z

Young Writers Society


18+ Language Violence

Homecoming

by Arya56227


Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language and violence.

Homecoming

Despite how carefully I pull the straight razor across my skin, I still manage to nick myself. I watch how the tiny spot of blood spreads through the shaving cream creating a larger pink spot. I imagine what it would look like to see that same blood flowing from my veins in thick ribbons and into a tub of water. I wonder what sort of pain I’d feel as my heart pumped itself empty. More than once I’ve considered just what it’d be like to pull the trigger of Mama’s revolver with the barrel tucked under my chin. This is a new strategy.

I rinse the razor off and finish shaving.

Opening the medicine cabinet above the sink I pull out a couple of bottles of pills and take one out of each, swallowing them dry.

Truth is, I wish I didnt need the anxiety meds any more. I dont feel anxious during the day, but as soon as I come off of them, the night terrors come back, strong as ever. Ive had them for two years now. Ever since my boyfriendmy first and onlyblew his brains out with a handgun while I lay sleeping, my head on his chest. His mama, a saint of a woman, had snatched me out of his bed and sent me home. She did her best to remove every trace of my presence before calling 911. She didnt want me to be questioned by the police after what happened, and she sure as hell didnt want my involvement getting out in town.

It wasnt his first suicide attempt so it was barely investigated anyway. That didnt prevent the psychological damage to me: the guilt, the anger, the nightmares. Both his family and mine have helped me grieve, and Ive moved past it, even forgiven him, but Im still prone to irrational anger and nightmares. Mentally, Im fine, but my subconscious doesnt seem to agree.

Its the loneliness that really kills me, makes me wish I didnt have to live. I feel like Im completely and totally empty sometimes, like itd be easy to pour out whatever lifes left in me. Just like James did.

Im trying to remedy that, I really am. Most of my friends gave up on me during my long bout of depression after Jamess death, but Ive made some new ones. Theyre sort of misfits like me, so it works out. Weve only been hanging out a few months, and I dont feel as close to them as Id like. Tonights going to change that though.

I got a book on witchcraft that Ive been studying. Weve all done a few minor spells together, and their interest in it has grown. Tonight well performa ceremony under the Harvest Moon that I hope will bring us closer together. I smile at my reflection in the mirror, as I spray on some perfume. Yes, tonight will make things better.

Yeah, Mama. Im gonna take Kaylee to homecoming anBlakell bring her home,I say, as she tightens the pink tie around my neck. Her black Creek Indian head barely reaches my chest, but she never fails to mess with my clothes.

You cominhome tonight,she asks, slapping my hand away as I try to pull on the tie.

I dont know. Maybe—“

Stanley Joe, come on! Im ready to go,Kaylees shrill holler carries through the screen door.

I laugh and head outside, keys in hand. No need to stick around and tell her that I aint even going to that stupid dance. Id drop Kaylee off and meet up with Jeff, Alan, and Billy, and wed ride around for a while, try to find something to do while we waited on the moon to get high enough for our ceremony. Kaylee is standing by the car looking three different shades of pissed off in her second or third-hand satin dress. The damn thing is so long she has to wear these stripper heels shes borrowed from her mama that are about two sizes too big and sinking into the grass already. Kaylees pale, like me somehow taking after the Irish side of the family, and the orange lipstick shes smeared over her mouth is garish in the early evening light. I cant help laughing.

Oh, screw you,she scowls and snatches the car door open.

She crosses her arms and doesnt say anything else for a while as I drive. I continue to go slow even after I turn off the dirt road, watching out for deer. Its a good thirty minute drive from my house to the school, and while Im grateful she has a boyfriend to go to homecoming with so Im spared from having to be her datefor the night, but I wish he couldve picked her up. I wouldve gone with her if I had to though and dared anybody to say anything. I smile and chuckle to myself, remembering how she decided I was her boyfriend in first grade. That was back before she knew that cousins couldnt get married and before I decided that holding hands with girls was gross. But were a couple of hicks, so what does any of that matter anyway?

You can stop laughinat me. I know I look stupid,Kaylee says, glaring out the windshield.

Naw,I lie. All them boys are gunna think youre the sexiest thing there.

