Young Writers Society

Hey, I'm new here. Just wanted to share a story with you. Possibly being used for english coursework at college.


Wake me when September ends

I walk along the dreary street, watch as the last parts of summer are blown away, as brown and yellow leaves cross my path, float carelessly past. It s cold. The end of summer is always depressing, as everything bright and wonderful dies by the swift hand of nature, as colour is turned from luscious pinks and dreamy blues to crumpled oranges and unattractive browns, when the plants are forgotten and the sun waves a solemn goodbye, forever to disappear beyond dark clouds. And it's when my heart was carved in two by the sharp blade known only as love.

It began in early summer - the grass was green, the flowers blooming. I met her under a willow tree, and entirely shaded from the sun and the outside world, I watched as her brown locks and chocolate eyes caressed my soul and never let go. Her smile erupted my senses, her movements dictated my mood, and as the sun fell from the sky I fell helplessly in love, never once looking back. I regret it now, going straight in. Sometimes I wonder, if I d took a step back from it all, waited just one minute to let it all flow in, before diving back, would it have changed anything? Because once she'd entered into my life and grasped my heart, I knew I could never allow her to leave. I wish I could have that minute again.

The first weeks we spent together were sheer bliss. The number of days we spent under the blazing summer sun laying in the park grass and the number of long nights we spent I have lost count. We talked for hours, she was always there for me, she was the only one who'd pick me up again when I fell down, lifted my head above the clouds and kept me there. She believed in me, made me feel good about myself, like no-one else ever could. The feeling I had when she touched me is beyond my skills of description. She was out of this world, and I was caught in her dance of love, and even if I wanted to escape her trance I couldn't.

I don't think my heart can take much more beating from me remembering the amazing times we shared, sorry. I m sure you'll understand. I pause as the sun escapes its cloud and flashes light into my eyes, before disappearing once again. I look hopefully upwards in case it comes back. It doesn't. All it gives me is a flicker of warmth. The wind picks up and my hair flails wildly around, thrashing up and down in the cold air. I shiver.

If I had an inch of perception I might have noticed how things were bound to fail. The higher you fly, the further you fall. And it was a long way down from the clouds. She was like an illusion, a dream. My dream. She was everything I had fantasised. Everything I had wished for in the dark hours of the night when I was alone and all hope had faded. She was the goddess of my world, beautiful, heavenly, and unreal. The sun was her beacon, the moon was her servant and the flourishing flowers of late summer her creations.

And then she was gone.

She held my hand on that grey wall, she picked up that weapon of love and shot me through the centre of my heart leaving it broken, shattered. Grief-stricken, I stumbled home. My life was over. What was left to live for, I ask?

I don't think I could get much lower, I'd sunk and fallen and hit the rock bottom in a bottomless chasm of despair, and it had destroyed me. I was no longer content, no longer living in ecstasy, no longer living without worry. My confidence was forever shattered into pieces, lying on the remains of my self-belief. I spent my days counting each day as it passed without event, sick of crying, sick of me, and sick of this summer.

I still carry on the walk down that dreary street. The wind is more brutal now. It blows a ripped newspaper in front of my face, before drifting it to rest on a bench. I pass trees bereft of seed and fruit, shredded of their joy. Just like me, summer is dying. Autumn is taking over. How can nature be so cruel and unforgiving? How can it give and take so easily, without thought or feeling, without ever noticing that its boundless power can have consequences. It had left me like a vacuum without my mind, without feeling, just as the last vibrance and action of summer was faltering. Summer has come to pass, my love has been spent, and it s gone so fast.

I continue my walk. I don't know why. I hope at the end I ll reach a conclusion that will satisfy me from this whole episode. A man says something to me. I don't hear and carry on. He says it again. I ignore him and carry on. I don't care what people think. If I want to walk down the street without any clothes on, what's it to him? It's cold. I stride forward relentlessly. Crazy, they call me, mad. Maybe I am. But I was always told mad people were those who lost all threads of their life and let free their insanity. Not me. I keep that memory of sunshine and fulfilment from my summer of love, even as my autumn of heartbreak takes over.

