Young Writers Society

~I know this isn't good, just an attempt at flexing a stale muse...~

She was the center of my gravity, my equilibrium; my skein of thoughts revolved around her. A pickup line polished just right in front of a bathroom mirror, and she fell for it, easier than I’d ever dared to dream that she would. We'd share everything together, from playing with barbie doll, picking our first bras, to even beginning our periods in the same month. Now, we fell in love together, exchanging fears that something bad would come of this.

My secret is fatally gorgeous
I'd die for you
But in this Bonnie and Clyde kind of romance
Tell me what would you do?

It was romantic and thrilling in every way that I’d dreamed of. Clandestine meetings between us, where stand huddled together, dripping wet and with mud up to our knees, while the sky cried in delight for us. Then, we’d race home in the dead of night with our hearts thumping in our chest; partly from adrenaline, but mostly because of the way our lips had brushed in parting. I’d stand at the window, waiting to hear her voice rise up to me, and no matter what clichéd love songs the wind brought to me, I knew this was too good to be true.

My secret is fatally gorgeous
I'd die for you
But when your precious life is at stake
Tell me would you die for me too?

Giddy with delight and anticipation, I was all but willing to let the world know our secret on her coke-stained, memory-laden couch in the middle of the living room, when our private rendezvous was interrupted by the sighs of a middle-aged woman weary from a day of hard work. Before we could spring apart, the door was open and there she was, her eyes taking us in with shocked horror and disparagement. Her mouth opened and closed comically as she searched for something appropriate to say, and pointed a trembling finger at me. “You! In my house! In my house!”

In gentle greens we stand side by side
With your head buried in my chest
Black veils send me shivering
The fear that part of me is dying

Cassie clung to me, her curves and mine fitting together so perfectly. “Dike!” She was shaking her fists, the sound of her heels clicking on the hard tile more piercing than the wail of a siren. “My own daughter! You…you bitch!” I couldn’t tell which were Cassie’s tears and which were my own, only that her nails dug into my back, holding me close. Our hearts pounded together in furious rhythm, and for a second I forgot the situation at this incredible intimacy. We were so close that I could feel her hairs against mine, her sobs shaking my body, mine shaking hers. Then, her mother was pulling us apart

Goodbyes are said and roses thrown
And the crowd starts to weep
But the irony of the story is when I fell to my knees
And began clawing at the dirt in front of the tombstone
Of my bashful childhood

I never talked to Cassie again after that. She told my mom, who looked at me with that silent disappointment, shaking her head. Her eyes seemed to say, "Where'd I go wrong with you? Why'd you have to do this to me?" The last time I saw her was as our van pulled away, the U-haul behind it. I pressed my face as close against the glass as I could, as though I could go through it and reach her.

With you by my side, you're screaming at the
Top of your lungs, "let it go"

She was my center of gravity, my equilibrium; my skein of thoughts revolved around her. I first tasted love on Cassie's lips, and never again did it taste as sweet as that. I moved on, but I never forgot her. How can you forget an angel, after all?

and she fell for it, easier than I’d ever dared to dream that she would

^ The end of this was worded strangely. Maybe nix the "that"?

Clandestine meetings between us, where stand huddled together, dripping wet and with mud up to our knees,

^ This sounded strange, summary-like. The whole paragraph, in fact, glosses over something that could be a nice short in its own right, if expanded.

Our passion mounted; as one, we rode up on waves of pleasure, our backs to the stars, to the angels.

^ This is kinda strange too. It doesn't seem to mean a whole lot.

as my angel was torn from me

^ I'd definately reword here.

On the whole, it's a little too... abstract for my liking. Like a bunch of different scenes/ideas squished together. I think you can certainly pull parts of it for use individually, but as a whole, it doesn't do too much.

PM me if you have any questions.

Romantic Fiction definately is not my fav, and there wasn't much of a plot to this. I know it's a short story and all, but it needs to have some sort of point. It just seems like, boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy meets girl a lot, boy can't see the girl again.

So, you could expand more on this. Nice flowery language, but don't go too over the top. Especially with this subject. The whole thing reminds me of a Peanuts cartoon I read, where Snoopy writes a story:

Snoopy wrote:The curtain of night enveloped the fleeing lovers. Through firey trials, oceans of longing had kept them together. Now a new icicle of terror stabbed at the embroidery of their existance. Joe Metaphor.

Might not be word perfect, but you get the picture. You've gotten so entangled in your images and metaphors that you've forgotten to show us what's happening.

This was written a lot better, but the other changes - or things I didn't get the first time - should be changed again. Namely, girl and girl. Girl and girl being together on the sofa; even worse than girl and boy being together on the sofa.

The style of this was heaps better, but the subject, definately not.

Now, we fell in love together, exchanging fears that something bad would come of this.

I'd reword the end of this; it's wordy. I liked the word "together", though, because it doesn't completely give away that they fell in love with each other, but does make you wonder.

I’d stand at the window, waiting to hear her voice rise up to me, and no matter what clichéd love songs the wind brought to me, I knew this was too good to be true.

"to me" is used twice within the sentence, and it sounds awkward. I'd break this into two sentences.

She was my center of gravity, my equilibrium; my skein of thoughts revolved around her. I first tasted love on Cassie's lips, and never again did it taste as sweet [s]as that[/s]. I moved on, but I never forgot her. How can you forget an angel, after all?

I think you could use themes from the sentence highlited in blue throughout the story more. Summary sentences like these can seem like an excuse for what the story is about because the point wasn't written into the story itself. Similar with the sentence hilighted in green. This could be expanded into even a short paragraph to show a little more instead of summarizing. I think that the last sentence is very cliche, and would strongly reccomend changing, or re-wording, it.



My random thoughts:

If you can change it so easily from a male/female to female/female relationship, is it worth changing? Are you trying to say something? Or is the fact that they've been easily interchanged important in itself?

Are the poem/song lyrics really important? I don't read them; I think they're distracting. Think how much they add. Should I be reading them to understand something more?

On the whole, it's getting better I still don't really like how it seems more like a general picture than a straightforward "this is what happened" kind of thing, but oh well

-Amelia

PM me if you have any questions.