Oh, whata you know anyway,she says but looks a little less put out with me. Truth is, I might be gay, but even I can tell there aint nothing sexy about that dress with its acres of fabric and puffy little sleeves. Its not her fault though. Atkinson County High declared that the girls werent to wear anything that wasnt church appropriate. Even so, like always, thered be a mixture of everything from short and trashy to the long, boxy dresses the holiness girls wear. Kaylee was a nice, normal middle ground for that school. Sexy or not.

When we get there, I drive around the parking lot looking for Blakes truck. Hes probably just runninlate,I say and start to pull up where I can let her out.

Stanley, will you go in with me? Please?As much as I hate it, Ive got twenty minutes til the guys are supposed to meet me, so I agree. The girl looks unreasonably nervous pulling at her teased-up hairdo and slipping her feet back into her heels.

Alright, come on. Im only stayina minute,I say, climbing out of the car.

Atkinson County, Georgia is a weird melting pot of people from different hispanic backgrounds, native Georgia red necks, and African-Americans. The white people in this area are pretty much outnumbered, and I like to remind Kayleeand everyone else for that matterthat we are not really white. We just look it. Our Indian heritage has been my saving grace for years, the thing I cling to throughout my bouts of depression and identity crisis. I take a lot of pride in the Irish side of my family toohell, Im even learning Gaelicbut my new facial piercings arent just the gothic trappings of a confused teenagerlike people think. Theyre a physical symbol of my heritage. One of the few Im able to sport considering I inherited my daddys sun allergy. I love to embrace every part of my cultural identity and wear all the colorful pieces of it, even if this county does anything but thrill my soul.

The gymnasium when we entered was like a perfect visual representation of the town. It wasnt particularly decorated aside from some sad, colored plastic table cloths and balloons. Some hideous racket that was supposed to be music was thumping from the speakers, the singerjust talking and doing it so fast I could barely understand a word. A few people are in the middle of the floor grinding up on each other, but the rest stand awkwardly about separated into their different cliques, bored and ready for the damn dance to be over already so they can all go gang up in cotton fields and backyards and get shit faced or drive to Walmart the next county over where they can wander around and be seen. Most likely half of them will do both.

Dont worry. If his ass dont show up, Ill put a hex on im,I tell Kaylee as she cranes her neck around looking for Blake.

Hey, Stanley,somebody shouts and waved from across the crowded room. I smile in their general direction and wave back not really knowing who it is.

I steer Kaylee toward the punch table wondering where the rest of her friends are and dip myself out some of the bright green liquid. It looks like the typical wedding punchthats popular in the area, but above the smell of pineapple is a distinct note of alcohol. I dump it back into the bowl.

Dont drank the Kool-aid, sweetie,I say, but Kaylee isnt standing behind me any more. Shes met Blake at the door. His tall frame drawfs her, but hers, bobbing up and down with hands on hips in front of him, makes his look totally inferior. Time for me tget the heck outta dodge,I say to no one in particular and start slipping my way out.

Hey, Stanley! Didnt think you were coming.Damn it. Ian, one of the black clad kids standing in a group by themselves is grinning at me expectantly. I sigh, not in the mood to deal with them. While it might look like I would fit in with them, it just doesnt work. We get along, but Im an anomaly and theyre just following a different type of conformity. I learned a long time ago that when you dont fit into any of the boxes like a tidy little check mark, you may as well stop trying to squeeze in. So Im just the dude in between a dozen different generalities with no desire to conform. Which seemed to make them, like most everyone else, just a little disappointed with me.

Oh, Im not. I just come to drop Kaylee off. I have other plans tonight,I say, feeling a bit guilty. Yall have fun though!I shout the last part above the rising clamor of Hispanic music that has begun to play and duck out of the door as fast as I can.

Outside I can see Alan, Jeff, and Billy standing around my car looking bored as hell. Jeff has a cigarette in his mouth and Alan is pinching a wad of dip out of a can.

There he is,Billy hollers.

We thought youd decided to go dancinafter all,Alan says around the dip, his thin bottom lip protruding disgustingly.

Naw, Kaylee just wanted me to take her in. Im ready tget outta here when yall are,I say, pulling the pink tie off and tossing it in the car before grabbing my bandana and tambourine and unbuttoning the top buttons of my shirt.

