Stepping Off the Porch

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm Kate and I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression

This is quite nicely done here. Taking the conversation between two friends and really transcending it to heights unknown there from the sheer amount of magic and imagery that we witness here.

Anyway let's get right to: Kate's Line by Line Reactions;

At around 1:05 a.m., my friend and I stepped off the dimly lit porch into the arms of the tenebrous night. Perhaps the two Dutch Bros drinks finally kicked in, or the absence of visiting each other all summer kindled a heightened desire for adventure; whatever the prior events, the first crunch beneath our feet told us everything we needed to know. We were together. The matching rhythm of our footsteps as we sprinted and the small coughs from inhaling the dusty air were proof enough that our friendship reunited at last—free and awake from the rest of the sleeping world.

Far down the road, Grace and I finally settled our breaths. The owls, the crickets, and the soft breeze hushed as our voices trailed on about every noteworthy occasion that the other had not been able to witness between June and September. Patiently—besides the occasional interruption of hoos and chirps— each creature listened in turn. When Grace spoke about her speech debates, the animals jumped at the pounding hammer of the judge, claps from the audience, and constant camera shutters. And when I mentioned my hobby of baking, the wind carried the fresh baked bread and warm butter through the air. Filling the blank road, our stories bounced from subject to subject. She shared about the guy that hit on her in July; I shared about my vacation on the coast. She shared about her three jobs; I shared about my new piano. All of the sudden, I stopped. The atmosphere had been consumed by the exchanges of our voices, but something was still silent. This silence was glowing—brighter than I had seen in a long time. Something my friend spent time with every night that she didn’t even acknowledge it. I held my breath in awe as my head tilted further and further back to try to absorb the vastness of what enamored me in the sky.

They twinkled and scintillated and all seemed to sing “Look up! Look at us! Be silent and look!”. Turning around to figure out why I had stopped talking, Grace saw the outline of my head no longer interested in our conversation but rather the glint of my eyes fully immersed in the expanse above. She, too, listened to what the stars were saying. For maybe a full five minutes, the animals, trees, and wind stared at these spellbound statues in the middle of the gravel road. Finally, the spell broke and the conversations at once returned, except for the heads still affixed. Grace described how living with the stars that bright all her life, she forgot about them; I described every constellation I could name. Grace described something; I described where the Milky Way was, why Casseopeia is my favorite constellation, and when the next meteor shower would grace the sky with its presence. On the walk back to her house, the discourse remained on one subject. The stars, like sirens, called to her and I again and by mysterious chance, we landed on the same idea of lying on the trampoline to stare back at them.

Now indented by two figures, the trampoline squeaked each time we laughed. Although the stars held their grip on us for some moments, they presently wished to be close enough to know what caused our laughter and tears. But the stars and the trees only gazed at the two souls who spoke as if time had not once separated them. Growing jealous, the sky howled and the forest rustled and swished. We yelped. The trampoline croaked. Off we ran back to the porch.

But one last call kept us outside; like a violin bow sweeping quickly across the strings, a streak of light serenaded the sky. We stood there, in shock, and all at once began giggling and frantically thinking up a wish. Before our wishes could reach the meteor dust, a brighter one emerged and vanished. Jumping and grabbing the blanket from the porch, Grace and I plopped on our backs and waited once again for the violinist to once more play a flying staccato over the stratosphere. The solo concluded with four other strokes, each one carefully wished upon.

Sat on the blanket, the two young women shared their moments with the owls and the rustling bushes and the stars above. Nature was pleased that we graced them with our personal conversations and expressed emotions, and in return filled our night with unforgettable surprises.

HI DavieB how are you?

I really liked your short story, I think it's everything a short story should be! The plot is simple and easy to follow. It pictures a very beautifull ralathionship between two friends sharing a special moment. Also a special note to the ocabulary you useed, I think you used some very formukations to describe your ideas.

Now ususally short stories shouldn't leave you with unanswered questions as usually there is no next part. I think adding a few elemts would be nice. Such as names, a bit more descreption on the two characters, maybe how they met. As well as on the moment itself. I thought it was rather difficult to understand exactly what was happening. Now some time ago, someone here gave me a wonderfull piece of advice wich was show don't tell. I feel like there are moments where you're more into telling rather than showing.

Honetly this is an amazing short story and I genually enjoyed reading it.
I hope you have a nice day!