Young Writers Society

It took me two years to become a postman. To pass the test I had to carry a seventy pound bag of mail and when I first picked it up I fell over and the instructor laughed at me so I picked it back up and could carry it for a long time but later that night I hurt a lot and I was mad that I had to carry such a heavy bag just to drive a car and deliver the mail.

I deliver the mail on Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays. The first time I delivered the mail I got to deliver Dennis Somerset’s mail which made me happy. Mr. Somerset is a famous person. He is a weather man and tells me the weather every morning but never at night and anyone who is on TV must be a famous person. Sometimes I am jealous that Mr. Somerset is on TV and I am not because I wish I was famous but then I don’t know why I would ever be on TV so I feel sorry for ever being mad at Mr. Somerset because he is the best weather man ever. I watch him every morning. If he was not the weather man I would not want to be a postman, especially in the winter. He is always right and he knows when it will snow or not, which makes me happy because I do not like the snow and then I can know the snow is coming. If it snows I still have to deliver the mail unless it is real bad snow but it never is real bad snow, and I cannot drive well in the snow, so if it is going to snow I like to know before it happens. My coworker James puts chains on my truck’s wheels.

Most of the time, Mr. Somerset receives coupons and bills in the mail. His mail is boring but I know he is not a boring person. Mrs. Somerset also receives mail but her mail is boring too and I do not know what she is like but I don’t care because she is not a weather woman and she is not Mr. Somerset. Every time I deliver his mail I have to get out of my truck and walk to his door and push it through the mail slot. One time I asked Mr. Somerset why he did not have a mailbox like everyone else and he said it was because he wanted to keep the postmen in shape and I laughed and he laughed so we laughed together. I was happy because I was laughing with someone who was famous and so I knew that Mr. Somerset liked me.

It was three months ago that Mr. Somerset gave me a letter to deliver to his friend. I felt like an important person because Mr. Somerset trusted me with his mail, but not just coupons and bills. It was real mail. It was addressed to Leopold Tapette of 232 Ridgecrest Dr. I knew Leopold but only because I knew his house and his house was on my route. I did not know why Mr. Somerset was sending mail to Mr. Tapette but I knew it must be important because Mr. Somerset never sent mail to anyone.

When I took Mr. Somerset’s letter home with me I knew I was doing something I shouldn’t do. It is a federal offence to tamper with mail and I should know better than to open someone else’s mail because I am a postman but I wanted to know what Mr. Somerset said to Mr. Tapette.

I stared at the envelope for a few hours because I did not know how I should open it and I also felt guilty for wanting to open it but that did not stop me from opening it. Finally I decided to open it the way they had told us to open something when you forget to put the check in with the bill. I heated some water in a tea kettle and then held the envelope over the steam and the flap came off when I slid a knife between it and the envelope was open.

November 30
Dear Leopold Tapette,

I hope you don’t mind me writing you a letter. I asked Mike from the YMCA for your address. (He has a book of all the members contact info.)

I heard that your parents died in a car accident. I guess that’s why you stopped coming to swimming lessons? I’m sorry I wasn’t at their funeral. I didn’t hear about it until a while ago. Are you living by yourself? My father just died a few years ago. It isn’t the same as what you’re dealing with, but if you need someone, an adult to help you, I’m here for you. Or if you need some money or somewhere to stay. I didn’t get to know you so well when you did go to swimming lessons, but you got on quick and you were smart. I mean, you did get a 35 on your ACT the first time you took it. Of course you’re smart. I’d hate to see a kid so gifted as you are loose their life through such a tragedy.

Maybe going back to swimming lessons would give you something to hang onto. When my father died, I spent the whole day swimming laps. It gave me something to do instead of think about it. It might help you. If you need a ride I can take you. You could teach the class next year, when you turn eighteen. Scott quit so I have to teach both classes. You’d be able to take the real little kids off my hands; they call me Mr. Weather man. Isn’t that silly?

Please write back as soon as you can, or call me. Do you still have my phone number?

