Far, Far Away

chapter finished? not too sure yet. sorry for the delay.

   It was far colder in Los Angeles than we expected it would be in October. The first night on the beach was the worst because of it. We had stumbled through the unfamiliar streets at 1 am, until we finally reached Venice Beach, where we collapsed, exhausted. Behind a concrete changing room on the sand,we both huddled under one army jacket for warmth, until we shivered our way to dream.

  I awoke early the next morning, to the crashing of the surf, and saw porpoises leaping in the distant swells. The events of the day before came flooding back, and I did a double take in shocked amazement. We were in California! We made it! I stared around us, taking in the grey misted morning, the palm trees rustling in the breeze, the crashing waves, the deserted boardwalk. It was a strange new land, completely foreign to us, and I was eager to start exploring.      

   We headed North, up the beach towards a large pier, that we later discovered was the much reknowned Santa Monica Pier, the very end of Route 66. In the Boston we had left behind, it was already 8:30 AM, but here in California time it was still ridiculously early, and there were virtually no people around to watch us gawking in amazement.

   The Santa Monica Pier is home to a fabulous carousel, rollar coaster, and ferris wheel, all thrust out over the ocean on a huge wooden dock. They do not have things like this in Boston, mostly due to the incliment weather we are prone to in winter, and I was beside myself with childlike wonderment. I imagined myself riding on one of the carved wooden horses, watching the ocean spinning around me, the calliope music ringing in my ears, and a smile crept onto my face. I began circling the glass building, searching for the horse I would pick when I did get my chance to ride. I got halfway around the brightly painted horses when I came upon a sign reading "Carousel closed for refurbishing- sorry for the inconvenience", and my face fell.

 

   California turned out to be full of ups and downs like that. We made it out to Hollywood, only to discover it was not at all what we imagined. The famous "Walk of the Stars" wove a lattice-work around sex shops, headless mannequins scantily clad and complacent. The neon buzz of pawn shops and nail salons, the dull throb of music from the strip clubs, and the gruff voices of the homeless and prostitutes looking for a quick buck are the soundtrack to Hollywood when the sun goes down. The Chinese Theater looks like a lonely ghost clinging to the end of the Strip. The echo of a bygone era, Marilyn Monroe among a pack of Madonnas.

   I thought about that a lot for the next few weeks. As I spent my days on the beach watching the beautiful plastic people, i realized this world is full of Hollywoods, all beautiful and gold sparkle from afar, but once you get inside you can see the misery and rot.

 

 

Reviews

[Joanna Maharis]

I'm so enthralled with this chapter. The prose is exquisite. I look forward to reading more of this story soon. I love the vivid imagery, in that it is so colorful. It flows so beautifully like music. I was hooked on this story from the very first line. I felt like I was there experiencing the events unfold with the characters, and I felt so close to the beach as if I could almost touch the sand and taste the salty air. Great job. Keep up the good work. However, I'd like to get to know the characters in the story more, in that it will enable me to connect with them better, in terms of allowing me to feel what they are feeling. But other than that the story is good so far.

[Fidheallir]

I'm intrigued. Your narrator seems very poetic, but not very emotional. Is this an intentional part of the character? The use of evocative language makes the writing enjoyable to read, but in terms of the story I feel like it's on "fast forward" instead of real time. You could probably slow down and bring us into the narrator's present.