Alabaster Smile

I've highlighted my personal opinions and corrections in blue

This is basically the beginning of something that I hope will turn out quite lovely. Sorry about the awkward ending.

My world is in Paris. And I’m gliding down the Seine as the jeweled moon turns into the inky black of night, and all the creatures of the city emerge in their opulent splendor, tempting the innocent and brooding desire. But I only see the lights of night, the glowing of festivities, the twinkle of society.I feel like this sentence is almost to wordy, and long. you're over describing.

I slip up to my hotel room, relishing in the comfort of the clean sheets and MTV. It’s been on all day even though I’ve left the room. My room has two beds and I’ve pushed them together making it a double wide. I’ve met a man in Paris and that’s surprising because some would consider me only a girl. This man, he’s tall and wise. I look for these things in a man, wisdom and depth. He isn’t French which is preferable because I’m not adequate in the tongue and I’d rather make love in English. Its language society isn’t full ofrotten old bastards.
you go from talking about MTV, which makes me feel like this piece is through the eyes of a young girl, to saying things like "rotten old bastards" which seems to me old fashioned

I like this! I think it's like a new take on romance and I absolutely relate to the way she thinks and the Paris... ahhh XD.

It's kind of like my poem Victoria, if you want to check that out. You don't have to.

One small suggestion is a quote from my English teacher last year that I think is veru useful. Try to balance long and short sentences, and sentences that start with the subject vs sentences that start with an adverbial phrase.

I am looking forward to hearing more of this! (I'm currently going through your stuff and reading because it's awesome :p)

Comments and corrections in red.

maryletsflyaway wrote:This is basically the beginning of something that I hope will turn out quite lovely. Sorry about the awkward ending.

My world is in Paris. I like your first line. And I’m gliding down the Seine as the jeweled moon turns into the inky black of night, and all the creatures of the city emerge in their opulent splendor, tempting the innocent and brooding desire. But this one is way too long and I stumbled over it. But I only see the lights of the night, the glowing of festivities, the twinkle of society. I slip up to my hotel room, relishing in the comfort of the clean sheets and MTV. This sentence really doesn't go along with the others. I was kind of thinking fantasy, like masquerades and stuff. Then you tell me about MTV and I'm all @@. It had been on all day even though I left the room. My room has two beds but I pushed them together making it twice as wide. I met a man in Paris and that was surprising because some would consider me only a girl. This man, he’s tall and wise. Telling, not showing. Careful. I look for these things in a man, wisdom and depth. He isn’t French which is preferable because I’m not adequate in the tongue and I’d rather make love in English. Its language society isn’t full of rotten old bastards.

This is my third week in Paris, I will stop correcting your tenses because they're jumping all over. Just be the one to go through it. the third week of twelve so I’m not worried about running low of resources at the moment. Next week, I’m moving into this handsome flat in the inner city. Its small, but it's endearing and holds promise. I’m going to have a ravishing time decorating, throwing French products ...French products? and flowers and curtains all around, making it something suitably French and suitably proper. I thought she didn't like the French. 0o The man I’m speaking of, his name is Daniel and he’s English and has a lovely accent which I quite admire. Daniel is 29 and I’m 18. And I’m not worried about the silliness of age difference or the snickers of uppity fools on the street. I love this man body and soul and I’ve given myself up to him.

I met him at the Louvre, the most disgusting tourist trap of all, but also the most luxurious collection of art I’ve ever known. I was standing in line for this pathetic bathroom amidst some strange miniature Egyptian crafts, wearing a pathetic camera around my neck, and tapping my foot pathetically The word pathetic is beginning to look weird to me. Beware word repetition. as I waited. I was looking down, the air conditioning nonexistent Huh? I don't get this phrase., the sun through the window burning impossible holes into my white skin. My neck was shiny with perspiration and I was wholly annoyed about the terrible wait for this single-stalled French idea of public facilities. As I looked up, a man wearing a blue button up shirt and grey corduroys emerged (I laugh at this word now) from the stall. His dark hair was slightly damp and matted to his smooth skin. He smiled at me, some white insane smile of perfect beauty and form, the type of charming smile you only see from the most privileged ranks of society. I chuckled, the chuckle Mix up your sentence patterns a bit. It's beginning to sound monotonous. that hastens itself among moments of shock or disorient. In this case it was a chuckle of disorient.

I shuffled past him in an obvious huff of annoyance to relieve myself and ponder the fleeting moment of his alabaster smile beaming down upon my pathetic :\ Don't use it too many times. soul. I hurried into the facility, acted out my natural business, and exited with such haste, surprising myself with strangely determined and mentally disconnected movements. The man was standing there, directly across the door, his face now calm, but nonetheless exuberantly splendid in its fleshy casing. ...Not a very romantic way of describing it. I gave him a weak show of teeth, This might as well mean she snarled at him. Say she smiled. and I began to worry about the odorous scents that often emerge from mouths and I became self conscious. He spoke, but I didn’t hear this initial utterance. He looked confused, alarmed that I hadn’t responded, and that I seemed to be wallowing in self pittance. I shook my head, my blonde hair gleaming as I shook away my inhibitions. You know she won't think "my blond hair gleaming as I shook away my inhibitions". It's cheating to tell us her hair color this way.

