I guess everyone has their own “one that got away.” He was mine and he always would be. Stupid trivial high school flames, with their stupid attractions and attachments and ruses. It’s like a game, in the simplest sense. Well, he sunk my battleship, if we’re going to use that analogy.
He didn’t really seem like much. He was an average guy with deep, piercing green eyes. I could get lost in those eyes. But when he’d look at you he never really looked straight at you. He looked sort of past you. It was almost something you couldn’t see unless you were looking in his eyes, waiting for the contact that would never come.
He’d constantly do that; keep you waiting. He was never on time for anything. And before you could open your mouth to get mad at him, he’d point his eyes in your direction and “Sorry, traffic,” or “My mom took forever getting out of the house,” you to death and all would be forgotten. That’s the way it always was.
I guess I didn’t really mean anything to him. I like to say that to myself sometimes, maybe it keeps me grounded saying things like that. Somewhere, someway, he loved me. I was good to him. So, so disgustingly good that it made me sick to think about how bad he was to me. He wasn’t ever really there.
Sure, he’d say he was there, and look past you with those painful eyes. Looking somewhere he couldn’t quite reach. Like he was yearning for something but you had him tied to the spot with invisible ropes he could break but wouldn’t dare try to. He’d be looking at a car in the distance. Driving for miles on winding, unpaved roads that led to California.
He wanted to be a rock star. He acted like one. He wore the clothes and grew his hair long and learned guitar till his fingers bled and the strings turned a rusted, brown color in places. He’d curse over it, stick a finger in his mouth and go back to an A chord and start over again.
This one time he asked me what I thought of a song he’d written. He’d call me up every night and play his guitar for me. For hours all I heard was a sharp D-chord as his thumb hit the wrong note or his fingers tugged the wrong fret. For hours all I wanted to hear was the sound of his voice.
He called the song Midnight With You. He said it was for me. It was moments like that that made me fall in love with him. I didn’t want to be. I didn’t. At first it was as though he obsessed over me and I didn’t care. Then the shoe was on the other foot; I didn’t seem to fit his Vans sneakers.
Maybe he needed a skater-girl. Or a groupie. I think I wanted too much from him. I think I wanted more than his attention or his body. I think I wanted his heart and he wouldn’t give me that. He’d been hurt before; there wasn’t really any way to deny it. But it didn’t mean that he had to lie and tell me he loved me and then go on and not mean it.
He didn’t have to say it back to me every night we talked. He didn’t have to kiss me back. He didn’t have to do anything but pretend and look at me and pretend to care. Even the littlest bit.
But he didn’t. And after a while, of course, as with all good things, it came to an end. I knew his band and his music would always be first. Then his family, then his friends, then me. Or maybe I came after his religion or something. I wasn’t where I deserved to be. Not after what I’d given up to be with him.
I guess he never saw. Yeah, that was it. He never saw what he meant to me. And he stayed bitter for ages. Months. He wouldn’t talk to me at first, even though we both agreed it was time to move on. And those first two weeks I wanted him back. Oh, did I ever.
It was as though every pore in my body was screaming his name. I hinted, told him how I missed him. I asked him a zillion times if he still loved me. He’d say yes; then he’d go play his guitar.
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139,506 Literary Works • 672,595 Reviews
Capitalize the O in One, since it's the beginning of a quote.
Place a comma between "Mine" and "And."
Place a comma between "Attractions" and cross out "And."
I like the sentence better without Well.
Put a semicolon between "Much" and "He," also, lowercase He. Plus, when you say "He didn't seem like much..." you're supposed to follow with negative or plain connotation, you put "Deep, piercing green eyes..." I think you should start that as a follow up sentence after the 'plain' connotations about him.
Change it to would.
"Yet, he'd never look straight at you."
Cross out "Sort of."
What? I don't get it. Clear it up a bit.
Make this part clearer.
Replace the period for a comma.
Switch to "Somewhere, somehow."
No need for that word.
I do not understand.
Switch to "To try."
Replace the period with a comma and lowercase the D in "Driving."
Place a comma between "Time" and "He."
I think that should have quotation marks.
Redundant. Of course if he written the song about her it would be for her.
