Urinator

I got through the first half, right before you moved into the first person section.

Just some things that I noticed.

Your diction is great!

...just thought that I'd point that out

Umm, let's see here...

The relationship between Issy and Pip is very interesting to me, it's like she doesn't like him but she's listening to him regardless. The thing that kind of set that view in stone was the fact that her responses were short, and very to the point. At times she was as blunt as she told Issy not to be.

Issy seemed to DRAG ON FOREVER, but we did find out a lot of information about him. I just think that a monologue in text doesn't work as well as it would for, a play let's say. So, while it is helpful, people will tend to drift if they see a large block of text. What I mean by that is people will start to scim, and if there is something small, or pivitol in the text they may miss it. I personally had to force myself not to skim just for that reason.

The way they present themselves makes me wonder where this is set, but I'm sure you're getting to that. Make sure not to let Issy slip out of her persona, unless there is a specific situation that calls for that, because then we lose the bitchy annoying image we have of her.

I noticed a little bit of the Hathaway sickness here. Hathaway is the author of the Scarlet Letter (if you didn't know, if you did sorry.) and his story was told, almost completely, by narration, and at times OVERDESCRIPTION of things like trees, mirrors, faces ect. You seemd to have a little bit of that when you mentioned the alarm clock.

Overall nice story, I would pick this up if I needed something to tickle my intelligent side.

This'll be a "crit as I read" crit, just because I can organize my thoughts better this way.

Barrio wrote:A monotonous chime reverberated through the second of the upstairs bedrooms. On the double bed lay a single being. Mousy brown hair covered the frilled pillow, and in one motion revealed a neither particularly attractive nor unattractive girl. She woke with her hair in knots and drowsily slammed the scarlet red alarm clock. The alarm chimed every five minutes, and after the third interval, she groaned, gave up and lumbered out of bed. The girl curiously inspected her face in the mirror, which was hinged onto the door. She drew on numerous facial expressions before wandering impassively toward her closet.

She [s]dressed and[/s] put on a cobalt summer dress, white flat-soled shoes and a white headband. She [s]proceeded to do[/s] did her make-up [s]sitting on the floor[/s], which took the best part of 15 minutes. Once she was satisfied, a noticeable change had occurred and she was now unmistakably more attractive. Upon closer inspection, it’s clear that her nose is too round at the point, and her ears slightly offset. However, her eyes were extraordinary, in both colour and size; a light hue from the half-open curtain in the rear illuminated each colour brilliantly. All of the colours that could possibly riddle one’s eyes were apparent in hers fashionably. Blue, green, yellow, orange, and brown merged in and out of visibility, amongst other indistinguishable colours.

She strode out of her room leaving the door ajar, and walked impulsively downstairs. Her slow gait was interrupted by an apathetic welcome:

‘Issy, hello,’ the boy garbled whilst swallowing some muesli but without looking up.

She turned peering at her younger brother, [s]who was[/s] slouched in his wooden chair, elbows placed on the table while he played with his breakfast. She continued towards the kitchen responding:

‘Why good-morning to you too little brother, I heard your terrific squabble with our darling mother last night. Well, it sure seems you’re pleased with yourself. You’ve now given our mother even less reason to want to live with us.’ Sarcastic and in a sulk, she added futilely, ‘Congratulations.’

‘Don’t be stupid Issy. I feel awful and embarrassed. I knew this would happen, I did. But, you know Issy, she just drives me insane.’ He looked down at the hand clutching the spoon he was using and muttered ‘She does it to you too; you just don’t bring it up.’

‘What happened to your hand? It looks swollen.’ She inspected it from a distance whilst pouring muesli to see vague but distinguishable groove marks on the first and second knuckles on his right hand. She added with the innocent chuckle of an older sister mocking her brother ‘How did you do that? Macho fighting?’

‘Hilarious’ he said, staring at his sister blankly. ‘No, after we err, you know, had the tiff and all I went for a walk around the block, I was pretty filthy you know- don’t, look, stop looking at me that way or I won’t tell you’ He sighed and continued. ‘So I walked around to the club and punched one of the brick walls there. I could have hit it harder, I really could have. So now, well, I don’t have very good mobility in my middle and index fingers.’

