Young Writers Society

Ring. Ring. My hand shot out in a flurry of motion, knocking the persistent cellphone off the mahogany bedside table and letting it plummet to the awaiting pile of dirty clothes below. Ring! Ring! It cried with a muted tone, hidden in the vast sea of used garments. Groaning, I felt my hand pat the floor impatiently, searching for the source that ruined my peaceful slumber. RING! RING! There. I felt my hand cup around my cell, dragging it upwards to my right ear. Yawning, I pressed the talk button.
“Hello?”
I nearly dropped my phone in excitement, the usual feeling I get when she calls. Instantly, I was awake and stumbling blindly out of bed in a hurried manner. My stomach knotted; not in a painful way but a in a way that reminds me why I get so excited to hear her voice whenever I’m around her. Sucking in a deep breath, I replied as calmly as possible, “Hey.”
There was a laugh on the other side of the line; it was the most beautiful laugh in the entire world. “Sam, I want- I want to do something crazy. Something wild. And I want to do it now. I don’t know why, but I just-” Her honey sweet voice trailed off and I heard her sigh as she thought about the possibilities.
I shifted my gaze to my alarm clock. It read 4:37 A.M. “At 4 in the morning? Isabelle, are you crazy?” My voice was teasing of course and I felt the ghost of a smile escape my lips. My hand brushed against something and I glanced down in shock to find that I was already changing into denim blue jeans.
“Yeah. I think I am,” Isabelle said. “Will you come with me?"
“I’m on my way.” Quickly ending the call, I shimmied into my jeans, put on a white tee, shoved on my sneakers, and grabbed my black leather jacket. Keys, wallet, driver’s license, ri-er I mean... the 'thing', check. I thought, running down the mental list. Around me, my room looked like a tornado ransacked the joint. Piles of clothes lay on the floor, broken beer bottles scattered around the area, and pictures of me and Isabelle hanging crookedly on the walls. She’d often scold him for being such a pig but it didn’t matter. As long as I knew I loved her and that she loved me, neatness didn’t matter. The ivory walls shone yellow as the city lights from outside my window reflected upon them.
I walked over to my stand up mirror, smoothing my matted, curly hair down as best I could. I sighed, obviously not pleased with my appearance. I was gangly with no muscle at all, had pale white skin instead of a perfect tan, and had mama’s boy curly, brown hair. The only thing I liked about myself was my eyes, a light sky blue color tinted with a hint of gray. Isabelle would often comment on how beautiful they looked and how unlike her dark black eyes, she could look into my eyes and see only me- not her own reflection. With another smile appearing at the thought of Isa, I winked at myself in the mirror and opened my apartment door, stepped out into the cold, Pennsylvania night.
She opened the door of her parents’ home before I could even knock. The sight of her left me breathless, simply gawking. Why must she look so gorgeous? Yet, she insists she’s not. Isabelle was wearing black, skinny jeans, a My Chemical Romance tee, a bright red beanie set precariously on her head, and simple black converse. And of course, she wore no make-up, often stating that if she did, she would look like a clown. Her perfect tan skin was shining even brighter, if that were even possible. “What do you think?” Isa winked playfully, setting an elbow on my left shoulder.

I think… I want to marry you.

“You look amazing as always. Duh.” I laughed, playing it cool.
“Aw, thanks Sam.”
“Anytime,” I shrugged casually. “So, where to?”
Isabelle dashed out into the streets, twirling around as if she hadn’t a care in the world, “Anywhere!” I jogged after her, grinning like an idiot. She looked at me, smirked, and ran off towards the town center that she considers the perfect place to window shop and just hang out. I darted after her, laughing as I went.
We went everywhere that night, down Main Street and back, laughing and teasing. At one point, she grabbed my hand- and my heart leapt out of its place- and pulled me into this tiny chapel. Isabelle lead the way up the aisle, glancing back at me and grinning, then turning back to continue walking. She made me sit in one of the pews, then sat down beside me. Her black hair was messy after our exploration and stubborn strands of hair would fall into her eyes, no matter how many times she would push them aside. “What are we doing-“ I started but Isabelle put a finger to my mouth, signaling me to be silent.
Her eyes closed slowly and she placed her hands together, palms upward. I could see the faint smile on her face that she was trying to hide. We sat there in silence for a little bit until I realized Isa was saying something quietly. “Isa, what are you saying?” I asked, whispering. I don’t know why I whispered. We were the only ones in the chapel and it didn’t matter if we talked at a normal pitch.
Isabelle opened one eye to look at me and she chuckled quietly, speaking up a little louder. “… and that’s why, God, I wanted to thank you. For giving me Sam- the most important person in my life.” And then the prayer ended. My heart raced and I felt my jaw drop; I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do.