"I suppose he never knew, that had to be it.[/b]"
OVERALL:
I find this story very cliche' and pointless. The whole punk/emo/rocker boy image you portray is stereotypical and again, cliche'. Why is the girl so in love with him? Why is he choosing everything else over her? Throughout the entire story it's mainly desprictions, a narrative. Both the narrator and the boy (whose name we don't even learn in the story) are two-dimensional.
I'm guessing either 1.) You're new to writing, or 2.) You don't practice enough. If you read others' work and practice a lot more your work could get a lot better.
I loved the way you put this, the narrator voice was so real and believible it was in my head and I felt as if I was the girl. It hurt because it tugged at my own heartstrings, in a very good way. I think the sign of a good piece is when it moves someone.
Wow. That was really deep, it's not often I read something that moved me in such a way. I think it affected me because it obviously came from the heart, and is so open and honest. I really loved it, especially the part about the Vans shoes. It fitted in perfectly
Really good work, well done!
First off - ah this is splendiferous (not a word.. but hey!)
As said above, it kills the atmosphere. First of all i have no idea what that means. Maybe elephant if you really want that, because hippos don't eat beans (neither do elephants but they eat peanuts which could be a bean and i will stop rambling)
It's pretty pointless. Just delete it.
PLEASE! What makes him average? He has piercing green eyes - and the subsequent description is enough to tell me, no he is not average. Nobody is average if they have such interesting green eyes. Nooo. But (also said above) i want to know the details. Don't make him average. Plain. boring. just... no.
How so? other than the hair and guitar playing? I'm imaginging, when you say rock star, metal head/actual rock.
What had she given up for him? Be specific.
Etc
You have very choppy writing. Okay so my review is not as thorough as some of my others, but one thing i noticed was the volume of full stops. Link sentences and you will find the flow so much easier to read.
it is very emotional, and was a truly interesting read!
Hi kissthewitch! You asked for a critique on Pig Droppings, and I'm finally getting around to them. Yes, I know, I suck. XD
And then, even though this is romantic fiction, this has a bittersweet taste to it that I love, so that's very nice too!
Anyway, you definitely have an awesome style! I give you kudos, first of all, on how polished it is. There might be a typo, but I didn't see it, and I want to thank you for that. It's really a pleasure.
I can't see this becoming a novel, so unless you're really really dedicated, I would keep this as a short story, definitely. But I would totally expand it for certain parts. So let's talk about that, shall we?
Just a normal guy? PSH. I want to know the juicy details. What does he wear? What hair cut does he have? How does he hold himself? Does he have any scars? Does he look tired? These sorts of details help define him as a person to us.
Also! I want to know more about her. What is she like? We have a vague idea, since she is the narrator, but she repeatedly states that they weren't ever more than friends, if that. So that means that, even though she was attracted to him, he wasn't attracted to her, nor could she ever attract him. So... how did she try to attract him, if she tried at all? Those little details make all the difference.
Finally! There's no real story in here. You have the characters set up, you have the background information, but you don't really have any story! More particularly:
The problem is, I can't really see what she gave up for him, if she gave up something for him at all, and because of that, I'm confused. This doesn't seem to be the whole story! Tell us the whole story with all the juicy details and it will be lovely. <3
Hope this helps! As always, if you have any questions, just PM me.
Hey there, kissthewitch!
Also, don't wear any showy or expensive clothes. Try to sit behind or somewhere near (not next to) that person, and try to overhear anything they say. Pay attention to their facial expressions, and see what they pay the most attention to. Don't get caught. What to do once you know you've got someone interesting? Try blending in the personality of someone you understand very well (such as yourself) into the shell you have created through your observation.
This is quite polished, and obviously edited, so I can focus on the storyline, a refreshing break from bad grammar and misspellings. The only technical thing I found:
Quote: Well, his hippo ate the last bean, if we’re going to use that analogy.
This killed the whole atmosphere. Please take it out.
I'm going to be honest with you, whilst I liked the style of your writing and your descriptions, this doesn't really seem like a proper short story. It seems more like an ode to one boy. It's basically just talking about him and their love - perfectly good material for a story -, but cramming all this information into one piece, focusing on the perfect guy just doesn't qualify it for a story. You've obviously thought this character and the story through, so you know what would be brilliant? [.....] *dramatic pause*
Elongate it into chapters. Turn this piece into your synopsis, so you know what we're working with, and show each of these events as you go along, instead of telling us everything that happened. I'm literally begging you to do this because elongated into chapters, this would be great - and here you already have the main plan for the story.
