Painted pretty for baby.

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(For reference, no, this is not a story about a drug trip.)

It was a derelict building. An old farmhouse with no windows and one door standing next to a barn that had been caved in by some long forgotten fire. It was layered in years of field burnings and crop dustings, the former white paint now a rotten yellow-brown with smoker's teeth black shingles to match. Ruined palm trees stood bent and crooked over the dead fields and only added to the debris littering the small clearing in-between the dead farmhouse and the deader barn.
Along the road that passed a good distance from the house sat a tan sedan, covered in dust and holding a group of teens all searching the ruins for some hidden depth. They were five in total, five youths coming to the middle of nowhere just to be somewhere. That's all they really ever did, that or wander through the places that had names and no meaning. They disembarked from the car and removed a few blankets and towels from the trunk, making their way to the surprisingly lush green clearing in-between the buildings.
They cleared away what they could and ignored what they couldn't, and laid out their makeshift cots all across the available space. One of them, a dark, brooding boy with brown hair hanging over his deep-set eyes, sat up and lit a cigarette that immediately assaulted everyone with the strong smell of grape and tar. His female companion snatched the cigarette greedily from him and laughed noiselessly when he pulled her close and laid his head on her stomach, content. Another boy, lanky and stoop shouldered, sat up and hummed to no one in particular, pulling out the longest strands of grass that he could find and twirling them in his fingers till they crumbled into nothing.
A girl across from him tightened the strings on the black hoodie she wore, her blond, red and green dyed bangs bunching up over her sight and concealing her thousand yard stare piercing the gathering stars. The last of them, a solid looking boy with puppy dog eyes and a crooked smile, spread out his arms as if he were accepting some unseen visitor, his fingers stretching out straight to feel and accentuate the moist grass and it's oddly prickly tips.
The sun fell finally over the craggy mountains in the distance and sent out the cold blanket of cooling air that usually follows, making the spread out group bunch up closer together on the wet, matted down grass with a few patches of rich soil. They all lay with their heads on another's lap or stomach, all of them close and warm from something other than their tired heat. As the sun's wavering veil of degraded browns, yellows and purples began to fade and give way to the deep blue canvas of a moonlit night, they all ceased their mingled conversations and laughter, and looked up.
The silence about them created a background ambiance that only enhanced their insignificance in it all. Their eyes became black wells of wonder that swallowed starlight and held the moon as their iris, smiles of inner amusement crossing their faces one after the other and fading just as fast, continuing in an odd, aware loop that circulated among them. The lanky one with the long, bruised fingers reached one hand out to catch the satellite sailing across the stellar landscape, trying to be one with this object made by hands like his yet so far removed from the toils that made it. The girl with the technicolor bangs curled up in a near fetal position next to the sorrow eyed boy with the accepting arms, her back pressed to the grass while her hips remained turned to face the boy, her body contorting to allow the discomfort for just this once.
The smoking pair were in a close embrace, the boy's head pressed to her breast in a sleepy dream with her arms around his shoulders and his leg looped with hers. She hushed his startled breathing and held him closer to let him hear her heart, it's steady, reassuring beat calming him and sending him back into his stargazing awe. Her hair was splayed behind her like a splatter of hay-colored paint on a green background, her pale skin glowing in the soft light emanating from the distant, yet ever caring stars, she trailed her thin fingers along the goosebumps of the dreaming boy and felt them all like pinpricks, her motherly hushing making them vanish as she led her hand across.
The world around them seemed to be falling, sinking, the farmhouse's windows lighting up with some ghostly memory of former life and the barn moaning in it's agony. The structures groaned and stretched and twisted as the small grassy pedestal the five occupied rose up to the heavens, the earth trying to keep them still. The boy with the sad eyes chuckled a mournful chuckle and brought his hand to his face, feeling the damp sweat that had come over him, his fingertips smudging his features like a fresh painting still waiting for eternity to set. He turned his head and kissed the technicolor girl on the forehead, her hair lighting up in almost neon colors that drenched everything and everyone in over-exposed tones. The lanky boy tried to sit up, but found only his arm continuing without him, stretching further and further up into the sky. His outstretched fingers wavered like wisps of smoke and turned the colors of the farthest reaches of space, fine dusts of amethyst, auburn, bistre, deep cerise and heliotrope all converging on his earthly flesh and leaving him sick with color.
The boy in the dream that was awake stirred and looked to the stars again, ignoring the steady shushing sounds coming from his now ash grey compatriot, her color flushing and returning with every slight draw and exhale. One eye rotated while the other stayed shut, his mind swimming in a tunnel cavern of thoughts and improbabilities.
This swirl and dance of awareness and disillusionment confounded all their logic and forced it to be silent as they lay in innocent, adventurous and always distant childlike wonder at the multiverse just beyond their farthest reach.
They lay there, in aimless comradery for a century, brought out of infinity only by the loud whooping of a lone police car. The group shot up and stared with cloudy eyes at the black and white vehicle in the middle of the road. A tall man in a black uniform with a bright flashlight called to them from the far off road, "You kids need to be heading home, its past curfew."
Satisfied that he need not bother with further warnings, he walked back around his car and climbed back in, whooping the silent road once more with his siren and driving off, kicking up stones and pebbles in his wake.
The group stood in a stupor and awoke back to the chilly night that was around them and laughed among themselves, heading back to the car and returning to their conversational demeanor. As they all climbed back into the sedan, the boy with the sorrowful eyes looked back to the windowless farmhouse with one door, and saw the faint light from some distant room beyond his sight. He clenched his eyes shut and looked again, the light slowly fading as the edges of his vision cleared. His crooked smile cracked itself across his face and he shook his head, climbing into the now rowdy car and driving off with the group of dreamers.
In the clearing between the dead farmhouse and the deader barn, near the dry field and the sagging palms, were the depressions of several wondering children, their warmth still clinging to the lonely plot of earth they had filled with fantastic visions and wondering thoughts.
And up above, soared the same satellite a young boy with sky-high arms had just clutched for moments ago, still unaware of it's own, cold freedom and inspiring ambiguity.

