This is my first review on this site, but I'll try to point out a few things. First of all, I liked the twist at the end... to a point. It'd be great if this were longer and you could develop it, but I see this was for a contest and that might not be possible.
The way you begin, I felt like 1984 as a time was going to be more important. The first paragraph starts detailing what the entire year was like but then suddenly jumps to one specific night. It found that sort of confusing. From there, I didn't feel like the year mattered much, so it felt like you were just tossing that in there to take care of that theme statement.
Occasionally, I felt like some lines were kind of cliched. The bit about her bad day being an understatement seemed unnecessary, and the star light star bright part stuck out.
Really though, it's pretty good as is. I'd make a few changes but that's all. Best of luck in the contest!
Hey! Great story, so I don't really have to say much. I agree with bradybrady, the twist at the end is cool, but it is sort of up-in-the-air if you know what i mean. I almost felt as though I was finishing a long book, in which David had died earlier or something. Also, the way you jumped from being on the porch to being in a hospital room or clinic confused me a tiny bit. With further thought I can piece it together, but some readers may not want to give it that further thought, and they will just remain confused. Other than that, I really liked it! Great job.
Any changes I make (suggest) will be in the freaking beast color of blue
It was the year 1984. Michael Jackson had just won eight Grammy Awards and the U.S had accused Iraq of using poison gas. It was indeed a year of mixed feelings. The air was thick with the promise of a rich spring and the pollen hung like a fur coat upon the city breeze. The night was as black as it was clear, giving perfect view of the stars as they lay scattered across the sky.
She sat perched on the swing on her front porch, eyes so barely open they appeared to be no more than slits on a facial canvas. The wind tugged at her hair, spilling what was left of her bun unto her suit-clad shoulders. She sighed, shook it out then re-assumed her position; shoulders slouched back, facing the sky.
Saying that work had been difficult today would be the understatement of the century. Her schedule had been mixed up, she'd forgotten her glasses at home and the firms biggest client had disliked her presentation so much he'd threatened to close his account with them if she wasn't kicked off the project. No, saying that work had been difficult today would be complete an understatement.
Her initial plan was to have a nice, long soak in the tub the moment she got home was sidelined. Instead, she set her leather briefcase down onto the well worn wooden surface of her porch and settled into the pillows of the swing.
She toyed with her hands, rubbing them together then breaking them apart only to bring them together again. Her fingers ran along the rail thin gold band that hugged her ring finger, her mind letting the cold nostalgia set in. Her thoughts swam around and around before blending into a single thought... David. It had been three years, three years, four months and eleven days to be quite exact. She missed him. She refocused on the present day, her eyes snapping open, dizzying at the thought of almost plunging back to the time when she had him.
Aloud, barely audible, but aloud she said,
"Star light, star bright,
The first star I see tonight.
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight".
And with that an onslaught of memories trudged forth. Taking her back to the times when she was little, how she'd say this poem each night; wishing for a perfect love such as that of her parents. Damn Fate gave her David and Father Death took him away. Such is life, she thought. Yet her heart still made wishes she knew no amount of bright stars could fulfill.
Suddenly, the wind picked up speed, whistling wildly as it made the swing creak. Of all her body, it seemed only her shoulders were shaking. Her shoulders were shaking? Why were her shoulders shaking?
A startling revelation showed there was a slender hand on her collar bone, an inch from her throat, shaking her. She screamed.
"Ms. Brown, Ms. Brown...? Calm down Ms. Brown, it's only me, Cynthia", said the slim nurse like figure that stood behind her chair.
She snapped out of her daze, slowly taking in the faded blue walls of the room. Snide doubt crept in the corner of her mind.
"Ms Brown?" she echoed.
"Yes," replied Cynthia, pausing momentarily before she said the same statement she made each day when she visited this very room. "Ms. Mable Brown, widow of David Brown. It's time for your medication."
"Ms. Mable Brown?" she repeated, nodding with faint realization, "Mable Brown. Yes, that could very well be me."
Gender:
Points: 1088
Reviews: 22