The indifferent people move like blurs. I don't care if they don't care. I'm safe in my own insecurity, as their faces glance up and down, shocked, perhaps even appalled. I shiver. But I'll never stop. When I die, my soul won't leave for heaven. It's still locked in her fist, suffocated and breathless. It can't escape her grasp. I stumble on something. Some kids laugh at me, chase me, and kick me. I ignore them. I don't even look round. I look up and as a trickle of water chills my head. Here comes the rain again. Oh, how I hate September. It drenches me in hidden pain. I ll never forget what I lost.

Then the cold consumes me and I fall. A man stands over me, puts a cloak round me. He tells me it s far too cold to be walking around naked. I laugh. I tell him I'm going to fall asleep. He asks me when he should wake me. I tell him when September ends. Wake me when September ends.


Thanks for reading, any comments welcome and appreciated (i.e. rip it apart if you want, I won't mind)

Ahh, I appreciated the extended comparaison between their love and the season's change. (Maybe it was accidental? xD No, that was too well writing to be accidental)

I also liked the title ^^ Very catchy (meaning it stays in your head), with a slightly melancholic feel to them. I enjoyed reading it very much.

((Pardon the lack of critiquing. With my limited skills as an editor, I can't really critique anything unless it's drastic. ^^))

Thanks. Don't worry about the critiquing, I can't do it either.

The title is actually a Greenday song, which I was listening too, and then just felt inspired to write a story about it. The comparison with the season was purposeful, though I was hoping I didn't overdo it too much.

Like iced, I really enjoyed the extended metaphor of the seasons changing. The descriptions of the leaves changing and everything dying served to further impress upon me the notion of his loss.

What really caught my eye was the depth of the description. Everything was so vivid from the chocolate eyes to September drenching the speaker in pain.

Another thing I liked was how at the beginning you make the speaker seem completely sane, but as I read it, I came more and more to the conclusion that he was utterly insane until I finally reached that great last paragraph (which made me want to read it all over again).

There were a couple things in there that could be changed, though. The line "I don t think my heart can take much more beating from me remembering the amazing times we shared, sorry. I m sure you ll understand." doesn't fit in with the rest of the paragraph it's in, and sometimes the imagery is a bit over the top (as in the case of the forgotten flower bed). But this was a great story through and through.

Thanks!

That line you mentioned I don't particularly like either, but when I looked at it I really couldn't think of anything it could be changed too. Any ideas?

Do you think I should lose some of the imagery then? Sometimes I'm not very good at changing my own work because it feels bad to cut things out. It's not something I'm very good at.

Thank you for the comments.

I think that it's amazing and i felt almost disappointed when it ended. I loved the amount of imagery in the piece and i feel that this is what really drawed me into it. I also liked the part were you kept on wishing you could have had that minute back etc because it shows how the reader didn't notice the ways things were and that he was basically living in a 'dream world'. Thats my interpreatation of it anyway, sorry if its wrong lol, but i think that overall the piece is brilliant and i am highly envious of your skill!

Thanks a lot! Your interpretation is correct, I was trying to make it like he was living a fantasy, that he was actually just dreaming, and in the end the depression of it not being real crushes him, and maks him go slightly nuts.

Talk about bringing up dead threads, but....

I used this for my coursework, and basically my english teacher thinks that some lines are a little cliche or over-the-top.

e.g. she especially pointed out this one - "And it's when my heart was carved in two by the sharp blade known only as love." (personally I liked that line but hey)

Also, she thinks I should take out the naked bit. I think that it is pretty crucial to explaining how he was crazy and putting in some humour. And it also leaves the story open to the interpretation of being a dream....however, has anyone got any suggestions for replacing that bit? (3rd to last para)

Thanks if anyone has any ideas (btw, please post them in the next two days if you do),

Firestarter.

I thought it was great. I didn't have to call the Cliche Police, so I guess that's a good thing, right? Hee hee...the only thing i caught was that you don't have any apostrophes any where where they should be, and it's kind of clunky and annoying to the reader. Unless that's how you do it in the UK. *lol* I thought it was very beautiful, and I can't wait to read more of it if you've got any.

This was excellent in description. However, it seemed to fall to the bitter clutches of cliche at times. For example:

"And it's when my heart was carved in two by the sharp blade known only as love."

Granted, this isn't a frequent statement, it's a frequent idea, which contributes to the overall trite effect a beautiful first paragraph left me with.

