The only sources of warmth for him that day were the puffing steam from the cup in his hand and the hot coffee inside it. As the evening sun started to set and the freezing December wind threatened to turn him into an ice statue, he quickly took a sip of the coffee and felt the heat spreading down his body through his throat. A sigh escaped from his lips and quickly froze into white smoke, wavering in front of his weary eyes.
Why am I here?
He found himself silently asking the indifferent crowd upon the festive street in front of him, while he pulled his thin jacket closer to his body. It was Christmas, and everyone is hurrying to return to their warm, cozy home. And yet, there he was, sitting on a snow-coated wooden bench in the park, pondering upon the reason why he was there. However, his mind was as hazy and gray as the winter sky above, and it was not until a few minutes had passed, that an answer came to him, not clear, but dull like the sound of an old bell echoed through mist: He was waiting for her.
If he could choose, he would choose to wait for her anywhere else but here. In fact, it was a choice of sitting inside the cafe nearby where he bought his coffee and sitting out here in the cold. Any normal person would most likely not consider the second choice. However, he was not normal. He was a hopelessly romantic person in love.
...I met her here, after all.
His thoughts scattered to the wind as his mind playing a flash back. It was not long ago that he was just an aspiring young writer, with only a few short stories written then. At that time, he was fighting against a serious case of writer’s block, and on his quest to search for inspiration, he came to this park. Never did he know that he would find more than just inspiration when he sat down on the snow-coated bench that winter day. As he watched the busy streets in front of the park, he found his mind empty of ideas. He was greatly tempted to give up on searching for his inspiration and return home instead of having to stay out here and frozen to death, but he waited there. Waited for what, he did not know. He just felt that he would find something to write about if he sat there long enough in the cold. And he did.
She came to him without a word. There were just merely the sounds of footsteps on snow, a few rustling noises of her hand sweeping the snow off her seat, and the clicking of her mechanical pencil as she opened her sketch book told him of her presence next to him on the far side of the bench. At first, he did not pay any more attention to her than he would to any stranger on the street. However, a thought dawned on him: “Who in the right mind would sit here in middle of winter?”
He knew that he was not one of those people in their right mind, but who else could be like him? Curiosity took over him, and he took a stealthy glance at her and found her doing the same with him. Their eyes met for a split second, before they quickly turned away due to a ridiculous social rule that prevented two strangers to look into each other’ eyes. He silently stared at the blank note book before him as the last attempt to preserve his dignity. Still, there was something that drew him to turn his head again, to look at the girl sitting next to him one more time. And just like the last time, he saw her turned to look at him at the same time he turned to look at her. Something sparked between them, and they both chuckled, before silently turning back to the blank papers in front of them and minding their own business. He suddenly realized he had found an idea for a story. He could write about her, about this interesting meeting with a girl who seemed to just as strange as him. Quickly set his pencil in motion, he drafted out pages of writing, before noticing that there were the noise of more than one pencil on paper.
He turned his head aside once again to the girl, and this time, he did not find her looking back at him. She was absorbed in her work, drawing a sketch of a portrait. He moved closer to look at it, and it took him a while to realize that the person in the sketch strangely resembled him. Without even a thought of how rude he was, he asked: “Is that me?”
The girl was startled, and instantly held her sketch book close to her chest, her cheeks were burning red hot despite the freezing air, and her words were flustered: “Y-yes...I-I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “I’m also writing a story about you too, so we are even.”
“Really?” She could not hold back the surprise from showing on her face and unconsciously moved closer to him and took a glance on his writing.
He nodded. “I was just looking for an idea to write, and I just somehow found an inspiration in you.”
“Me too!” She exclaimed, “I was trying to find something to draw, and I felt like I could draw about you when I saw you.”
Silence fell between them at this revelation as they looked at each other, eyes wide with amazement. What could be even stranger, a writer and an artist on their quest to search for their inspiration, come to the same place, and found what they were searching for within each other? There was a moment of the invisible wall between them fall apart, and they burst out laughing next together in middle of the bench. They were strangers no more.
She started, wiping her tears from having laughed too much, “Do you...”