The end.

X's and O's,
Eraqio.
PS. Dream with your boots on.
A story's not a story till you've made it up you see.
Look Mexico.




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yeah... well... ok.. right. First things first I guess, i liked it, am i to understand that this is a dream you had, or some musing in your head, if so or if not, well done because for the majority of this peace you manage to keep the whole dream like quality going. This means that you have a good command of the language you use and do not make the whole thing mundane by using the wrong word at the wrong time. It is also helped by the fact you obviously don't mind ambiguity nor seemingly not making sense.
"They lay there, in aimless comradery for a century, brought out of infinity" this is the last sentence of what was pretty much continuous infatuation with the piece. As soon as you mentioned police car i was in the normal world again but thats was kinda the point i suppose. That was exactly what happand to the dreamers in your piece. I know i havn't really given you any rooms for improvement yet, but there always are things to improve.
"They were five in total, five youths coming to the middle of nowhere just to be somewhere." personally i don't like this line, more because of the line previous to it.
"searching the ruins for some hidden depth" This is a bloody good line, clever without being compleatly obvious, telling of what it is like to be a teenager without being a line more fitting for an emo song where as the one above it could have been written by my chemical romance, it's just smacks of trying to hard.

However i didn't really have any other line like that. This is a really good piece, im sure there are some other improvements to be made but i didn't notice them.
Well Done !!
(Any Questions PM me)




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My dear Eraqio, I so love to read your writing. This was a lovely piece.

It was a derelict building.
This is a great first sentence, and I loved it the moment I read it. But, after I read the whole story, I looked back at it and it seemed out of place. That's because the setting of this story is the clearing between the building and the barn. I think an opening sentence about the clearing would be more appropriate.

It was layered in years of field burnings and crop dustings, the former white paint now a rotten yellow-brown with smoker's teeth black shingles to match.
I think this should read, "formerly-white".

They were five in total, five youths coming to the middle of nowhere just to be somewhere.
I love this line.

A girl across from him tightened the strings on the black hoodie she wore, her blond, red and green dyed bangs bunching up over her sight and concealing her thousand yard stare piercing the gathering stars.
I don't understand the end of this sentence. One problem I found with your writing style in this piece is that all of your sentences are so long and they have a lot of modifiers. Sometimes it's hard to understand what you're saying. Like here, you use the present participle "concealing" and then another present participle, "piercing". I think it would sound better if you changed one. For instance, "...bunching up over her eyes (sight is a strange word here, I think) and concealing her thousand-yard stare that pierced the gathering stars." Even then, I think this is maybe too much information for one sentence.

Her hair was splayed behind her like a splatter of hay-colored paint on a green background, her pale skin glowing in the soft light emanating from the distant, yet ever caring stars, she trailed her thin fingers along the goosebumps of the dreaming boy and felt them all like pinpricks, her motherly hushing making them vanish as she led her hand across.
This is kind of ridiculously long.

She hushed his startled breathing and held him closer to let him hear her heart, it's steady, reassuring beat calming him and sending him back into his stargazing awe.
...
The world around them seemed to be falling, sinking, the farmhouse's windows lighting up with some ghostly memory of former life and the barn moaning in it's agony.
...
And up above, soared the same satellite a young boy with sky-high arms had just clutched for moments ago, still unaware of it's own, cold freedom and inspiring ambiguity.
These should all be "its" because they show possession.