Issy, who’d now become hysterical before he’d finished, was incoherent for the next twenty seconds. ‘Sorry Pip, but I’m starting to see that your machismo is getting in the way of things. I really do, if you want, when I go out today, I can buy you some relaxation tapes. Just imagine now Pip, the waves crashing against the shore..Wait! No, no, no! Now I have it. How would you feel about joining a Fight Club?’ With this, Issy who’d barely been able to control herself beforehand, broke out into more laughter and Phillip continued to gaze at her bewildered.

‘I know that you think it’s hilarious but my hand really hurts and I’m worried about Mum. You know how Greg is; he’s about as useful in dealing with emotional situations as I am. I know that you aren’t much better, but do you reckon, that, maybe not now but y’know, could you talk to her? If you can’t today, tomorrow morning. At the latest, could you Issy, please I thought that you were on my side.’ His pupils had dilated, and his shoulders were slumped forward exaggerating his fragility [s]at that moment[/s].

‘Pip, you’re too outspoken really. I know you talk sense, but every time you open your mouth, you make it too long. When you do your speeches, peoples either zone out or get offended. I’ll try to get to her but I have things to do, you know. Why don’t you be a man, stop punching walls and face what you’ve done? With any luck, she’ll feel just as crummy as you do.’ She’d now picked up the bowl and was carrying it carefully towards the table, so as not to spill any. She placed the bowl and spoon onto the table before tucking her dress behind her knees and sat [s]on a chair[/s] down across from her brother.

‘I would talk to her, but I have stuff to do. Plus - she cries over anything. She’s about as emotionally strong as a goddamn widow. I can’t look her in the eyes when I talk to her about anything, let alone while she gets all emotional, and I start apologizing. I can just imagine what she’d look like, all sallow and disgusting. I just, I can’t go through it right now, not again. She is the adult, so I shouldn’t be the one making the effort.’

Issy, had eaten a small portion of her food and was using her index finger to clean the outer edges of her mouth. Across the table, Pip's nerves were taking over, causing his forearm to shake slightly, as though he was struggling to lift the spoonful into his mouth.

‘Another reason why I can’t do it, is well, I can’t be all alacritous and all. You can, I’ve seen you do it. I don’t know how to. I just can’t sweet talk and fake myself up for other people. It makes me sick. If I could see myself in a mirror while I was doing it, I can guarantee you I’d be turning pale and sickly. I remember once I tried to be fake and all for this girl, and when I tried to speak, the words just wouldn’t come out. It was hilarious when I told her what I really meant. It came out as a sort-of rant, I didn’t mean it to come out like that, but it did and she turned bright red and ran away. I didn’t want her to lose it, I realised while I was telling her that she’d get coloured, but I wasn’t sure if she’d be embarrassed or depressed. Turned out she was actually embarrassed because she actually made a scene. She’s one of those really timid types who get uncomfortable when any attention comes their way, which is the only reason I regret saying anything. She would have been sick with herself, because of the scene and all.’

A pause swept the room as they were both caught momentarily frozen.

‘Now that’s how Christ suggested we treat people. For God’s sake, you think that you’re some kind of moral prophet, trust me, people don’t want to hear it. Especially from someone who’s barely got a handle of his own life. Next time Pip, why don’t you at least try to be nice to people? Conjure up some sort of sincerity, even if it’s temporary or bogus and especially if it makes you sick. Being nice is not always a sign of weakness. Next time, before you think that you’ll say something that won’t be appreciated, don’t say it and move on, for both their sake and yours. You don’t have to point out everybody’s flaws. Just leave people alone, if they aren’t bothering you, then it should be enough to let them be and not bother them with your aphorisms.’

‘I know what I do usually isn’t good for others, but if they don’t listen then it’s their fault. But what about me, Issy? I can hardly even talk to people anymore; I am constantly pointing out their flaws in my own head. I’m doing these things consciously. I know that I’m doing them and I just can’t stop. Before I didn’t really give a crap, but all of sudden I’ve lost my tolerance and anything riles me. If somebody uses the wrong inflexion, I rule them out. If a girl dresses promiscuously, I rule them out. Some of the catalysts’ are ridiculous; when somebody doesn’t suit a situation, it’s horrifying to me. Last week, I saw a guy who had on this fancy tie and you could tell that he’d just bought it so he was really happy, but all of a sudden he got a call on his cell and he started going nuts. It really did depress me I swear to God. I just can’t deal with people who don’t fit how they look, it makes me anxious as hell. Anybody who is the least bit ostentatious nauseates me to a whole new level. I could go on forever about all of the little things which really drive me insane, Issy, I really could.’ Pip brought his chin to his chest and a hush carried around the house.