I hope everything is all right,
Dennis Somerset

When I finished reading the letter I felt even guiltier and I put it back and glued the flap down. I was worried for Leopold so I knew then that I wanted to read more of Mr. Somerset’s letters. Mr. Somerset was a good person I knew because only good people got really nice jobs, like being a weather man, and if he cared so much about Leopold than I knew I should care about Leopold too. I thought about writing my own letter to Leopold and telling him that once my dog died and we put him in the back yard with the other dead dogs but then I knew that I didn’t know him and it would be weird.

The next day I delivered the letter to Leopold Tapette’s house. He was standing outside next to his mailbox and waiting for me. I thought he was waiting for me because he knew I had opened his letter but when I saw his mailbox I knew that was not the reason.

His mail box looked like it had been chewed on by a monster and then spit back out and put on sideways. Regulation says I cannot deliver mail if the mailbox is destroyed so I knew that Leopold was waiting for me to give him his mail.

“Hello Mr. Leopold Tapette,” I said when I handed him his mail.

“Don’t call me that. It’s Leo.”

“Why do you not want to be called Leopold?” I asked this because I thought Leopold was a nice name and I didn’t know why someone would not want to be called by a nice name.

He looked at me like I had said something that he did not understand then he said, “Leopold is a stupid name.”

So I did not call him Leopold anymore because it was a stupid name.

Leo looked at his mail for a while and I didn’t drive away even though I should have. His eyes were puffy and dark and his skin looked like bed sheets drape over his bones.

“What happened to your mailbox?” I asked after a while. He didn’t seem bothered that I had not driven away yet so I didn’t think he would mind if I asked.

He coughed into his hands and tucked the mail under his arm and laughed. “Kids in the neighborhood thought it would be a good idea to bash up The Fag’s mailbox.”

I pretended to be sorting through the mail for the next houses so that I had a reason to still be there. “What is a fag?” I asked.

Leo laughed and said never mind. After that he said goodbye and went back into his house.

The rest of the day I thought about Leo and how he looked dead and how his mailbox had been beat up. I wanted to ask my coworker James what a fag was but I was too embarrassed because the way Leo had said it told me it was not a good thing.

The next time I was delivering mail Leo had a new mailbox and the red flag on the side of it was sticking up. It was a hard one with concrete inside of it. I was glad he had bought this mail box because that meant no one could bash his mail box anymore but that also meant I may never see him again.

This time I knew I could not take the letter home with me. I felt bad for wanting to open the letter but it would be worse if someone found the letter at my house, where it should not be. I took the letter with me and stopped outside of Millie Baker’s house.

Mrs. Baker is a nice woman with a beautiful mailbox. It is white with flowers and birds painted on the side of it. I like sitting outside of her house even if I don’t have letters to read because she has such a nice garden. I have always wanted to get out of my truck and go smell the flowers in her garden but I knew Mrs. Baker wouldn’t like it if I did that.

Honestly I did not want to open the letter. I knew that no matter how I did it Mr. Somerset would know I opened it. When I stabbed the envelope with my letter opener I hoped he would not care if I closed the envelope’s wound with tape.

December 5
Dear Dennis Somerset,

Yes, my parents are dead.

No, I don’t want to go to your stupid swimming lessons.

Thanks for caring. =)

PS: Don’t call me Leopold

Leo

I put the letter back in and taped the envelope with scotch tape. I didn’t want to think about what Leo had written so I finished my route and delivered the letter and then I went home.

I tried not to think about the letter the rest of the day but I did anyway. I didn’t understand why Leo was so mean to Mr. Somerset when he had been so nice in his letter. It made me want to tell Leo that he should say sorry to Mr. Somerset and thank him for all his kindness, but I knew I could not do that. Secretly I was also glad I did not write Leo the letter about my dead dog because then he would have written me a mean letter too and I did not want a mean letter written to me.

For a while I only delivered coupons and bills to Mr. Somerset and Leo never received any mail. I stayed away from Mrs. Baker’s house, except to deliver mail, because she kept asking me about her Home & Garden magazine even though I didn’t have it.