We all load up in Billys old pick-up truck. Since Im the biggest, I sit in the front while Alan and Jeff squeeze in beside Billys speakers and amps. Billy always carries his equipment with him, too scared to leave it at home where one of his methhead brothers might steal it. Considering I chipped in a whole paycheck for him to buy it, Im glad he tries to be careful. I just wish hed keep it at my house.

I mighta found us a gig,Alan says as we pull out.

How the helld you manage that?Billy looks back at him, incredulous. I grab the oh-shit handle and slap him upside the head with my other hand. He turns back to the road, rolling his eyes at me. We dont even have a recordin.

I played the guy a few of my guitar riffs. He liked it, said if we want to play for nothinone night hed hire us as regulars if he liked it,Alan says, voice slow and rough. Hes been smoking since he was thirteen and you can hear the damage.

Wheres he want us to play,Billy asks not sounding as pleased as he should.

A bar in Valdosta.

I just sigh and look out the window trying to ignore Billys never ending stream of negativity as he tells Alan how terrible that idea is. That boy wouldnt be happy if you handed him a million dollars. Not that the idea of lying to my mama and spending my gas money to go play at some podunk bar in Valdosta thrills me much either. Hell, we only have about three decent songs and for a drummer, Jeffs timing is off more often than not. Im beginning to wonder if hes going deaf as quiet and off as hes been lately.

Billy stops bitching long enough to pull up at the drive-thru window of the package store on the edge of town. I slide down in my seat and pray nobody sees me. Were only sixteen, but Billy managed to get a fake id from somewhere and nobody knows his family very well since they live so far out. He never has any trouble. It wouldnt work for me.

He orders a twelve pack of beer and a pint of Southern Comfort.

Ill have a Coke,I hiss at him. He rolls his eyes, but orders it anyway. They all know I dont drink, but Billy is the only one to ever give me a hard time about it. I hate the taste of beer and the few times Ive tried any sort of liquor hasnt ended well. The alcohol reacts with my anxiety medicines making me sick as a dog.

You aint off them damn pills yet, Stanley? A drink or a joint would probably do you just as much good,Billy says as I hand the beer back to Jeff and he pulls out of the parking lot.

Naw, my periods so irregular I gotta stay on the birth control. Mixinalcohol with it gives me the runs,I say, tying my bandana around my head. Alan and Jeff snicker in the back, but Billy just grips the steering wheel and glares out the windshield, irritated. Im not serious. I just like to poke fun at my gender abnormalities to get a rise out of people. Im fully male, thanks to the surgery the doctors did right after I was born. Its why my Southern Pentacostle family very rarely gives me any shit about my sexuality. Im always quick to remind them that its probably their faultanyway.

Everybody in this damn truck knows what Ive been through, and I know Billy is one of those people that are aggravated by my jokes. He sure wont bring up my anxiety medicine again tonight. If he did, Id probably just skip the jokes and give him a black eye and say the hell with it all. Hes probably my least favorite out of the bunch.

I take a long swig of my Coca-Cola letting the silence yawn a little wider as Billy turns onto a dirt road. I, actually, have plans to have some fun tonight, and I refuse to let Billyboys sour mood get in the way. The weather is cool tonight and the harvest moon is glowing orange, bloated on the horizon.

Its lookinlike some mighty fine weather for the ceremony tonight,I say, ready to break the tension in the vehicle.

Yeah, man, I got the herbs right here,Jeff says from the back, grinning and shaking a small plastic bag of crushed sage leaves. Its dark and looks more like oregano to me, but I think better of saying anything. Its a million wonders they agreed to participate al all. Its not like we would be able to do any of it perfectly anyway considering I cant get me hands on half of the ritualistic materials youre supposed to have.

Whats the point of doing this anyway,Billy asks, unscrewing the cap on his liquor.

Well, its in respect of the goddess, and itll make our magic stronger for the rest of the month.Its also supposed to bind us together, to form a bond of compassion and group interest like in a coven. But I dont dare tell him that.

We gotta wait til the moons high, right? Thats gonna be a little while,Alan says from the back, craning his neck around to judge the position of the moon behind us.

Thats alright,Billy says. I got us somethinelse planned.

