The Walk Alone

Hey there Story Weaver!

I will go into (some sort of) detail about each paragraph.

It’s morning, and the sun’s still trembling over the horizon.

My parents tell me that I should take the bus to school; I’d get an extra hour of sleep and I wouldn't have to rush in the mornings. I've tried explaining winter in the morning to them, but they don’t seem to understand.

After shuffling into my parka and boots, I plod out across the road of our neighborhood, past white-sheened rooftops and blanketed lawns. Skeletal trees now look like phantoms, the frost giving the illusion that they are made of a fabric no stronger than dust, and that if one was to sweep a hand across them the trees would disperse into a million pieces and drift across the violet sky.

I’m not a poet. Still, the winter speaks to me. My breath trails in visible puffs of smoke, and I imagine pulling out an old cigar pipe from my mouth, heat against cold, life against all else. The rising sun prods at these thoughts, and I can feel the freedom of the darkness leaving me. It’s like when you wake up from a dream, and you’re first still half-asleep and pondering, when finally the alarm clock rings. Then comes life. Real life, they call it. Get up. Brush hair. Dress. Dress nicely, you don’t want to stand out. Go to school. Go home. Rinse. Repeat.

The sun steals the world from me, engulfing long shadows and striding up through the proverbial sky. Tomorrow I’ll walk this way again, when the world’s so small that I can press it in the palm of my hand. Frost glitters like dust in the sun, trembling, waiting to be brushed away.

Hey there!

Starleene here!

Who’s ready for a review! I hope you said you because I’m about to give you one! Let’s take this paragraph by paragraph, the story was so great I don’t want to miss a thing!

“It’s morning, and the sun’s still trembling over the horizon.”

Holy smokes the imagery! In my mind’s eye I can see just the glimmer of the sun peaking over the mountains, struggling to stay in the sky. Just the fact that the simplicity of this sentence can invoke such strong feeling is amazing in itself!

“My parents tell me that I should take the bus to school; I’d get an extra hour of sleep and I wouldn’t have to rush in the mornings. I’ve tried explaining winter in the morning to them, but they don’t seem to understand.”

In these two sentences you seem to have captured the whole teenage vs. parents is such an elegant format that it doesn’t make you want to beat yourself over the head with a frying pan.

“After shuffling into my parka and boots, I plod out across the road of our neighborhood, past white-sheened rooftops and blanketed lawns. Skeletal trees now look like phantoms, the frost giving the illusion that they are made of a fabric no stronger than dust, and that if one was to sweep a hand across them the trees would disperse into a million pieces and drift across the violet sky.”

All I can say is wow. I can picture this walk as if I were your character make this trek. I can see the snow falling and glancing over at the lone tree in your neighbour’s yard. Been there, done that. The metaphors you use capture the imagination and take it on a wild chase! It’s really great what you can capture with such few words.

“I’m not a poet. Still, the winter speaks to me. My breath trails in visible puffs of smoke, and I imagine pulling out an old cigar pipe from my mouth, heat against cold, life against all else. The rising sun prods at these thoughts, and I can feel the freedom of the darkness leaving me. It’s like when you wake up from a dream, and you’re first still half-asleep and pondering, when finally the alarm clock rings. Then comes life. Real life, they call it. Get up. Brush hair. Dress. Dress nicely, you don’t want to stand out. Go to school. Go home. Rinse. Repeat.”

The monotonous task of everyday life makes you crave those night where you mind can run free and you don’t have to be this prefect image for society. You said it beautifully.

“The sun steals the world from me, engulfing long shadows and striding up through the proverbial sky. Tomorrow I’ll walk this way again, when the world’s so small that I can press it in the palm of my hand. Frost glitters like dust in the sun, trembling, waiting to be brushed away.”

Like I said before, this piece is beautiful. I can’t tell you if you had any grammatical errors because I wasn’t worried about that when I read this. When I read this I didn’t see the words, I saw the snow falling and my footsteps in the snow. I felt the coldness of a winter’s day and the longing of my warm bed. Magnificent. I look forward to reading more of your work! I can’t wait!

Keep writing! Good Luck!

Starleene Out.

Hello.

First review in a while, so bare with me. I like this piece alot. It's a bit shorter than I would have liked, but It get's the message accross. I would have added more description to this piece, put a little more meat in there. PLEASE don't take anything that I ever say literally, unless it makes sense. Just a tip

I'm not an editor; I'm a reviewer. I'm not the person that goes along and scans for misspellings or gramatical errors. Concequently, if you ever go and rewiew one of my works, you will find countless missuses of apostraphies. I will not coment on your grammar, rather your structure. I especially liked the hole 'rinse. repeat' thing you had going. I could believe it was a teenager walking to school, and yet the language used was such that I found it pleasing to read. It was very well written, and for that I congratulate you.

I give this piece about... 9 out of 10, just because I would have added more description. But that's just me.