The Shed

Okay, I am probably going to sound very harsh, but I seriously don't mean to.

I didn't finish this. I read the beginning and if the beginning doesn't somehow grip me then I just cant finish. There were three reasons why I decided to stop.

1. The layout it seriously annoying. All these gaps, even when the sentence hasn't ended. I really think that needs to be sorted out and put together properly. Having a good layout makes it easier for the reader to read and on YWS it is a really important thing.

2. I didn't find it interesting. There was all this talking and conversation that seemed to have nothing important in it. I don't know why it was important to have all that boring conversation, and since I didn't continue I probably won't. But apart from that why did we need all this discussion?

3. I was simply confused. With me being uninterested and the layout seriously bothering me I just did''t get the story. So there are three things you can do to improve this: fix the layout, make it less confusing, and get rid of any irrelevant bits.

Hope I didn't sound too harsh. I'm just trying to help.

Deanie x

The Shed

I looked out the window, thinking about the past and rocking softly.
Wicker smooth through years of use held me up.  The sun blazed with an
eager red light across the horizon.  It ran level across the landscape
and pierced through the glass and into my eyes.

I thought about the shed.  It was probably oxidized now, the shimmer
gone.  A door without a latch.  My head drooped. My eyes closed.  I
stepped inside the memory.  The old characters, so different now,
welcomed me with tired smiles, their blurred faces murky with
weariness.  Some had lost their features, some their proportions, as
though a storm had struck and they had fought to stay on the ship,
grasped at the bulwarks and refused to be shook off.  They weren’t
angry though, or bitter, they always reached out with such glad hands, worn now, but still glad.

***

The poplars were dropping yellow.  I walked underneath the bows and
kicked at the leaves.  They hadn’t crunched at all two weeks ago.  I
prodded around the tree in circles, looking up at the branches and
trying to catch the leaves on my face.

“Shelley,” my dad yelled from the deck.

I stopped circling.  “Yeah?” I responded.

“What are you doing out there?” he yelled.

“Nothin,” I yelled back.

“Stay where I can see you ok?” he said.

“Ok,” I said.

He was pacing around the deck, grabbing the air and turning round and
round.  It made me dizzy to watch him, so I ran across the yard and
sat down underneath the bushes that ran along the side of our house.
They were the kind that had prickly green needles and the small
berries that were read and sticky if you smashed them.

I sat in the shade and looked over to our neighbors deck.  Mr. Henson
was outside.  He looked like he was angry with some big rock.  He’d
hit it with a hammer then brush it off, his neck red from the sun.  I
watched him and the rock for awhile, enjoying the breeze that ran
aside the house.  After swearing for a little while and throwing down
his hammer he turned and saw me.

“Hello Shelley, I didn’t see you there.  How are you missy?” he said.

I sat up and pulled my knees in close.  “I’m ok, what are you doing?”

“Sculpting,” he said. “Or trying to I guess.”  He looked back to his rock with his hands on his hips.  He looked happy.  His head was shining in the red sun.

I got up and dusted off my t-shirt.  I put my hair up into a ponytail
and said goodbye to Mr. Henson.  It was almost three o’clock.  I bent
over and tied my blue shoe laces, a gift from mom, and walked over to
the other side of the house, the side that you could see them from, my
silent peers.

“Shelley?” my dad called.

“Here,” I said.  I sat down prone underneath the trees that peeled, my
dad called them birches, and waited.

They began to cross the street, clamoring and gamboling about.
Laughing was all I heard, I couldn’t make out anything else.  They
walked together in packs, like wolves protecting one another from
predators.

I pretended like I they were my prey and I was the hunter, watching and waiting, silently waiting. I’d pounce and then scare them I thought as I got up off my stomach, waiting on all fours like a lioness. I pawed at the ground a few times, waiting and watching. Closer and closer they walked. A few more steps...

“Ahhh,” I screamed as I pounced up and charged them, my hands over my head like claws, my head shaking back and forth, my teeth bared angrily. I was almost on them when I reached the end of the front yard. I slowed to a stop just before touching the street, looking down worried as I saw the gutter fold into the concrete, running forward and into the sneakers of the three that had stopped. They were looking at me. My hands were still up in the air and so I looked up to them and roared again, hissing a little too.

“Haha,” I heard from them as they stopped to look at me. “Weird,” one of them said as they watched me and my hands. The last one shook his head and brushed past the others. They watched him go, taking one last look at me, then following him across the culdesac.

I headed back to my hiding spot, waiting for more prey. I waited and watched for another twenty minutes. Nothing.

