Young Writers Society

I.

“You think this is funny? Do you? I tell you every day, every single F-ing day. I cajole you, kiss you out of bed every morning, I tell you, “Honey, get up” while I iron your stupid clothes as you snore away. Yeah, I said it. You snore. I don’t even get to sleep at night. I just stare at the ceiling fan and I see it rotate and I see my life wasting away. Yeah, wasting away. I cry. I pretend to not notice you pretending to not notice me do that and you’re all, ‘just lay off my case, for a while’ and I wanna do that but I can’t, cause, at the end of the day, you matter to me and I’m a Christian no matter what I say and I gotta make this marriage work. Did I ever foresee you ending up like this. We were gonna finish college, you were gonna get your trade license, I was gonna have kids. Two kids, goddamit. And I say all this, I scream all this and you turn up the TV volume and listen to CNN and I feel like I’m nagging. Is this nagging? I can’t even tell cause you don’t even register my existence until it’s evening when you’ll just give me a kiss and go play cards with Sam and I’ll tell you then why you shouldn’t be doing that, how you should stay in and be with me and sfddf sdkfjsd kjkj aweyiohj kahajhfsd bubblewrap ajfhsdkfjh loirjek oawuhej awejkhkjh ohnj kjkjkj uuy kjkjas oohjh adssd ijkhlkj adamndjl dobbolndojjldd dhdn,dolhljkjk kjkasdh shut up asjkdhkjhkjhad kjkj double jkhjkhga jkhjahsa divorce lkaksjdh jkhjha asdkjhas you are dead to me kjhkjhkj asdasjdkkjha kjkj LISTEN TO ME jkhkiuhk jkjoid oajdsafhdjh oafdjsh kjajhfk ohajfkhkjsdf go, go, leave me. Dfkjhkadf dafkkj…”

II.

Welcome back folks! I’m your host Nickleback_foreva and today our guest is Mr. Joseph Goodman. He is a good man. Man, if you ask me, I’m honored to be with him today! He’s with us today to tell us his astonishing story of being good, of staying good! Tell me, sir, how is it possible that you are good man?

“Thanks for having me here, Nick, I’m really excited. It’s not every day you’re on TV haha. Hi Mom! Hi Dad! Hahahaha…so, yeah, um, I guess I just was a good man since I was a kid. Like when I was ten my momma told me, ‘Joe honey, you gotta be good’ and I love my momma so I had to heed her words. I guess that’s how, man. that’s how.”

Man, that’s pretty insightful. I gotta ask, though: what’s your secret? How do we all stay good? If I promise myself that from here on I’ll be good, can I?

“Yeah, Nick, you sure can. We all have the potential, man. That’s what I think. We just need to commit.”

Well, it was a pleasure having you here, sir! You sure have inspired us all to be good!
“Thanks for having me, Nick”

That was Mr. Joseph Goodman, folks! And now, for our next guest, please welcome, Riley Ross. His mother died today!

III.

Kill him.

IV.

i luv u bb.
Nu, I luvs u moar.
Nu, me moarest.
Ok, u moarest.
Wait, so wat, u don’t lav me asmuchas I lavs u.
…
answer me
I do bb
thn y u stop
ok, I dun stop
gud
um, so, what do I say now?

Hello Remington38 here
I really enjoyed reading this it is short, but filled to the brim with emotions. This story could be classified easily as poetry and the descriptions are amazing. The last line is my favorite
"It’s not the perfections that define us but our flaws, without crevices and cracks there would be no way to let the sunlight in." Each paragragh seemed to have its own message and meaning which is very creative. Good job.

I love this story alotthough i cannotunderstand that why u said it a story as it isa philosaphical noteor a article.ifu have used it an rhyming scheme then itcould have beena masterpiece of poetry. The begiing was likeany of this poems of love.but then was so good and so pratical its not our perfection,imperfection separates us from others.the imperfctions so personifiedvas the crackbthrough which light passes.sobbeautiful and posetive approch to imperfectionis hardly senand onecannot think itbeyondnegativityl realy liveur poem u livehundred years to write andui to read.keep writingand bring out such things of lifevwith a different meaning.