The thing that turns this from a story into non-fiction is that there's basically no character developement, it's just a girl talking about a relationship. If there was less telling and more showing, we'd have dialogue, we'd have story developement. Instead of a whole string of events, pieced together, we'd be reliving the events as we went from chapter to chapter. We can empathise with your main character but you need to develop her as her own person instead of just have the piece rely on this boy and no real information about the main character, who isn't really the main character in this instance - though it's told through the first person, which is slightly worrying.
Remember to make your characters seem real. Nobody is perfect, including those overused "perfect" characters. If you want to capture some gritty, realistic characters, ride the bus. Not the subway. Ride the MTA buses, and go downtown. Look carefully at everyone, you might find some people whose faces alone leak of an interesting character. Typically these people are different from the people one sees everyday at school or work. Don't let them see you staring. Don't jot anything down, just let it settle in. Pay particular attention to abnormalities.
Warning: If you live in a very shady neighbourhood, and/or are very young/vulnerable looking, avoid this method.
Flesh out your character. If you are developing one very important character, have fun with it! Give your character an entire profile! What is his/her name? Where were they born, and when? Do they wear striped socks or solid ones? Is their hair blue or flame-red? Write down a bunch of these details, even if they may not be necessary for the story. Create a character profile. Know them better than you know yourself.
Anyway, sorry for the harsh review, kissthewitch. I'm only harsh to people whose work is good, you know that. This has real potential, I just hope you'll let it reach its full potential by elongating it. Then again, it's your choice. If you feel it works better as a standalone story, then keep it.
Good luck!
Sarah
This is brilliant.
With this short work, you've made me reflect on everything that I've lost, but also, somehow, on what I have gained. The prose itself is as heartfelt as it can get-- you express emotions brutally well, if I may use such a word. It is non-fiction for you? There are things, for me, like this that I would give anything to be able to put into words; in this, you have succeeded. I'm utterly jealous. The voice is perfect, the comparisons are perfect, the figures of speech couldn't be more true...
It was honestly my pleasure reading this. Thank you for sharing.
Wow, I love this!
hehe
The way you capture your MC's voice is amazing. Everything is so raw and lifelike. I can just picture this in my mind, this girl on her bed reminising about her lost love (or non-love). I just can't praise you enough for this.
I especially loved the part about the guitar and how he loved it more than he loved her. Just like a typical boy (no offense to anyone on the site)
Anyway, I can't really say anymore than what has already said.
Wondeful Job
I think this deserves a gold star, don't you?
*clicks magic button and poof! gold star appears*
Keep Writing!
Very descriptive, moving and comes from somewhere honest, I can tell.
Most things that are an almost-direct transcript of our past experiences write more emtionally, and it definetely shows.
I love it. I don't even think anything more needs to be said, but if you do write more on this the emotion has to be consistent. I like it a lot, and it's a shame that it's non fiction for you...am I right?
The illustration of her feelings were made clear, and even his. Your first person thing is really good, so don't feel as if you failed at this.
Good descriptions!
He’d constantly do that; keep you waiting. He was never on time for anything. And before you could open your mouth to get mad at him, he’d point his eyes in your direction and ((say)) “Sorry, traffic,” or “My mom took forever getting out of the house,” [s]you to death and [/s] all would be forgotten. ((I would make this a completely new sentence)) That’s the way it always was.[/quote]
Good paragraph! Love the descriptions!
I really liked this line.
Great end!
I really like this. I loved the emotions you evoked and the descriptive language. It was all so sad!
Great voicing and use of language! I'm giving you a gold star!
-Carly
Wow...I mean....Wow, this is really good. Like, in a moving sort of way because its so true. I mean, its something that absolutely anyone can relate to on some level or another, if not a musician and his music than the athlete and his game or the painter and his paints. Even if he writes the song about you or dedicates that big moment of the game to your name, or paints your image a billion times over.
Okay, I gotta stop with the poetic rambling. Anyway, I really enjoyed this piece and had trouble finding anything wrong with it. I mean, the idea is seen so many times but I've never seen it done in this particular way.
So congradulations, you made me almost cry...almost.