I think I want…

“Isabelle…” I started but yet again, she cut me off with a smile and grabbed my hand again. She slowly pulled us out into the aisle and through the exit of the building. My hands were clammy and sweaty; I was pretty glad Isa didn’t complain.
“What do we do now?” Isabelle asked, skipping ahead as I watched her with an amused expression.
“Well, I have a pocketful of cash, the rest of the night to enjoy, and I have you,” I shrugged without realizing what I said. “So, you choose.” Isabelle stopped skipping and turned to look at me, a caring expression showing deeply in her eyes.
“How about… window shopping?” She said cheerfully, her eyes widening with excitement.
“Didn’t we already do that?” I complained, running a hand through my tousled hair.
“Yeah, but there’s this one store I want to show you.” I shrugged again and stuck my hands in my pockets, following her curiously.
“You’re too slow! Come on, Sam! We’re almost there!” Isabelle protested, running back to me. I grinned, patting her head. Just then, I felt a tiny drop land on my right shoulder. Another drop on my head. And just as quickly as I felt it, thunder boomed overhead and rain started pouring.
“Crud,” I muttered, wrapping my jacket more tightly against myself until I realized Isabelle wasn’t wearing one. I quickly took off the jacket and handed it to her. But she wasn’t focused on me. Her head was tilted upward towards the sky and her eyes were closed, mouth shaped in a smile. I let this all in: the whoosh of the wind, the boom of thunder, the sound of rain smacking against the pavement.
And then. . . Isabelle took ahold of my hand once more and gently guided me through the streets, and I could do nothing but follow.

I think...


“Here we are, Sam.” She yelled over the roar of the rain, gesturing to the abandoned retail shop in front of them. I placed a hand over my eyes to shield the rain as I stared. It was an old bridal shop, where they used to sell wedding dresses and rings. My heart pounded. Or was that just the thunder? I honestly couldn’t tell.
“Sometimes, I like to come here, even though I know it’s not in business anymore. I imagine myself walking down the aisle, my father handing me over to my groom, and then our kiss as the priest announces us husband and wife.” Isabelle murmured, her eyes focused on the tiny shop. Her expression was full of affection and love as she glanced back at me lovingly.

I know I want to…

I knelt down on one knee, even though the pavement was wet and soaking my jeans. Isabelle’s eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth. I saw something wet come out of her eye, but that could very well be the rain. And then, taking her right hand in both of mine, I pulled out the ring from my pocket and said, “Will you marry me?”

i think I can guess that song this was based off of (Love it). This piece is so delightful! You can tell they love eachother so much. It's in every interaction, and every description. So heartwarming. I think the phone converstion does a really good job of establishing the type of relationship they have.

Really good job, thank you for writing this.