Finally, Issy finished her cereal in much quicker pace than her sibling had and was on foot to place the bowl in the dishwasher.

Isabelle said, ‘That’s all well and good, but what about Annelids?’

‘The what?’

‘Earthworms. They’re hermaphrodites, and they suffer from monomania and really lead a much simpler life. You can learn from them.’ Issy said and she started to whistle as she walked back to her room making sure not to steal a glance behind to spot her brothers reaction.

It had become customary for her to ignore people when she said strange things, partly because she cared little and partly because she was afraid of the intimacy. As she got back to her room, she noted that the sun shone brighter and was still not at all distraught by her appearance in the mirror, and only re-arranged the position of her headband. She picked up her brown-leather satchel and draped it across her shoulders before heading across the hall to the bathroom.

She reacted the same way she always did, only just holding back a shudder from feeling slightly uncomfortable in the room. The eerie whiteness of the room made her feel as though she’d been transported to an asylum, but she’d grown used to it and almost missed it when she went to more conventionally normal bathrooms. It wasn’t large by the measure of any architects ruler, but neither was it small, merely standard in size. She handled the toothbrush hastily and in doing so over dispensed the toothpaste with a small amount climbing over the fraying edges and into the basin. Her tooth brushing is mentionable, but only enough to say her eyes frantically scanned the room while she brushed.

Once I’d finished brushing my teeth I went downstairs and told Pip what I was doing and that I’d be back in the late afternoon. I tried not to laugh when I saw his face so that he didn’t get hurt. I can’t imagine his expressions changed a great deal from what it was before, and he still hasn’t finished his breakfast which is, I guess since he’s a slow eater, very much like him. Which is nice, I’m a fan, I really am. I really love it when I notice things like that, things that make people who they are. Like, the things that aren’t good or bad, they’re just mainly unnoticed things about someone who add character.

Now, before I sidetrack too much into onto trivial issues, I left my house and almost bumped into Mum’s car and I then I lost my balance so I stumbled onto the footpath and started walking towards to the bus stop. Here I realized that I love walking down the street, I really do. The weather plays a big factor. Naturally, sunny days bring out crowds and this was a stunner of a day. I’d lived here for about four years and I haven’t any idea who any of my neighbours are by name but I get a bang out of waving, especially to the old folk, at least the ones who’ve still got half a mind. I know the ones who sit in their armchairs all day make you blue, but the ones who go out for walks even if their backs are crooked or the ones gardening, that simplicity, naivety even, is the life. I’d gotten to the traffic lights and saw that the bus was already there, which is a massive frustration.

A side note here and I’ll try not to divulge too much, is that I’d thought halfheartedly about committing suicide on account of my luck with public transport. It wasn’t a serious idea, really, but some things just rile me. Seeing the bus go past and having to wait a light year until the next one is just about enough for a haemorrhage.

I crossed the street and waited for the next bus. I waited for around fifteen minutes, during which I bit my nails; whistled ‘Yellow Submarine’ to an audience of two, and then, when I got bored just sat in my finest military position for kicks. There weren’t many people on the bus and I sat four rows behind the driver and watched the scenery as it passed by, even though it really wasn’t much apart from houses, pedestrians, and all of the usual Sunday morning life.

I’d gotten to the city in about twenty minutes and it wasn’t a far walk to the library, but it was 12:15 and I was meeting Penny at 1:00, so I had a bit of time to kill. I thought about walking down to the shady end because I figured I might buy a cd or a book, or just have a look and kill time, but I decided to go the opposite way because I didn’t have much dough with me anyway. So I stuck around in the metropolitan area, only a few blocks away from the skyscrapers, but still next to all of the shops.

As I walked, pretty diligently now that I think of it, I noticed one of those commies who hand out the newspapers and thought about how horrible and mindless it would be to do that. It depressed me in a way, not him doing it, but the way that he did. If he had of been all excited and one of those ‘for a cause’ revolutionist commies it would have made me happy, but he was morose and looked as though he wanted a car to run off the street and smack into him. If you were a communist, wouldn’t you just get on with your life and accept it, or even move to China?

Anyway, my eyes were drawn past the commie and to a mother and child who seemed to have just bought a new yo-yo. The son was about four years old and was crying his eyes out; it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. You probably reckon that it’s weird to think it, but everything about the moment was just perfect for the situation. As I watched, he heaved the packaging onto the pavement and dropped to the ground where the yo-yo had fallen.