“...Want some coffee?” He asked her, unknowingly finishing her sentence.
She quickly covered her mouth to stop another burst of laughter, and finally asked, trying to be as calm as possible: “Are you reading my mind or something?”
“Great minds think alike.” He grinned.
Another cold wind blew directly to his face, forcing him to stop his reminiscence and he drank some more warm coffee from his cup. It was getting late, and the robust street earlier has become considerably less busy. But he is used to this. She was always late. Every day after their first meeting, it was always him who came to the park first and waited for her. Then she would come later, sheepishly apologizing to him before beginning their routine: he wrote about her, and she drew him. Sometime they would show each other’s works and commented, sometime they argue about what they think would be better for his writing or her drawing, and most of the time they procrastinated and just talked about life while enjoying their coffee. Before he knew it, he realized that he was starting to look forward to their meeting. And she too, admitted the same when he told her. They could sense that they were becoming something more than just friends. They could sense it when they sit next together in those winter days, at first on the far sides of the benches, and then closer, and closer to each other, until their bodies touched, and they shared their warmth just by leaning on the other. But they could not say their feeling out loud. He was not ones that can say those kinds of things easily. He thought that he could not find it within himself to tell her, until one Christmas.
On that day, he came to their usual meeting spot with two cups of coffee – one for him, and one for her. However, to his surprise, as he walked to the wooden bench, he saw her from afar, with two cups of coffee on a paper tray in her hand. As they stood facing each other in front of the bench, they were unsure of what to say. He knew that her extra cup was for him, and she knew that his extra cup was meant for her, and both of them felt awkward for having an unnecessary cup of coffee.
“Well,” she broke the silence between them, “I am not late for once today! And I bought this for you.” She handed him a cup. “Merry Christmas!”
“Thanks.” He smiled, “but I have something for you too.” He placed his extra cup into her tray, and took her offered cup from her hand. “Merry Christmas.”
Felt no less awkward than before, they sat down on the wooden bench, and started to talk about trivial things. It didn’t take more than a quarter of a cup of coffee before they were out of topics to talk. It was then that he took a deep breath, and said: “I have something I want to tell you.”
“Hmm?” She turned her head and looked at him, waiting.
The words stuck within his mouth and refuse to come out. He couldn’t understand how he could so easily write about characters that can say those simple words flawlessly, and yet when he had to say it, he found it nearly impossible. He then drank the coffee gulps after gulps like a man drinking wine to search for bravery in drunkenness. But coffee was no alcohols, and after a cup and a half, having almost burnt his throat from drinking too much hot liquid, he was only able to start with great difficulty: “I-I...”
“...Love you?” She finished his sentence for him, and took a sip from her cup.
“...Now you are the one reading my mind.” He embarrassingly hid his face behind his hand.
“Great minds think alike, right?” She grinned. “I love you too.”
His recollection was cut short by a sneeze. It was getting colder as the night starting to fall, and the lukewarm coffee wouldn’t be enough to keep him from freezing anymore. He could feel the cold seeping through his clothing and greedily stealing his body heat away.
She will come.
He knew that she would come. He knew that she would come, like she always does. The time he spent with her was the happiest time in his life. It was, and will forever be. On that day he met her, he found more than just inspiration. He found his meaning of life. They were just two lonely persons, wandering in the winter of life, seeking for some warmth. And they found that warmth within each other, the warmth that keeps them to continue to live on.
Slowly, he placed his hand over his heart. There, neatly folded in a chest pocket, was an unfinished drawing of him by her. She gave him this drawing on that Christmas day a year ago, and he had always keep it with him since then. And as he placed his hand on the drawing, he closed his eyes and started counting his breath.
One.
Two.
Thre-
“HEY!”
He heard her voice calling to him and opened his eyes. She was crossing the street, carefully looking around for incoming car before dashing toward him.
“I am sorry, really sorry.” She apologised to him while trying to catch her breath. “The traffic was insane!”
“It is alright.” He gently smiled to her. “Better safe than sorry right?”
“B-but I was late again...” She was nervously biting her thumb.
“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, still smiling. “Your safety is my utmost concern. There was an accident here last year, so I was really worried about you.”