Disenchanted wrote:Ring. Ring. Oh, cliched beginning. Is that really all you can think of? My hand shot out in a flurry of motion, Right, well, guess what: at four in the morning, in the middle of a deep sleep, hands don't tend to shoot out in flurries of motion at the slightest noise. Tell me: when your alarm clock rings, does your mind/body react instantaneously? knocking the persistent cellphone off the mahogany bedside table and letting it plummet to the awaiting pile of dirty clothes below. Whoa. Try counting how many adjectives you stuff into that sentence. Ring! Ring! it cried with a muted tone, hidden in the vast sea of used garments. Groaning, I felt my hand pat the floor impatiently, searching for the source that ruined my peaceful slumber. RING! RING! There. I felt my hand cup around my cell, dragging it upwards to my right ear. Uh, did you just spend an entire paragraph microscoping the process of picking up a cell phone? Description is great, yeah, but doesn't tend to be of much good when centralized around irrelevancies. Yawning, I pressed the talk button.
“Hello?” Yeaaah, see, it's always the answerer that speaks first, because only they know exactly when they pick up the phone and if they didn't answer, the caller wouldn't know if they have been acknowledged or not.
I nearly dropped my phone in excitement, the usual feeling I get when she calls. Instantly, I was awake and stumbling blindly out of bed in a hurried manner Why? How do you know she doesn't just want to talk? . My stomach knotted; not in a painful way but a in a way that reminds me why I get so excited to hear her voice whenever I’m around her Rework this. You're confusing yourself with your wording. . Sucking in a deep breath, I replied as calmly as possible, “Hey.”
There was a laugh on the other side of the line; it was the most beautiful laugh in the entire world. “Sam, I want- I want She doesn't seem like the type of person prone to verbal stumbling. to do something crazy. Something wild. And I want to do it now It's unrealistic that neither she nor the narrator sees the sexual implications of this statement. . I don’t know why, but I just-” Her honey sweet voice trailed off and I heard her sigh lovingly Lovingly? Why? She's not even talking about him. .
I shifted my gaze to my alarm clock. It read 4:37 A.M. “At 4 Should be 4:30. If you want to round it to the nearest hour, then 5:00 would be more appropriate; I don't know where you got 4:00. But you can't just write 4 or 5 as naked digits - either spell the numbers out or write them in their time form. in the morning? Isabelle, are you nuts No one ever says "are you nuts." Ever. Not kids, not adults, and especially not lovers. ?” My voice was teasing, of course, and I felt the ghost of a smile escape my lips. My hand brushed against something and I glanced down in shock Wow, this guy's really eccentric. He's tensed and aware in sleep, and yet he's totally zoned out in wakefulness. to find that I was already changing into denim blue jeans.
“Yeah. I think I am,” Isabelle said. “Will you come with me?”
“I’m on my way.” Quickly ending the call, I shimmied into my jeans, put on a white tee, shoved on my sneakers, and grabbed my black leather jacket. Keys, wallet, driver’s license, the… thing, check. I thought, running down the mental list. Around me, my room looked like a tornado ransacked the joint. Piles of clothes lay on the floor, broken beer bottles scattered around the area, and pictures of me and Isabelle hanging hungcrookedly on the walls. She’d often scold him mefor being such a pig, He eats a lot? What? but it didn’t matter. As long as I knew I loved her and that she loved me, neatness didn’t matter. The ivory walls shone yellow as the city lights from outside my window reflected upon them.
I walked over to my stand up mirror, smoothing my matted, curly hair down as best I could. I sighed, obviously (He's himself; it doesn't have to be simply apparent, because he can think it and make it fact.) not pleased with my appearance. I was gangly with no muscle at all Oddly worded. , had pale white skin instead of a perfect tan Yeah, because everyone has a "perfect tan," duh. Not having a perfect tan is little reason to dislike one's appearance. , and had mama’s boy Pretty sure that's not an appropriate idiom. curly, brown hair. The only thing I liked about myself was my eyes, a light sky blue color tinted with a hint Redundant. "Tinted" already implies faintness. of gray. Isabelle would often comment on how beautiful they looked and how, unlike her dark black eyes, she could look into my eyes and see only me- not her own reflection. With another smile appearing at the thought of Isa, I winked at myself in the mirror That's bizarre. and opened my apartment door, stepped out into the cold, Pennsylvania night.
She opened the door of her parents’ home before I could even knock. The sight of her left me breathless, simply gawking. Why must she look so gorgeous This carries with it a note of jealousy, which is completely out of place. ? Yet, she insists she’s not. Isabelle was wearing black, skinny jeans, a My Chemical Romance tee, a bright red beanie set precariously on her head, and simple black converse. And of course, she wore no make-up; she often stated that if she did, she would look like a clown. Her perfect tan skin was shining even brighter By law of physics, an object requires light to shine in any way, and yet it's 4:30 AM...., if that were even possible. “What do you think?” Isa winked Why would she wink? Is she sharing a secret with Sam? playfully, setting an elbow on my left shoulder.

I think… I want to marry you.