"Because once she'd entered into my life and grasped my heart, I knew I could never allow her to leave"

This is a necessary line for the story to make sense, but it's wrought with cliche. Typically, don't describe things with words like "heart" and overtly emo sayings such as "I could never allow her to leave." You eventually weave this idea into your story anyway, so unless you're looking for a thesis, this is pointless.

"She was out of this world, and I was caught in her dance of love, and even if I wanted to escape her trance I couldn't."

She was out of this world...how many times have I heard that? Again, the blunt reminder of escapement needs to escape this story. Weave it into the story, not state it.

"I don't think my heart can take much more beating from me remembering the amazing times we shared, sorry. I m sure you'll understand. I pause as the sun escapes its cloud and flashes light into my eyes, before disappearing once again. I look hopefully upwards in case it comes back. It doesn't. All it gives me is a flicker of warmth. The wind picks up and my hair flails wildly around, thrashing up and down in the cold air. I shiver."

This paragraph doesn't move the story and is basically unneeded. My advice: assimilate into your story.

"She held my hand on that grey wall, she picked up that weapon of love and shot me through the centre of my heart leaving it broken, shattered. Grief-stricken, I stumbled home. My life was over. What was left to live for, I ask?

I don't think I could get much lower, I'd sunk and fallen and hit the rock bottom in a bottomless chasm of despair, and it had destroyed me. I was no longer content, no longer living in ecstasy, no longer living without worry. My confidence was forever shattered into pieces, lying on the remains of my self-belief. I spent my days counting each day as it passed without event, sick of crying, sick of me, and sick of this summer. "

You're much too good a writer for such pithy drivel. This should be expressed in another way. Perhaps in the imagery or through your metaphor of the seasons changing.

"Just like me, summer is dying."

The metaphor here is ruined by you inserting it for us. We're young adults, we can figure it out.

"Summer has come to pass, my love has been spent, and it s gone so fast."

The rhyming here did not contribute to the overall effect of the paragraph.

"I don't hear and carry on."

"I don't hear him" would work much better. You "carry on" makes it sound like a detatched kind of thing.

"It drenches me in hidden pain. I ll never forget what I lost. "

Terrible ending for such a meaningful paragraph. Drenches? Drenches? Surely you can come up with something better than drenches. And "hidden pain"? I mean, come on. "I'll never forget what I lost" is overly redundant.

I liked the ending, and the poem at large; however, you collapsed into troglodyte meanings at the end of your paragraphs.

Ah thanks a lot Incandescence. I really needed something like that for this piece *goes off to edit*

Sorry, double post.

Revided version -


I walk along the dreary street, watch as the last parts of summer are blown away, as
brown and yellow leaves cross my path, float carelessly past. It’s cold. The end of summer is always depressing, as everything bright and wonderful dies by the swift hand of nature, as colour is turned from luscious pinks and dreamy blues to crumpled oranges and unattractive browns, when the plants are forgotten and the sun waves a solemn goodbye, forever to disappear beyond dark clouds. .

It began in early summer – the grass was green, the flowers blooming. I met her under a willow tree, and entirely shaded from the sun and the outside world, I watched as her brown locks and chocolate eyes caressed my soul and never let go. Her smile erupted my senses, her movements dictated my mood, and as the sun fell from the sky I fell helplessly in love, never once looking back. I regret it now, going straight in. Sometimes I wonder, if I’d took a step back from it all, waited just one minute to let it all flow in, before diving back, would it of changed anything? I wish I could have that minute again.

The first weeks we spent together were sheer bliss. The number of days we spent under the blazing summer sun laying in the park grass and the number of long nights we spent I have lost count. We talked for hours, she was always there for me, she was the only one who’d pick me up again when I fell down, lifted my disbelieving head above the clouds and kept me there. She believed in me, made me feel like someone worthy of life, like no one else ever had. The feeling I had when she touched me is beyond my skills of description. A beautiful kaleidoscope of illusions, I was caught in her dance of love, and even if I wanted to there was no escape from her psychedelic trance.

