Sixteen

A/N: Rated 16+ for language, subject matter, imagery, etc. First story posted here! *sits on hands nervously*

Sixteen

Black open-toed platform heels hit the pavement, sweeping across it like a spring breeze. The notorious click of the heels was drowned out by the city noises, which pervaded through every street. Adding at least four inches of lift, the heels propelled the already-tall woman to even greater heights. Her sandy complexion was accentuated by her fire engine-red lipstick, recently applied. She curled her lips as she turned the corner, tugging down her skirt. Dark eyes surveyed the street, which currently enjoyed the company of many other women in similarly risqué attire. Davora stumbled slightly—It's the heels, she thought—as she approached the nearest brick wall.

The sky was a muted blue as it began to coax the moon. Yet, the sun resolutely shined overhead, illuminating the quiet street of the night-walkers. Some of the women were relaxing in broad daylight, enjoying the reprieve from their work. Still more had retreated to their apartments, taking on the nocturnal lifestyle. Few paid the passing teenager any regard beyond their initial inspection.

Davora ran her fingers through her hair as she glanced at her watch. The more she looked at it, the slower the second hand went. A soft curse escaped her as she turned away.

"What're you doing, birthday girl?"

The voice that penetrated the cold air was harsh, but Davora's eyes lit up. Turning towards the source of the greeting, Davora stared into the chocolate-brown eyes of Sammy Hanson. The girl was rail thin—quite unlike Davora, whose figure could only be described as voluptuous—and just a few inches taller than Davora. Sammy rubbed her eyes, as if trying to efface the bruises that hung restlessly beneath them. As soon as she recognized the girl, Davora chuckled.

"Waiting for my watch to go faster," Davora retorted, sticking out her tongue. "If I'm too early, I'll look like a loser." Although Sammy rolled her eyes, there was a twinkle in them, and she couldn't suppress a sneaking smile.

"You look like you've got plans," she said. A wind chill hit Sammy's frame, and she shuddered, but the smile endured.
Davora nodded, crossing her hands behind her back as she stared at a fat pigeon grazing nearby. She glanced down at the ground before explaining: "Kaylee and me are gonna go see a movie at 5:30—her treat." A smile flitted across her lips before Sammy reached down to ruffle the girl's hair. "Hey, stop it!"

"You just looked so happy—I couldn't help myself," Sammy said as she pulled her hands back in surrender. "I hope you have a sweet sixteen, darlin'~" She glanced down at Davora's watch, grinning. "And on that note, I think you should get going."

Squeaking at the time, which had chosen to finally move at a reasonable pace as soon as she'd stopped watching it, the redhead mumbled cursory farewells under her breath. This time, she knew exactly why she was stumbling as she raced down the streets. Goddamn heels.

The streets were only beginning to saturate as the nine-to-five crowd headed home—whether that was an apartment or a dusty bar stool. Several men tried to stop her in her tracks, but Davora's dismissive hands pushed them aside. As the crowd filled out around her, Davora shivered and hugged her bare shoulders, slowing her pace. The moon finally prevailed over the sun, which was setting to the west of her. In the fast-approaching moonlight, many smartly-dressed women eyed her with contempt. Yet, Davora's face was as empty as a blank canvas.

When she finally arrived at the designated alley several blocks away, Davora stopped to recompose herself, kneeling over. "Kaylee?" she called out into the air. Her voice was greeted with silence. Blinking, Davora stared down at her watch. It was after five o'clock. Reaching down her low-cut top, Davora retrieved her cell phone. She hit speed dial 1 and pressed the phone against her ear, tapping her foot against the asphalt.

The ringer was heard deeper in the alley. Raising a brow, Davora called out again. "Kaaaay, not funny!" No reply. "Hey, Kaylee, we're gonna be late for the movie. I am not gonna miss Orlando's pretty face just 'cause you're fooling around." She stepped deeper into the alley, squinting in the darkness. "Kayl—"

The phone slid from her fingers.

Kaylee's still, crumpled form lay feet away from her phone. Her eyes were open and unseeing, widened in terror, and her mouth was rooted in a despairing scream. Between them, two trails of tears stained her cheeks. Her body was twisted like a rag doll. Kaylee was silent.

Kaylee was dead.

Blood. Blood in her pretty pin-straight blonde hair. Blood drenching her calloused hands. Blood slipping down her exposed legs. Blood dripping down her chin. Blood caked beneath her icy-blue nails. Blood nipping the soles of her feet. Blood on the ticket stubs.

Carved on her chest was a single word—WHORE.

Davora gagged, turned around, and ran.

I love the detail in this! Are you going to continue the story?! Seriously, you should if you havn't already because I really want to read more. I don't recall any grammar errors, and your vocab was beyond excellent. The similies at the beginning were also really lovely. A bit of a poet in you, eh?

I really enjoyed the way you describe the city, the world, the landscape. I had a few points that threw me off, firstly is davora a hooker as well? If not, how is she so familiar with these night walkers? I also really disliked the detail of her gettin gspit on, it's way too over the top a scene for an otherwise realistic piece.