“Sorry,” I stated, now with appropriate ease of speech and confidence. He threw his miraculous man-head Again, not a very romantic way of describing. back and laughed.

“It isn’t anything you should be sorry for,” he said, his eyes glimmering with some under-worldly magic. “I was just wondering if you’ve seen the statue garden.” This was a statement, not a question, but I answered it anyways.

“No, I haven’t.” This was a lie. I’d spent the past five days in this monster museum. It had become my favorite detour and I often played little games with myself mapping the different routes the to the garden.

“Would you like to go there with me?” the man requested. “I’ve found myself bored to bits wandering this place alone.” Stilted dialogue. I chuckled silently to myself when he said “bored to bits” like some seventy year old British woman. I let out an actual chuckle this time. I thought she chuckled silently.

“Of course, it would be my pleasure,” I said almost like I was mocking his accent or as if this was some sort of secret inside joke.

“Well then,” he said with his alabaster smile, “shall we be off?” He looked mischievous. Who was this man who had just encroached himself so delicately and pleasantly upon my life? Why this day at this bathroom had I chosen to march amiably towards a room full of naked marble chatting mildly with a stranger? Very awkward. Ah, the wonders of this life… In fact, this paragraph sounds forced.

“Ah, the wonders of this life,” Stilted dialogue again. Think. Would anyone actually say this? I said to my new friend as we stood staring admirably upon some marble goddess of a statue. “Nothing is done with this much care or delicacy anymore. It really is a shame.” I looked over at him and he was looking down upon me again with that same smile he enchanted me with at the restroom.

“What’s your name?” he said, wrinkling his white nose and brow in strange playful questioning. In the twenty short minutes we had been in each other’s presence we had forgotten the proper introduction of each others’ names.

“Anna-Josephine,” I replied smiling.

“Well isn’t that a mouthful,” he countered You don't need to keep adding tags to dialogue, you know. We can follow. Just throw them in once in a while. jokingly. His eyes were gleaming and his whole being was practically glowing. I wondered if he always put off such an aura.

“Usually I’m called Josie.” I looked at him intently and he reached forth with his right hand. I took it and it was warm and strong.

“Pleasure to meet you, Josie,” he said, his eyes suddenly filled with the same intent as mine, “I’m Daniel.”

At this moment, I’m sure I flushed, the excitement of meeting this glorious man finally hitting full force. I no longer knew what to say, the confidence I contrived twenty minutes prior had become vapid, and I was once again just a silly eighteen year old falling under the spell of some stranger. I hadn’t let go of Daniel’s hand even though I my stare had become vacant and an obvious sense of utter disorient had overcome me.

“Are-are you all right?” Daniel said moving in a little closer as if to comfort me. I looked at him vacantly still gripping his handsome man-hand.

I really like this, Im sure everyone above has covered the nit-picks. I think this is fine on the writing style and yeah it seems a bit cliche that she meets him, falls in love, blady blady blah. But Its cool so well done for this. And again welcome to YWS.

Kudos

Biffle

Hey Mary!

The best way you can get extra reviews is giving reviews. People will generally avoid works that are bumped, just so you know.

Anyway! I thought your piece actually very creepy! The wording and everything is so old-fashioned, so when we finally realize (through some of the descriptions of twin beds, MTV, and so on) that she is in our time era, it's just... eek! Creepy! Who even thinks like that? So it ends up being a quiet horror piece, which is pretty fantastic in itself! I'm kind of expecting something like Alfred Hitchcock's "Vertigo" (if that makes sense) where the female character ends up going crazy and killing herself because she belonged in a different era, etc. Um. Yeah. I like classic movies too much!

Also, the way she and he meet? Oh my gosh! Creepy again! Well... he's not that creepy. The male character is kind of awkward and stupid, which is fine! But the woman... oh my! I don't trust her. I think she's just going to take advantage of this poor sap and sex him out till he has nothing left.

So yep! Nice quiet horror piece. Let the madness continue!

im gonna be bad and bump this. :/

Uhm, yeah.
I don't know if I'm supposed to reply or not, but I'm going to.

She's eighteen and this is like her narrative, so she thinks this ways.

And sorry its so "odd".

Hello Mary, Welcome to YWS.

You have quite a strange opening here, it's quite odd in tone and action - it's very description heavy, of things that have seemingly no relevance and it is really, really formally written. I can't tell why, and you also have strange words in strange places, almost like you don't quite know what they mean...

Its language society isn’t full of rotten old bastards.

The man I’m speaking of, his name is Daniel and he’s English and has a lovely accent which I admire with avowed indignation

I chuckled, the chuckle that hastens itself among moments of shock or disorient. In this case it was a chuckle of disorient.

First of all, welcome to YWS, mary! Hope you enjoy being an aspiring writer.hehe.

If this is your first piece- I would like to say that you did a good start for your story. How you describe the setting is nice in a way it's well-described.

keep up the good work!!