...all converging on his earthly flesh and leaving him sick with color.
So beautiful.

Good job! This is just so dazzling.
Rachel
"He found his voice tended either to disappear or to come out too loud." -William Golding




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Eraqio, dear, that was simply amazing. I loved the whole of it all. It was so dreamingly real. I believe you have much more potential. Keep working hard.
I <3 Macaroni&Cheese!!! :)

Got YWS?




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Eraqio, this is my first time reading your writing, and I have to say I'm impressed. You has a fan, mister! :P

Your writing is very beautiful. I'm going to first get the nitpicks out of the way, then praise this piece like I should.

An old farmhouse with no windows and one door standing next to a barn that had been caved in by some long forgotten fire.


I think this sentence needs some clarification. Perhaps use a comma? Is the door standing next to the barn, or the old farmhouse. The old farmhouse, I think. ;)

She hushed his startled breathing and held him closer to let him hear her heart, it's steady, reassuring beat calming him and sending him back into his stargazing awe.


Wrong its. It should be its.
Her hair was splayed behind her like a splatter of hay-colored paint on a green background, her pale skin glowing in the soft light emanating from the distant, yet ever caring stars, she trailed her thin fingers along the goosebumps of the dreaming boy and felt them all like pinpricks, her motherly hushing making them vanish as she led her hand across.


Should be two sentences, not one. Put a period and begin a new sentence there.

The world around them seemed to be falling, sinking, the farmhouse's windows lighting up with some ghostly memory of former life and the barn moaning in it's agony.


This is just suggestion of mine. You don't have to agree with it. I felt that the word 'lighting' conjures an image quite contrary to the falling and sinking description. Also, wrong its again. Should be its. Remember 'it's' is basically 'it is', hence the apostrophe. Whereas, 'its' means belonging to it. 'Its' is a possessive pronoun.

One eye rotated while the other stayed shut, his mind swimming in a tunnel cavern of thoughts and improbabilities.


Maybe it's just me, but the first part of the sentence gives a very creepy image that does not go along with the story. Too eerie. In the latter part of the sentence, I think you should use only one of the two words that I put in bold.

"You kids need to be heading home, its past curfew."


This time you would use the it's with the apostrophe.

Try it this way:

1. It's past curfew time.
2. Its past curfew time.

1) Remove the apostrophe and read the sentence as 'it is'.
It is past curfew time. The sentence sounds okay that way. Hence, it's the 'it's' with the apostrophe.
2) So, it is obviously not the second its.

1. I threw away it's cage
2. I threw away its cage.

1) I threw away it is cage. See, that does not sound right.
2) I threw away its cage. That sounds right.

So when ever confused between which 'its' to go for, see if the 'its' can be put as 'it is'. If it can, then it's the one with the apostrophe, if it can't be, then it's the one without the apostrophe.

Now on to the praise. xD

Really, I could go on about what I love about this piece. You have just the right amount of description in each place. Your words flow very smoothly, and I can see they have been chosen very careful to fit the mood of the story that you have created. Ah, the mood. That is basically what I love about this piece. You have succeeded in creating a very realistic mood in this story. A very realistically dreamy mood, if I may say such a thing. There was poetic delicacy to this piece. I found myself reading each word separately and carefully, relishing in the perfection of its placement. Lovely!

: ) I look forward to reading more of your work.

Keep writing!
-Zehra
I'm a godmother, that's a great thing to be, a godmother. She calls me god for short, that's cute, I taught her that.
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Hey Era,

It was a derelict building. An old farmhouse with no windows and one door standing next to a barn that had been caved in by some long forgotten fire.< Is the door standing next to the barn, or the entire farm house? You need a comma after “door” if it’s the farmhouse. It was layered in years of field burnings and crop dustings, the former white paint now a rotten yellow-brown with smoker's teeth black shingles to match. Ruined palm trees stood bent and crooked over the dead fields and only added to the debris littering the small clearing in-between the dead farmhouse and the deader barn. < “deader” is horrible here. I would suggest you never use the word again. xD Instead right here I suggest you lose it and “the” and merely have “dead farmhouse and barn.” We already know the barn is worse off, because of your description.

