Back and forth, the windshield wipers worked at full speed to keep the windshield clear. It was a pointless attempt, and the rain fell without fail. It had been one of those mornings, I remembered as I sat in my car, where you wake up and just feel depressed. You didn’t need a reason to be depressed, you just were. Well, for some reason, I just love those kinds of mornings. This feeling of inexplicable depression mixed with that smell of new beginnings. You know, that smell that comes when it rains. While I was making my daily commute to the city earlier this morning, I was thinking of all of this and how that depression was welcomed today. Despite the downpour, I had my window opened just a crack; I love the smell of rain. I was still worried about how today had seemed different. There was an additional feeling; I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. I continued to drive through the city; it was hard to see and the road was extremely slippery. As I drove, I saw cars that had skidded and crashed and became apprehensive of crashing myself.
It had taken me a lot longer than usual to get to the city. I got a red light and stopped. Off to the right, there were business men and women dressed in long overcoats with umbrellas. Others, without umbrellas, ran, heads bent low, holding newspapers and briefcases over their heads. As the light changed and I applied the gas, the unknown feeling grew. Still thinking about the morning, I remembered how I had realized I was feeling anxious. But not nervous-anxious; it was more of an apprehensive or wary kind of anxious. This anxiety was in the air, this aura that seemed to imply something ghastly would happen. I got these ominous presences sometimes. It wasn’t like a psychic power or anything supernatural like that; I just got these senses. Something almost always happens when I get these feelings, but it was different, stronger, today.
It hadn’t been a lousy morning, but I needed a little pick-me-up, so I grabbed a cup of coffee. My assistant entered my office with a list of people that I needed to call and a stack of forms that I needed to read and sign. It was just a typical, mundane day with the usual tasks.
I grimaced as I thought of how I hadn’t been able to find a very important document necessary for a meeting, the most crucial meeting of the quarter. Then the printer went on the fritz, printing multiple copies of things we didn’t need and did not print the documents I absolutely needed. After a disastrous meeting, it was finally time to go home. That anxious feeling was still gnawing at my mind as I walked down four flights of stairs. In my descent down to the parking lot, I stared at the bricks lining the stairs; I began thinking of what I would do when I got home. I’d probably curl up on the couch with my Chinese water dragon, and watch a movie. I realized I needed to run to the store for mice, crickets, and lettuce for her and was almost to PetSmart.
I went over to the fish department at PetSmart where they had the crickets and got four dozen large crickets. Then, I got the mice and paid. I made my way through the puddles back to my car, got in, and sat there. It had been a long day, and I couldn’t believe that this weather hadn’t let up at all. Then I remembered how earlier that morning, I had run in to a Starbucks in the city, a new one I hadn’t noticed before. The man behind the counter seemed to be around thirty-five, my age. He gave me his number and told me to call. I decided to give it a shot; it had been a while since I’d dated anyone, I was always so busy.
Knowing that Kameko, my Chinese water dragon, would be happy when I got home with fresh meat, I considered calling the man, Dierks. I started the car and pulled out. The windshield wipers still couldn’t do their job and I could barely see the car in front of me. The rain lightened a little bit and we began to pick up the speed on the road a little more. I had finally summoned the courage to call Dierks, and looked down at his number, written on a Starbucks napkin. I began dialing his number. All the sudden, as I looked up, I realized there were four stopped cars, completely blocking traffic, and I slammed on the brakes. I sat there thinking “man oh man, this is one bad day… there have been so many narrow accident avoidances.” Then, I heard a loud dinging noise and saw flashing red lights. It took me a minute, but then I realized that I was on the train tracks! I panicked and couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t go forward because of the car pile up, so I quickly threw the car in reverse and began to back up, but the train was coming too fast. I looked up at the rainy sky and felt like I wasn’t myself, but rather an observer, unable to do or say anything to prevent the surely terrible outcome.
I heard a clash of metal on metal and was slammed against something hard. Then I felt a lot of pain, but it was almost secondary to my thoughts. All I could think of was Am I dead? I recognized the pain, but it wasn’t overwhelming me like it should have been. The edges of my vision became dark, circling the image, just like in a movie. Despite my worries and pain, I chuckled: I couldn’t tell if I was dead or not, I heard people screaming, and yet I was comparing my life to a movie. The blackness overwhelmed me and everything went dark.
……………………………
“The doctors said she didn’t have a chance, that she was dead just moments after the train hit her, that there was nothing anyone could have done for her.” The speaker could barely talk; she was so upset, giving Merry’s eulogy. There were friends, colleagues, and churchmen standing around the empty gravesite in Washington Cemetery. “Merry has wanted to be buried here since she was a little girl, walking by this cemetery on lovely New York mornings. I always thought it was kind of morbid for Merry to think about this… at least we know she’s where she wanted to be.” She took a deep breath and wiped some stray tears away with a tissue. “But enough with grieving. She would want us all to celebrate the good times we had with her. Cry at weddings, laugh at funerals.”