“Gee, don’t worry too much, silly!” She quickly came beside him, and swept away the snow before sitting down. “I am here now, am I?”
“Yes...you are here with me now.” He stared into the black coffee at the bottom of his cup.
“Oh, and one more thing.” She fidgeted with her finger. “I am sorry for unable to finish your drawing.”
“Why are you apologizing so much?” He sighed. “I don’t care about anything else, as long as you are here with me, I am happy. I just love you that much.”
“S-stop saying those embarrassing things! People are looking!” Both of her hands were covering her blushing red cheeks.
“Hey, I did say I won’t care about anything but you.” He grinned proudly.
“Oh really?” She teased him. “What about yours writings?”
“Who cares about them? I would even risk my life for you. Hey, don’t laugh!” He frowned at her. “Look,” with his cup of coffee placed on the bench between them, he lifted up his two hands in front of him, and started to narrate to her with them as if telling a story to a little child. “Imagine this hand is you, and this hand is me. When you are in danger, I would run to you and whoop! Take you away to safety!”
She laughed and he watched her with a smile filled with happiness and joy. To be with her like this forever was all he ever wanted. But at that moment, he felt a hand placed on his shoulder.
“Brother, there you are.”
It was his sister. And he knew what she is going to tell him.
“Let’s go home, everyone is waiting.” She said to him, her voice heavy with worries.
“Go away.” He coldly replied to his sister and glanced aside. His love is there, looking at him, a profound sadness in her eyes.
“Brother, sitting out here in the cold is not good for you.” His sister continued.
“Leave us alone.” Like a cornered beast, he growled dangerously.
“Us?...Brother...I brought your medicine.” Taking out a plastic bag fill with pills, his sister put it into his hand.
“I DON’T NEED THIS!” He furiously threw the bag into the pile of snow beside the bench.
“Please, brother, you have to face it.” His sister’s voice was gentle, but to him, they were the herald bells of doom.
With his shaking hands pressed against his ears, he mumbled, “No...Don’t say it...I beg you...”
But no matter how much he tried to prevent himself from hearing it, the words seeped through his hands just like the cold winds, and freeze his heart from inside. “Brother...She is gone. She died in the accident last year.”
The memories of that Christmas night came back and mercilessly ravaged his mind. He saw her walking across the street that day as they returning home. Her bag dropped, and the unfinished drawing flew out. She ran after it, oblivious to a car speeding toward her. He ran to her, and time seemed to slow down, as he witness her body flew into the air and bounced off the ground like a ragdoll. His body was heavy, and his legs dragging as he tried his best to run to where she laid - a pool of blood. Finally, he crashed down beside her. In her still-clenched hand was the unfinished drawing of him, tainted with blood. He cried out to her, begging her to stay with him. But she turned to him, weakly smiled, and placed the drawing in his hand. And then slowly, he felt the warmth in her hand fading away as the siren wailed from afar.
With his hands still shaking, he turned his head aside once again, slowly and painfully. He could only see snow and his frozen cup of coffee beside him.
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140,783 Literary Works • 673,688 Reviews
Hey Rainwanderer. Thanks for the review. For requesting one I mean *Laughs*
Anyway, I'm pretty happy with this genre so I should be able to give you my normal epicness that is my reviews.
You have managed to gather some pretty good reviewers that have done most of my job but I'll still pick out a few noticeable grammar mistakes. Forgive me if I repeat but as you see... There are many reviews here. I can't be that unique x3 P.S Sorry this took me so long. Do not blame me~Its all my computer's fault.
Enough blabbering. Onto the epicness~
GRAMMAR
RED is mistakes and PINK is the bits I liked.
Mmm that was a lovely ending. Overall you had me on edge the whole way through. The plot was unique and on my whole time on the site I genuinely have never come across anything like it. When I first read through it I groaned when you mentioned christmas. I understand now why you used this season but I still feel a bit odd commenting on such weather as it is nearly summer. Anyhow I don't find that to be the major problem. The tone throughout the piece was varied. By the words chosen I could feel and understand the rising in your voice as we got to the part where he pictured the accident.
