Short Story- rate please?

Parent Cafe
1

<p>Hey, I'm just looking for a repsonse for my short story that I wrote just a few minutes ago. I figured this was the most suitable place to put it.</p>

<p>Anyway, my story may seem a little pointless, but you have to analyze it a bit. I used simplistic writing purposely. Please give constructive feedback!</p>

<p>Hard Talkin' (possible name change soon)</p>

<pre><code>Sebastian looked wearily at the beaten-up brown suitcase at the rear of the car. The last week has felt longer than his eight years. His daddy and him were poor; that's why his mama was leaving. That's what she said. Anyway, she promised she'd be back. But Sebbie wasn't dumb. He didn't talk like the boy with the white-blonde hair in the big house, but he wasn't dumb. He was just tired.
"Seb? Sebbie? Aren't you gonna say 'bye?" He looked up at a tall and willowy woman--she had the same eyes as him. They were sort of hazel, brown-green and deep, round and deepset. He could see something sparkling in them, and suddenly he felt like his eyes wanted to sparkle like hers too--to match. They always matched, haven't they? Mother and son, so alike.
Sebastian wiped away at his face with the rough sleeve of his arm, although his face was parched and dry.
"M-mummy? Are y-you-" He stopped talking then; he knew he couldn't talk like the white-blonde boy, and anyway, he was just too tired to try.
But Mama always understands.
"Sorry, baby," she said softly, betraying her suddenly stone face (which was so smooth-looking now; had he aged his mother before that much?). She ruffled his honey-colored stringy hair and turned away. Forever, Sebastian though. Then, he felt guilty; dare he accuse his own mum of not keeping her promises? She never lied to him to before, that's what she said, wasn't it?
Sebastian stood and watched as his mother got in the car. She opened the door, stepped in, sat down. She straightened her dress, called to the driver, lit a cigarette. The car drove off. She never looked in the rearview mirror. Sebastian stared as the car rattled away, off to some future, to some sort of gimick wrold, where the too-bright northern lights his mother was looking for were.
He turned when the sky got a little dark and took slow steps towards that shanty of his, making sure he was quiet and slow, just in case mama decided to return. He finally reached the door, but his mama hasn't changed her mind yet. Sebastian wasn't dumb, but he was hoping anyway. He pulled the door open and stepped inside. It was kind of dark, sort of like the water when the sun wasn't shining on it--except not as bright.
Daddy was sitting in his chair, his body slack and face hard. It wasn't the same kind of hardness as mother's, but it was rather sad, more forlorn. Papa's eyes were red, maybe from all the crying. Sebastian wasn't dumb; he knew what his father felt when he wasn't trying too hard to smile.
The nights following were always like this; Sebastian would wait every afternoon in the driveway for his mama, but when his mother didn't come back, he came in to sit quietly with his daddy. They never talked. They hardly slept, either. They just looked at each other with their red eyes and aching bodies. Sebastian wasn't dumb; he knew his heart ached the most.
"Son?" asked dad one evening that was particularly cold. "Do you reckon she's found some money yet?"
Sebbie shrugs his shoulders, which look smaller than they did a month ago. Papa notices.
"Gettin' a wee bit skinny there, boy. I reckon you could use a bit of bread. Maybe some fresh bacon too, if you like," suggested daddy.
Sebbie shakes his head. His hair is too long. Papa noticed this too.
"You sure? I have some fresh eggs. And you need a haircut real bad."
Sebastian stares at him. His eyes are different; they're blue and light and flat. They were bloodshot. His eyes sparkled too, but not the same. They didn't match with Sebastian's.
"Cheer up, son. Mom's comin' home soon." Pa put his large hands through Sebastian's honey strings, but they weren't smooth like mom's. His fingers were too rough. Sebastian hated father because father makes his soul ache more than mother already did, and when daddy wasn't looking, Sebastian's eyes sparkled too much. But they weren't pretty, like mom's. They didn't match. Sebastian stared intently into dad's eyes.
"Aw, boy. She promised ya, didn't she?" he asked, laughing. Sebastian heard no mirth, for he tried to hear it. But he was just tired of trying.
"I am not dumb, father," said Sebastian without a single stutter. And all father could do was cry.
</code></pre>