Along the road that passed a good distance from the house sat a tan sedan, covered in dust and holding a group of teens all searching the ruins for some hidden depth. < The sentence is too full. Separate it into two at the point of introducing the teens. They were five in total, five youths coming to the middle of nowhere just to be somewhere. That's all they really ever did, that or wander through the places that had names and no meaning. They disembarked from the car and removed a few blankets and towels from the trunk, making their way to the surprisingly lush green clearing in-between the buildings. < I don’t know if you need “green” here. The lush suggests it already.
They cleared away what they could and ignored what they couldn't, and laid out their makeshift cots all across the available space. One of them, a dark, brooding boy with brown hair hanging over his deep-set eyes, sat up and lit a cigarette that immediately assaulted everyone with the strong smell of grape and tar. < Again, the sentence is too full, or too long. Cut it in half – I’d suggest at the point of “that immediately”. His female companion snatched the cigarette greedily from him and laughed noiselessly when he pulled her close and laid his head on her stomach, content. Another boy, lanky and stoop shouldered, sat up and hummed to no one in particular, pulling out the longest strands of grass that he could find and twirling them in his fingers till they crumbled into nothing.

A girl across from him tightened the strings on the black hoodie she wore, her blond, red and green dyed bangs bunching up over her sight and concealing her thousand yard stare piercing the gathering stars. < This sentence is too full. I’d probably cut it off at “stare” and not have the rest. You probably don’t need “dyed” either, the green isn’t natural, we can assume the others aren’t either. The last of them, a solid looking boy with puppy dog eyes and a crooked smile, spread out his arms as if he were accepting some unseen visitor, his fingers stretching out straight to feel and accentuate the moist grass and it's oddly prickly tips.

The sun fell finally over the craggy mountains in the distance and sent out the cold blanket of cooling air that usually follows, making the spread out group bunch up closer together on the wet, matted down grass with a few patches of rich soil. < You don’t need the comment about the soil, it’s unnecessary. They all lay with their heads on another's lap or stomach, all of them close and warm from something other than their tired heat. As the sun's wavering veil of degraded browns, yellows and purples began to fade and give way to the deep blue canvas of a moonlit night, they all ceased their mingled conversations and laughter, and looked up.

The silence about them created a background ambiance that only enhanced their insignificance in it all. < This sounds terribly scripted. Lovely, but scripted. “ambience” and “enhanced” in the situation feel wrong. Too philosophical or something. I’m not sure exactly.

Okay! So I’ve only directly commented on a few here, obviously. ^^ It’s about a page of the story itself, it’s all I needed to get the general gist of your problem. It’s a beautiful story with a beautiful feeling about it, and you’ve done well to integrate emotion in each section. You should be happy with it as a whole, but there are definitely issues within the piece.

You have to let go of some of your description. It’s getting in the way of your narrative even in the first paragraph. The sentences are too full and hard to read, I keep wanting to stop at one point only to find that there is more I have to read. This wouldn’t be so bad if the “more” was anything that actively contributed to the story, but it doesn’t always. You also have a love of long sentences, which would also be okay but they’re too long in many parts, you’re telling too much at us without giving us a break. We need to soak your description in slowly, drawing each little detail into a full relief. Right now, we can’t. I can’t, because there’s too much all the time. That extra description and extra little note or comment throws everything out and I have to start the sentence over.

You’ve definitely got something lovely here, but it needs some revising and editing. Hit me up when you’ve done some more to it, and I’ll give it a look.

*Hearts* Le Penguin.
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.




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there is not really much I can say that has not already been said.
I thoroughly enjoyed this piece and I loved the opening paragraph, even if the story didn't really take place in the derelict building that was so beautifully described.


They were five in total, five youths coming to the middle of nowhere just to be somewhere.
this was also my favourite line (I think someone mentioned this already!). It is so strange yet so philosophical to picture there youths coming to the middle of nowhere just so they could be somewhere. Very well done.

An old farmhouse with no windows and one door standing next to a barn that had been caved in by some long forgotten fire.
and as already said by someone else (damn, everyone's beaten me to all the good stuff XD) this is a bit confusing and you need to say whether the door is next to the barn or the farmhouse is next to the barn? I'm confused just typing this. Haha.

Overall, a fabulous, dreamy piece! congrats




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I';ll try and work systematically:

I would try and rephrase the word 'deader' in the first paragraph.

Try tan-coloured sedan instead of tan sedan.

Ok, i couldn't pick too many other trivial mistakes but there were only a couple of other ones and i'm sure that you could sneak around and find them.

My only concern is that the narrator seems to be assuming a hell of a lot, and since there is no dialogue, his voice seems far too authoratarian to seem believable.

I just think that you need to tone down the judgemental tone a little bit, add in a few sentances of dialogue to give the characters some sort of personality of their own that isn't instructed by the narrator and perhaps add a few little features to one or more of the characters that makes them individual. A kid could be smoking, but the way he held it was strange or the girl tied the hoodie three separate times before settling on a tightness of cord.

Just a few suggestions, i hope you enjoy.

Buddy.



It usually takes more than three weeks to prepare a good impromptu speech.
— Mark Twain