On that subject, I think you could have added a lot more detail in tons of places. The accident for instanse. We don't know much about it. We never felt the loss he must have felt or the pain as he watched her die. We don't even know her name. This little things make huge differences in stories and I think that be doing a really good look over and edit this piece could be quite wonderful. The 'I love you' scene wasn't at all good if you don't mind me saying. In all my time I have never imagined that saying I love you for the first time would be something just to you know flick it away afterwords. I know the image of both of them knowing each other so well to finish off each others sentences but it defiantly doesn't work when saying I love you. So far you never told us of them making out or even touching each other. Thus, saying I love you must be quite a big thing for them or am I wrong? It should be so romantic and even a shock to 'the girl'. Make us feel what they feel. Show us their love don't tell us.
Do you get where I'm coming from? Your detail was preety good up until that scene so I was a little disappointed. Its nothing you can't fix so I would advise you to fix the little mistakes and your work will be a masterpiece.
As far as mistakes go mainly it was small typo's and misplacing words and sentences. I can't really help much here other then ask you to have a quick run over and use the spell check. Oh the blessed spell-check!!
Your imagery was general ok. What I do when I'm writing is open another tab with a dictionary/theasauras on it and look at it every so often. It helps your vocabulary immensely and also makes your work look amazing.
Other then what I've pointed out, there wasn't that much wrong with what you wrote. The idea was genuinely original and I really enjoyed what you wrote. You do have talent and I think this piece could be so much better by fixing these little mistakes.
Keep working hard and it all should fall into place.
Thanks again for the review request.
Kaka xo
P.S About you dashing away without paying. I caught you and you payed. You will never succeed in running away from me. Never. So next time just don't even bother trying.. xD
Hello there! First, may I say that this is beautifully written considering that English isn't your first language. There's a few mistakes but nothing that makes the story unreadable. I quite like it, particularly the ending. I think you could have been more dramatic at times and built on the character's personalities some more but in general, there'd not much I don't like. Here's some advice and grammar corrections:
[This doesn't work. Its been too long since this conversation for them. Months, years. For us it may only be a page of writing but for them it's a long time which makes this very unrealistic.]
Characterization:
Alright. It's okay to make your characters similar but there needs to be some slight differences in the way they act. The writing vs sketching thing is good, but there needs to be more. It's too cliché to have them do the exact same things over and over again. For example, you could describe how each sits on the bench. Does one cross their legs and the other sit legs straight? Does one of them have a lot of bags with them and the other none? Just a little more description and information so that these two stand out as individuals.
Dialogue:
It's very forced which is understandable considering your different nationality. Try to work on it though. Instead of using 'it is' you should use it's as most English people abbreviate. So I am becomes I'm and so on. Also, people don't tend to call each other brother and sister. They don't tend to use any form of address in that situation to be honest.
Overall:
A very good piece of writing. It needs some work but I liked it, especially the ending. It was semi expected but still nicely done and the image of the frozen cup of coffee beside him is a very strong one. You've got a good eye for detail and I'd love to read more by you, feel free to let me know if you'd like any other reviews.
Heather xxx
Hi!
This is amazing. I really loved it, and I almost wept when I read the ending.
It's just so sad...
Any way, I noticed a few nit picks, but they were all pointed out here:
You really are a great writer!
Can't wait to see your next piece!
Cheers,
Alpha
*Bow* Thank you for your insights, and your lesson on the usage of ellipsis, Kyousuke-sensei. This person will forever remember your generousity.
Surprising to see somebody else here who's english isn't mother language too. You've got a wide dictionary, it's easy to see if you read tons of works here on YWS. I can't tell that this isn't the first story with similar theme and idea that I read, but it's got its own differences, can't go and say casually that this is a copy as it certainly isn't.
