Young Writers Society

This is for the Quote Me contest where we had to choose one quote out of thirty.
My quote was:
"A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world." - Leo Buscaglia

It's still alive. It still smells as sweet as it did the day he handed it to me.

I can see them, roses just like the one I hold now. Hundreds of them, thousands of blood red roses perfume the air. Their dark green leaves flutter in the wind. They twine around each other, racing for the top of the wall. Curtains of vines sweep down from branches, hidden from vital sunlight.

He came home late one night. Mother was tending the flower boxes that are now withered and screaming for care. I no longer hear them.

He was dressed differently that night. He wore a navy shirt and pants with red trim and a white belt around his waist. A white cap was tipped jauntily on his head, but whatever joviality he had been experiencing earlier was forgotten.

He pulled me to him as soon as I had closed the door. I remember brass buttons, cool even in the June evening, pressed against my face. “I'm leaving,” he whispered. He knelt down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I'm coming back though. I promise, I'm coming back.”

I stare at him. “Where-”

“Shh. Somewhere you haven't seen.” He handed me the rose and brushed a strand of my hair away from my shoulder. “You're beautiful.” He kissed me again. "So beautiful."

Tears glittered in his eyes and fell.

I wiped them away, confused. “When will you be back, Daddy?” I ask quietly, searching his face.

He smiled. “That's why I brought the flower. Hold onto it as a reminder. I'm coming back.”

Mother stood in the kitchen with a handkerchief pressed to her mouth, crying silently. He went to her and held her, murmuring reassurances.

He left the next morning on a huge boat with hundreds of other men. I waved goodbye as Mother covered her face with her hands. I didn't understand. I don't understand, but I trust him. He's coming back.
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You tell me, standing at my door, holding an envelope, that he's not. Why do you lie? Don't you understand he's all I have? Don't you see I will only listen to him, that his words are the only ones that matter?

I don't know you. I don't know a Navy.

No! I don't need to hear what you say any longer. Leave me be! He's coming home. He told me. He gave me this rose, this garden.
This man that you so casually lie about is not just another man. He's my world. He's all there is, all I know.

Take your envelope. It holds only lies.

Mother sobs in the den, forgetting about dinner, cooking in the kitchen.

I lean against the door and press my rose to my chest. Something's wrong. Something's not right. I look down, and everything stops.

My rose, my beautiful crimson rose with the glossy green leaves is gray and faded. Petals are barely keeping hold of the stem. They droop precariously. The leaves are gone.

The garden is dead. My world is now a void.

That was great. I wish you luck with the contest. I like the idea of chooseing a qoute instead of being given a sertain topic. It makes it possible for you to use that line to surprise the reader that it was said in a sitiation different than what he thought. It gives your writing flexability and taste in addition to catching the reader's attention

Hey, megsug, this is Jet dropping in for a review. I'm going to nitpick first, as this is very short, and I'm not sure there's much more to comment on other than stylistic opinions. I love pieces like this; nature lends itself to romantic writing so well, and I like the story.

It's still alive. It still smells as sweet as it did the day he handed it to me.

This is a great start. It juxtaposes the rose with her father, as well, which is apparent when I read it through again.

I can see them now, roses just like the one I hold now.

Cut either "now" in order to remove the repetition. I suggest the first, for fluidity.

Hundreds of them, thousands, are blood red and perfume the air.

This feels a little odd, and doesn't flow well because of the inclusion of that "are". I don't usually advise that you cut verbs, because that style of sentence (what MS Word insists on underlining as a 'fragment') isn't easy to maintain, but here you could reword it a little.

Dark green leaves flutter in the wind.

I'd begin this with "their", as otherwise it's incredibly detached and seems like a random inclusion. It took me a second to assocate the leaves with the roses.

They twine themselves around each other, racing for the top of the wall. Curtains of them sweep down from branches, hidden from life sustaining sunlight.

You overuse the subject here. First we have "they", then we have "twine", which already means "to wrap around" and implies a subject, "themselves" and then "each other". The latter two are unnecessary given the use of "twine", so consider revising this sentence. Don't underestimate the power of a good verb to hold a sentence together.

This is awkward. Try "curtains of vines", or experiment with nouns. Don't use "them", because it sounds strange.

Hmm. I think "vital" might work better than "life-sustaining". They have pretty much the same meaning.

Mother was tending the flower boxes that are now withered, screaming for care.

Mother is the subject here, so the "screaming" seems to apply to her rather than the "flower boxes" on first sight. Perhaps reword.

but whatever joviality he had been experiencing earlier was forgotten.

I like what you're getting at here, but again, it's somewhat clumsy. That might be personal; I don't call them nitpicks for nothing! To avoid these sentences in general, though, I suggest you read aloud. You can catch a lot of flow problems that way.

I remember brass buttons, cool even in the June evening, pressed against my face.

If you look through, you'll see you mention "one night", "that day", and then the evening. What time of day is it?

“God, you're beautiful.”

I like your dialogue overall, but I think you should cut this "God". It's somewhat strange for a father-daughter conversation.

he's not.

Consider adding a verb? Read it out and see how it sounds. At the moment, it's quite abrupt, though I know you intend to refer to the previous paragraph.

This man that you so casually lie about is not only just another man.

I think "only" doesn't work as well, personally.

forgetting about dinner cooking in the kitchen.

Comma after "dinner" to maintain the shock of the narrator's voice at this point.

