Published July 2, 2009
The last time I saw my mother was 15 years ago. When she entered the greasy walls of the place that was my home.
All I remember is her look of drowsy dismay. And that she had three extra sugars in her tea.
I do remember the preparation up to that day. I bought tea, I hate tea with it's bitter bland taste.
I rummaged in my draws for a dress, or even a plain blouse. But all I found was bleached jeans and moldy cigarettes.
The night before I took my mattress under the sunroof, so the violent buzz of the city rained down on me.
I have so many stories of my mother, my mother the roting flower child, the clumsy house wife, a secondary concern.
And then there was me, her only love in life.
That had let her down.
Points:
Time spent:
IP address:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),
Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!
Anyway let's get right to it,
Okayyy... I am not entirely sure what to make of this particular piece to be completely honest. On one hand it seems to hint at quite a lot in these places, there's some very carefully constructed little references to all sorts of emotions and events that give you the feeling that there's a lot of weight behind what is happening here, and yet at the same time as all of that, we also find ourselves in a situation where we're a little lost. It seems to be trying to achieve something but it really doesn't quite come off.
The start of this feels like a powerful sort of opening to showcase something happening to this mother figure but we never really have it followed through. The ending is similarly a bit of a final sounding ending point that seems like it'd be loaded with meaning but that meaning never really comes.
Ultimately i think this piece feels much more like a collection of a few powerful lines that would work wonderfully on their own but simply aren't connected with nearly enough feeling for it too all actually work together as a story. It really does have potential with the kind of opening it has and the simple yet powerful description using those almost one note references to sights and tastes but it just needs something a little more here.
Aaaaand that's it for this one.
As always remember to take what you think was helpful and forget the rest.
Stay Safe
Harry
This isn't really a short story, because it's not a story at all. A story has a beginning, middle, and end. It has 3-D characters with emotions. It has a backstory.
Don't tell us what happened - tell it to us as it is happening. That doesn't mean it has to be in present tense, but try to tell things in order and with as much clarity as if we were actually there. Use all the five senses. Tell us how she feels. Tell us how the emotions effect her physically. Let us feel the tension between them, the feeling of let-down the mother portrays.
And give us a story, This is just a meeting - nothing more. We want to know why they haven't met, why they met that day - everything. Characters should be living, breathing people. Their story doesn't end here.
Read short stories. Published ones. They're a thousand times different than novels, and I think reading them will help you get a feel of what they should be like.
PM me for anything.
~JFW1415
Ooooh, very cute!
But like yellowsun says, way too short. Make it longer by using more vivid description on the mc, mc's mother and setting.
Also, one more thing that I was confused about-
-All I remember is her look of drowsy dismay. And that she had three extra sugars in her tea.
And after that you wrote
-I have so many stories of my mother, my mother the roting flower child, the clumsy house wife, a secondary concern.
Why write all you remember about her is how she looks, when after that you tell us you know so many stories of your mother. Which means you remember much more then just her drowsy look.
Good luck with your editing!
*winie*
Hey there.

I can't exactly give a full review because your story is too short.
Try making it a little longer.
Although this one was good. You decribed the mother well, so when you
write something longer I'm sure it'll be great.
That's it though.
-hope i helped