I'm going to point out some things I noticed and that I've been taught shouldn't happen often; you use three dots too often. Alright I know it's a common sense and can be used, but you use it too much. Especially when there are more of them in a short sequence. Don't forget that you can use - instead of ... ( f.e. if you had a speech like 'But - I - I didn't mean... Eh, nevermind' ) and when you have three dots in the start of a dialogue, believe me, it's way better to mention beforehand that there is a hesitation, f.e. 'He rose his distant stare from the ground and looked in her worried eyes, answering in half-voice after a short hesitation' than to have multiple ... at the start of so many dialogues. I know ... makes the whole deal easier, but it's much better to describe it than repeat it often. I've been taught that in aspect of stylistics.
Now back to the story itself. I think it's rather good in its own aspect - especially for short story, even though I have to admit the too often 'death end' is becoming tiring. For me at least, not for everybody. There are people who still prefer those more or simply like those more. It's all about what you want it to be yourself, because story is a result of your inner self, of the products in your mind. You can write well, I give you credit for that. You've got the will and potential to begin with, especially that english of yours - it's in a good shape and I bet it's going to get better with time. Best of luck ninja, I'll be looking forward to seeing more of you. Though, before I get to it, expect me to tear your next piece apart if I'd find out that my name is misspelled again! Just joking, but be cautious when you write a post to somebody else, some people are very ticky when it comes to misspelling their nicknames.
Best regards,
Kyou~
Usually I'm not one for sad endings. But I can't see this story any other way. It was flawlessly and beautifully executed, and the story is enticing and gripping. I love the way you described not feeling warmth at the beginning, it was a fantastic way at foreshadowing. I can feel the male character's pain, you described the situation in a great way. The only suggestion I can make to edit is:
It should be "your" writings instead of "yours" writings.But besides this small detail, I couldn't find anything you needed to improve on. Fantastic.
I can honestly say that I love this. This story was an utter masterpiece and I believe that you will someday (if you wish it) be one of the world's best writers! I am a huge fan of sad endings and the ending to this one nearly made me cry. (That's a good thing for me 'cause I almost never cry.)
ShadowPrincess16
I really can't anything about this. I am amazed at what I just read. I gained a smile as I read and then was struck down at the end. It was truely amazing.
Now, for the review:
As others said before, check a few gramatical errors. I can't think of any off the top of my head and I don't really want to read the whole story over in a sence of a critic, but check it over a little. Though I say this, I don't recall many. So you'll probably have to look hard to find them [Unless others find them for you].
As the plot is concerned, I can't think of anything that is wrong. I was confused in the middle a bit, but by the end I had figured it out. (And Im pretty sure that is what you were aiming for). My problem was re-reading a few parts to remind myself what was happening. Maybe try to make the keypoints stand out more so you can tell when its a flash back and the present (And if Im not mistaken, there is a double flashback?).
Overall, the story was a masterpiece. To tell the truth, that is the best story I have read my whole life.
My god, this is beautiful. So very sad, but imaginatively beautiful. Each line had so much meaning to it. The way how it starts out this supposed love story with all the coincidences and such, but then slowly and emotionally escalates into a masterfully morbid case of paranoia.
I cannot express enough how you brilliantly you changed the classic 'let's see how the guy gets the girl in the end' tale into a grave trip to a blood-bathed memory. What you also succeeded at also is how little you actually had to remaster plot wise to prove that it was all in his mind, no dream-sequence - no nothing, it all just comes to you.
You sir, are a literary genius; please, oh please don't ever change your style of writing. 5/5
Thanks for all the grammatical mistakes point-out. If only I was born as an English speaker, this would never happen. But I am not, and I have to burden you as a reviewer to point out things I ought to know. *bows* I appreciate the link. Time to review the basics...
And by the way, the MC's thoughts are all supposedly italicized. Might have been some error when I pasted the story to the forum.
Hey,
I'm here to review that story that was left on my counter mysteriously.
This was very good. Normally I don't like sad endings. I like the pot of gold and the rainbow and the singing birds and people holding hands singing Kumbaya, My Lord. But this was fantastic. I liked Where the Red Fern Grows too. I don't know why. Your characters were great. There were some typos that I'm going to point out. Now for the fun stuff...
This was already getting really long, so I looked up a tense rules website for you. Here it is.
I know it seems like I pointed a lot of things out, but they're mainly grammatical. If you need another review, just slip the story on my counter.
Megsug