When I saw Mr. Somerset standing outside of his house and holding a letter I was happy again. I hoped that it was a letter to Leo and it was.

December 12
Leo,

Thank you for coming to the Y. Your last letter worried me. You know I’ve always cared about you, Leo. Why don’t you go to school anymore, either? It worries me that you’ve changed so much since your parents died. I know you’re happy, but what will you do when you get older? And you are so smart. I know I already said it, but you can’t let this ruin your whole life. I can help you, and we can work through this pain. You’ll become famous for something, I’m sure.

Before I could finish reading the letter, I heard Mrs. Baker coming out of her house. I put the letter under my seat and smiled at her.

She walked down next to my mail truck and smiled at me. Millie Baker looks just like one of the house wives from Leave it to Beaver. “Excuse me, Mr….?” She was looking for my name tag but I don’t have one.

“My name is Emmett Pryth.”

Mrs. Baker makes me nervous because she reminds me of my mom. My mom never liked me, and so I was sure that Mrs. Baker didn’t like me either.

“Mr. Pryth, I still have not received my Home & Garden magazine.” She was wiping her hands on her cooking apron. The apron looked dirty but her hands looked clean. I didn’t understand why she was wiping her hands on the apron, unless she was trying to make them dirty too.

I looked through my piles of mail until I found hers. There was no magazine for Home & Garden in it. I did not know what to tell her.

“Mr. Pryth, I have called the magazine company and they have sent it to me. Where is my magazine?” She continued to wipe her hands on the apron. It almost looked like she was cleaning a knife off, but there was no knife in her hand.

“Have you talked to the Post Master, Mrs. Baker?” I tried not to stare at her hands while I talked to her and instead I looked at her face. She is kind of ugly because she has hair on her top lip and women weren’t meant to look like men.

“Yes, I have. In fact I should have received my magazine yesterday.”

The way she was staring at me made me feel uncomfortable. I think she was thinking that I had stolen her magazine but I did not understand for sure. Just in case, I told her I didn’t have her Home & Garden magazine and that I would never take it or need it because I live in an apartment with a dirt patch out front and I am not allowed to plant flowers. I also told her that I liked her garden a lot and that I wished I could have one just like hers. I hoped that maybe this would make her like me but she only made a funny noise and went back inside.

I finished reading the letter a few houses away from her. I don’t like Mrs. Baker as much anymore, even if her garden is pretty.

I guess since you don’t have a phone line and don’t want me to pay for one, I will continue to write you letters. I’ll have to think up some excuses if we ever plan to meet again. When I told my wife I had to stay after because a student got hurt, she seemed a bit skeptical. I don’t think she would guess about what is really going on, but we may need to find another way.

Are you sure you are all right with this? I know it’s weird. You’re almost eighteen though. It isn’t that weird, if you think about it. I hope you don’t think of me as a bad person. I don’t normally take advantage of young men when they’re in the throws of grief.

Thinking of the weather (Always?)
Dennis

Weird... very weird... And yet good...

I was a little confused by the style of this piece. It really made the mailman seem simple or mentally slow or something. I don't know if that was your intent, but that was what I got from it.

I liked the first paragraph. I can't quite put my finger on why, but it was great stuff.

Is this going to be continued? From the '1' I kind of assume it is. I would love to see what happens after this.

With the grammar and such, you have some long run-on sentences. I'm not really sure what to tell you to do with them, since I'm not sure if the retarded mailman thing is intentional or not. It makes for a great character and the sentences that run on help create that ideal, but if that wasn't what you were going for, then you're going to need to go back and fix that.

Yet, I kind of like the entire character of the mailman the way he is. A very original character

Nice job. If you do continue this, please PM when you put up the next part.

*applause*

~GryphonFledgling

Yes, Emmett is mentally retarded or at least slow. I'm not sure what he has. You know how characters just show up and are a certain way? *hugs Emmett* But I love him! And yes there will be more, just as soon as I can find time to clean those parts up.

