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Fiction's Writing

 
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Fiction
Tarsian


Joined: 24 Jan 2009
Posts: 69


Location: Valdez, AK

PostPosted: Wed Jan 28, 2009 3:57 am    Post subject: Fiction's Writing  Reply with quote

Eh, I couldn't think of a different subject title, so I might as well go with what others have chosen.  This one isn't the one I'm currently working on, it's actually my previous assignment in rough draft form.  There are many things wrong with it, at least in my eyes.  I guess the main inspiration for this story was actually a failed story a few years ago.  I decided to give it a short story version of it a few days before the due date.

----------------------------

PEOPLE IN THE SKY

    On the early morning, the air was brisk and clean.  The sun was starting to peek around the hills in the distance.  The skies were orange as the light chased away the darkness.  The windows all across town were starting to twinkle with the sun’s rays.  Only a few vehicles dot across the roads during the early morning on the new day.  The faint sounds of footsteps emanates from a hallway outside the nearly vacant room.  The resonating thuds were enough to wake the sleeping child.
    “I’ve just had a wonderful dream.” The boy exclaimed after he started a voice recorder.
    “There was a sky so blue, that it melded together with the ocean.  If it wasn’t for the waves…if it wasn’t for them, I’d be lost in a world of blue.  The way the water crested made the ocean wrinkly.  The breeze was calm, and when the waves crashed against the shore, it was overwhelming sometimes.
    The waves grew silent and the ground was getting farther away.  I was taken by the wind, high into the sky for a brief moment.  I was set back down and I looked up.  There were people in the sky, many of them, flying freely.  I envied them since I’m stuck on the ground.  But their faces, they were all sad for some reason.
    They flew towards the horizon.  Their white wings flapped loudly in the air.  Some of them began to fall to the water, their faces were still sad.  One, then another, a steady stream of falling people, falling in the waters, and after watching them all fall, I stood there, hoping that they’d get back up.
None of them returned up for air.  The people with wings, so free, all falling one at a time, despite a bunch of them falling to the earth, there were some of them that were smiling.  It was an event that their people held dearly.  I was the only human on the beach, watching the flying people pass into the next world.
    The waves started up again, they were small enough that the water caught up to my feet and tickled its way back to the lagoon.  They were becoming the waves.  It wasn’t long until I was able to fly up with them.  I flew for miles, darting up and down in bliss.  The air, although it was cold and sometimes bit my cheeks, the sun shone its caring rays down on me to warm me up.
    To be able to fly…no to be able to be free, that was what made me smile so much.  I was happy, they were happy.  But then there was a sadness that crept into my heart.  I slowly sank in the air, and just like others, I was feeling sad too.  Looking up towards the ground, I realized I was falling too, just like everyone else.  When I looked at where I stood on the beach, I saw someone who looked so familiar.
    No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember who that person was.  I remember that they looked older than me, a woman with brown hair wearing blue.  She was pretty and looked like a caring person.  As I fell down to the ocean, I was overcome with tranquility.  I could feel the water starting to course through my body.  It was so warm.  Looking around, things were so clear, even though I was under the water.  The sunlight that broke through the water was patterned because of the foam on the water.  It’s at this point that I start to swim into the depths.  That’s when I woke up.”  The boy told his story into his recorder.
    It was a cold morning; the sun was warming up the edges of the window, chasing away the frost that the night gave to the windows in the city.  The boy looked around the room in confusion.  It looked so different and new to him, that he tried hard to keep from shying away under his blankets.  In the hallway near the room, he heard a pair of light footsteps get closer and closer.  They stopped just outside of the door.  The white door creaked open exposing a nurse wearing a blue uniform.  The boy watched the woman walk in carefully, examining the stranger.  She was a little chubby and had long brown hair that curled at its ends.  Her skin was slightly tanned like the shell of a walnut.
    “Hello Markus, I’m Tina Jones, I’m here for a quick check-up.” Tina introduced to the shy child.
    The boy was bewildered by waking up to a new room.  In the quiet room, his breathing started to quicken.  The woman hearing this smiled softly and sat down near the window.  She was examining the edges of the glass.  She was thinking over how to start talking to the boy who had seemed to have forgotten the past.
    “I’ve…I’ve had a dream.” The boy finally spoke up.
    “Oh really?  That’s wonderful!” The nurse smiled and perked up with relief, “So, how was it this time?”
    He extended his hand and offered her the voice recorder.  Taking the hint, she walked over and listened to the dream.  As she listened to it, she sighed slightly at points and smiled at others.  Each time the boy had come to the hospital, she repeated the same series of events.  Reintroductions and listening to the same dream, she wondered what it meant.  She set the recorder in the boy’s hand after she finished.
    “That dream’s just like before.” She mumbled to herself.
    Markus perked his head and looked towards Tina in wonder.  She waved her hand to excuse herself and smiled.  Tina continued the check-up and just before heading out the door, she looked back towards Markus, expecting to say her goodbye for the day only to see that he was asleep yet again.  There wasn’t anything else she could do for the boy other than let him sleep some more.
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gleowine
Ekusun Tsukinoe


Joined: 14 Apr 2008
Posts: 415


Location: Louisiana

PostPosted: Sat Jan 31, 2009 6:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Beautiful story. Very well crafted.
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Fiction
Tarsian


Joined: 24 Jan 2009
Posts: 69


Location: Valdez, AK

PostPosted: Sun Feb 08, 2009 9:12 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Sorry about not adding the story I was working on.  I had forgotten about reading through the different submission requirements on various magazines.  The two I selected to submit to, one of them has a requirement that it's not to be previously published, even over the internet.  For fear of having this count as published material, I decided to post up some of my old stuff.

