The first thing I remember when I close my eyes is two kind, smiling faces, looking down at me with eyes much like mine. But what I remember the most clearly is the small, sleeping faces that lay next to me. I remember how those small faces changed and grew as I did. I remember how our hair grew longer as our tempers grew shorter. I remember long sunny days that the three of us would spend chasing butterflies through the tall grass. Then we’d chase the falling leaves, for there were no more butterflies. Then we’d chase the fluttering snowflakes that came drifting through the chilly air, waiting until there were butterflies again. Then I remember an old dirt road we’d walk down together, arm in arm. I remember coming back along the dirt road as the sun rose then later as it set. We spent the class whispering to each other and watching the minutes tick by slowly. At night we’d snuggle up close to each other and listen to the rain tapping on our window. I remember also our monsters. Mine was in the closet, yours was under the bed, while hers lurked in the hall. We used to tell each other stories about these monsters to scare each other. I remember sharing food at every meal and gifts at every Christmas. We shared secrets, and time, treasures, and lies.
Then I remember the faces changed in ways I hadn’t expected. I could no longer read the stories in their eyes or know what they were trying to tell me. Soon, I lost track of their stories altogether as I fell deeper still into mine. They would say things that didn’t make sense, things that I didn’t think they ever would say to me. Now we slept in our own beds and listened to the rain alone. Our monsters faded away. I walked down and up the dirt path alone. There were snowflakes, falling leaves, and butterflies, but there was no more chasing. The faces that had once been small and familiar had grown strange and uncanny. I no longer knew the people they belonged to. Eventually, the faces vanished, and I was alone in an empty, hollow, lifeless house. One day I opened my eyes to find the house gone, and the face in my mirror was the face of a stranger. I watched minutes tick by alone, as the old house grew fainter and fainter in my mind. Rain fell, butterflies flew, and monsters surrounded me. Yet nothing was the same.
One day, when wandering alone, I found an old house. It lay at the foot of an old dirt road, rotting away in the tall grass. There I found two faces, much like mine. We sat together, by the house and whispered to each other. The three of us spent the time watching butterflies, arm in arm. Now my skin grows cold as my heart grows warm. I have lost my past. But I am not alone.
THE END
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In the first paragraph, you talk about 'monsters' that the protagonist and the 2 friends have a thing in common, of all 3 of them being scared of monsters, in the line ''to scare each other" to show the characters' bonds. even thou ussually the world 'monsters' have a negative connotation, you were still able to show the characters' bond. In contrast to the second paragraph talking about ''monsters'' again, but this time you talk about how those ''monsters faded'' and, per se, that would be considered a positive thing, but by your writing, that is more to suggest that those friends' bond faded like 'those monsters faded'. cause if those monsters fade, so does the thing they 3 have in common. And also a way for them to bond, so I think you were able to create that context beautifully. great story
Let me know if that's what you were trying to do, cause i think you were able to achieve it wonderfully. Hope you understand, my review is my first time reviewing.
Thanks for reviewing! I hope it was fun for you. I'm glad you liked my story. Honestly I wasn't sure what I was trying to do with this story. I kind of wanted to make something different people could connect with for different reasons. So it's very open to interpretation. I really like how you read it. Thanks again!
You're welcome
This was lovely, Crim. Oy, it hit both lyrically and concretely. You've captured a bittersweet longing that's eerie without being creepy, and I trusted the narrator's voice right off the first step. You use concrete moments and tie them to physical things throughout, which neatly grounds me and keeps me from getting lost in the tone, and the sense of distant past. It could be described as memory incarnate.
Neatly done on the repetition to create a rhythm--it's like the wash of waves. I remember... I remember..." in sequence.
I'd be curious to see it broken into briefer paragraphs. It might give punctuation to some of the starker statements made, for example, "But what I remember the most clearly is the small, sleeping faces that lay next to me."
If you broke the paragraph here, you'd give the reader more of a breath to hold that image with, before moving into rainfall patter of proceeding descriptions.
This too ("One day I opened my eyes to find the house gone, and the face in my mirror was the face of a stranger.") might be an apt place to begin a new paragraph, or even section it off as its own paragraph.
I haven't anything else distinct I would suggest changing. I've got a few questions you might mull over, though, if you mean to revise it at all.
1) How intentional do want the slightly formal diction and tone to be? Using 'yet', etc? If intentional, I think it increases the sense that this is something 'long past'. I'd suggest restructuring the one or two sentences that end with prepositions if you want to lean into that.
2) What does the narrator mean by, "I have lost my past. But I am not alone." ? No answer necessarily needed. It seems to be saying that he/she has lost their memories, but not their presence. Which is an interesting reflection on memory and our existence and connections.
3) Likewise, what does it mean, "Nothing was the same"? It seems like everything is the same except the narrator is experiencing it without their siblings/people.
It is a piece with atmosphere in spades; almost as vital to a story as character.
Toodles,
IMP
Heya! Crim here stopping by for a review!
I must say I really like the title you have for this. It’s captivating and stays on point to the story rather than a title that has little to nothing but random words to the story.
I also like how you start with stating things you remember of the past. The way this story is described makes me think of one of those memory dreams where you sleep remembering everything good in the past only to wake up to a very different and now very real reality.
Some of my favorite lines:
This one hits deep for me. Sometimes as we get older we forget about these things in the past that seriously affected us when we were younger but the fact that this was something that the narrator (I’m not sure if that’s your or not) and the other character shared and have deep roots even now.
This also hits deep. As one gets older we get better at masking but people with a pure child like spirit still want to see the windows into the soul even if those windows are now foggy.
I really like how you tie everything together it seems bittersweet almost but mostly sweet.
My only critique would be because this title has to do with butterflies and the story itself does have that incorporated maybe make it more of a definition than a detail. Why are the butterflies so important besides watching them? Did these characters make others think of them as butterflies from how delicate yet free they are? How vibrant they are? Just a thought.
I loved this read. I love these types of short stories!!
Crim signing off!
Thanks so much for reading! I'm glad that I was able to capture something you could relate to:)