The "Creative Writing" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
It was spring, the season of new beginnings, when I first saw her. On the bench in the park, which would have previously been occupied by myself, she would sit and wait, glancing around as if she was interested in the surroundings. I knew she wasn’t. Following my unconfident laws, I’d pass by pretending as if I wasn’t looking at her, and take my seat somewhere at distance. Just watching the way she’d play with her fingers and flick her hair away from her face made me smile. Lunch breaks became a joyous reliever of pressures.
It must’ve taken me a month to even make mutual eye contact with her, and in that case it seemed an impassive peek to contrast my fascination. In the end it was the summer sun that swept me into her path. I walked past the worn bench just as always, but there was something in the air that particular day that made me turn around; take a seat the citizen’s customary gap away from her. As she positioned her hair in her normal loveable way, she turned her attention to me. I’d never noticed how blonde her hair was, how cute red her lips were. Her pink velvet-soft coat hung off her, uneven threads dangling from it. Close up I realised how much she stood out, and it was in wonderful fashion. Any imperfections she had seemed to make her more perfect. I stared deep into her eyes and she looked back, smiling; both of us smiling.
“Hello” I opened, as the show lights went out.
”Hey” her reply came, as she set her book to one side.
She was listening. Listening to me. I almost forgot I needed to say anything else.
“I’ve noticed you around.”
”Oh?”
There was a momentary pause as we both gasped the same gasp; breathed the same breath.
“Yeah” I sounded, through smile-stretched lips. “I have”.
Believe it or not, the conversation didn’t run on such uncomfortably jolty train tracks the whole time. Me being me, it had to for some of the way, but sometimes speaking with her…Helen, actually…seemed so pure. So right to me, and seemingly to her as well. She was 26, a year older than myself, but her modesty seemed to even any gaps out. She was just kind, really, almost impossible to offend in every way. To say I liked her would be an understatement.
Our meeting ended with her saying she stopped by in the park everyday. I told her so did I; she told me we should sit together. And we did. We sat there as the green summery leaves burnt brown with the ginger of autumn. The sun’s bright waves descended into a mellow red cast across the sky. Autumn seemed such a better season with Helen around. We’d sit there and chat away about so many things. Food, country’s we’d visited (she was well travelled) and anything that sprang to mind. At the time it seemed like I’d learnt so much about her in such a short time. In hindsight I can say it was the things that we didn’t talk about that shrouded our connection.
Then it was one day, towards the end of November, when I did something I’d not done before. I bought Helen a gift. She’d been talking about how her parents used to take her to Holland each year as they had relatives there, and how she had grown to love the place. So I bought her a small wooden figure, with studded clogs and decorated jewellery and clothing. It cost me a fairly extravagant sum, but the initial look on her face as I presented it to her was more than worth it. It was the reaction I received a while after that made me regret ever buying it. I’m not sure what it was, but something made her feel uncomfortable about giving her the gift. I’d love to say my offering made her fall for me, but the truth is that it probably just struck a nerve. I’ll never know, and I don’t know if I want to. Because it was the events that followed that made me wonder if it was this deed that sealed our direction.
It was winter, just before Christmas, when any infatuations shared between us ended. One day I just strolled over in my normal manner, about to greet her with my chill-fixed “hello stranger” and she just got up and left. No eyelids fluttering. No heads turning. Just me standing there on two toppling towers of legs waiting to give way. I sunk back into the warmth of the bench, snow clasping around my shoes. As I followed the trail she’d left away, I noticed a lone square of paper on the floor. I reached down and grabbed it, snow clinging to the undersides of my fingers. It was at that moment that I knew any chances of her returning would have evaporated. The paper contained a photograph of her, clad in a stylish wedding dress, standing in the arms of a man. An older man. Glamour everywhere, expense everywhere. It wasn’t just wedding glamour though. It was “we’ve got loads of money and are showing it off” glamour.
Was she a sell out?
Please God don’t let her be a sell out.
Something inside told me that, either way, I didn’t want to know the other half of the story. Surely though, her walking away meant that she was falling for me. Did it? Could I be loveable? I didn’t know. What I did know was that once again all with my life was normal. Or was it? Doubt shrouded my thoughts as I sat there. Silent, still; immersed in thought.