A few minutes later we were pulled over on the side of a sandy dirt road under the canopy of good olGeorgia pines, their shapes ethereal against the bright, navy sky, feathery boughs casting shadows over the softly glowing sand. I shake my tambourine lightly and in time with the wind. Were out near Axon, a good ten or twelve miles from any houses, so theres no one to hear us.

Alans red hair is bleached orange where the moonlight is able to hit it and Jeffs pale skin is faintly fluorescent, just like the sand. Billy drops the tailgate of the truck down and pulls out a wide piece of wood with a hole on one end that has a rope tied through it. He drop it on the ground and shuts the tailgate with a grunt. I used to do this all the time with my cousins,Billy says grinning. Its so much fun!

Alan eyes the contraption cautiously and chugs the rest of his beer as Billy ties the free end of the rope to his truck. Throwing the empty can into the back he says, Jeff can go first.

I take a few steps backward, not at all liking where this scenario is heading. I may be country, but I aint stupid. This damn plywood and string game is stupid in its most humble and straight forward form. It aint even trying to pretend to be anything else.

Billy tells Jeff he can sit on the wood and hold onto the rope while hes showing him how to do it. Jeff takes his place and Billy climbs back into the cab of the truck, holding the door wide open.Ready?He hollers the single word and before Jeff even has a chance to answer, floors the gas pedal in the truck. The tires spin in the soft sand, flinging it backward and causing the back end of the truck to sling to the left.

Jeff cries out and I want to cry out too as Alan runs up the road toward where Billy has already slammed on the brake and Jeff is rolling toward the ditch, the piece of wood slid up under the truck.

Jeff catches himself and jumps up and wobbling a little on his feet, hoots that was awesome!

I laugh, relieved that he is fine and thankful that Billy has turned into a bubbling fountain of excitement because it bodes well for the rest of the evening. I do a little dance with my tambourine and cheer.

You up next, Stan,Billy asks the grin still covering his face.

Me? I uh—“ I stop banging my tambourine and search my mind for an excuse. I caint. I got that back injury from playinbasketball last year, remember? Id throw something out of whack tryinthat fer sure.

Whether hes fully satisfied with my answer or not, Billy moves on asking Alan to drive for him. Instead of getting on his knees on the piece of wood the way that Jeff did, Billy climbs up into the bed of the truck and hollers for Alan to go.

Alan doesnt spin out the way that Billy did, but Billy is still jerked by the motion and has to brace himself against the tailgate to keep from falling over. Jeff and I take one look at each other and take off running after them, scared to death Billy is about to get himself killed. He holds his arms out to the side, palms forward, before bending his knees and in one swift movement, jumping over the tailgate and landing smack dab in the middle of the ply wood. He crouches down and manages to stay on for a few seconds before losing his balance and sliding off, rolling in the soft sand.

The brakes squeal as Alan stops the truck. He jumps out and gets to where Billy is lying before Jeff and I make it to him, doubled over and panting with me clutching my side. Billy takes the hand Alans offered him and pulls himself up laughing hysterically as he shakes the dirt out of his hair. His blue eyes are wild and excited and for a moment, I almost think hes handsome.

Man, you scared the shit outta me!Alan punches him in the arm.

Billy jumps up and puts the taller fella in a choke hold, rubbing his sandy fist in Alans hair. Theyre both laughing as Billy shoves Alan away, Your turn!

Their antics continue for over an hour. I eventually stop running to keep up and content myself with walking along the road and enjoying the night and the sound of their laughter. When they finally stop theyre so far up the road from me I can barely see them. I can hear Billy cussing up a blue streak. He mustve hurt himself. Dont surprise me a bit.

When I make it back to the truck, Billys calmed down and is leaning against the side of the truck while Jeff sits in the passenger seat smoking a cigarette. Alans on the drivers side. Yall bout done with all this nonsense,I ask, plucking the cigarette from Jeffs mouth and sticking it in my on. I take a long drag and hand it back, attempting to blow smoke rings at Billy.

Yeah, Stan. Were done,Billy says, taking another swig from his bottle. Can we do the deed yet? I can see the moon through the trees right there.

Yeah, we—“ Im interrupted by a sudden loud rustling sound in the woods. Jeff jumps and Billy leans carefully over him, eyes fixed on the woods behind me. He gently opens the glove box and pulls out a pistol. I raise an eyebrow, Are you serious? Its just a deer. Whatchya think youre gunna do with that?

