Gosmini (Grass Isn't Purple as it should've been... A SHORT story)

It's been brought to my attention that I suck at writing. However, what has also been brought to my attention is a formula for writing, and this is my first bat at it.

The eldered man walked out the door, locking it behind him, as he usually did. He trudged his feet down the same path that he did every evening. His old bones seemed to creak as he did so, and he let out a groan. “I’ve got to leave this place.” Unlocking the door to his small apartment he took step inside and looked upon his belongings.  As he slouched he let out another monotonous groan. “The same house, the same bed, the same store, and, D****t! The same problem as always, I’ve left my spectacles at the store again!”

A tight tension rocked Gosmini’s jaw as he let out a heavy sigh from deep within his chest. He stomped his foot on the floor as he turned, walking spitefully out the door, he hated being wrong or forgetful. Gosmini quickly walked back down the dusty road, to the front door, unlocking it, and finally to the back room. When he had promptly picked his spectacles from the work desk he turned to walk through the doorway, but stopped in a moment of confusion.

A crash came from the storefront, it sounded like that of his front window being smashed by a club. Then came the footsteps and the uneasy giggling, and a stern voice. “Grab those! They’ve got to be expensive.”

Chills ran down Gosmini’s spine like alarms of war. His hand quickly slammed to his mouth to cover the impending scream. Gosmini was being robbed, and he had no way of defending himself. He was but a simple man in a simple town, he had never planned for the rush of confrontation and was quite unnerved. His eyes began to feverishly dart around the dark back room of his store, searching for anything that would give him some leverage. After a few short moments, he had grabbed a cane lying in the corner. Summoning the little courage (untouched in his youth) from deep within his belly, he stormed into the front room and quickly swatted at the first man he could see.

Gosmini shook in terror as the thief rose from his crouch. The man, now standing a solid foot over Gosmini, was made of nothing but brick. In his hand the same club that broke the window, now came down on Gosmini and cast him into darkness. Gosmini would leave this small town, not how he had wanted perhaps, but now, his departure was imminent.  

Reviews

[Eddie Sprocker]

A formula? Interesting. This is a dynamic little scene and I enjoyed it. I would have preferred to feel some atmosphere, as well as a steadier pace. I also felt the descriptions were a bit over done, given the relatively cursory nature of the character and the scenario being described. (Of course with more time, you'd be able to flesh it out much better, and give us some more exposition). Keep it up. Bravo.

[Asha]

Define Atmosphere? and please define overdone?

[Asha]

and if you look at 'Grass Isn't Purple' in the review section a gentleman has commented, and at the bottom of his comment is a link to the formula I used

[Decidious wind]

This is not a bad story. And it doesn't suck. Please have confidence in yourself its confidence that makes us better writers. I thought this was a beautiful story.

[Asha]

WELL, it is coming along quite well, I must say. So thank you, but if you read the original rendition you might find that it does kinda suck in the aspect that it doesn't really use any formula or story elements.