My hands were green from picking grass and I was bored with the street
so I got up and looked around.  The sun was waning and was starting to
droop behind the poplars.  My father was pacing and yelling at someone
on the phone, he kept throwing his hands up and pounding on the deck
with his feet.  He looked tired.

I sat down indian style and watched him. I thought about how he’d forgot dinner last night.  I was worried and scared until he’d come in after dark.  He said he’d been running an errand, an important one that mommy made him promise.  I didn’t understand, but I didn’t care either, he was home and that’s all I’d remembered wanting. I got up.

I picked up a rock and threw it towards the pond.  It splashed with a
thud on the water, shattering the glass.  My neck was burning.  I was
bored.  My tutor didn’t come till Monday, two days.

I walked over to the deck again, expecting to see my father.  He wasn’t
there.  The house looked tired, like it was ready to take a long nap.
I turned and looked at the shed, it sat alone out on the far side of
the yard, back by the treeline.  I’d never been inside it.

My father wasn’t on the deck.  The house looked quiet.  Maybe he was
taking a nap.  I decided that he was and started walking towards the
shed.

The lock wasn’t latched.  It was always latched.  I held up the lock
to make sure it was the same, “master” it said.  The hair on the back
of my neck felt weird. It was like one of those movies I wasn’t supposed to watch, the scary ones that mom and dad used to watch late. I’d sneak down and sit on the stairs quietly, watching as long as I could before yelping at something scary. He’d always laugh at me, then come and put me to bed, telling me there was nothing to worry about. He seemed happier then I thought as I looked down to the door handle.

I pulled the aluminum door open slightly, looking inside.  Nothing.  I opened the door and stood at the entrance, waiting for a sound.  Nothing.  I peered in, squinting my eyes and trying to focus.  The shed was dark and dusty, and I could barely see.  Curiosity pulled me in.

I closed the door behind me.  I heard muffled breathing, like someone
was trying to breath through a pillow.  My eyes searched through the
dark and began gradually to adjust.  I stopped.  There was a silhoutte
in the back of the shed.  Six legs.  The creature was moving a little, a happy octopus I told myself reasuringly,
though it did little to ease my apprehension.

My legs were frozen to the concrete.  I felt a shiver run up my spine.
 Ten minutes or so passed.  Little by little I was gaining composure.
I told myself that I was twelve now and that I shouldn’t be afraid of
the dark.  The shape was still moving slightly when I reached up to
the string.

Light flooded down in a triangle, revealing the monster...it looked
like a person in a chair.  The monster turned man as it brought its
head up.

His face was purple and red, with a large eye and a small one, barely
open.  A rag covered his mouth and his black hair hung down over his
ears and the sides of his stubble.

“Hello,” I said, trying hard to stiffle my legs.

“Hmm” he mumbled.

I was terrified, the blood escaping from my face in gulps.

“My name’s Shelley” I said rubbing my hands together.

He just stared at me with one eye.  He nodded down towards his legs
and wiggled his body slightly.  I could see that he was tied up, the
blood in my arms and chest were pumping steadily now.  Bravery I
decided, this was what mattered now.  My mom always told me to be
brave.  I felt that it was proper and began to steady my feet and to
take measured breaths.  He looked terribly pathetic and helpless.  He
needed some help.

“Do you want me to take the rag out of your mouth?” I said.

He nodded vigourously, begging me with his one eye.

I walked a few steps forward.  He watched me with his eye, looking
from my shoes to my face.  I stopped a few feet short.  My legs
wouldn’t take me any further.  I looked back to the sliver of natural
light and thought about my dad.  He’d be mad if I was in here.  The
man rocked a little and mumbled something through the rag.  The ropes
were tight, his squirming looked so hopeless.  Bravery.

I took the rag from his mouth.  He gasped a deep draught of air and
leaned his head back, his chest heaving.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.  “Now go over to that workbench over
there and get one of those tools, and well... just hurry and get one
of them and cut these ropes back behind this chair,” he said, spitting
it all out in one stream.

I was frightened by the way his voice sounded.  It seemed angry and
scared all at once.  My stomach hurt badly and I had to kneel down and
bend over.  I coughed violently and thought I was going to throw up.

“Hey, little girl, it’s alright, I just need to go now, I’m not going
to do anything to you if you let me go, I just need to go please.” he
said.

He craned his neck forward and tightened his lips into a gruesome
smile.  It was horrifying to look at, the bulges in his cheeks and the
red that caked his lips.  I sat down on my jeans and pushed myself a
few feet closer to the work bench.

