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by HostofHorus

“An iced green tea, please.”

“Good deal, can I have a name?” the barista asked.

“Philip,” was the reply.

“Right Philip, I’ll have it for you just down there,” the barista motioned towards the opposite end of the counter.

“Thank you,” Philip said as he moved to the other end of the counter.

He turned and leaned against the counter, a notebook pinned beneath his arm, his back facing the barista and his eyes peering out at the coffee shop’s inhabitants.One person in particular gave his eyes reason to pause. There was a girl seated just next to the front window. She had a spiral notebook and a pen occupying her hands and she was frantically scrawling upon the lined pages of the notebook, transferring her thoughts from the ethereal to the real. She was the only person in the entire shop with palpable paper, the rest were tapping away at the keys of their laptops, scrolling and swiping through the pages of their phones, or a few read from their electronic readers. She was different though. And what’s more, she seemed to be doing the exact thing Philip had gone to the shop to do.

“Here it is, a grande, iced green tea,” the barista called as she capped the cup and passed it along to Philip.

“Thanks again,” Philip said as he took the plastic beverage from the man.

Philip walked towards the table that the girl was sitting at. He sat down opposite her and set his notebook on the table in front of him and his drink just to the side of it. The girl paused in her furious scribbles and looked up, her head still hunched down close to the paper.

“Can I help you?” the girl asked.

“Oh. Do you mind?” Philip asked as he opened his own binder and pulled his fountain pen from his pocket.

“Really? I was working here.”

“Well. You were writing,” Philip corrected her.

“Yes, I’m an author,” she said. She had risen to sit back in her chair now, annoyance gracing her features. She tucked her blonde hair back beneath a grey beanie, she was preparing for battle it seemed.

“So am I,” Philip said. “Writing’s never been much of a job though, has it? It’s always been fun. A place to get away from the real world and live where we want to live, where we can’t live.”

Philip began to write a few words on his paper and paused. He looked back at the girl.

“And look around you. It seems we are the last of our kind,” he finished.

The girl looked at the other people in the shop, all caught up in the new world of instant gratification. The world where anything anyone could ever want was right at the tips of the fingers, concealed behind a window. She looked longingly at the real window beside her, Philip watching her as she did.

“They don’t get to experience what’s on the other side of their windows,” Philip said, reading her thoughts. “That’s another benefit to our profession.”

The girl smiled a bit as the man across the table answered the question she was asking herself.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Philip, Philip Noble. And yours?”

“Desirée Lisette.”

“That’s an interesting name,” Philip said.

“And yours as well. What are you writing?”

“Oh, just a short story. It’s called ‘Bodies of Scars,’” Phillip smiled, allowing his pen to rest on his notebook.

“And what’s it about?”

Phillip grinned.

“Now that wouldn’t be right, I can’t tell you about it, you must read, that is how we share.”

“How am I to read it if you haven’t finished it yet?” Desirée asked.

“I’ll tell you what. Meet me here next week, same time and we’ll exchange work, take it home and read it, offer feedback.”

“I’d like that,” Desirée said as she leaned forward.

“Splendid! I best be going, I’ve got a bus to catch in a few minutes. See you in a week!”


Their correspondence marched on as the weeks marched past. Each week Philip Noble would bring a few new pages of freshly scribbled characters for Desirée Lisette to peruse and in return, Philip would look over the pages that Desirée brought for him. After a few weeks, they began to do more together. They went to the theatre a few times, a real one with real people bringing stories to life on a stage. They dined at restaurants, laughing and complementing each other on the work they had completed that week. Occasionally they would eat at a place with a piano and the two of them would take turns sitting on the small stage, playing original pieces of music and collecting money from other diners who laughed and sang with the two writers as they acted out their lives. There was a time that Philip remembered vividly when the two of them sat laid out under the sun, in the grassy field of a park. They did nothing but lay there, talking about life, about their endeavours and the pasts, maybe breaking into random song now and then. Philip loved her and she, Philip thought, loved him.

