Can't Tell Daddy

Hey Rachel! I'm here to review this piece. I tend to get very wordy, so forgive the length.

And now I spoke of another harangue, once again finding myself sitting with my dad. And indeed, I do sit there – on my parent’s bed – and he sits there – on a chair’s footstool – and we both talk quietly.

I ran away from home, across the hayfield, down the natural gully, and into a strange wheat field.. and sat.

I further my story slowly, preceding it carefully, and straining to do the said due to my interrupting sobs. They are abrupt, my cries, and I cannot stop them to save my life. So I just sit there – as does daddy – and we both wait for them to quiet: for me to quiet.

[s]And[/s] as we remain in our lone figures, I tear tissues. My nails rip and tear at the breakable fabric – creating shreds and mounds of a white and snowy heap. When I [s]do[/s], finally speak again my fingers work faster, in a crazy and mad way. My father watches me in silence as I create a snowstorm.

I had a bad thought, I tell him suddenly, and without prior emotion. My head raises and my black ringlets stir to caress my cheek – almost as if in ill-fated attempt to tease me into a better mood. Fingers leaving the tissues, I momentarily shift them to snatch at the disobedient, annoying hair.

What is it, honey? he asks [s]slightly and[/s] quietly – so fatherly. His hand rises cautiously and halts, but then falls gently upon my hunched back. I flinch at the touch, [s]surprised at the sudden contact[/s]. A shiver attacks my spine.

Gray eyes downcast, I stare at the bedspread below me, and pick at an unraveled thread – I need to do something with my hands… It gathers quickly in between my fingers, slipping and sliding – its hue the color of a well-aged red wine.

I add the twine to the flurried mound, and grimace at the sight: its like blood on snow – an imperfection ruining the exact perfection.
Is ‘flurried’ the best choice for this? According to the Free Dictionary, ‘flurried’ means stirred or agitated. ‘Flurry’ means a moving mass. I just can’t quite picture the mound moving or stirred by the twine. The second thing here is that ‘its’ should be ‘it’s’. Remember, ‘its’ means possession while ‘it’s’ is a contraction for ‘it is’.

But I stare helplessly in descent, not wanting so stay further.

‘Stare helplessly in descent’? Where exactly, is the narrator descending to? ‘Not wanting so stay further’? Is ‘so’ supposed to be ‘to’?

So I tip my head to the ceiling, and watch the dark fan blades whirl in perfect, [s]and[/s] synchronized motion. I still don’t speak, [s]content in staying silent, and[/s] letting my tears dry.

This is fantastic characterization. It’s a little detail that lets the reader know more about the main character. I just think that it could be stronger by cutting out a few unnecessary words. What you have without it works perfectly.

My mouth opens, and a small whimper tumbles out. It was an attempt at speech – but it had failed – crashed and burned. Though, my dad hears the sound, and nods in silent encouragement. His hand squeezes [s]gently on[/s] my back[s]: he wants me to continue. But[/s] I can’t. I can’t do this! I can’t speak… I don’t want to…! [s]And[/s] I can’t even breathe, so how can I talk? My throat closes up, and that small meaningless whimper is followed by deep, gut-wrenching sobs[s], and heaving cries[/s].

The second sentence, the one beginning with “It was an attempt”, could do without the dashes. Actually, it might work better if the first dash becomes a period and the second one a comma. There’s something very awkward about the dashes in that sentence. Again, I think omitting some of those pieces might strengthen the piece.

I know, he says in a broken tone: his voice thick.

A comma would work better than a colon here. The colon makes things feel a little stilted, and I think a comma might smooth things out.

That is what gave me the [s]sudden[/s] courage – a vague realization that I needed to tell my daddy what I had to say. He understood that I couldn’t manage to say what I needed to, but he also knew that I had to say it. He had to know, and I had to tell. [s]Sudden[/s] trust enveloped around me like a well-fitted glove, and it tightened, allowing myself to feel strength from it’s abrupt, and swift feel.

I don’t think ‘sudden’ adds much to this section, so perhaps they should be left out. Also, ‘it’s’ should be ‘its’ in this instance, since trust possesses this abrupt and swift feel. Also, I think that this would be best written in the present tense. “This gives me courage— a realization that I need to tell my daddy.” After all, the rest of the piece so far has been written in present tense. It would be best if this was too.

[s]And[/s] on that sticky summer evening, through my tears [s]and cries[/s], I opened my mouth, and finally spoke to my daddy.

Thank you Rosey and Selene for commenting - every little bit helps! And I see how there are a lot of confusing and rough patches. I appreciate you both pointing those out. And I do have to watch the tenses I use (directed to Selene.) Sometimes I get caught up in the story, and pay NO attention whatsoever to past and present tense. Oops!

And I do like the symbolism, Rosey, that I did with the twine and tissues. I'm not sure how I can work it in more... so I might have to take you up on your offer, and PM you.

Other than that, thank you both, again, very much for your critiques and comments. I'll be sure to look this over once more, and tweek it (not just a bit) but loads!

-Rachel

Hiya! Here as requested!

And indeed, I do sit there – on my parent’s bed – and he sits there – on a chair’s footstool – and we both talk quietly.

and straining to do the said due to my interrupting sobs.

When I do, finally, speak again my fingers work faster, in a crazy and mad way.

I tell him suddenly, and without prior emotion.

Fingers leaving the tissues, I momentarily shift them to snatch at the disobedient, annoying hair.

From his perch, my father stands.

I add the twine to the flurried mound, and grimace at the sight: its like blood on snow – an imperfection ruining the exact perfection. My grin broadens at the irony: am I the snow? The bad thought, the blood? Me the innocent tissues? And the bloody thread the ruining aspect?

I quickly lick ugly grin away.

my alabaster cheeks pink with emotion.

Hiya Silver! I'm here to review, like I said I would. ^_^ Oh and welcome to YWS!

Nit-Picks:

I trust only him – I always had.

I further my story slowly, preceding it carefully, and straining to do the said due to my interrupting sobs.

What is it, honey? he asks slightly and quietly – so fatherly.

I had a bad thought, I tell him suddenly, and without prior emotion.

I quickly lick ugly grin away.

But I stare helplessly in descent, not wanting so stay further