A college assignemnt. I needed to pick my best or worst experience with one of the 5 senses. I was the only person to recieve an A on this, and it's a piece I am extremely proud of.
This miserable fall day could have never prepared my eyes for the beauty that was to come only hours later. For once, the Manhattan air was not dominated by taxi horns, and the sound of corporate neck ties stepping their way through the city streets and sidewalks, but instead, by the sound of rain droplets plunging from the sky and on to the pavement. However, nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. I made my 19 block walk from Penn Station to Roseland Ballroom, and there she was waiting for me. Only literally in my dreams. Living, breathing, walking, talking beauty, the most vivid of its kind, standing not ten feet away from me. She is clearly out of my league. Infact, I can't imagine that she is in anyones league.
I could not take my eyes off of her. Her lips. Jesus Christ those lips that she had. Full lips that fit her face quite nicely that were painted in a crimson and shined to perfection which easily stood out on her smooth, powdery skin. A silver hoop hugged the right side of her bottom lip that I caught her tongue playing with on several glances that I took the liberty of taking. A small and pointy nose sat in the center of her face with a tiny, fake diamond stud going through her left nostril. She had the bluest eyes that would camouflage in a clear July sky. Wrapped around her eyes was a thick black layer of eye shadow and mascara which dripped down her cheeks from the tearing sky. And it was at this point that I realized, Atreyu was wrong. There IS beauty in bleeding mascara. She chose not to take advantage of the hood that was attached to her grey hoodie, and let her silky and straight jet black hair mosh through the wind. Her hair seemed to flail through the air and into her face in slow motion, which she would constantly clear away from her eyes with her small, pale, black nail polish painted fingers.
This specimen could not have been more than 5 feet, 3 inches tall. She had small breasts that were perfectly proportionate to her body. She was short and skinny, which made her tall, black and white boots that probably contained enough lace to lasso the homeless guy across the street that was screaming what seemed like a mix between Gibberish and Japanese, or some other language that I will never learn...or maybe it was perfect English but I just chose not to pay attention, stand out as one of her many visible bold features. She stood talking to her two girlfriends for the next hour until the venue had opened, and I am confident that if I was asked to give a detailed description of either of them to police, it would extend to them both being female, and end right then and there.
It was finally time to walk into the venue. I had my friends ticket that I was waiting for, and lucky for me, that son of a b***h was late, and I was forced to let people that were behind me go inside before I could. For whatever reason, I chose to never bring this chick up to him even though it had consumed me for the entire night. I watched as the only thing that has ever literally taken my breath away turned her back on me and walk into the distance. It wasn't until seconds before the last time I would ever lay my eyes on her that I noticed the red pitchfork tattoo on the back of her right leg. Just another unique feature that stood out to me in case our paths were meant to cross again that night, or any night. Instead of enjoying the show, I spent a majority of it with my eyes wandering across this orgy of thousands, looking for the girl with the pierced face and black hair. However, she was nowhere to be seen. While it was a disappointment, her figure is forever branded in my mind until the day that our four blue eyes become tangled from a close distance, or until I am the only person to notice an illuminating red pitchfork on the back of someones right leg.
Great story telling. This did justice in the realm of getting the message across. Great message. There's lot of times where a story can have a great message to aim for, and have a lot of under lining things but then no one gets it, and if no one gets it, then the point has failed. But in my opinion this did well to get the message across. You made it clear, which is why I think it's good. Keep up the good work. What was also great was that I could imagine the story as I read it, and that is also a strong point of stories. The ability to have the reader imagine it because after all we're reading not watching it, but it was as if I was there as I read this, and that is great. Good job once again.
This short piece is packed with evocative detail, and the reader has no problem envisioning the scenario. Since I am an old toot, I have to read pieces by younger folks with a stern discipline, reminding myself not to use my generational prejudices. ( I don't think I have very many prejudices, but younger people sometimes dismiss my words because of my age.) I love the colors of the scene and the fact that the center of your attention causes everything else to fuzz out in somewhat of a Monet or Renoir Impressionist backdrop, supported soundly by the fact that you could only describe her friends as female. The story almost seems like a promise for the future: will you try to find her again? will you search every crowd, every Starbucks, every line queuing on the sidewalk?
But I also had an interesting uneasiness after the description of the girl began: is our narrator a wholesome and healthy young man simply delighting in the person of his ideal girl, or is he perhaps one who might develop unhealthy obsessions and darker needs? I'm sure that was not the nature of your narrative, but I wanted to pass it on since it would be a subtle and eerie beginning to such a story. I enjoyed your competence with language and sentences. I like some complexity in writing; I always hate it when someone tells me to "dumb it down," or "the words are too big" or "why do you write such complicated sentences." Don't accept that from anybody. B e proud that you sound polished and articulate.
T, this piece does exactly what you were assigned - vividly describing your best visual experience. No wonder you earned an A! You provided specific details, and the feelings entwined that made this experience the "best". I love the hopeful feeling your story leaves with the Reader - maybe someday, your paths will cross again. I think an interesting follow-up piece would be to describe the encounter 30 years later - would the visuals be as enticing? ;) Great write!
Posted 11 Years Ago
11 Years Ago
Thank you so much for reading, and thank you for the kind words Rita. I really like your idea about .. read moreThank you so much for reading, and thank you for the kind words Rita. I really like your idea about making a sequal. However, I happen to really like this piece, and so do most people who read it, and I don't think I could possibly top the original. Just like some great movies should never make a sequal. The ones that do almost never live up to the original. Thanks again!
That is some seriously good stuff. I quite like the images you present. Obviously so does everyone else. I would say, spend a bit more time with the red pitchfork... what kind of a red was it? All in all, I say an excellent descriptive piece. (Sorry it took me so long to get back to you from your initial read request)
Posted 11 Years Ago
11 Years Ago
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this Aeneas.
Terrific short with a defined beginning...middle and end. You could remove half the adjectives though, I think you over-describe, but the continuity in this piece is excellent. It is difficult to write a good short story as the temptation to ramble on is always present, that is why I write novels! Just cut back your descriptions and you have a winner.
Cheers,
Helen :)
A very descriptive piece, I must say, so well done there. You used the words as your tools and portrayed a very real image that any could connect with.
Still, the thought of such an infatuation with a woman... odd. Hmm, to me at least ;)
I've been writing on and off since high school for personal pleasure. I love music and quotes with a strong meaning or a deep/sad meaning behind it. 27 year old male from Long Island New York.
I .. more..