Thanks Gryphon! If there is something you would like for me to critique in return just PM me.

I'm afraid I'll have to say I didn't enjoy reading this much, but I think it could be a good piece with some work. I just found the beginning a bit tedious, although it greatly improved as it got further on, and that's where the potential shines through a bit more.

There was a lot of repetition, which was distracting, and yes, a lot of very long sentences, and quite a lot of rambling sections which didn't add anything to it.

The style and tone I think could do with some work, particularly at the beginning; it wasn't really apparant to me that the mailman was, for want of a better word, a bit slow, until about half way through.

I do like the beginning sentence, I thought it was a good opening, but again, it runs away with itself and then I almost lost interest in the next paragraph.

Try and keep your sentence structure tighter and avoid phrases that come across as awkward gramatically (does that make sense? I'm not sure...).

But like I said, good opening sentence, lots of potential; waiting to see a revised version, I bet it will be fabulous!

Wow. I have to say, this was very interesting to read. I liked it a lot. Keep writing. I also have to agree with the first poster, the first paragraph was really intriguing.

I'm not going to lie. That was incredibly boring. Downright painful to get through.

This style is not working... he doesn't seem retarded; he just seems like a terrible writer. The run-on sentences strung up in a row like that are headache-inducing. I think the style can work, but not as a big long story. In snippets it's bearable; when it dominates the whole narrative it sucks.

The opening paragraphs don't suck me in: that mailbag story seems like a cheap ploy to make us feel sorry for a character we hardly even know; and what sympathy the reader does feel is lost as Emmett reveals himself to write in an incredibly annoying way and snoops through people's mail and writes big long boring paragraphs that states boring actions in the most boring way possible and -- urgh. Reminds me a bit of Hemingway.

Who laughs at a retarded guy, anyway?

And the whole "story from retarded person's POV" concept by itself seems cliched to me.

Typos:

"Leo had bought I new mailbox and the red flag on the side was sticking up."

"Please write back as son as you can, or call me."

Soon.

Anyway, yeah. Thought it was bad. Maybe I'm wrong, but. *shrug*

Prokaryote

Um... sort of like Charlie in "Flowers for Algernon". But first, you need to make it clear that he has a disablity, because otherwise, uh, it sounds sort of horrible. I mean, you tried, you really did, but you didn't do a good job of putting yourself in the MCs shoes. His voice would have been different, more confused, anxious, self-conscious, and yet confident and innocent. This just seems like run on sentences and bad writing. I admit that at first I was confused, because the very first sentence sounded like a high IQ piece, and then it went...downhill. Very steeply dowhill.

I know it's hard to put yourself in the shoes of someone who has a difference hard to even comprehend (how many times have I hopefully picked up a book written about a character with synesthesia and hated the obvious way it was only read about, not known), but you need to go around for a whole day, slowing down. Make your thoughts run slower, drink tea, I don't know! Do something! Make yourself understand what it's like. Or go spend time with someone who has Down Syndrome, or is missing parts of a chromosome. Then write the way they talk. You'll see-it'll get better.

I'm reviewing as I read so... :

It took me two years to become a postman. To pass the test I had to carry a seventy pound bag of mail and when I first picked up the bag I fell over and the instructor laughed at me so I picked it back up and could carry it for a long time but later that night I hurt a lot and I was mad that I had to carry such a heavy bag just to drive a car and deliver mail.

Okey, first off, I liked the first sentence because it was a different sort of beginning, but then you sort of wander off into this long/rambly sentence. It's easily fixed though. Separate it into a few shorter sentences.

Sometimes I am jealous that Mr. Somerset is on TV and I am not because I wish I was famous but then I don’t know why I would ever be on TV so I feel sorry for ever being mad at Mr. Somerset because he is the best weather man ever.

Alright, I'm getting that the character has some sort of mental disability, and I'm guessing that's why he's rambling. But you keep switching from choppy sentences to long run-ons. Personally I think the shorter sentences seem more erratic and more like how a mentally disabled person would talk. (Not that I really know anything about it.)

