Sounds of the City

Leah lays awake in bed staring at the white ceiling above. Breathing fumes of fresh paint drying in the next room. Unable to sleep. Behind her eyes are the visions of the past, troubles that never seem to go away no matter how far she runs. There is the scream of her mother, yelling at her to "clean those dishes, young lady" or "come back here! I'm not finished with you". Sometimes it's the loud heartbeat thumping in her ears as dad gets home, the sting of his fist in her stomach. Then there's the silent sobbing that shook her entire body, scrunched up in the corner of her room, throbbing from bruises both new and old. There was no escape in that house and there's still no escape in an apartment the next state over.

Leah sits up. Approaching is a brilliant sound, something that roars. It gets closer and closer, louder and louder, until it's all around. Everything begins to shake. Something falls in the next room. After a minute everything stops, the noise, the shaking. It was just the subway passing beneath the building. Replacing the sound are the noises of the city; the woosh of passing cars, blaring horns, sirens. The walls are not so thick as to block out the steady thump and moan of the couple next door.

Pushing back the covers of the bed, Leah touches her feet to the freezing hardwood floor. In her bedroom there is nothing but a bed and some clothes on the floor and in the hallway she passes tape and plastic, wet paint. The living room opens up at the end of the hall, empty save for the telephone hooked up to the landline sitting all alone in the corner and a suitcase in the center, a picture frame shattered on the floor. Leah curses and runs forward, ignoring the tiny glass shards on the floor. In the remains is a picture of her mother, when she was happy, holding Leah as a young child. Their hair is a similar brunette, their strong jaw line shared and two pairs of deep, dark brown eyes. Her mother's lips curl up in a smile, exposing the whole of her teeth, something she hasn't done in a long while. For a few moments Leah just looks at the broken glass on the picture, the glass that must have ruined everything between mother and daughter. Leah touches her face, her eyebrows, eyes, nose, mouth, jaw. Her fingers curl into claws, wanting to tear at the things that link her to the mother who did nothing but hurt her, to the woman who was unable to care for her. A small scream whistles behind barred teeth. Leah gets up. She runs to wall, gritting her teeth against a knot pulling at her throat, fighting tears welling in her eyes. Her hands lock into fists as she hurls at the wall, punching the empty white surface. Again, again, again. There is no pain behind the adrenaline driving her forward. She kicks and punches, tears streaming down her face. At first there is anger; Anger at her parents for never once caring about anyone but themselves, for never loving their daughter the way parents should. Another punch and rage boils her blood. No one cares about little Leah, no one has ever cared. Did she honestly expect that mommy and daddy would be anything but relieved to finally be rid of their nuisance?

Someone knocks on the door. Leah stops, startled, staring at the front door. There's a short pause before another insistent rap at the door. She slides to the floor, pulling her legs in close. Another knock. Then a doorbell ring. Who could it possibly be? Late at night, knocking on HER door? They couldn't have found her already, could they?

"Hello!" The visiter calls out. Leah listens, his voice is not familiar. "I know somebody's home." He calls out in annoyance. Leah gets up, clad in long pajama pants and a short sleeved shirt. She looks through the peek hole in the door and sees a young man. His hair is wild, like he's been pulling it all night and he looks around the hallway, anxious. Leah lets him knock one more time, wiping at her cheeks, before she opens the door.

"What do you want?" She asks, her voice stern and brittle. He looks surprised. She puts one hand on her hip and keeps the other on the door. "What!" She asks again.

"Could you keep it down? It's the middle of the night and these walls aren't exactly sound proof!" He sizes her up, squinting at the hand on her hip, before looking at the rest of her.

"Is that it?" Leah shifts her weight, getting impatient. The boy leans to look over her shoulder at the empty room behind her. She glares at him. "Good night!" She slams the door shut, sliding to the floor behind ir.

There is yet another knock. "Do you want some help with your hand? I doubt you have anything useful in there." Leah looks at her splint knuckles, oozing blood and mixing with paint. They do sting.

