z

Young Writers Society


E - Everyone

4 walls

by sofiscarlat


My room has 4 walls.

Each of them painted in a light yellow color, which I picked out at the age of 6 when we first moved into this house.

I remember running into my room for the first time and feeling like I already knew it. Every drop of cement, every brick, every piece of glass that went into making those windows I still have to this day.

I lined up all my toys on the south wall of my room and looked at them with pride. Of course, they had to go, replaced by Ikea furniture which has been moved around throughout the years.

But these 4 walls not only make up my home. They themselves are my home.

That one right there? That’s the one I tried to stick my poorly-made paintings to. The one on the opposite side? That’s where I sat down some time last year, fetus position and all, crying. I don’t even remember why, but these walls probably do. I lean my vinyls on them, I stick fairy lights, I spill my tea. These 4 walls, as crazy as it may sound, radiate comfort and support.

These vertical structures that enclose me in my little safe space have been eyewitnesses to almost every single moment of my life, whether I was awake or asleep for it. They’ve watched me dance around to 80’s playlists with my brother. They’ve watched me come home with new clothes, jumping around on the creaking wooden floors with excitement. They’ve seen me rip pieces of paper in millions of pieces and they’ve seen me toss my phone across the room. They’ve watched me as I got up from bed to write down an idea that’d hit me through the night. They’ve seen you walk in and out, then never back. And whenever they’d miss something while I was out, they’d hear it from me talking on the phone or writing it in my journal.

I know it’s quite worrying that I attribute a bunch of bricks such human-like features and so I don’t expect everyone to understand. However these walls are covered with my fingerprints – from 2009 until today – and even though I can’t see them, I can feel them, a sign of encouragement and pride. The only time I feel these walls closing in is when they come closer to push me forward, perhaps my own person in the form of nothingness.

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126 Reviews

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Wed May 17, 2017 3:17 pm
papillote wrote a review...



Hi,
I agree with PrincessInk that it sounded more like an essay than like a shortstory. Not enough narrative.
I liked the "4 walls" refrain. It comes back all through the essay. It's well-paced, up until the last three paragraphs.
I would begin a new paragraph between « these walls probably do » and « I lean my vinyls on them ». Then between « whether I was awake or asleep for it » and « They’ve watched me dance around to 80’s playlists with my brother. They’ve watched me come home with new clothes, jumping around on the creaking wooden floors with excitement. » and « They’ve seen me rip pieces of paper in millions of pieces and they’ve seen me toss my phone across the room. They’ve watched me as I got up from bed to write down an idea that’d hit me through the night. They’ve seen you walk in and out, then never back. » and «  And whenever they’d miss something while I was out, they’d hear it from me talking on the phone or writing it in my journal. »
As for your last paragraph, it didn't work for me. It's not just because it's very massive. It also doesn't sound like the rest. It's almost like you are apologizing for everything you wrote before. I didn't quite understand what you mean by: « The only time I feel these walls closing in is when they come closer to push me forward, perhaps my own person in the form of nothingness. »
Do you mean that you are restless?




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Wed May 17, 2017 2:35 pm
PrincessInk wrote a review...



Hey @sofiscarlat and welcome to YWS! I hope you enjoy it here. Just as a little note: if I say 'you' here, I'm just using 'you' as I would in an article or something.

I don't know if I'd call it a short; to me it feels more like an essay. But I enjoyed it anyway. It's kind of really refreshing to write about something you love, whether it be walls or stuffed animal or pillow or anything! I really like the informal touch you put on this piece of writing because it feels really honest and personal. Though some essays would work better as formal, for these kind of personal essays, I do prefer a little informality. How 'bout you?

One part I particularly dislike:

I know it’s quite worrying that I attribute a bunch of bricks such human-like features and so I don’t expect everyone to understand.


This sounds like a disclaimer to make excuses if people start getting confused or something like that. I think it jars the piece. The above paragraphs, if they do their job well, will not confuse the reader.

Reading about how the walls helped is nice, but I'm wondering if the walls changed you in any way? I was hoping to see this idea:

The only time I feel these walls closing in is when they come closer to push me forward, perhaps my own person in the form of nothingness.


expanded, but then the essay ended. So...while it IS nice to hear about the paintings or as if the walls had eyes or ears; what I want to hear most is how it affected you. Or perhaps it didn't? I don't know. Just food for thought.

So I think that's all I've got to comment on. PM me if you have any questions or comments and thanks for sharing!

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Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
— Pablo Neruda