Philip loved her so much so that he intended to marry her, and as he went to the shop, he played his proposal out in his head, allowing his current characters to give him praise for the idea. As they passed their stories across the table and talked, Philip could feel the ring in his jean pocket, pleading with him to propose already. The characters in his head wouldn’t stop nagging either, insisting that he set his plan in motion.

“Would you like to come over to my place and watch a movie or something?” Philip asked.

The persistent smile on Desirée’s face grew as she said yes.

With that, they hopped on the bus and travelled back to Philip’s apartment. As the bus rolled along, Philip had his characters act out the scene for himself a few more times. They’d walk in, watch a romantic film and when it was finished, Philip would start to talk about their favorite musical they had seen a few days ago. He’d mention the song from the show, the one where the prince proposes at the end, and then, he’d start to sing it, and when he got to the end, he was going to propose, not as an actor, but for real. It was perfect.

The bus rolled up to their stop and Philip and Desirée got off, they walked the few blocks to his apartment and Philip unlocked the door. He opened it and walked in.

“This is my place,” he said, his arms open, sweeping around the space in front of him like a window wiper.

Desirée reached out and grabbed his arm, holding it outstretched. She closed the door with her foot and pulled herself in front of Philip. That same large smile that had popped up at the coffee shop was still plastered on her face as she touched his lips with her own. Philip didn’t know what was going on, he just stood, allowing her to kiss him, his mouth slightly agape from shock. Her tongue slipped in and she wrapped her arms tight around him, making out with a pole.

As she kissed him she began to pull him with her towards the couch. As they got within a few feet of the couch she released her hold on him and backed up. She sat down and began to unbutton the jean blouse that she had on. Starting with the top she released each button until the shirt was fully open.

Philip stared ahead of him, rooted to the place in which he stood.

“What... are you doing?” he finally managed to stammer out.

“Whatever you want me to,” Desirée replied.

Philip began shaking his head, unable to say anything. He kept opening his mouth, trying to form words but he couldn’t, so he violently shook his head. Nothing but his head moved, back and forth, back and forth.

“What are you doing?” Desirée finally asked as she watched him stand.

Philip Noble said nothing. He just shook his head, back and forth, back and forth. He watched as the grassy park bounced from one side to the other, as the piano keys slammed into imaginary walls creating a cacophonous clanging, as the notebooks slid back and forth; all of the memories threatening to escape from his mind.

“I thought you loved me,” Desirée said, disgust in her voice.

At this, Philip paused in his violent shaking.

“I did,” he managed.

“Then why are you just standing there?” Desirée snapped.

Philip began shaking his head again, much slower this time but with greater speed on each shake.

“Out,” Philip began to say, quietly.

“What?” Desirée asked.

“Out,” Philip kept saying with each shake of the head.

“Are you talking to me?” Desirée scowled, the great smile had long ago left her face.

“OUT,” Phillip yelled, slamming his head into the invisible barrier and staring out the window of his apartment, pain in his eyes.

Desirée was furious as she stood up, slamming each button on her blouse back through the little slits in the jean material. She walked to the door and flung it open and stormed out of Philip’s life, leaving the door open as she went.

Philip continued to look at his window for some time, watching the scenes that now danced beyond it. At last, he turned to the door and walked forward. He shut it and sat down on his couch. He pulled out his pen and held it between his hands, spinning it with his thumbs and index fingers. He snatched a notebook from the coffee table in front of him and opened it. He uncapped his pen and touched it to the paper.

He hoped that on the other side of this window he might find what love really was.

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37 Reviews

Points: 3709
Reviews: 37

Sat Jan 18, 2014 5:18 pm
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harrington wrote a review...

Hi there,

So I read it over and I thought it was really well written. You have a nice easy to read writing style and it made me want to read on.

I thought the idea was well thought out and the execution of it worked well as well. The only thing I would say is just read it out aloud a few times to make sure everything flows like it should do.

Like PP said, I also enjoyed how you didn't actually tell us what the characters looked like, because we didn't need to know. The way they looked wasn't important and as a reader, I understood that. It was a nice idea to leave out their physical appearance.

Good job and keep writing,


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187 Reviews

Points: 13001
Reviews: 187

Sat Jan 18, 2014 5:02 pm
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PeanutPhoebe wrote a review...