“Thats not makeup is it?” I asked once I had my back against the workbench.

“No, it’s not,” he said.

“Why are you in here?” I asked.

“Screw it,” he said then began to scream loudly.  I grabbed the now
dusty rag from the floor and shoved it back into his wailing mouth.

His eyes fell on me.  They were menacing and I began to step away.

“Hmm,” he mumbled through the rag.

“Don’t scream,” I said.  “You’re scaring me. You’ll get me in trouble”

He nodded then began to push the rag out of his mouth with his tongue.
Just leave I thought to myself, but didn’t.  I was close again to him
and then I pulled the rag out of his mouth.  He spit dust out then
spoke in a calm voice.

“Are you going to let me go little girl?  You know what I could do to
you if i get out right?” he said.

His eye looked dangerous, his neck was pulsing.  I scratched my neck,
my head was spinning and I realized that tears were dripping down my
cheeks.

“I don’t know, I should go.. my dad....” I stammered, alternating between pulling on my shirt and jeans.

“Well, I promise I won’t hurt you at all if you let me out.” he said smiling.

“I can’t, my daddy will be-”

“Your Daddy.” he interupted.  The vein in his forehead began to
pulsate.  “Your father is the reason why I’m in here little girl.
He’s got some sick notion of vengeance your dad, and he’s going down
for it.”

“My dads a, a, a-” I tried.

“A pyschopath, little girl.” he spat out.

I looked up to his flaring nostrils as I stood up.  My shoes were
untied again.  I walked a few steps towards the door and bent over to
tie the laces, sniffling.

“Hey kid, hey wait.”  His voice was softer now.

I turned and faced him, my back against the door.

“Hey...um, where did you get those laces, they look real pretty you know.”

“My mom gave them to me before she left.”

“Your mom?” he asked.

“Yeah.  They’re blue, my favorite color.” I said, bending down to tie them.

“I knew your mom little girl.” he said.

I finished tying and stood up.  I watched him for a few seconds.  “I’m
not a little girl, I’m twelve now, almost a teenager.”

“Wow, that old huh.” he said.  He mouthed a whistle.  “I knew your mom
before she left.  That’s why I’m in this shed you know.” he said.

“I don’t understand.” I said.

“I know, I know.  I didn’t think a little girl would understand about
jealosy, rage, vengeance and the like.  I’m glad you don’t.”  he
paused.  “You know your mother loved you very much.  She talked about
you a lot.  Its Shelby right? Or something like that, I can’t remember, my head...”

“It’s Shelley,” I said.  “How did you know my mom?”

“We were friends before she died.” he said.

“You weren’t at the funeral.” I said.

“I know, I know.  I wish I could have been, but there was your
father.” he said.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Well, thats why I’m here Shelley, your father believes I was the
reason your mother passed on, and now he’s taking it out on me.” he
said.

“But mom died in a car accident,” I said.

He looked at me and laughed.  His lips were still caked red and the
sound of his laughter was choked and halting.  A monster again.

“I’m thirsty Shelley, do you think you could get me some water?” he said.

“The hose is by the house.  I can go get you something from inside.” I
said as I started towards the door.

“No, stop, that’s ok.  How about you untie me instead.  I promise I
won’t tell anyone how I got away and then your dad won’t be mad at
you.  You’ve talked to me for a little bit now Shelley, you know that
I’m not a bad guy, so please, just come over here and untie me.” he
said.

“I’m scared,” I said.

“It’s ok to be scared Shelley, now just please listen and come over
here and untie these ropes,” he said pleadingly.

“When I’m scared my dad tells me a story.  Do you wan’t to hear it?” I
said, rubbing my hands together.

“Sure, if you make me a deal,” he said.  “I will listen to your story
if you will untie me when you are done.”

“Ok,” I said, nodding my head in agreement.

I swung my arms and then clapped them together in the middle before beginnning. “Ok, I said,
“here goes”. “There once was a girl that lived near a lake.  She went swimming
everyday.  And everyday at three o'clock she would turn into a
mermaid.  She would flip around in the water and splash water
everywhere.  She could swim so fast that she would jump over into the
next lake, a magical lake.  At this lake, she got to speak with her
friends, the dolphins.  They told her of all the mischief they had
been into during the day.  Sometimes, they would pick on snowball the
polar bear.  He was always so grumpy.  He was a nice bear though, he
never picked on the dolphins like they picked on him.  And every day
at six she had to jump back over into her pond so that when she turned
back into a girl she wouldn’t be stuck in the magical lake,” I said.

