'd have to basically write the story from scratch. If she was the one who somehow killed him, or spurred him to kill himself, it might be a little easier. How she would go about doing that, I don't know. She'd have to have a whole lot more personality — and so would he, for that matter. You'd have to show that they were very attached at some point, and that their relationship worked — and then somehow pull out the rug from under them. And also incorporate the notion of habit somewhere in there. Maybe she starts following his routine but resents every minute of it, taking it out on him? It starts to sound like Revolutionary Road, but that's one option.

As it stands right now, though, I don't buy that she has anything to do with the eggbeater incident.

I hope that is at least somewhat helpful. If you need me to clarify anything more, just lemme know.

Thanks so much for everything Smaur, your comments were awesome.

Revised. ^^

[title change = good?]