2

<p>Effulgent, your essay is beautiful and emotional. I like the style a lot, and especially the inclusion of words like forlorn among the sea of simple words It represents a very subtle but noticeable reminder that you possess a deep vocabulary. I think that you captured the emotions of the events with clarity and depth. </p>

<p>There are, however, a few challenges ahead of you: polish the text while hunting for small typos (gimick, for instance) and hollow words like suddenly, check the grammar, and finally decide on how to maximize the placement of this essay. The key will be to find a prompt that allows this type of narrative.</p>

<p>PS You may decide to review the juxtaposition of tall/willowy, dry/parched. Since the words are synonyms, could you not simply use the very expressive willowy and parched? Your words, "his body slack and face hard" worled so well because it is direct and pwerful. Were you to use additional adjectives, it would not help at all. </p>

<p>Thanks for sharing the moment.</p>

3

<p>I loved it too, it is a beautiful short story.</p>

4

<p>I agree with Xiggi and Achat. It is beautiful and moving. I also agree with Xiggi that there are some minor problems that need fixing; but you have a real talent for conveying powerful emotions and telling a story of family pain through the perspective of a child.</p>

5

<p>Thanks, guys!</p>

<p>I fixed it a bit:</p>

<p>Hard Talkin'
Sebastian looked wearily at the beaten-up brown suitcase at the rear of the car. The last week has felt longer than his eight years. His daddy and him were poor; that's why his mama was leaving. That's what she said. Anyway, she promised she'd be back. But Sebbie wasn't dumb. He didn't talk like the boy with the white-blonde hair in the big house, but he wasn't dumb. He was just tired.
"Seb? Sebbie? Aren't you gonna say 'bye?" He looked up at the willowy woman--she had the same eyes as him. They were sort of hazel, brown-green and deep, round and deepset. He could see something sparkling in them, and suddenly he felt like his eyes wanted to sparkle like hers too--to match. They always matched, haven't they? Mother and son, so alike.
Sebastian wiped away at his face with the rough sleeve of his arm, although his face was parched.
"M-mummy? Are y-you-" He stopped talking then; he knew he couldn't talk like the white-blonde boy, and anyway, he was just too tired to try.
But Mama always understands.
"Sorry, baby," she said softly, betraying her stone face (which was so smooth-looking now; had he aged his mother before that much?). She ruffled his stringy honey-colored hair and turned away. Forever, Sebastian though. Then, he felt guilty; dare he accuse his own mum of not keeping her promises? She never lied to him to before, that's what she said, wasn't it?
Sebastian stood and watched as his mother got in the car. She opened the door, stepped in, sat down. She straightened her dress, called to the driver, lit a cigarette. The car drove off. She never looked in the rearview mirror. Sebastian stared as the car rattled away, off to some future, to some sort of cosmopolitan world, where the too-bright northern lights were waiting for his dear mum.
He turned when the sky got a little dark and took slow steps towards that shanty of his, making sure he was quiet and slow, just in case mama decided to return. He finally reached the door, but his mama hasn't changed her mind yet. Sebastian wasn't dumb, but he was hoping anyway. He pulled the door open and stepped inside. It was kind of dark, sort of like the water when the sun wasn't shining on it--except not as bright.
Daddy was sitting in his chair, his body slack and face hard. It wasn't the same kind of hardness as mother's, but it was rather sad, more forlorn. Papa's eyes were red, maybe from all the crying. Sebastian wasn't dumb; he knew what his father felt when he wasn't trying too hard to smile.
The nights following were always like this; Sebastian would wait every afternoon in the driveway for his mama, but when his mother didn't come back, he came in to sit quietly with his daddy. They never talked. They hardly slept, either. They just looked at each other with their red eyes and aching bodies. Sebastian wasn't dumb; he knew his heart ached the most.
"Son?" asked dad one evening that was particularly cold. "Do you reckon she's found some money yet?"
Sebbie shrugs his shoulders, which look smaller than they did a month ago. Papa notices.
"Gettin' a wee bit skinny there, boy. I reckon you could use a bit of bread. Maybe some fresh bacon too, if you like," suggested daddy.
Sebbie shakes his head. His hair is too long. Papa noticed this too.
"You sure? I have some fresh eggs. And you need a haircut real bad."
Sebastian stares at him. His eyes are different; they're blue and light and flat. They were bloodshot. His eyes sparkled too, but not the same. They didn't match with Sebastian's.
"Cheer up, son. Mom's comin' home soon." Pa ran his large hands through Sebastian's honey strings, but they weren't smooth like mom's. His fingers were too rough. Sebastian hated father because father makes his soul ache more than mother did, and when daddy wasn't looking, Sebastian's eyes sparkled too much. But they weren't pretty, like mom's. They didn't match. Sebastian looked up and stared intently into dad's eyes.
"Aw, boy. She promised ya, didn't she?" he asked, laughing. Sebastian heard no mirth, for he tried to hear it. But he was just tired of trying.
"I am not dumb, father," said Sebastian without a single stutter. And all father could do was cry.</p>

