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This is easily the worst party I've ever been to. Granted, I haven't been to a lot of parties, because I'm not a party person. But if I had gone to a lot of parties back in high school, or if I'd gone to college when I had the chance and gone to parties then, I'm pretty sure none of them could hold a candle to how depressing this party is.
Everything is wilted. The dusty decorations, the moldy party hats, [COMMA SPLICE. TRY A DASH HERE?] even the cake seems to sag beneath its own weight. Everything’s heavy, too heavy to celebrate. We are all quiet, because Toby hates being sung to. We’d all planned to sing to her anyway, like we used to, but we knew better than to set Toby off at this point. [I LOVE THE METAPHORS AND DESCRIPTIONS IN THIS PARAGRAPH]
Ocean, her already heavy frame made heavier by the atmosphere, rubs the back of her head absentmindedly, her tattoos flashing in the light, catching my eye occasionally [IT'S UNCLEAR WHETHER IT'S HER TATOOS THAT'S CATCHING YOUR EYE OCCASIONALLY OR HERSELF THAT'S DOING THE ACTION]. Her nose carries a ring in its left nostril, and her ears are covered from stem to stern in piercings. The nurses decided to give her back her piercings after a successful month-long trial. It’s been ages since Ocean’s last attempt to escape, so they figure giving her what makes her happy will make her stay for good. I think they’re right. For once. [IT WAS A BIT UNCLEAR DURING MY FIRST READ THROUGH WHETHER STAYING MEANT STAYING IN THE HOSPITAL OR STAYING ON EARTH/AT HOME. LOGICALLY, SINCE SHE'S HAPPY, OF COURSE IT MEANS STAYING AT HOME/ON EARTH, BUT PERHAPS THAT COULD BE A TOUCH CLEARER]
Bass– [DOUBLE DASHES] uh, I mean, Brenda, dammit– [DOUBLE DASHES] stands awkwardly by the cake, watching the flames like a child, mesmerized. Her once spiked brown hair now sits floppily on her forehead, the ends reaching out for her freshly plucked eyebrows set above hard brown eyes. His– [DOUBLE DASHES] ugh, not again, her– [DOUBLE DASHES] long, thin nose comes to a point like an arrow toward her (now often frowning) mouth.
Toby lies on her hospital bed, the restraints taking a break from her arms for her big day, her 21st birthday. Her long, black hair has been swept up into a bun by one of the nurses– probably Yanamaria, the head nurse and our favorite. Her blue eyes haven’t quite gone blank yet, in the way most people’s do in the hospital. She’s not totally lost to us just yet, and I’m grateful for that. Her lips are small, a cracked pale pink, and always open a tiny bit, revealing only just slightly crooked front teeth that once made her lisp terribly. Even in rehabilitation, she is breathtaking. She speaks slowly, deliberately, as if every word pains her.
“I’m 21 now, Yanny,” Toby says in a heavy voice as Yanamaria cuts the thick red velvet cake– Toby’s favorite. Toby tries to keep her voice light, the way it used to be, and fails. “I can drink if I wanted to. I might just raid your secret nurse’s stash in the nurse’s secret headquarters downstairs.” [THE SWITCHING OF THE "SECRETS"S IS A LITTLE AWKWARD PRIMARILY BECAUSE IT'S NOT OBVIOUS WHAT "SECRET NURSE" REFERS TO]
Yanamaria laughs, an all-consuming laugh that shakes the world. She is large, busty and radiates compassion. [THE PARALLELISM IS OFF HERE] Her kinky hair is only semi-tamed by her red bandana, tied Rosie the Riveter style on her head, and she has a huge and easy smile. We all love her.
“You couldn’t find that stash if you searched for ages,” she replies in a rather thick Georgia accent, slapping a piece of cake on a flimsy Winnie the Pooh paper plate.
“How do you know I haven’t already found it?” says Toby, her eyes finally finding their usual shade of dazzling. “And I’m just waiting for the right time? I’m very sneaky, you know.” Yanamaria laughs her big, hugging laugh again. I laugh too, because with Yanamaria, I can’t help it. Ocean smiles and even Bass [DID YOU MEAN TO USE BASS HERE, INSTEAD OF BRENDA?] seems to lighten up. Bass and I make eye contact across the room, exchange a thought in our old way, half-telepathically. By the expression in his eyes, I can see we’re both thinking about the last time we saw Toby truly happy, at her 19th birthday party.
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My first reaction: Wow, this piece is amazing. I love the clear-cut way that you discuss depression and also the quality of this story. Your writing is masterful and fluid with varied sentence structure. The descriptions are original and not under/overdone at all. This work is near perfection, and I don't say that very often. Definitely, keep writing. I could only wish that I had your potential.
Points: 285
Reviews: 8
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