Published October 24, 2010
I had an experiennce similar to this once. A guy made me feel like this, but then I heard from a friend about how his mom had checked into a local womens shelter beccause of abuse. It made me think about what made him the way he was. This is twelve plus for language by the way. So here's the story:
I walk slowly by his locker, hoping he will turn his head in my direction causing that glossy blonde hair to fall over his beautiful blue eyes. Carefully, I put one foot in front of the other, as if strutting down a runway. This is my school, I tell myself. He is mine.
And then I trip. My Converse come untied, and I fall to the hard, unforgiving ground. He turns his head, and a strand of glossy blonde hair falls over his crystal-clear blue eyes. I sigh, in a daze. Those perfect lips part and his blinding white teeth come into view. My heart quickens. And then he laughs. I lie there, completely still while I watch him look at me with those jeering blue eyes. And his perfectness only makes me cringe with disgust. His eyes hold no magic for me. They hold only unwanted memories; memories that trickle from my mind as I pull the plug on my admiration.
Now, I walk slowly by his locker, hoping he will turn his head in my direction so that I can ignore his presence and cause that glossy hair to fall over blue eyes brimming with confusion and hatred. And that gives me some sort of sick pleasure, for I am no longer his. In a way, he is finally mine.
It is a feeling I relish, owning someone’s insecurities, manipulating them, like I do now. It may be sick, but it is still a pleasure to mold his soft heart to my will. He deserves this. He deserves this torture. There is nothing wrong with giving him what he deserves.
But today, today things are different. As I walk past his house on my way home from school, I hear a shout. I hear a voice that demands respect- a voice that demands it but should not have it.
“You little slacker!” it screams. “Do the damn dishes again!”
It is a male voice. It demands to be listened to. I peer into the window at the side of the house.
“Damn it woman! Do them again!” It is the boy’s father. He strikes the boy’s mother. He yells derogatory, patronizing things at her, and then I know.
My heartbreak was not the boys doing. My heartbreak was the father’s doing. The boy was just practicing what he had been taught.
And once again, the father makes my heart break into a million pieces, but this time for his son, who will never know what it means to love. He will only know what it means to hate.
And so I walk. I walk by the bright green trees of the suburbs. I walk by my house. I walk until my heart quickens and I am in a daze. In my mind, I send him a message- a promise. I say, he taught you wrong, but do not be afraid. I will help you. You will never be alone. Confusion and hatred will haunt your eyes no more. You will be free of the web of convictions he spun around you, squeezing you into submission. Do not be afraid. I am here. As long as I’m alive, you will never be alone.
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140,830 Literary Works • 673,694 Reviews
This was a very good story. There were just a few things that I thought needed to be changed. In the bit about how your MC walked past this locker the second time, she mentions how it could be sick that she finds victory in this. I don't know what it was, but something about this just didn't click with the rest of the story. I don't know if it was the thoughtfulness through the implied anger or what, but I think that part maybe needs just a little bit of work. Other than that, though, I thought this was a very good story. You have the markings of a good author.
This was a great read, you took your time and wrote this out thinking of almost every word, this is again was a great read. Keep writing.
Hello.
I would suggest fixing the various apostrophe mistakes in this work, starting with your title. "Yours" is grammatically correct, and no apostrophe is needed. You have another possessive error in here, with the line "My heartbreak was not the boys doing." "Boys" should be "boy's," as "doing" is the boy's actions.
Secondly, this story held the message first. This heavy-handed approach to delivering a message means the point of the story can very easily fail: readers don't often want to sit through a story, no matter how short, that has no point but delivering a message. Readers are much more likely to listen to a message within a story if the plot, characters, conflict, and other such literary conventions come first. Then, we don't feel like a moral isn't being shoved down our throats for the sole reason of this moral being good. If you want to change behaviour, then it's best to not be so blunt with the message. People who will sit through reading this will probably already hold the moral you're showing. If you want to convince people who are on the fence about the issue, then don't turn them away by shoving messages down our throats. (To clarify: I'm one of the people who considers physical abuse not good, but I still found this heavy handed and hard to sit through.)
Focus on showing the whole situation, with an underlaying tone of getting out of abuse. Instead of just having the character resolve to change the guy, have her change him. Flesh both out so they're not just black and white morals, but living, breathing characters. Then, we get to see what it takes to actually change somebody who doesn't know any different. And it's a much more interesting story, instead of a message painted with a few characters to act like a story.
Hope this helps. PM me if you have any questions/comments.
~Rosey
Hi Ducky! Lavvi's here to review.
I really liked this. I think it's a good short, it recognizes how you shouldn't just judge somebody from the outside. Perhaps that person who is so harsh is treated harshly. You never know, right?
As this was a work that I thought was very good, I have little to critique. Except for one part...the girl never does stand up. It's a minor mistake, but easily fixed.
Really great, though. I cannot say you wrote this flawlessly, because nothing can ever be perfect, but I think it is near perfect. I really got a feel for what maybe the boy in the piece is feeling, the sadness the girl must feel for his family.
Lavvi