My coworker James puts chains on my truck’s wheels.

My coworker[comma] James[comma] puts chains on my truck's wheels.

Most of the time, Mr. Somerset received coupons and bills in the mail. His mail was boring but I knew he was not a boring person.

Starting at the beginning of that paragraph you switched into the past tense.

Please write back as son as you can, or call me.

As soon as

Leo had bought I new mailbox and the red flag on the side was sticking up

Leo had bought a new mailbox...

PS: Don’t call me Leopold
Leo

Post Scripts generally come after the posts. Hehe.

And you are so smart.

You are sounds a little awkward in Mr. Somerset's reply letter. Change it to you're.

Okey! End of nit-picky stuff.

So, I really liked it. I agree that the main character is sort of Flowers for Algernon-esque, but I liked it anyways. Mrs. Baker was scary! :-O Hehe.

The thing with Mr. Somerset and Leo was sad. But it was a really creative idea.

Great job. Overall it was an amazing piece.

My dear Till,

...I actually set foot in the literary forums again, just for you. You owe me one. ^^ But of course, one is humanly incapable of staying away from your work. We need to suck the talent out of you or something, sell it in bottles on Amazon.com for five bucks apiece, like they do with bits of the Berlin Wall when you visit Germany. Or better yet, horde it for ourselves. To be taken only in severe cases of writers' block; side effects include a fascination with experimental prose, a love for tanz-metal and drowsiness; do not drive or operate machinery...


Characterization:

(1) Emmett - I think you've got very sound character here. "Flowers for Algernon" sans Algernon, which is to say, in my opinion, that you've successfully grasped the air of a mentally retarded individual. The naïveté and relative ignorance (stupidity with a neutral rather than negative connotation) of his manner is believable, as is general deference (he calls everyone Mr./Mrs.) And I think that the prose reflects that manner more than adequately; I can imagine how difficult it was to chop out all of the Dostoyevskyan predilections towards brilliant turns of phrase and extended metaphors, haha. So. That having been said, when I read this piece through the first time around, I was prepared to declare that I enjoyed it, but that I enjoyed it somewhat less than, say, "The Accused". The latter better showcased your talent, I would have said. I don't want to see you limit yourself by a sparse voice, I would have said. But a second read-through renders that argument wholly groundless. This piece worked solely because its tone was so far divorced from the brilliant turns of phrase and metaphor, from all that high literature goodness. This piece worked because of the simplistic and somewhat rambling voice, Emmett's voice. In the end, I think your talent has been better showcased here, getting inside this guy's head and making us believe in him. Really great work, Till. (I find it hilarious, by the way, that it took Emmett two years to become a postman).

Something that caught my eye:

When I took Mr. Somerset’s letter home with me I knew I was doing something I shouldn’t be. It is a federal offence to tamper with mail and I should know better than to open someone else’s mail because I am a postman but I wanted to know what Mr. Somerset was saying to Mr. Tapette.

Offense is spelled incorrectly. I got to wondering whether this was a typo of no consequence or an illustration of Emmett's limited IQ. If the former, I've no doubt that you'll dash through and fix it up; if the latter, I worship at your subtle and nuanced feet. So the final question is Did *he* spell it wrong or did you? ^~ And if it is the former, perhaps consider making it the latter. A story is interesting for its imperfections, just like a person - it might add further depth to Emmett's character, to have this one blemish upon his writerly testimony.


2) Mr. Somerset - The impression the reader gets of him is largely formed through the letters which he writes and Emmett pilfers. You've done well with the letters. It's usually difficult to make them come across so unconscious; people have the tendancy to info-dump, to alter the character's voice. You've done neither. At the beginning of the story, I was quite partial to Mr. Somerset, you know. By the end, I was secretly hoping for Ludger to come along and summarily put two in his head. I don’t normally take advantage of young men when they’re in the throws of grief. Sure you don't. You freakish little monstrosity you.