“You look amazing, as always. Duh.” I laughed, playing it cool.
“Aw, thanks Sam.” Weird, overly obvious reaction. I'd expect her to be more humble. She doesn't even think about returning the compliment.
“Anytime.” I shrugged casually. “So, where to?”
Isabelle dashed out into the streets, twirling around What I've always found unusual was that for some reason that is beyond me, I'm constantly stumbling upon writers who have this notion that whenever someone is feeling happy, they break into song or dance or start twirling around and that no one finds this at all odd. No one would even consider doing that in reality, so why do you think they'd do it in literature? as if she hadn’t a care in the world, “Anywhere!” I jogged after her, grinning like an idiot. She looked at me, smirked, and ran off towards the town center that she considers the perfect place to window shop and just hang out. I darted after her, laughing as I went If he doesn't share her...fun-loving nature (is civilized, in other words), then why doesn't he become impatient with her? Just thought I'd throw that out there. .
We went everywhere that night, down Main Street and back, laughing and teasing. At one point, she grabbed my hand You'd think they'd be holding hands? - and my heart leapt out of its place- and pulled me into this tiny chapel. Isabelle lead the way up the aisle, glancing back at me and grinning, then turning back to continue walking. She made me sit in one of the pews, then sat down beside me. Her black hair was messy after our exploration and stubborn strands of hair would fall into her eyes, no matter how many times she would push them aside. “What are we doing-“ I started but Isabelle put a finger to my mouth, signaling me to be silent.
Her eyes closed slowly and she placed her hands together, palms upward. I could see the faint smile on her face that she was trying to hide. We sat there in silence for a little bit until I realized Isa was saying something quietly. “Isa, what are you saying?” I asked, whispering. I don’t know why I whispered. We were the only ones in the chapel and it didn’t matter if we talked at a normal pitch.
Isabelle opened one eye to look at me and she chuckled quietly, speaking up a little louder. “… and that’s why, God, I wanted to thank you. For giving me Sam- the most important person in my life Overstatement, much? .” And then the prayer ended. My raced and I felt my jaw drop; I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do.

I think I want…

“Isabelle…” I started but yet again, she cut me off with a smile and grabbed my hand again. She slowly pulled us out into the aisle and through the exit of the building. My hands were clammy and sweaty; I was pretty glad Isa didn’t complain.
“What do we do now?” Isabelle asked, skipping ahead as I watched her with an amused expression.
“Well, I have a pocketful of cash, the rest of the night to enjoy, and I have you Again, sexual implications...? ,” I shrugged without realizing what I said. “So, You choose.” Isabelle stopped skipping and turned to look at me, a caring expression showing deeply in her eyes Why? Is she so eccentric as to visibly show deep care about everything related to Sam? .
“How about… window shopping?” she said cheerfully, her eyes widening with excitement I swear she has ADHD. I swear. .
“Didn’t we already do that?” I complained said, running a hand through my tousled hair.
“Yeah, but there’s this one store I want to show you.” I shrugged again and stuck my hands in my pockets, following her curiously Wouldn't weariness mute this curiosity? .
“You’re too slow Proving my point. ! Come on, Sam! We’re almost there!” Isabelle protested, running back to me. I grinned, patting her head They grin a lot. . Just then, I felt a tiny drop of...? land on my right shoulder. Another drop on my head. And just as quickly as I felt it, thunder boomed overhead and rain started pouring.
“Crud Don't be afraid to venture further for the sake of realism.... ,” I muttered, wrapping my jacket more tightly against myself until I realized Isabelle wasn’t wearing one. I quickly took off the jacket and handed it to her. But she wasn’t focused on me. Her head was tilted upward towards the sky and her eyes were closed, mouth shaped in a smile Uh huh.... . I let this all in: the whoosh of the wind, the boom of thunder, the sound of rain smacking against the pavement.
And then. . . Isabelle took ahold of my hand once more and gently guided me through the streets, and I could do nothing but follow. I think…
“Here we are, Sam.” She yelled over the roar of the rain, gesturing to the abandoned retail shop in front of them. I placed a hand over my eyes to shield the rain as I stared. It was an old bridal shop, where they used to sell wedding dresses and rings. My heart pounded. Or was that just the thunder? I honestly couldn’t tell.
“Sometimes, I like to come here, even though I know it’s not in business anymore. I imagine myself walking down the aisle, my father handing me over to my groom, and then our kiss as the priest announces us husband and wife,” Isabelle murmured, her eyes focused on the tiny shop. Her expression was full of affection and love as she glanced back at me lovingly Redundant. . Why doesn't she just say she wants him to marry her? Or better yet, keep it to herself? I find it strange that she would go through all this trouble.

I know I want to…

I knelt down on one knee, even though the pavement was wet and soaking my jeans. Isabelle’s eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth Why? She knew it was coming, she wanted it to come, she forced it to come. Why the shock? . I saw something wet come out of her eye, but that could very well be the rain It'd be impossible to distinguish any additional wetness if, as you say, the rain was coming in torrents. . And then, taking her right hand in both of mine, I pulled out the ring from my pocket and said, “Will you marry me?”

Hope this helped.

-Kafka