"Go away." Leah calls back, cradling her hands. She can hear his footsteps fading and the telltale open and close of another door just a few feet away. Leah sighs, feeling the exhaustion of the drive and the emotional toll of the journey thus far. Her body aches to sleep but her dreams are nothing more than bitter nightmares.

Somewhere a siren goes off, crying through the streets, a dog howls, chasing cars through the city, the couple next door to the left still thump repetitively against the wall. The subway is coming. Again its sound grows louder and louder, menacing, as though it'll consume everything in its path, until it passes through and rocks the entire building. Leah starts as something slides in from underneath the door. First there is a small tube that looks like ointment. Second is a small roll of medical tape. Lastly, a white paper slides through with black ink scrawled across it. Leah picks up the note and reads it quietly out loud. "The antiseptic ointment will help. You can wrap your hand with medical tape if you want. Stop punching things. Go to sleep. Drew." She picks up the antiseptic and puts a small amount on one of her knuckles, gritting her teeth against the sting. Once her knuckles are treated, she walks back to her bed. It's cold from the absence of her warmth and takes a few minutes to become comfortable again. The apartment is far from quiet and shakes from time to time, however, Leah closes her eyes finally too exhausted to fight her nightmares. In the morning there is another note at the door and nothing is ever quiet.

Author's Note

PROMPT: Your character moves into a new apartment. On the surface, the place seemed ideal, but his/her first night there, your character discovers a terrible problem with the place that he/she didn't take into account.

All critiques welcome and appreciated!

Reviews

[Jack Wolfe]

Jeccka: You no doubt have talent, and you were able to build your character (Leah) and set a rather dreary tone; however, in spots you seem to have inserted adjectives simply to add adjectives.

Leah lays awake staring at the (stark) white ceiling. Granted Stark, by definitional terms can mean bare, it's usually reserved for darker description.

Breathing the (Oder) of fresh paint. The word should be odor, it is usually associated with pungent or unpleasant smells, e.g. The skunk's odor. You would not say, “She could smell the odor of the roses.”

Sometimes it's the loud heartbeat thumping in her ears as "dad" gets home, (Dad does not need emphases here.)

Leah (tentatively) touches her feet to the freezing hardwood floor. Here's an injection that can be omitted (follow William Strunk's rule from 'The Elements of Style' omit needless words. Understandable, you're writing this from the third person-omniscient POV; however, think of it as if you were speaking from the first-person, would you describe yourself as 'tentatively' doing something, it is also an adverb . . . (which we all know the road to hell is paved with adverbs).

Overall: it's a very entertaining scene, I would love to see where Leah,and Drew go from here, also what was written on the final scrap of paper. You've set the tone and character quite nice, a bit of tightening loose ends, and omissions would make this stand out, also watch for tense shift, thanks for the read.

[Jeccka]

I've always had a difficult time trying to make my writing more descriptive and through all the helpful and sometimes useless advice I've gotten, I never even considered the idea of adding adjectives just to add them. Thank you for pointing it out. I've finally put aside my pride in being a good writer because I want to be a great writer. Do you have any more advice or tips and tricks about useless adjectives?

[Jack Wolfe]

The thing about Descriptive writing is there are several ways to do it, and an abundance of different styles, all of which invoke imagery, tone, or feeling. In most instances you want to write sharp and concise, you can say much more with, 'Tommy trudged up the steep incline.' than, 'Tommy walked up the steep incline.' in the previous line, I wrote 'trudged' it tells me 'how', with 'steep' the adjective is giving you the degree of the incline. Now, If I wanted to go deeper into the Description, I would write something along the lines of, 'Tommy trudged up the steep incline, his calves ached, sweat decanted from his brow, and his lungs felt like he had swallow a canter of arsenic.' Granted its not the best, but it beats, 'his heart throbbed, beat, or pounded, 'all cliches'.