6

<p>"Forever, Sebastian though".
Did you mean 'thought'?</p>

7

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<p>There are still some problems of tenses not matching. The above is an example. Look for more and fix them.</p>

8

<p>So would it be:
"The last week feels longer than his eight years. His daddy and him were poor; that's why his mama is leaving."</p>

<p>?</p>

9

<p>No, you should keep the verbs in the past tense. One of the problems is "has felt", a better choice would be "felt". I think that is important to be grammatically correct when you use the third-person narrative. In your dialogues, you could have errors to reflect the way the dad and Sebastian spoke. </p>

<p>You may want to rewrite the sentence, "The last week has felt longer than his eight years." I hate to suggest anything because it is important to preserve your own voice, but "the last week had been the longest of Sebastian's short eight year life" might read a bit better. I'm sure that you will find an alternative sentence that is even better. </p>

<p>In "His daddy and him were poor", you have to realize that "Him" is a subject in the same way as "He" in "He and his daddy were poor." </p>

<p>Read your essay aloud and some of the little errors will jump at you. Good luck.</p>

10

<p>I do know that "his daddy and him were poor" is incorrect, but I did that purposely since I'm trying to go for third person omniscient. I was trying to convey that it was something Sebastian's mother said before and therefore affected him.</p>

11

<p>Alright, I'm checking for tenses and other grammatical mistakes. Thanks for the responses! Is there anything else I should consider?</p>

12

<p>Actually, the bit about the stutter caught me a bit off-guard. I had to go re-read his attempt to talk to his mother to realize you meant he had a stutter, rather than a different way of speaking than a "white-blonde boy in the big house." Not a big thing, though.</p>

<p>Her suddenly stone face. Do you mean stony face? I would suggest "her stony face which was suddenly smooth-looking. Had he aged her so much before?". She never lied: change to "she had never lied"</p>

<p>Go over your text carefully. There are typos such as Sebatian though (t); gim(m)ick world. Another thing: It might be best to stick to one way of referring to the mother: either, mom, mum, mamma, but not all three. Same with papa and daddy.</p>

13

<p>Well, see, I did the whole thing with different ways or referring to the mother and father for a reason too. It was supposed to show his attitude towards their actions... like when he felt like a child, he referred to her as mama. When he felt she was distant, he called her mother.</p>

<p>So I guess that bit's not working?</p>

14

<p>You are right that using mother and father shows distance; it also shows a more adult relationship. The last line conveys that perfectly. That's fine to refer to the mother sometimes as mamma and sometimes as mother. But you also have mummy, mum and mom. The father is sometimes the father, papa, dad and daddy. Think about how you refer to your own parents. Are there so many different ways or just a couple?</p>

15

<p>Lol... I actually do refer to my parents many different ways, but I see what you mean. I didn't think of that before. I'll stick to mother/mama and father/papa.</p>