He ignores me and stands there listening for a few more moments. I grow more frustrated with every passing second. What the hell, Billy? That aint funny.

No, it aint,he finally says, shaking his head and sticking the gun in the waistband of his pants.

Yall ready to do this?I ask.

They all agree and we decide to ride up the road a ways to a cotton field where well have a better view of the sky. On the way, Jeff pulls out a pipe and fills it with something I cant see but highly suspect it isnt tobacco. He lights it and blows on the bowl. A funky, scent faintly reminiscent of mushrooms or the forest floor fills the cab. I crack my window while he smokes and passes the pipe back and forth between the rest of the guys. I dont ask whats in the pipe, and Im thankful that nobody offers it to me. Im more surprised that they didnt get high before their stunts jumping off the truck.

When we get to the field, Alan pulls the truck off the road and we all pile out. Billy leads the way, gun handle still sticking out of the back of his pants. The field has been plowed over so we have plenty of room to cast our circle in it and Billy is heading out towards the middle. A shivery excitement fills me, and I grin up at the heavens. The view is breathtaking with the dark trees bordering the field in stark contrast to the brightness of the sky. Stars winking down by the millions and that blessed moon shining down, still tinged gold though its climbed above the horizon where its greatest glory lies. I spin around in a little circle of my own before grabbing Alan and Jeffs hands where theyve all stopped in a little circle. With their hands in mine and this beauty all around me, I am consumed with gratitude and my heart feels swollen and happy in my chest.

I explain what we need to do to cast the circle and Jeff puts some of the sage in his pipe and lights it. A thin grey smoke curls up. Its not the most ideal way to smudge a circle, but itll work. I let him walk around the circle while Billy, Alan, and I hold hands in the middle. Billys blue eyes search mine, a faint smile on his face as he squeezes my hand tighter. I squeeze back and grin, almost too happy to contain my excitement. After this ritual well all truly be bound like brothers! I wont have to worry about being alone any more.

When Jeff rejoins the middle of the circle I raise my arms skyward and turn my face to the moon. I begin to say the prayer:

Goddess of the moon, queen of the night,

keeper of women's mysteries, mistress of the tides,

you who are ever changing and yet always constant,

I ask that you guide me with your wisdom,

help me grow with your knowledge,

and hold me in your

A sharp pain blossoms into a warm flood from the back of my head. My vision shakes, and I look back down in panic. Billys familiar face is in front of mine, grinning.

Im telling you, boys. The goddess is in him and weve got to release her tonight,he says as black and white spots bloom over his face, blocking out the light. My heart beats furiously in my chest even as my knees give way.

Well have to kill him, wont we,Alans voice asks from far away.

Oh, yes, but not here.

Mama should have turned the heater on. Im freezing, I think, reaching for the covers to pull them back on me. I dont feel any. In fact, I dont feel like Im in my bed at all. Sleepily I crack my eyes open and wince as pain pulses from the back of my head. What the hell? Im lying on a dirt floor in old building, faint light shining through cracks in the wood.

I rack my brain trying to remember what happened before I fell asleep. Yawning, I ease myself up on my elbows to see Billy, Jeff and Alan passed out a few feet away. A wave of nausea hits me as I see them and my heart begins to pound as I remember Billys words last night before I passed out. The bastards mustve hit me with something and knocked me out. I wince from the throbbing pain in my head as I push myself up off the ground. Looking at Billy, my belly fills with a sort of anger and hate I have never felt before. Its stronger and more pure than any of the bouts of rage I suffered through after Jamess suicide. This anger is a burning sensation spreading through my veins and filling me with a terrible desire to go over to him and kick his ribs in.

It occurs to me that this all was some sort of sick joke, and I dont care. If anything it makes me madder. How the hell could he betray me like this? What is wrong with them? I stomp over to where theyre sleeping and notice the gun lying beside Billy and pick it up. My pulse is beating within me at an ungodly tempo, and I want to shoot him. I want to see his blood staining everything within a couple of feet, just like Jamess had, just like I feared mine would before I went down last night. I clench my teeth together and fight against myself to keep from kicking him in the face. That might wake him up and then I wouldnt have any chance to decide what to do.