As for the ending, I really like it. It's a really sweet piece. I think you can keep an eye on your sentence structure and try to ensure that you're maximising the impact in your words, especially when your writing comes to such a short word count. It's important in flash fiction, which I tend towards myself, that you understand the importance of single sentences. Your use of short sentences and single sentence paragraphs seems to suggest that you already do, but I guess there's always room for improvement, right? Hope my review helped.

- Jet.

Hey there, Megsug! ^^

First of all, I think you have a good story concept. I like the main character's innocence and starts to grow maturely at the middle part. But anyways, it would have been really better if you show more of the personal relationship between the two characters. Yes, the story revolves around the daughter and her father, but I think this story should contain more of the unforgettable experiences the two have shared. It seems that the father is just a cardboard cut-out pasted on the story just so there could be a conflict or something like that. Anyways, that's just an opinion of mine though. ^^

One of the things I'm confused about is the past-present style. I get the story plot, but I think the main character's tone changed at the second part and it leaves me confused if she's a year older the day she received the letter or just a few weeks after her father went away. But I think she's still young, since her innocence doesn't lead her to understand anything about the Navy. However, I think the tone can be change into some more child-like.

As for the contest quote, I think it could have been better. You haven't really gave us, your readers, any sufficient details for the rose to symbolize your main character's world and especially about the 'friend' to 'rose'. So try developing and complementing more between two things. Like for example, try contrasting the faded rose to your MC's patience and courage. But anyways, it's a good thing how the story shows the importance of the rose. ^^

I also want to say something at the second part. Your sentence structure has pulled me off a bit. With every sentences separated, it tends to weaken your prose. So I suggest lengthen it and gradually connect a sentence to another one.

Overall, this has potential. Good luck with the contest.

Keep writing,
Yuri

I like it. I think that it is an excellent piece of writing. But there are definitely a couple of errors that I found whilst reading.

It's still alive. It still smells as sweet as it did the day he handed it to me.

I can see them, roses just like the one I hold now. Hundreds of them, thousands of blood red roses perfume the air. Their dark green leaves flutter in the wind. They twine around each other, racing for the top of the wall. Curtains of vines sweep down from branches, hidden from vital sunlight.

He came home late one night. Mother was tending the flower boxes that are now withered and screaming for care. I no longer hear them.

He was dressed differently that night. He wore a navy shirt and pants with red trim and a white belt around his waist. A white cap was tipped jauntily on his head, but whatever joviality he had been experiencing earlier was forgotten.

He pulled me to him as soon as I had closed the door. I remember brass buttons, cool even in the June evening, pressed against my face. “I'm leaving,” he[color=#FF0000]captial whispered. He knelt down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. comma “I'm coming back though. I promise, I'm coming back.” [/color] This needs to be moved down.

I stare at him. “Where-” Comma

“Shh. Somewhere you haven't seen.” He handed me the rose and brushed a strand of my hair away from my shoulder. “You're beautiful.” He kissed me again. "So beautiful."

Tears glittered in his eyes and fell.

I wiped them away, confused. “When will you be back, Daddy?” I ask quietly, searching his face.

He smiled. “That's why I brought the flower. Hold onto it as a reminder. I'm coming back.”

Mother stood in the kitchen with a handkerchief pressed to her mouth, crying silently. He went to her and held her, murmuring reassurances.

He left the next morning on a huge boat with hundreds of other men. I waved goodbye as Mother covered her face with her hands. I didn't understand. I don't understand, but I trust him. He's coming back.

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Good work, all the stuff I have put in bold are the punctuation marks that need fixing. Great work darling!

I like it. I think that it is an excellent piece of writing. But there are definitely a couple of errors that I found whilst reading.

It's still alive. It still smells as sweet as it did the day he handed it to me.

I can see them, roses just like the one I hold now. Hundreds of them, thousands of blood red roses perfume the air. Their dark green leaves flutter in the wind. They twine around each other, racing for the top of the wall. Curtains of vines sweep down from branches, hidden from vital sunlight.

He came home late one night. Mother was tending the flower boxes that are now withered and screaming for care. I no longer hear them.

He was dressed differently that night. He wore a navy shirt and pants with red trim and a white belt around his waist. A white cap was tipped jauntily on his head, but whatever joviality he had been experiencing earlier was forgotten.

He pulled me to him as soon as I had closed the door. I remember brass buttons, cool even in the June evening, pressed against my face. “I'm leaving,” he[color=#FF0000]captial whispered. He knelt down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. comma “I'm coming back though. I promise, I'm coming back.” [/color] This needs to be moved down.

I stare at him. “Where-” Comma

“Shh. Somewhere you haven't seen.” He handed me the rose and brushed a strand of my hair away from my shoulder. “You're beautiful.” He kissed me again. "So beautiful."

Tears glittered in his eyes and fell.

I wiped them away, confused. “When will you be back, Daddy?” I ask quietly, searching his face.

He smiled. “That's why I brought the flower. Hold onto it as a reminder. I'm coming back.”

Mother stood in the kitchen with a handkerchief pressed to her mouth, crying silently. He went to her and held her, murmuring reassurances.

He left the next morning on a huge boat with hundreds of other men. I waved goodbye as Mother covered her face with her hands. I didn't understand. I don't understand, but I trust him. He's coming back.

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Good work, all the stuff I have put in bold are the punctuation marks that need fixing. Great work darling!