He dropped his head.  There was matted blood all through his black hair. They looked like that time I sat in the car and all the buidlings were so tall. Somebody had knocked on our window. Dad had been so angry, he drove off mad, mumbling something about hand outs, but I didn’t get it... nobody had there hands out, his were on the wheel, mine were in my lap, and the person had his going through his hair. It looked dirty, like it wasn’t washed or something. I remember asking my tutor about it, “dreadlock” or something like that she said. She laughed when she said it too. I didn’t think it was funny. I looked down, I was wringing my hands together. They were red.

“Wow, what a wonderful story,” he mumbled.

“It’s kinda silly, but it helps, I said.  “My dad’s the polar bear,” I
said, looking down to my blue shoelaces

“No kidding.  And the girls Shelley, right?” he asked.

“It’s princess Shelly.  She’s the queen of the mermaids, so she can
turn into a human and a merm-”

“Thats enough,” he interrupted.  “Take off these ropes,” he said.

I hesitated.  The light from the door crack was still beckoning me.
He caught me looking and brought his chin back up.

“Remember our deal Shelley,” he said.

“What’s your name?  I can’t be friends with someone if I don’t know
their name,” I said.

“How old are you?  Twelve right?  My god you sound like a baby,” he
said, twisting about.

“Sorry, its just, well, I’m very mature for my age my tutor says.”

He looked tired, like maybe he was going to go to sleep.

“You knew my mother,” I said.

“And you want to know more about her right?  Your father smothered
her, and probably kept her from you too,” he said sighing.

The stomach pain returned and flashes of my mother’s face came
hurtling into my head, imaginings of me hurting her, stabbing her with
a knife and screaming into her face.  Blood sprayed from her wounds.
My hands came up and steadied my shaking head.  Terrible pictures,
terrible thoughts.  Bill, the doctor I saw on Wednesday’s told me
that they were just pictures and that I could control them.  That once
I controlled them I could understand them.  I didn’t understand, I
just tried to forget them.  Tears washed down again. Bad thoughts I mumbled to myself,
looking at the dirt floor of the shed. It was time to go I thought.

“My name is Peter.  Now could you please help your friend?” he said.

Just reach up and push on the door, there’s the sunlight, there you
will be safe I said to myself.  My arms wouldn’t push.  I wiped the
tears away with my shirt.  I turned around.  He looked harmless
enough, plus he knew my mother.  Bravery, I needed to be strong.  I
wanted to know more about her, who was she and who was this person
that she knew.  Resolution crept up and my legs began again.

The ropes were covered in blood, his arms were scabbed and his shirt
was torn in the middle of his shoulders.  The red made me a little
queesy.  He kept trying to tell me how to untie them, but I wasn’t
strong enough to pull them apart.  I tried and tried, but I had to
rest after a few minutes of pulling.  They were too strong.

“I can’t, they’re too tight.  I need a break,” I said.

“God dammit Shelley,” he said.  “Get back there and untie me.” he demanded.

“I can’t,” I repeated, “just give me a few minutes,” I said.

“You can’t just give up Shelley, that’s ridiculous, we made a deal,
just like you and your mom, damn women, she promised me, promised me
and then she went and died, but not before telling your dad, before
telling the god damned lunatic that’s got me holed up here with his
curious daughter who’s telling me stories about dolphins.” He hung his head after that and started to cry.
It looked like it hurt I thought as I watched the drops make there way across all the blood and swelling.
He started in again, sobbing freely now: “I’m sorry Julie, I’m so sorry, please
forgive me, I’m so sorry Julie, I’m so...”, he trailed off.  
His head drooped and soon the mumbling gave way to sobbing.

I watched him for a few minutes while the tears dropped down onto his
shirt.  They were orange.  His chest looked small, it heaved and sunk
while his shoulders drooped.  For some reason, he reminded me of the
youngsters.  He didn’t have his pack though, he didn’t have his
protection.  All alone.

“What happened to my mom?” I said.

He gasped a few times and caught his breath.  Snot was hanging down
his nose and he looked at me pitifully with his one eye.  He didn’t
look angry anymore, just sad.

“What?” he said.

“Mom” I said.

“Ok, I’ll tell you, but after we’re done you’re going to try again ok?” he said.

I nodded.

“And before we start I wan’t you to come and grab the packet of
ciggarettes out of my pocket.  I won’t mess with you, just come and
grab them alright?  Just put one in my mouth and then light it.” he
said, nodding towards his jeans.

All but one ciggarette was smashed and when I held it up his eye lit
up.  I put the ciggarette on his red lips and then took a few steps
back.