There are also different tones with word choices:

e.g. 'A crimson red sun as thick as blood peered over the malicious waves, as the wind conducted an arpeggio of hellish music.'

This description would be used for Dark Imagery:

e.g. The medallion of the heavens lavished its presence upon the majestic swells. The strong winds seemed to be birth by angelic pinions, enveloping the seascape.

This Description for Nostalgic Imagery

e.g. Waves crashed against the shore as the sun burned hot, and the wind picked up in speed.

This Description for Simplistic Imagery.

Sorry, these are not the best examples, but the best I could come up with on a whim. I hope this helps. If you have anymore question of comments feel free to contact me.

[Alfred Kukitz]

The story seems to trap the reader with interest. There is an energy in your writing that makes the piece flow. There isn't much to this story yet it captures the imagination. Keep writing and rewriting you will surely get there!

[Jeccka]

Thank you!

[Lou Tracy]

Jeccka, you've written a good story. The pacing is good, the plot, while not particularly original, is well-executed and your characters are sympathetic. One of the main issues I have with it is that this could and should be expanded, as it is more a scene than a short story (though I think short fiction in general is almost always insufficient, so I may be biased). The reasons I think you should expand this are two:
1. You have a starting point for your characters, one of whom we barely meet, so it is unclear whether they will rise above the stereotypes that all characters start as.
2. The conflict in the story develops in only two stages: its inception (Leah's traumatic memories) and its resolution (namely the last line). If you had more space, you could show how Leah overcame her problems little by little (or didn't if it swings that way), or essentially, grown the conflict into something more complex and engaging.

Also, I have several stylistic suggestions. You should use more expressive verbs (e.g. "It gets closer and closer, louder and louder, until it's all around.", could easily become "It draws closer, screams louder and rises until the whole rooms is booming with it" or something.) Generally speaking, strong action verbs are the foundation of good writing. My suggestion is to experiment with metaphors (in the context of verbs of course). Go silly, regardless of how stupid some combinations may sound and trust me I've come up with some pretty stupid s**t myself - the important thing is that you let your mind make new connections.

Well, it's all only my opinion, since nobody really knows what makes writing good (though there are many people who think they do), so all I can recommend to you that I'm certain would work is to write (a lot!) and experiment (a lot!) and you'll eventually hit on a style that'll surprise even you.

[Jeccka]

Thank you so much for your feedback! I really do need to work on my writing and your critiques are most helpful!

[Jeccka]

I have always struggled with making "short stories" more than just very small scenes so I'll work on that.!

[Lou Tracy]

A thing I tried once for a writing group was to take a bunch of stories I'd written that could be just scenes from a novel and stitch them together. There was a lot of tinkering and language disparity, but it worked out well (despite the rejection slip :) ). So if you have a couple of stories like this, you could try it and see where it gets you. Just an idea.

[Jeccka]

Woah! That's a crazy cool idea! I'm definitely going to try that, thanks! I've never heard of anything like that before

[Lou Tracy]

Be sure to post it! :)

[Leigh]

This bursts into life with the scene you have set and your realistic characters, supported by really good descriptions all the way through

[Jeccka]

Glad you liked my characters and enjoyed it overall - thank you!

[Skai Rain]

Readswop: You're incredibly talented and I love how descriptive you are. Great job!

[Jeccka]

Thanks! I appreciate it!

[girlwithadream]

Really great writing, adjectives always help to set the scene and the help with the story. Great work though very creative perspective and idea.

[Jeccka]

Thank you! I've been trying to work on making my writing more descriptive. Thanks for reviewing it! :)

[K. Payne]

Nice story! I'd like to know Lead even more with her "mental funks", but this is a great start in getting to know her. I'm pretty sure the only mistake I saw was in the last paragraph, with the sentence that says:
"Again it's sound grows louder..." It should be "its" without an apostrophe or else you're saying "Again it is sound grows louder..." instead of showing possession. All in all, keep it up!
-Kay

[Jeccka]

Glad you like it! Thanks for reviewing it! :)