Something to think of, with the letters:

I heard that your parents died in a car accident. I guess that’s why you stopped coming to swimming lessons? I’m sorry I wasn’t at their funeral. I didn’t hear about it until a while ago. Are you living by yourself? My father just died a few years ago. It isn’t the same as what you’re dealing with, but if you need someone, an adult to help you, I’m here for you. Or if you need some money, or somewhere to stay. I didn’t get to know you so well when you did go to swimming lessons, but you got on quick and you were smart. Didn’t you get a 35 on your ACT? I’d hate to see a kid so gifted as you are loose their life through such a tragedy.

A bit rambling, m'dear. Rambling is an voice we attribute to Emmett, not Mr. Somerset. Be careful not to let the styles of the two blur: we need a strong and defining dark line between the two of them. I think this letter could use a good longer-sentences-injection.


(3) Leopold: Good, good. VivelaMusique already mention the pre-script post-script. Your subtlety is perfect, with this character. And I mean that sincerely. I'm curious as to why he doesn't like to be called Leopold, though... You might make something out of it. It might add a interesting thought or contributing dimension, if fleetingly. The bit with the concrete in the mailbox sounds familiar. XD


(4) Mrs. Baker: Wundber creepiness. I particularly enjoyed the allusion to the knife. Impeccably well-timed.


Story:

I truly loved this, Till. I can see how you've attracted mixed responses, but you may feel free to add mine firmly to the positive column. You're getting so much better at this, at story-telling; you didn't exactly start at the bottom of the hill, either. The ending was wonderful, shocking. One of those grand endings that have you thinking back suddenly over the rest of the story like a rewound film reel, a light bulb slowly appearing over your head as you go "Oh! Oh! The mailbox was smashed because... And Mr. Somerset keeps initiating contact! That perv!" Which is always a fun way to end a story. It makes the reader feel all special and fuzzy inside, as if they've figured it out or have been let in on some vast joke. The reader likes to feel special and fuzzy inside. Good job on that. ^~

At around the point where the weather was on but it wasn’t Mr. Somerset, the story began to drag a bit. The momentum you had built up with the style of writing, the characters, and the [s]stolen[/s] borrowed letters was somewhat depleted, and I admit those little tiny "yeah, yeah, so what happens next?" began to creep up on me. Maybe truncate the mid-section of the piece. I think it would go a long way in improving your already largely good pacing.

In the end, Till, I enjoyed this thoroughly. And though Death Machine wails behind me and attempts to snag my attention by force, I must say that this is one of my favorite pieces - if not the favorite itself - of all the shorts you've written. It's... grand. Never too much inference. Never too little. A wonderful blend.


And...

I've concluded that one can tell a lot about people from their mailboxes.


Mit Liebe!

Bechka.


...
EDIT: Chance of Snow brings to mind something soft, wistful, peaceful. I can't help but feel that a chance of rain would better suit the mood?

Gah, I loved this! Emmett's point of view is just so interesting, and I love how you really went there. You have his voice down packed. At first everything seemed a little slow. I realized that Emmett was kind of slow right from the beginning but everything just seemed a little too innocent for too long until closer to the end. I guess that's because I expect strange things to come from you in a good way...and eventually it did come right in the end! The letters were a good way to show both the communication and the characters themselves. I love Leo already for some odd reason. I don't know why I always love your characters to the point of small crushes...it's very odd. But it's okay! I can't wait to read more of this! The story is interesting just by itself but from Emmett's point of view this should really be something.

Keep it up!
~Rieda

Thank you, everyone, both those who loves it and found it boring! All comments are appreciated, of course.

I just added a lot of edits. In case anyone is curious and wants to go looking for things here is a general list of things I changed:

-Tense. In some places I change it from past tense to present tense, to reflect the fact that this is being "written" in the present--which I think makes sense? Er. It may make sense to me but not anyone else, hah. It has its purpose, though.

-Diction. I threw a fit and changed words and phrases in several places to better reflect the narrator and other characters.

-I cut out lines that slowed things down, were overly redundant, or in general didn't work. I also added some things, for example, dialogue with Leo explaining his name.

