What Time, Doth Tell.

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At the age of five, I stared out my first grade window and looked out into the city. Everything was so familiar, but in a new light I saw the depth of reality in all around me. The sound of kids playing and joking, Ms.Williams teaching and scolding. All this, in a scene where all I can remember is the window.. and all the freedom beyond it. I smiled out at the light that poured in. The light that then, would fill me with curiosity and a promise to find my answers.


At 10 years of age, I see myself standing in the back room of my home. Looking out and at the sun. Time then, seemed so expendable as always. A river, that could never run dry. One carrying with it countless thoughts and ideas that, giving birth along the way to invention and progress. But I only watched, as the sun rotated and the clouds flew by with grace and haste. Like curtains quickly scrolling over to introduce the sweetest scent of midnight air, that would intoxicate me with dreams and hopes that the stars would bring for me. Wishes to end the beatings, and the fighting. Wishes to silence the arguments and the crashing sounds of broken dishes and falling ornaments before Christmas. The stars would gleam and linger, speaking to me of hope that I held fool-heartedly and dearly to my chest..


Grown now to fifteen. Seldom do I now look out the window... The foggy images of everyday life a simple television of past and present that shows me what I've seen and will see as all the smiling people walk by. I stare, loosing myself in this window.. Wanting to know what went wrong. Wanting to understand my actions and recognize them as flaws or righteous decisions.. Wanting to comprehend why still, and now alone, I hide behind the window. With nobody here to tell me, I stare into this glass that shows the sea of endless faces smiling and laughing together. A face that was once like mine, in a time not too long ago for anyone but me. I stare into these faces, and ask myself "Why..?" I stare into the eyes that don't see me, and let the echoes search for a new word to respond with.


Present day, and with reason where no windows exist. Just Walls. Walls that let no light in or out. Walls built to hide me from the sun that woke me up into these true nightmares. To save me from the whispering lies the siren-like stars would whisper into my ear as I gleamed into the moon; the nights eye and smiled at all they said. Walls that now protect me from the question never answered that came from the sea of happiness I didn't belong in. I reside, within four walls, but the windows will always persist. To my right, An angry boy with questions, trembling with fear and agony silently screaming in his mind that echoes loudly into my ears. To my left, a child worshiping the cool lights of the darker hours that shimmer in the fleeting light of the sun, a child lost in a far away illusion that existed for someone else. Behind me, A boy with a familiar smile, looking up at the sun with childlike fantasies flying across the sky with every thought and breath. A boy with a pure heart doomed to now. Now I, who faces forward at the one window that can tell the truth to any that stand before it. I look into myself and see the illusions around me, fading into grey as the lights flicker. I look into myself, with a smile lost deep within my expression. I ask it about the boy's that worshiped the sun and it's shadow. About the angry child that couldn't swim! And me? I ask it why and where they've gone. I ask it all the things that rush within a stream of memories found in a river of memories that quickly shoot across my cheek. And there, within this reflection. I will know.. What the sun speaks. What the moon whispers, and what the sea sings...


But none as truthful, as all what time itself, doth tell.
Last edited by NathanielC on Wed Apr 06, 2011 5:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"I still hold on to foolish dreams, and bash in the grin of the villain in the mirror while I call myself a hero."
~Nathaniel.C




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Your imagery is beautiful, kid, But I will say that you should probably re-read this. There are blatant grammar and punctuations mistakes riddled through the entirety of this piece of which could be easily spotted if looked for.

That being said, if this gets reread and edited, I may just come back for a full-lengthed review ;D

~Walker
Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads, that the heart has been chained and dunked in a glass booth filled with river water. The heart is monologuing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning. - R.S




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Hi! First of all, I like your story. I agree with everything dreamwalker said - you have made many gramatical errors and you often repeat the same words in one sentence. I get what you're trying to say, and if it were better written in parts, I would LOVE it. It's just a few disjointed phrases and a lack of fresh describing words which kind of barricade this story from realising it's true potential. That was the negative. Toward the positive, you've got a good concept going on. Correct the grammer and make it flow with better adjectives and you'll be on to a winner, so to speak.
thanks, keep writing, AC xxx




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Hi there, reading your story I was really interested by it - its a intriguing concept and structure. This is just a question: have you ever read James Joyce's "Story of the Artist as a Young Man"? It contains a similar concept in that is told from the POV of a character that grows from a child, through adolesence to an adult. Really interesting read. Maybe you could explore writing each different age in the level of maturity ie somewhat more basic and sensory for the child, and more matured and internal monologue for character when hes older.
Just a thought! Keep it going:)



The chains of habits are too light to be felt until they are too heavy to be broken.
— Warren Buffet