Orchard
was nothing short of a catastrophe; its poorly constructed roads were
endlessly accompanied by liquor bottles, beer cans, and the
occasional roadkill; all of its building were falling apart; homes
were shotgun style of either a faded white, yellow, or red shade; no
school; one unrealistically small “hospital;" one doctor rumored
schizophrenic and bi-polar; lawns home to decaying plants, completely
random and useless junk, and various animals scavenging for food in
the night; no firefighters or police (I heard another town provided
both, despite their displeasure in doing so); a town hall in a tool
shed; a minuscule population; and, above all, it was the source of all
my problems.
Orchard
was made up of two perpendicular roads that created a four way in the
center of its tiny self. It was hardly a town at all. The main
street, Birch Road, cut horizontally through the center of town, and,
eventually, led to another town. The other street, Willow Drive, ran
vertically through town, but led to a dead end on either side. The
southern dead end turned into a dirt road that traveled into the
woods and stopped in front of small lake. The northern dead end
twisted and turned passed one or two homes before coming to an abrupt
stop in front of the town's small cemetery. It was painfully obvious
where this town got its name; the town almost gave the illusion of
being a forest(I guess a town named “Forest” didn't sound as
pleasant.). Willow and birch trees, along with other kinds in fewer
quantities, lined the sides of the roads and gave the place a sense
of secrecy and abandonment. Those trees were the only beauty the town
ever had.
It
was amongst those tress that I first saw Lillian, and it was within
those few moments of first sight that I saw something beautiful; a
human conveying a love for the natural world. Lillian was painting
the enormous and woeful willow that stood a few feet in front of her
and her canvas. Unfortunately for her, that was the only beautiful
thing I ever saw in Lillian. The rest of her was a disaster, not that
anyone else was better anyway, and this led me to discovering a new
hobby. I made it a personal habit to watch Lillian from afar. This
always produced interesting results in many different ways depending
on the situation; sometimes, she would be in the process of painting
when she would suddenly become frustrated and destroy the canvas to
the point of oblivion; other times, she would crawl into a corner of
her driftwood-like home and drown herself in silence; and other
times, she would run into the woods and find a tree to climb or delve
into despair under. One time, she even took it upon herself to slice
off quite a few inches off of her long and wavy brown hair, leaving a
short and choppy cut , which left her to cry until her dark blue eyes
where red and puffy. It was mysterious how she could be such a
handful.
Although
she had major emotional problems, Lillian wasn't in my way because of
them. She was in my way, because of two things: she instantly forced
me to rethink my own reality, and, most of all, she was a
sibling-less orphan.
Gotta love small towns. They're usually depressing and run-down, but to me there is still a strange beauty to the dilapidated buildings. I'm really enjoying this story and can't wait for a new installment. I think you might want to break the last paragraph into two or three smaller ones, though...it got a little long and it seems like there are a few different topics you could split up.
Gotta love small towns. They're usually depressing and run-down, but to me there is still a strange beauty to the dilapidated buildings. I'm really enjoying this story and can't wait for a new installment. I think you might want to break the last paragraph into two or three smaller ones, though...it got a little long and it seems like there are a few different topics you could split up.
"falling apart;( )homes were shotgun" "white,( )yellow," "a tool shed;( )a minuscule" "population;( )and" "sometimes(,) she would be in the process" "become frustrated, and destroy the canvas" No comma. "other times(,) she would crawl into a corner of her driftwood-like home,(no comma) and drown herself in silence" "and other times(,) she would run into the woods,(no comma) and find a tree to climb" "One time(,) she even took it upon herself"
That last part, there was a lot of "one time." I love how she is watching the human curiously, like an alien. An amazing chapter.
First things first: I don't care if your male, female, black, white, Asian, gay, lesbian, trans-gender, straight, overweight, skinny, tall, short, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, etc. I respec.. more..