Heyo Flite, steampowered here for a review! I haven’t read the other reviews, so this is just my own individual thoughts and opinions on this story.

This is a really interesting style for a story, almost like a poem, and reading it, it seemed to have so many different meanings. At first I thought it might be about someone whose husband (or wife, perhaps?) has had some kind of accident or illness and is now physically infirm, or perhaps is getting old and resents it. Or perhaps someone with depression? I also thought maybe it was someone who was really famous (like an actor or a sporting star) who then had some kind of fall from grace or simply became forgotten as they got older. Ooh, or with this line:

Some days I’d forget that I was the only presence in the house, until I heard the rebound of my own voice.

But darling, remember, I love the you that you hate too. Not just the one you love.

Captured in the walls and empty hallways. The upholstery became my best friend, and I wonder sometime if it gets sick of my hushed whispers. When I cruise down the corridors of memory, I find a trampled mess of forgotten footprints.

You told me to take away the photo frames, take out the photos within them and restore them to an ancient corner of the attic.

This is really poetic. You have a neat "voice" - as in the narration here is blunt, head-on yet vague at the same time. You took a simple idea of a person talking to a significant other, presumbly after their relationship ended and telling them he wants to get back with this person. It's not the most original idea to write about, but you manage to put it in a unique and interesting way. The only thing I don't think were needed were the roman numerals. I'd think they're best used in longer stories to separate ideas or scenes, but in a piece as short as this I just don't think they're that necessary. I know this review is short and kind of doesn't tell you anything, but this is a cool piece!

You’ve never seen me on the days when I woke with rain inside of me, and the pitter-patters on my heart mirrors the listless tears down my face.

It’s not the perfections that define us but our flaws, without crevices and cracks there would be no way to let the sunlight in.

Howdy, howdy! RagingLive here to review this striking, heartfelt short story!
First, I want to tell you that you have a knack for feeling and behold almost a reminiscently insane air, a beautiful drive that makes me want to read more.

The days blurs into months

I love the you that you hate too

the way my heart convulses-spastically

It’s not the perfections that define us but our flaws

Flite!

I like this a lot. It's short, sweet, simple and does a good job of evoking the spectrum of emotions that come with being in love. While this doesn't tell a cohesive "point a to point b" story, it doesn't need to to do what's trying to do. It's poetic in a way. It actually reminds me of a movie I watched last night that I recommend you check out (Comet, it's on Netflix).

So, what I essentially took from this story is that no relationship is perfect and that there will be differences here and there, true love is worth fighting for. And beyond that there's a more universal message of not being able to experience the good without the bad. More specifically, the woman and the man got together. The woman doesn't have such great self esteem, and as such puts the man on a pedestal, and he has to remind her when that the hard times come that they'll get through it, because they love each other.

I'm not really sure if that's what you were trying to say, but that's what I took from it, and it's a really nice message. As far as what you could do better, I think some of the lines are a little bit too wordy, and could be simplified while still making the same point, like "You’ve never seen me on the days when I woke with rain inside of me, and the pitter-patters on my heart mirrors the listless tears down my face" or the last line, but there are others. I'm also more curious to see specific interactions from the couple's time together. Because you make the analogy to rain, I imagined it raining outside. The woman goes to visit the man, and she's in a sour mood and the man just can't deal with it any more.

Just a few thoughts of mine, but really, great job with this! Let me know if you have any questions or concerns.

Best,
Elinor

I quite like this short story. I think you describe things very well, all of your descriptions were extremely unique. My favorite line is the last, "It's not the perfections that define us but our flaws, without crevices, cracks there would be no way to let sunlight in." But, on that sentence, where it says "without crevices, cracks there" I personally would put "without crevices and cracks, there"

I don't have any more suggestions for you, only that you keep writing and I'd love to see more of your work!