“Little miracles,” he mumbled.  “Now Shelley, I need something to light
this with.  Find some matches or something,” he said, keeping his chin
high.

“Ok,” I said, turning around and looking over at the wokrbench.  I
searched up and down with my eyes.  The box was sitting back behind
some cobwebs and I reached for it as I heard the man who said he was
Peter mumbling something again.

He looked relieved.  He looked composed as if he didn’t care anymore
that he was tied up, or that this had happened to him.

“Before I start, I’d like to tell you something Shelley,” he said.

I stood waiting.

“People are not good Shelley, they are evil.  The only way is to meet
with it face on, otherwise you’ll always be running from it, and from
yourself,” he said.

“I don’t understand, are you saying I’m evil?” I said.

“Of course not, you’re young, just remember the words.  Now would you
please bring me that match?” he said.

I started towards Peter and scratched the sulphur into a flame.  I
could see that he was looking at the flame, waiting.  I walked
forward.

“Shelley” he said.

“Yeah?” I said, cupping the flame.

“I didn’t mean to-”

I felt the wind first, the match snuffed out as I heard the aluminum
door swing open. Suddenly, I felt the world rushing to meet
me.  I saw a flash of red and green pass.  My elbows scraped the floor
and began to throb.  The concrete smelled dirty and felt gritty on my
face.  I sat up, trying to blink away the stars and spots from my
vision.  I heard the beating of a heart, a slow and steady heart.  Now
it really was an octopus on the floor.  Eight legs flailing.  The man
on top looked like he was sculpting.  I looked at the man’s hair.  It
was my dad’s.  It wasn’t a heart beating.

I got up and left the shed, shaking.  I brought aluminum to aluminum and walked
away, dusting my jeans off.  The orange sun was drifing away behind
the poplars.  I walked over to the pond and kneeled, washing my elbows
and wincing at the sting.  The water looked calm.

“You don’t look much like a princess Shelley now,” I said to the reflection.

My orange hair was matted on the side with dirt and grime.  I pulled
at it gently to unwind the knots.  The dust from the concrete floor
was caked to one side of my face.  I cuped up some water and splashed
it across the dirt.  I heard the sound of sobbing from the shed.  The
sound was emanating from all sides of the aluminum, amplifying it.  I
looked over to the shed as if it were alive, as if it could just get
up and walk away.  My stomach burned and I felt that if I didn’t say
something that I would lose it forever.

“Peter, Daddy...mom... please don’t go”

***

I woke up startled, my throat aching.  The lights were off.  Dark out.
 Carpet felt wet.  I got up slowly, bracing myself with my arms.  My
wrists ached and my head throbbed from the effort.  I could hear the
bathroom fan.  Thirst overcame me and I headed for the sound.

I flipped the switch.  A screech escaped my lips.  A white haired
woman stood there, shivering and pulling at her hair, staring at me.
Crows feet and yellow fingernails.    I walked closer to the mirror,
placing my hands on it and looking closely.  The cloud lifted and I
saw myself again.

My eyes were different now.  A sparkle maybe, a sign?  Maybe a flash
of light and then beauty again...no, no that’s not how things are
anymore.

I was still weary with the gravity of sleep, and my chest and wrists
still had blood on them.  I drenched the towel in cold water and
cleaned myself off, revealing the katy corner scrathes across the
bones and skin.  Fingernails I thought.  Into the
trash the towel went and with another I prodded back into the bedroom.

I switched the lights on and found where the carpet had red marks on it. I
reached down to feel the deppression that my knees had made in the carpet, still
warm.  I stared at it for a few minutes.  The towel fell from
my hand and then I was sitting next to the stains, pressing in on the
carpet and thinking for all my life that I needed to connect something
but missed it, missed the chance to have made things easier.  The red
was already changing to a faded vermillion.  I tucked my knees up and
leaned against the bed.  I pulled a few strands of white hair together
and started to braid them.

I tried to get through this, I really did. And I got maybe half-way. But seriously please sort out the formatting, it is just something us YWS'ers have to get used to, pasting from word to YWS. Honestly the sooner you learn how to format on the site the better, because your writing - well the part I read - was astounding, it was brilliant, that is not to say it was perfect because it still could do with work, but it was really good. You let yourself down when you post it like this, however. It was nauseating, some parts not so bad but it really made it drag on. Anyway sorry I couldn't finish it in one bite, it is rather long, but I will be back with nitpicks.
JP

Formatting is jacked...sorry readers. Be as honest as possible. There's no such thing as a critique that is too harsh.