-----------------

This one was written as a submission piece to a small magazine several years back.  I can't remember if it was published or not, and if it did manage to get published, I didn't pay much attention to it.  When I wrote it, I wrote it in less than a couple minutes as I was anxious to show something new to a friend, and I was glad that she liked the imagery.

Musical Time

"A dream can only last for so long, much like the soothing frost that covers the window glass…Slowly enveloping its entirety, much like how dreams manifest in our minds. Sometimes it takes complete control and becomes something so amazing that you just have to sit still.  Or perhaps it could be so fleeting that you look away at the miracle that just happened only to find out that when you look back, it's gone forever." A tired man spoke in his cozy room, an aroma blanketed the air.  Pungent and stale, yet soothing in the way that it's old and broken in.



"To grasp a dream means fighting against reality.  To create your dream, maybe it's useless, maybe it's not." The man's voice grew weak and dry.



His arm stretched across his torn up wooden desk filled with old papers, tanned by age and coffee stains of yesteryear.  His arm reached for a chipped mug, dripping with the black liquid that helped color the contents beneath.  A low, hurtful cough followed by spatter of blood against the paper only adds to the atmosphere.  Quickly falling, his chipped mug crashed against the table, adding yet another mark on its face.  Across his wrinkled face, hidden under a coarse mustache, the man smiled as if the blood brought relief.  The grayed eyes could only gaze steadily, the deep breathing slowly stopping.  An old man's rest was rewarded by the chiming with the music from an old clock.

From where his now motionless body sits, a dusty small mirror housing a picture spreads its tiny petals of dust out into the air.  The slight breeze from an open window mixes the specs as a single beam of light begins to fade at an image that the man’s eyes are fixated upon.  A tiny log cabin accompanied only by an open meadow with its small family.  A young child filled with vibrant energy in his eyes, a caring mother whose hair matches the golden wildflowers in the meadow, and an ecstatic father shielding his face from strands of brown hair as his eyes watch over his family.

----------------------

This one was written about three years ago.  After watching a movie, something clicked in my head and I had to write a little bit of poetry.  So in about half an hour, I wrote this and Winter.  My friend Philip read the two after asking to read them, he liked the potential of what they could be and was a little disappointed that I haven't gotten around to revising these two.  He's an australian poet I mentioned in a different post somewhere.  Maybe a little bit of an apology for those who read the two, they were written a few years ago when I haven't written any poetry for about five years, so they are pretty rustic.

Bridge

Each early morning, I wake to see a ceiling of white.
A sinking feeling grows as time flies by.
This feeling can only be compared by a dying light
That struggles so hard to stay high in the sky.

Each day I watch people holding hands, smiling so happily.
It’s at these times that it’s as if my heart starts to shatter
But something such as that could be put together, gently.
Gently, yes, through a long period of time, it doesn’t matter.

It pains me sometimes, smelling the sweet afternoon air.
When people are smiling, laughing, and playing.
To me, these years just doesn’t seem fair,
It’s like I am ethereal to this world, only sensing.

Loneliness sets in early evening, pestering me at my side.
Pushing me to remember those dreams from days of past.
Prodding me to relive those moments so that I can hide
From the reality that stood in front of me, how long will it last?

By night, the starry skies bring comfort to my mind.
It eases my feelings that I struggle to hide day to day,
Knowing in full what dangers that I may one day find
That will result in the way I lived, that lonely way.

-When I try to sleep, my mind is racing with thoughts.
Thoughts that slowly eat away from the inside, taking me away from bliss.
When I open my eyes, I realize that my heart races like shots
From a gun that enhances this feeling that it was something I miss.-

As the moon reaches its peak, my breath has been stolen.
I stare at it alone, hoping that perhaps someone is doing the same as I.
The shattered heart begins to fill with emotion until it’s swollen.
Deep inside, this is what I’m grateful for: If I wanted to, I know I could cry.

[By the way, a little note on Bridge, I wrote it all before I added the stanza enclosed by hyphens.  I felt that it was missing something so I added that in afterwards.  Up until now, I was still undetermined if I'd leave it in or take it out for the next revision.]


-----------------------

Winter

When I breathe in the crisp winter air,
It brings a soothing feeling to the heart.
Knowing that this is what it’s like to share
The feelings hidden deeply painted like art.

Gently falling, carefully swaying, it’s so weary
The way the snow piles so after time.
If I wasn’t so sure, I’d say it was a dream, in theory.
Then again, if it was, it couldn’t be so sublime.

It doesn’t matter if I’m alone
So long as I can continue to see each day,
Continue to experience all that I’ve known,
But I must say I wouldn’t mind more pay.

Solitude on a winter day is good,
Spending it with another is always better.
Life lived and traveled under the hood,
To continue each day by the letter,

This is a dream that I’d like to share,
The dream of calmly breathing in winter air.
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Junpei
VNP 46b-512


Joined: 25 Jan 2008
Posts: 873


Location: Australia

PostPosted: Sun Feb 08, 2009 9:39 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nicely written.

I especially liked the way you wrote "Musical Time".
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Fiction
Tarsian


Joined: 24 Jan 2009
Posts: 69


Location: Valdez, AK

PostPosted: Sun Feb 08, 2009 9:48 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The overall style of Musical Time resembles my current writing style, with People in the Sky being a closer reference.  I wasn't sure what the character limit per post was, so I only posted up those ones.  When I do make another addition, it'll include a poem I wrote back when I was in the 8th grade I think.  When I was a sophomore, I decided to use it as a poetry project since at the time, I had completely forgotten about it.  I'll also add something that'll be new.

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