Im in some sort of old tobacco building, a neater one than Ive seen anywhere but at the state park. Old-fashioned tools hang on hooks along the walls and a more modern tool box sits in the corner. This place must still be in use for something by someone. Beside the toolbox is a length of rope. Seeing the rope gives me an idea. Grasping the gun, I gently prod each of the boys gauging just how good theyre out. None of them so much as stir.

I decide to use the rope to tie their hands together. I have to scoot there bodies a little closer together then I take Alans hand first sit Jeffs on top of it and put Billys on top of them all. Then I tie them together. The ropes not long enough to tie all six of their hands together, but Im able to get this not pretty tight. Exhaustion is tugging at me and my stomach is roiling from the exertion by the time I get done. My anger begins to ebb a bit as Im overcome by the intense need to get home and lay down. I grab Billys keys from his pocket and look down at the passed out boys I though were my friends. It seems too kind to leave them there where theyre together and can easily enough get free of my rope job.

I just cant leave them like that.

I muster what energy I have left in me and re-situate them so that they are facing away from me and the door to the barn. I place the barrel of the gun to the upraised palm of Billys hand and pull the trigger. The noise is louder than I expected. I turn and run out of the barn, throwing the gun into the far corner on my way out. As I pump my feet to where Billys truck is I think I hear voices, but Im not sure. Not sure and dont care. Theyll be fine, but theyll have a scar by which to remember what they did to me, what they tried to do. I feel lightheaded and Im not sure whether its from my head injury or from the sheer terror that seems to coil its way through my limbs at the thought of someone taking my life.

Judging by the light outside its the backside of dawn. As I slide into the drivers side of the truck, I pray that Kaylee has covered for me and Mama isnt waiting up. Its all I can do to keep alert as I drive back with this god awful pain in my head. If she were to start yelling at me, I dont think I could take it.

It takes me only a quarter of an hour to get to the school where I leave Billys truck, and I make it home just as the sun is peaking fully over the horizon. Sick to my stomach, I dont want anything but my bed. When I slip into the house I can hear my snoring in her room down the hall. I let out a sigh of relief and grab the telephone on my way back to my room. If I had learned anything from the situation with James its how to cover my ass and keep the law from getting involved.

I lay down on the bed and ease my aching head down on the pillow as I dial my Aunt Sheryls number. She answers on the fifth ring. Sheriff,I say aware of the catch in my voice. Imma need a real big favor from you.

I groan as the phone wakes me up. The caller id says its Billys cell phone. Funny, I didnt see him with it last night. What?I say by way of answer.

WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH?His screeching is garbled by the phone and the sound of the others crying. I listen in amusement until he gets done screaming threats and accusations.

Naw, I dont believe Id do that if I were you,I say in answer to his threat to call the cops. Ive already talked it over with the sheriff. Yall are just lucky I did what I did instead oturning yall in. I dont think none of ya could handle a few decades in prison for attempted murder,I say and let the line go dead for a second. And ya best stay the hell away from me from now on.

I hang up the phone, totally confident that they wont tell on me. In fact I dont really care if they do. Aunt Sheryl assured me it wouldnt be that bad if we werent able to keep it covered up.

I lay there and I think about James, about what Ive done and what could have happened, about Mamas revolver in her nightstand table. I think about how I felt before I left to go take Kaylee to homecoming, how Ive felt for the past couple of years, and it occurs to me that I have no desire to die. Whats more I have no desire to leave my family to suffer after Im gone. That became abundantly clear when I felt myself looking death in the face last night. Something inside me snapped like a breaking dam and a flood of will power, of hope and of dreams, came barreling through the sadness that had kept it all locked up for so long. I did want to live. I do want to feel all of the sadness, loneliness, and joy that comes my way.

The road ahead probably wouldnt be much easier than its been before now, but at least I know that my life desires to be lived simply for lifes sake. That should be enough. It will be enough.


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Mon Dec 07, 2015 11:02 pm
Lavvie wrote a review...



Hi Arya! I'm here to review as your requested in my WRFF thread. :)

I think that you definitely have some talent when it comes to writing. There's an ease at which you are able to portray through your narration and everything smooths quite smoothly for the most part. I feel in touch with Stan's character. So, well done at crafting a nice narrative style!