It had taken me a lot longer than usual to get to the city. I got a red light and stopped. Off to the right, there were business men and women dressed in long overcoats with umbrellas. Others, without umbrellas, ran, heads bent low, holding newspapers and briefcases over their heads. As the light changed and I applied the gas, the unknown feeling grew. Still thinking about the morning, I remembered how I had realized I was feeling anxious. But not nervous-anxious; it was more of an apprehensive or wary kind of anxious. This anxiety was in the air, this aura that seemed to imply something ghastly would happen. I got these ominous presences sometimes. It wasn’t like a psychic power or anything supernatural like that; I just got these senses. Something almost always happens when I get these feelings, but it was different, stronger, today.
It hadn’t been a lousy morning, but I needed a little pick-me-up, so I grabbed a cup of coffee. My assistant entered my office with a list of people that I needed to call and a stack of forms that I needed to read and sign. It was just a typical, mundane day with the usual tasks.
I grimaced as I thought of how I hadn’t been able to find a very important document necessary for a meeting, the most crucial meeting of the quarter. Then the printer went on the fritz, printing multiple copies of things we didn’t need and did not print the documents I absolutely needed. After a disastrous meeting, it was finally time to go home. That anxious feeling was still gnawing at my mind as I walked down four flights of stairs. In my descent down to the parking lot, I stared at the bricks lining the stairs; I began thinking of what I would do when I got home. I’d probably curl up on the couch with my Chinese water dragon, and watch a movie. I realized I needed to run to the store for mice, crickets, and lettuce for her and was almost to PetSmart.
I went over to the fish department at PetSmart where they had the crickets and got four dozen large crickets. Then, I got the mice and paid. I made my way through the puddles back to my car, got in, and sat there. It had been a long day, and I couldn’t believe that this weather hadn’t let up at all. Then I remembered how earlier that morning, I had run in to a Starbucks in the city, a new one I hadn’t noticed before. The man behind the counter seemed to be around thirty-five, my age. He gave me his number and told me to call. I decided to give it a shot; it had been a while since I’d dated anyone, I was always so busy.
Knowing that Kameko, my Chinese water dragon, would be happy when I got home with fresh meat, I considered calling the man, Dierks. I started the car and pulled out. The windshield wipers still couldn’t do their job and I could barely see the car in front of me. The rain lightened a little bit and we began to pick up the speed on the road a little more. I had finally summoned the courage to call Dierks, and looked down at his number, written on a Starbucks napkin. I began dialing his number. All the sudden, as I looked up, I realized there were four stopped cars, completely blocking traffic, and I slammed on the brakes. I sat there thinking “man oh man, this is one bad day… there have been so many narrow accident avoidances.” Then, I heard a loud dinging noise and saw flashing red lights. It took me a minute, but then I realized that I was on the train tracks! I panicked and couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t go forward because of the car pile up, so I quickly threw the car in reverse and began to back up, but the train was coming too fast. I looked up at the rainy sky and felt like I wasn’t myself, but rather an observer, unable to do or say anything to prevent the surely terrible outcome.
I heard a clash of metal on metal and was slammed against something hard. Then I felt a lot of pain, but it was almost secondary to my thoughts. All I could think of was Am I dead? I recognized the pain, but it wasn’t overwhelming me like it should have been. The edges of my vision became dark, circling the image, just like in a movie. Despite my worries and pain, I chuckled: I couldn’t tell if I was dead or not, I heard people screaming, and yet I was comparing my life to a movie. The blackness overwhelmed me and everything went dark.
……………………………
“The doctors said she didn’t have a chance, that she was dead just moments after the train hit her, that there was nothing anyone could have done for her.” The speaker could barely talk; she was so upset, giving Merry’s eulogy. There were friends, colleagues, and churchmen standing around the empty gravesite in Washington Cemetery. “Merry has wanted to be buried here since she was a little girl, walking by this cemetery on lovely New York mornings. I always thought it was kind of morbid for Merry to think about this… at least we know she’s where she wanted to be.” She took a deep breath and wiped some stray tears away with a tissue. “But enough with grieving. She would want us all to celebrate the good times we had with her. Cry at weddings, laugh at funerals.”
This is another strange topic... I wouldn't call the writing style flat out bad, but I wouldn't call it good either. Some of the comments seem random and unnecessary. Also, while I clearly wanted to emphasize this strange feeling that Merry was feeling, I think I overdid it. The story seems to move around too much, such as when overviewing her day. Maybe it was the structure of the piece: I tried to use a few flash backs, but I think it made the piece seem strange.
ReplyDeleteI have no dialogue included in this piece, so I didn't do very well on improving with "show, don't tell." However, I think I was able to provide the reader with a decent description of the scenes so they could visualize what was happening, such as in the beginning when Merry is driving through the city.
Sophomore year was, in my opinion, one of my weaker years of writing. I basically seemed uninspired. I wrote two short stories, this being one. The other that I wrote was more unrealistic and foolish, but I did a better job of using "show, don't tell," showing a bit of improvement from fresman year.