There's great moments here like the use of repetition in the discovery that kaylee had died and the description of the streets and davora's dress, reminds me of some of my writing styles and was nice to see how well you managed it.

Overall its a solid piece that could do simply with some tightening in description (especially the dialogue, which came off a little fluffy and unrealistic to me) and it'd be even better than it already is. Hope you continue the piece!

Welcome! It's always unnerving to submit your first work anywhere. It'll get easier with time.

So, overall, this was a pretty good little story. The character of Davora is nice, easy to imagine, and consistent. Your descriptions are thorough...but a little heavy.

1) Adverbs. Adverbs are many an author's enemy. I may sound like I'm touting convention, but this is something I believe in. Adverbs, by nature, modify the way that something is done. More specifically, they modify the word the author chose. But why modify the word you chose instead of just using a more appropriate word?
For example, I could say:
"smiling smugly"
or I could say
"smirk."
More relevant, though, is the fact that sometimes the words are good enough on their own. Instead of "mocking harshly" one can just "mock." This is actually the one that you're guilty of more often than not.
So let's look at a few examples in your piece:

sticking out her tongue petulantly.

"Petulantly" isn't necessary. First, because a lot of people don't know what it means and you may have them reaching for a dictionary in the middle of your story. Two, because sticking out your tongue is already a childish sort of activity so you don't need to add words that repeat the childish idea.

tapping her foot against the asphalt impatiently.

How else does one tap one's foot if not impatiently? By my foot-tapping-standards, the "impatiently" is unnecessary.

Her body was twisted unnaturally, like a rag doll.

Again, is there any natural way for a body to be twisted like a rag doll? I think not. So why make the distinction and clog up the climax?

She looked down at her shoulders briefly

You could replace the "looking briefly" with "glance", since glance is a brief look by definition. "She glanced down at her shoulders..." Though I'm not sure what the whole looking at her shoulders part serves. Is it supposed to be a shy gesture? Then it might be a little more conventional and understandable if she were to look at the ground or if you were to say that she was avoiding eye contact.

she stared intently at a fat pigeon

The "intently" doesn't add much to how she stares at this pigeon.

2) It's okay to use "said." In fact, it's often preferred. When you use every other possible word than "said" it begins to sound like a circus act where we're juggling words and trying to continuously top the one that came before it.
"Davora retorted"
"she observed"
"Sammy offered"
"she called"
You don't use "said" at all throughout the piece. It strikes me as a little strange.

3) The wording can be a little clunky at times.

The voice that penetrated the cold air was gravely and harsh, but Davora's eyes lit up as soon as she heard it. Turning towards the source of the smoky greeting,

Wouldn't "but Davora's eyes lit up as soon as she heard it. " be enough?
And the "turning towards the source of the smoky greeting" is a mouthful.

Upon confirming the identity of the pallid girl before her

Another mouthful.

Sammy countered the prior assault on maturity by sticking her own tongue out.

The gesture is supposed to be playful, but the wording is not. It's rigid and formal.

This time, she held no doubt about the origins of her various stumbles

Mouthful.

watching her breath dissipate with dulled interest.

Not sure what this line contributes.

4) Some adjectives are unnecessary and don't add much to it. We can gather as much from the context.

Several ravenous men tried to stop her in her tracks

"ravenous" seems unnecessary. One, it's a bit too powerful of a word. When I imagine someone eating ravenously, I imagine crumbs flying everywhere, two hands, bent over the table. So for a man to be ravenous toward a passing girl...? Inappropriate, to say the least Two, if random men on the street are trying to stop a lady, we get the idea of what kind of men they are without any other description.

Anyway, overall, it just seems like there are relatively few nouns that escape without an adjective before or after it. There's almost a 1:1 ratio of adjective to noun. And it doesn't have to be that way. I understand it could be a stylistic choice, but as a reader, I found them to be restrictive and burdensome to the pacing. It's not a painting you've submitted. It's a story. We don't have to know every single detail down to how soft her locks were and how sandy her complexion was and how helplessly she squeaked at the time. In the end, what the reader wants to know is "who is she?" "what's her deal?" and "how does she deal with it?" You don't have to strip it down to bare bones, but you do have to achieve a balance between ease of reading and pictures you're painting.

Other thing(s)

Clatter.

I find that unnecessary. Just let the phone slip from her fingers. That way, we totally forget the phone exists because we're just so in the moment then.

So anyway...is Davora a prostitute? That's the feeling I'm getting, but then we learn she's just going out with her girlfriend to a movie. But when we first meet her, she's walking the street with "the company of many other women in similarly risqué attire." So just a bit of confusion there.

And you ended the story right before we could get an honest reaction out of Davora. I gather that it was a decent place to end, but it still leaves us wanting to learn more about Davora and her situation.

Now, don't be disheartened by my lengthy review. Overall, the story was interesting, Davora well established, and the description vivid. It's just that some of the wording and descriptions brought the pace of the story to a crawl at times while I disentangled myself from some of the clauses. I'd like to see what Davora is like in multiple scenarios...how she reacts to the death of her friend, how she deals with it, and how it changes her. But that's where the story ended, so that's where it ended. Anyway, I'll look forward to more work from you. Chin up.