I don’t think my heart can take much more beating from me remembering the amazing times we shared, sorry. I’m sure you’ll understand. I pause as the sun escapes its cloud and flashes light into my eyes, before disappearing once again. I look hopefully upwards in case it comes back. It doesn’t. All it gives me is a flicker of warmth. The wind picks up and my hair flails wildly around, thrashing up and down in the cold air. I shiver.

If I had an inch of perception I might have noticed how things were bound to fail. The higher you fly, the further you fall. And it was a long way down from the clouds. She was like an illusion, a dream. My dream. She was everything I had fantasised. Everything I had wished for in the dark hours of the night when I was alone and all hope had faded. She was the goddess of my world, beautiful, heavenly, and unreal. The sun was her beacon, the moon was her servant and the flourishing flowers of late summer her creations.

And then she was gone.

As she let go of my hand, leaving it to drop unhindered to the grey wall, I didn’t feel the pain. My mind was numbed uncontrollably, the enigma that had just left my sight had been confusing enough, but now I was left to salvage the remaining of my life. The driving force behind my life’s direction had been removed, and I was falling.

Falling from the heavens. Summer was my only friend, the only one who could empathise with my position – it too felt the bitterness of loss, dying flowers turned from elegant masterpieces to embodiments of the changing of seasons. Autumn was stretching it’s power and grasping hold of the short reign enjoyed by the sunshine. Summer cried, powerful teardrops of water smashing the ground, washing away last remnants of it’s fleeting control. My own weeping could barely be heard amongst the thundering noise.

I still carry on the walk down that dreary street. The wind is more brutal now. It blows a ripped newspaper in front of my face, before drifting it to rest on a bench. I pass trees bereft of seed and fruit, shredded of their joy. Summer is dying. Autumn is taking over. How can nature be so cruel and unforgiving? How can it give and take so easily, without thought or feeling, without ever noticing that its boundless power can have consequences. It had left me like a vacuum without my mind, without feeling, just as the last vibrance and action of summer was faltering. Summer has come to pass, and all my love has already been spent.

I continue my walk. I don’t know why. I hope at the end I’ll reach a conclusion that will satisfy me from this whole episode. A man says something to me. I don’t hear him. He says it again. I ignore him and carry on. I don’t care what people think. If I want to walk down the street without any clothes on, what’s it to him? It’s cold. I stride forward relentlessly. Crazy, they call me, mad. Maybe I am. But I was always told mad people were those who lost all threads of their life and let free their insanity. Not me. I keep that memory of sunshine and fulfilment from my summer of love, even as my autumn of heartbreak takes over.

The indifferent people move like blurs. I don’t care if they don’t care. I’m safe in my own insecurity, as their faces glance up and down, shocked, perhaps even appalled. I shiver. But I’ll never stop. When I die, my soul won’t leave for heaven. It’s still locked in her fist, suffocated and breathless. It can’t escape her grasp. I stumble on something. Some kids laugh at me, chase me, and kick me. I ignore them. I don’t even look round. I look up and as a trickle of water chills my head. Here comes the rain again. Oh, how I hate September. A mocking incarnation of fading dreams. I’ll never forget what I lost.

Then the cold consumes me and I fall. A man stands over me, puts a cloak round me. He tells me it’s far too cold to be walking around naked. I laugh. I tell him I’m going to fall asleep. He asks me when he should wake me. I tell him when September ends. Wake me when September ends.

This is really deep and the descriptions are great. The characters feelings are put across really well and I think you've made a really excellent job of it. Like iced, I think the comparison with the changing seasons is totally amazing. This really rocks!!

Brilliant. Your (revised piece) drips with beauty, and I am astounded. The descriptive language was wonderful--my gosh, practically each sentence was bursting at the seams with imagery. The narrator's emotions came across powerfully through your language. It was a pleasure to read--keep up the nice work.

(Is anyone else noticing Green Day stuff in here? Maybe I'm just psycho...)

Overall, a beautiful piece of work, despite the clichés. Even though there were quite a few of them, it didn't interrupt the overall feeling of the story. My favorite bit was:

"Crazy, they call me, mad. Maybe I am. But I was always told mad people were those who lost all threads of their life and let free their insanity. Not me. I keep that memory of sunshine and fulfilment from my summer of love, even as my autumn of heartbreak takes over."

Powerful. Beautiful. I think everyone can relate to this in one way or another. Kudos and fire-breathing ponies to you.