The yo-yo was broken asunder in the fall, and it’s pieces were scattered around the place. Everybody who walking on the same footpath was relegated to a 2 metres radius around the child as though he had an aura, or a spherical shield protecting him. So then, his mother knelt down beside him, placed one hand on his back, and with the other started to pick up the pieces and put them in her handbag. I’m sure these things happen all of the time, and I know that kids cry over anything, but these two both looked sad, and it wasn’t a penny-pinching kind of sad either from the mother which was the nicest part. I kept looking until the mother packed all of the pieces into her handbag, and they walked off hand in hand and got lost into the crowd.

As I turned away, I realised then that I was actually crossing the road. I know now that the whole ‘look both ways’ stuff never gets old and that crossing without looking is probably not a good idea. I also knew it before, but I thought that by my age that kind of stuff would just become second nature, obviously not. I can’t say for certain which sense it was that brought me up to date, so I’m going to go with a cocktail of ingredients, a gray blur, sporadic honking and some burnt rubber which I still can’t get rid of.

So now, I’m in here. I guess this place kind of reminds me of my bathroom, in its own way. Which is nice, in a kind of nauseating way, except of course there are nurses here floating in and out checking up on me. I’ve told that story a few times, to my doctor, Mum and Dad who now think I’m totally bonkers and who I’m pretty sure are going to send me to a shrink and also to whoever pesters me enough.

They’re thinking of sending me to some friend of theirs, Rosenblatt or something, but names have never really interested me. I haven’t done any physical damage that is irreparable, and that is about all I can say seeing as mum almost had a heart-attack when she heard what happened. Needless to say, I got a decent blasting once I was conscious, which is pretty unnecessary seeing as I was the one who went through it and copped the brunt of the cars bumper. However, it’s nice to see that she cares; even it’s purely for nostalgias sake.

Ok, thanks for all the critiques and i've taken them all into consideration. I've finally updated it and changed around a few things, even spaced it out so as to make it clearer. Don't think i've finished with this so i'd appreciate more critiques if possible, if you read it all.

Anyway thanks, and i hope you enjoy.

This wasn't too bad, but it could use some improvement. I didn't actually read the whole thing and I apologize for that. It's late and I found your writing style to be somewhat exhausting.

Your vocabulary is good and descriptive. There is some excellent imagery in your story; however, there is a little too much at times. You don't have to describe every object and action to achieve good imagery.

I also think that the dialogue should to broken up. There is too much at one time and I can't really picture someone talking for that long. The words that your characters use make it seem unrealistic too.

'Why good-morning to you too little brother, I heard your terrific squabble with our darling mother last night. Well, it sure seems that you’re pleased with yourself in giving our mother even less reason to want to live with us'

It sounds staged. Maybe try different words?

There are many "well"s in the dialogue also and I found it to be disruptive.

Other than than the above, good job. Consider these suggestions and those of everyone else and and your story should be pretty well set.

I think your story has potential, however, I found it so confusing that I stopped reading about half way through.

I found a few errors:

"slumbered out of bed"
Should be: lumbered (To walk or move with heavy clumsiness)

"She drew on numerous facial expressions before wondering impassively toward her closet."
Should be: wandering
Also, I'm confused by your word choice - "drew on numerous facial expressions". Does this mean that she is putting on makeup?

"I really do, if you want when I go out today I can buy you some relaxation tapes"
Should be: ...if you want, when I go out today, I can...

It's late and maybe that's why I'm having trouble getting through this story. I will try again if you edit it to separate the paragraphs to break it up a bit.

Ok, this was alright, but it seems like it was written in a hurry ,and has numerous problems.
This new true blue thing makes it hard to read, and I have a horrific headache now, but I'll try not to be too grumpy. :)

The biggest thing was that you switched halfway through from third person to first person. You need to fix the last paragraph. I also noticed that you switch tenses in numerous places. First it's "it is" then its "it was" if you just read through this you could probably pick out most of them yourself. I actually didn't notice any major grammatical errors, so you did a good job from that point of view. I also have to say I found the story line/ plot confusing. I would suggest spacing out the paragraphs more, and making the dialogue in double quotes.

Other than that, you have a promising idea and interesting plot. This story could be really good with a little work.