There are some other things, but I can't recall them all! The biggest thing was the tense change.

Again, thank you! I'm going to be working on part two for a while now, and I am not sure when I will have it up. Just so everyone knows, part two will probably be R rated, so you will have to hunt for it! I'm not sure if there will be a part three or not. Since I'm adding sections to part two, this might end up being longer than it is, by a lot. So there may be more than just a second part.

I love you all and I am giving you virtual cookies. Rieda: Good to know you expect creepy things out of me? Creepy to know you crush on my characters. kidding!

Suzanne- Awesome. The style reminded me a lot of the book The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon, which is about a teenage boy with Aspergers. It might be a good read to help develop Emmett's character and the tone of this... But anyway, I found this very enjoyable to read. I love how innocent Emmett's character comes accross as and the beginning was great. You could use some work on flow and sentence structure, but you've definitely got a good story started. I'll keep an eye out for Part 2.

*eats*

^^

Here's something you might want to check, right off the bat: Is weatherman one word or two?

gifted as you are loose their life through such a tragedy.

Lose*

swimming lessons would give you something to hang onto.

Is "onto" in this context one word or two? Meh.

*Random note* While most of it was pretty good, the letter written by Somerset occasionally slips into your MC's slower, less coherent voice. I'm not sure if these slips are intentional (after all, I'm not entirely sure how intelligent Somerset is) but you might want to keep an eye on that.

So I did not call him Leopold anymore because it was a stupid name.

Pure win. ^^

like bed sheets drape over his bones.

Draped*

Do I detect that there's some... er, questionable activities going unsaid here?

Haha. Personally, Emmett's voice bugs me, but personal preference aside, his voice is really strong. You've told me he's a bit dim, so I knew that coming in, but it still bothered me. But really, it's done very well to fit the character.

It's just not my cup of tea. ^^

I like your concept. I sense this is going somewhere very interesting. I can't remember the literary term for a story told through letters, but this is one of those and it's positively yummy. Your take on it is pretty awesome. ^^

Overall, a lovely piece. <3

-Saint Razorblade
The Official YWS Pirate

I have to agree with Heidigirl666 and Prokaryote on this. I thought it was dull and tedious. Very hard for me to get through. You have an interesting style in this piece, and I can tell that a lot of thought went into it, so good job on that part. Maybe this just isn't my type of reading, and that's why I didn't like it.

Suzanne wrote:It took me two years to become a postman. To pass the test I had to carry a seventy pound bag of mail and when I first picked it up I fell over and the instructor laughed at me so I picked it back up and could carry it for a long time but later that night I hurt a lot and I was mad that I had to carry such a heavy bag just to drive a car and deliver the mail.

I like this. I know that your MC is slow, so this helps to re-inforce the fact that his mind isn't as developed, and he seems more imature. Hence the run on sentence. Very well done.

I deliver the mail on Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays. The first time I delivered the mail I got to deliver Dennis Somerset’s mail which made me happy. Mr. Somerset is a famous person. He is a weather man and tells me the weather every morning but never at night and anyone who is on TV must be a famous person. Sometimes I am jealous that Mr. Somerset is on TV and I am not because I wish I was famous but then I don’t know why I would ever be on TV so I feel sorry for ever being mad at Mr. Somerset because he is the best weather man ever. I watch him every morning. If he was not the weather man I would not want to be a postman, especially in the winter. He is always right and he knows when it will snow or not, which makes me happy because I do not like the snow and then I can know the snow is coming. If it snows I still have to deliver the mail unless it is real bad snow but it never is real bad snow, and I cannot drive well in the snow, so if it is going to snow I like to know before it happens. My coworker James puts chains on my truck’s wheels.

Again, I like this. I think I'll stop telling you how good the tone and style are, because I'll end up getting redundant.

Um, well, There isn't much I can say against this. It was very well written. I loved the style. It really helps clarify Emmet's character. I like the allusion to the knife.

A triumph, Tilly, a triumph.


Cheers,
Pros