PeanutPhoebe, here to review! So, this is very interesting. It had some nice twists in it. I love how you didn't focus a lot on how the characters looked, but rather how they acted. I like that they were both writers as well. That kind of gives them a mutual like. Then, I love the plot twist where Philip discovers that Desiree doesn't love him for him, but for what she can get out of it. Philip realizes that that isn't true love, and his love for her wanes. I absolutely love the title! It captures a little of the story without giving away too much. The last sentence was my favorite:) Great job, and Keep writing!

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55 Reviews

Points: 290
Reviews: 55

Thu Jan 16, 2014 12:48 am
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Cirute wrote a review...

Hello HostofHorus, Cirute here to review your story!

And what a story it is! Very interesting and thought provoking. The overall story line is enjoyable, the characters are great, and the story held my attention throughout. These are all traits of a great story! Despite these great things about your story, I did find a few problems.

The major problem I found with this was the fact that I really didn't understand the ending. Even after reading it several times over I still am having quite a difficult time understanding it. Why did he force the love of his life to leave? Was he angered over the fact that the "two middleshool kids in love" fantasy was over and that he was now in a serious relationship? Did he think that sex was not for writers? All of these questions banged around in my head while reading this, making it a rather tough thing to swallow. I think if you went in to a bit more detail over this it could transform this from being good piece to an outstanding one.

Also, I think you could improve the flow of this piece in certain places, for example, this passage:
“Right Philip, I’ll have it for you just down there,” the barista motioned towards the opposite end of the counter.

“Thank you,” Philip said as he moved to the other end of the counter.
I think you could get rid of the part about him moving to the other end of the counter, or at least reword it so it doesn't sound so repetitive. There are several places where I found problems like this.

Finally, nitpicking time!

“Thanks again,” Philip said as he took the plastic beverage from the man.
I think that you meant to say woman.

She tucked her blonde hair back beneath a grey beanie, she was preparing for battle it seemed.
For some reason I feel there should be a semi-colon there. Don't take my word for it though, I'm not too keen on my semi-colon use either.

Overall, I really liked this story!


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366 Reviews

Points: 19048
Reviews: 366

Wed Jan 15, 2014 9:35 am
Dreamy wrote a review...

Hello there,

This was a fantastic piece of work. I liked it a lot. You got an incredible voice for your characters and your narration was exceptional. I just loved every time you narrated a scene. I didn't find any major mistakes, it was easy to read and had a very good flow. But this particular sentence, was like it was not in the flow, it didn't sound great.

Desirée scowled, the great smile had long ago left her face

May be try re-phrasing it into " had left her face long ago Like a jumbled sentences :P

And, the conclusion, the ending of the story. I didn't understand what you were trying to convey to the reader. The ending sentence and also the "whole ending" didn't really make any sense to me. Why is Philip asking her to leave? I only had that confusion.
Anyways, keep up the good work!

Keep writing!!!

Cheers!!! :D

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472 Reviews

Points: 136
Reviews: 472

Wed Jan 15, 2014 6:56 am
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Apricity wrote a review...

I don't think I can find fault with this, when you've just summed up my life and thoughts in about 1000 words, that's a scary thing to do. Is amazing, because what you have written in this piece is true in many aspects of our society and I'm in awe, because I find some of the things you have written here beautiful, just stunning. And after reading the whole story twice, I finally realized the whole meaning of your title - Window which really, just made the piece ever more stunning.

They don’t get to experience what’s on the other side of their windows

I absolutely agree with this, when I get onto the tram on the way to school. I see people reading on their ipads, I see people listening to music on their iphones or busily texting away. And as I stand at the back corner with a paperback book, it saddens me that some of them perhaps will never get to experience that same joy I feel.

I couldn't find any fault with this, nunno. At all, and I will admit that I was surprised by such a truthful ending yet hopeful ending. You have a talented voice for speaking out the truth. Well done, my friend! Well done! I've truly enjoyed reading this piece.


The strongest people are not those who show their true strength in front of us but those who win battles we know nothing about.
— Unknown