Nevertheless, I have to agree with carbonCore. This is really, really long - almost too long! Yet, you are still concerned with making it even longer. The thing is, despite the fact that you have immense freedom when it comes to making sure the important things get the attention they rightfully deserve, you are still neglecting to do so. Topics like suicide, homosexuality, and transgender issues are heavy ones and they shouldn't be used at merely plot devices, because the struggles are real and deep. There is almost a nonchalance in which your discuss (or do not discuss) such weighty subjects. For example, at the very beginning, the mention of James' suicide is hardly dwelled upon, even though it was obviously an instigating scenario to Stan's current mental state.

The other things that I struggle to comprehend is how you have portrayed Stan's emotional and mental health. It is hardly accurate considering James was clearly an important person in his life and the way he committed suicide is completely oblivious and neglectful of the impacts his actions have on others. Stan experienced something extraordinarily traumatic; it is unrealistic for James' mother to simply send him home in the wake of such a violent suicide attempt. Furthermore, police don't operate along the lines of, "Because it was not his first attempt and now he's succeeded, we're not really going to look into this case. It is what it is." Usually, if the person has a series of unsuccessful attempt and still continues to seek out this end, they have a deep problem. It would not be unusual for police to gently question relatives and friends following the suicide. I think there is an aspect of dispassion when you are writing about James' death and its affect. Suicide is not a light topic to be thrown around as a plot device.

Furthermore, you continue to bring in the fact that Stan is gay and then it is later revealed that he is a transgender male. That is a lot to take in all at once, especially after learning about James' violent death. It just seems like too much heavy stuff. Maybe it would be different if this were a novel and the events were spread out evenly - nay, if it were a trilogy - but you have unfortunately overloaded a story that paints a hero that is too tragic for his own good. Unfortunately, it seem that everything is all over the place.

I do not want you to feel deterred by my or cC's review - we both recognize the potential in your writing and the fact that this story could really go somewhere if you decided to not limit yourself to the confines of classroom assignment criteria - but you need to be focussed in order to deliver a story that has an essence of grounded plot.

If you any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to message me. This was a pleasure to review.

Best,
Lav




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Mon Dec 07, 2015 8:36 am
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carbonCore wrote a review...



The first paragraph of this story is very well indicative of the rest of it. There is an inconsequential event that is dragged out for too long, ultimately turning out to be pointless.

This is not a bad story, but it is way too long. It needs to be chopped up with a cleaver. There is a ton of information here, much of which seems completely pointless, and the parts that do appear to have some use, are stated in a somewhat vague and uninteresting way. The part about Stanley's boyfriend's suicide was recounted without weight to it, in spite of being significant throughout the story; while the part about Stanley having some sort of a gender-related surgery at birth seems completely out of place, as it does not have any bearing on the story at large whatsoever.

I find the plot to be meandering as well. There is mention of anxiety, night terrors, and then of Wiccan magick -- the expectation is that night terrors will be somehow affected by Wiccan magick. Instead, Stanley is betrayed by those he thought would be his friends -- okay, still good, I like undermining of expectations -- but then, the story loses me. Why are his buddies all passed out in a tobacco plant? Did they drag Stanley there, get stupidly high, and green out? Did the Goddess smite them with a stunning thunderbolt? None of this shown or told. Why did none of them wake up when Stanley shot one of them in (near) the face? Why was Stanley passed out for so long in the first place? A person usually recovers from trauma to the head within 30 seconds -- if they do not, then they have severe brain damage. This is not explored.

And where does the piece end? None of the events in the story are alluded to in the ending. Stanley states that he definitely wants to live. Well, jeez, he didn't exactly mention he wanted to die before that! It came exactly out of nowhere. Nothing is summed up, no plot threads are resolved, it just ends.

I've read that this piece is intended to be a homework assignment. If that is all, and if that dooms it to be a loveless miscarriage to be graded and thrown into the trash without a second thought, if all you need reviews for is to find other ways to pad its length, none of what I've written matters. But on the off chance that you care about bringing a tale of any importance into the world, trim off the fat and add more of what matters to the plot.

Your servant,
cC





Remember: the plot is nothing more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations.
— Ray Bradbury