The doorbell rang, it was the delivery man. He was carting his usual large crate up to our front door. I opened the door and gave the man the usual twenty-five cent tip. 'Human Corpse Inside' the crate read in large painted block letters on all six sides. As he was walking back to his van I grabbed hold of one side and proceeded to wiggle it through the threshold into our living room.
"Bring it in Jethro! And set him at the table!" My mother yelled down from her bedroom atop the stairs..
I twisted and slid the crate into our kitchen just as I do every Tuesday night. I ran to the garage to fetch a crowbar to help me with the lid. I pried it open slowly and inspected the contents. "This one's pretty average!" I yelled back. "Good sign!"
I then took the mustachioed man under the arms and pulled him from his temporary home. First I had to set him on the floor, so I could straighten out and bend whatever parts of his body I needed to so I could get him in some clothes. I then went to the closet just off from the kitchen and came back with my father clothes: a tweed blazer, matching pants, plaid shirt, suspenders, brown socks, wingtip shoes, large-rimmed glasses, golf hat, gold ring, silver watch, and a tobacco pipe. It took me a good fifteen minutes to get the man into the clothes and suited up with his accessories. When I was done I did some bending and straightening out, and heaved the man into one of the chairs at our kitchen table. I folded his hands around a newspaper, pulled the pipe to one side of his mouth, opened his eyes, and set the glasses low on his nose.
"He's all ready momma!" I yelled with anticipation.
Since my father died before I was born, I knew I would never know him by his appearance. However, after eighteen years, I was still banking on the hope that my mother would. My excitement grew as she began her climb down the stairs. She turned around the end caps of the staircase and stared at the man sitting at her kitchen table. He looked to have found an intriguing article in the Times and was yet to recognize my mother standing there. A frown came across her face again, and my heart sank with it. "Nope, that's not him. I guess we'll have to try again next week, son."
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140,462 Literary Works • 673,233 Reviews
Hey! PeanutPhoebe, here to review! So, first off, there were some grammar errors, but I won't go through them, since everyone else has. I really liked your short story. It was cool how you didn't really answer our questions immediately, and still haven't. When I read the "human corpse" I was pretty confused. So, it's hard to understand exactly what they're doing. But my guess is that the mother has some form of memory loss, and can't remember the boy's father? One thing that bothered me is that we didn't know the child's gender until the very last sentence. The whole time, I thought it was a girl, and then, you were like, "Boom! It's a boy." Okay, it wasn't that bad, but I would make sure the reader knows that. Great story, and very original!
I really don't know if I have much to add on this, it's a very interesting story, the idea is original and I like that we don't get all the answers to what is going on.
I liked the detailed description of the clothes that the son dresses the man it, I feel like that gives quite an insight into the setting and type of family they are, they description of the clothes indicates their cultural background nicely, but subtly.
it is a bit short, there might be room for some more development, maybe the mother could play more of a role, maybe you could describe what it was that she was doing before she came down, there are ways you could give the story a little more depth without ruining the very interesting mysterious quality.
WOW
Trevorcofer,
This is definitely not the story I thought it was going to be from the beginning! But once I read 'Human Corpse Inside' I obviously had to keep reading to see what the heck you were writing about! I did like your way with words. Such as "A frown came across her face again, and my heart sank with it." And "I then took the mustachioed man under the arms and pulled him from his temporary home."
Here's what I understood from your story: obviously this is a weekly thing Jethro and his mother go through. Except I can't figure what they're trying to find. I'm assuming they are either looking for a potential father/husband, resembling the one they once had, even if he's dead, or they are looking for some sort of manikin. But I don't feel like that's what you were going for.
Here's the only thing I didn't like: the double repetition with "anticipation" you used it twice with only one word in between, but in different sentences. "He's all ready momma!" I yelled with anticipation. My anticipation grew as she began her climb down the stairs." I suggest using a synonym the second time. Such as, "excitement" or "suspense".
Anywho, this is actually one of the first mystery poems I have read and you set pretty great standards for the rest I will be reading! Haha, great job, keep writing.
Thank you so much for that. I made sure to clarify and correct those points, and it is much better because of it!
This is pretty fun for such a short story! I have a couple of nitpicks though.
First of all, the first sentence is a run-on sentence. The first comma should be replaced by a period or a semicolon to make it grammatically correct.
I also feel like it might be a nice touch to have the mother say something like: 'Bring him in, Jethro. Make him comfortable at the table,' instead, since they clearly see the corpse as a person rather than an object.
I like the detail of the exact tip; it's quite jovial and contrasts nicely with the dark subject matter, but think the mention of 6:48 is too specific. In my personal experience, corpse pedallers are rarely adept at timekeeping, so I doubt it would happen at the exact same time each week.
Other than those things, I really enjoyed the story. Keep writing, and have fun!
I really appreciate that! I made some changes and clarified some things, and the story is a lot better because of it, thanks again. I'm really glad you enjoyed it.