Winter’s harsh winds encircled me, freezing branches cracked under the bitter cold, rotting leaves decayed on the ground.
These things didn’t remind me of a relationship rotting away.
Everything of the winter season reminded me that I was alive.
It must’ve taken me a month to even make mutual eye contact with her, and in that case it seemed an impassive peek to contrast my fascination. In the end it was the summer sun that swept me into her path. I walked past the worn bench just as always, but there was something in the air that particular day that made me turn around; take a seat the citizen’s customary gap away from her. As she positioned her hair in her normal loveable way, she turned her attention to me. I’d never noticed how blonde her hair was, how cute red her lips were. Her pink velvet-soft coat hung off her, uneven threads dangling from it. Close up I realised how much she stood out, and it was in wonderful fashion. Any imperfections she had seemed to make her more perfect. I stared deep into her eyes and she looked back, smiling; both of us smiling.
“Hello” I opened, as the show lights went out.
”Hey” her reply came, as she set her book to one side.
She was listening. Listening to me. I almost forgot I needed to say anything else.
“I’ve noticed you around.”
”Oh?”
There was a momentary pause as we both gasped the same gasp; breathed the same breath.
“Yeah” I sounded, through smile-stretched lips. “I have”.
Believe it or not, the conversation didn’t run on such uncomfortably jolty train tracks the whole time. Me being me, it had to for some of the way, but sometimes speaking with her…Helen, actually…seemed so pure. So right to me, and seemingly to her as well. She was 26, a year older than myself, but her modesty seemed to even any gaps out. She was just kind, really, almost impossible to offend in every way. To say I liked her would be an understatement.
Our meeting ended with her saying she stopped by in the park everyday. I told her so did I; she told me we should sit together. And we did. We sat there as the green summery leaves burnt brown with the ginger of autumn. The sun’s bright waves descended into a mellow red cast across the sky. Autumn seemed such a better season with Helen around. We’d sit there and chat away about so many things. Food, country’s we’d visited (she was well travelled) and anything that sprang to mind. At the time it seemed like I’d learnt so much about her in such a short time. In hindsight I can say it was the things that we didn’t talk about that shrouded our connection.
Then it was one day, towards the end of November, when I did something I’d not done before. I bought Helen a gift. She’d been talking about how her parents used to take her to Holland each year as they had relatives there, and how she had grown to love the place. So I bought her a small wooden figure, with studded clogs and decorated jewellery and clothing. It cost me a fairly extravagant sum, but the initial look on her face as I presented it to her was more than worth it. It was the reaction I received a while after that made me regret ever buying it. I’m not sure what it was, but something made her feel uncomfortable about giving her the gift. I’d love to say my offering made her fall for me, but the truth is that it probably just struck a nerve. I’ll never know, and I don’t know if I want to. Because it was the events that followed that made me wonder if it was this deed that sealed our direction.
It was winter, just before Christmas, when any infatuations shared between us ended. One day I just strolled over in my normal manner, about to greet her with my chill-fixed “hello stranger” and she just got up and left. No eyelids fluttering. No heads turning. Just me standing there on two toppling towers of legs waiting to give way. I sunk back into the warmth of the bench, snow clasping around my shoes. As I followed the trail she’d left away, I noticed a lone square of paper on the floor. I reached down and grabbed it, snow clinging to the undersides of my fingers. It was at that moment that I knew any chances of her returning would have evaporated. The paper contained a photograph of her, clad in a stylish wedding dress, standing in the arms of a man. An older man. Glamour everywhere, expense everywhere. It wasn’t just wedding glamour though. It was “we’ve got loads of money and are showing it off” glamour.
Was she a sell out?
Please God don’t let her be a sell out.
Something inside told me that, either way, I didn’t want to know the other half of the story. Surely though, her walking away meant that she was falling for me. Did it? Could I be loveable? I didn’t know. What I did know was that once again all with my life was normal. Or was it? Doubt shrouded my thoughts as I sat there. Silent, still; immersed in thought.
Winter’s harsh winds encircled me, freezing branches cracked under the bitter cold, rotting leaves decayed on the ground.
These things didn’t remind me of a relationship rotting away.
Everything of the winter season reminded me that I was alive.
Argh! You really want to make it hard for me to judge today, don't you?!
Top quality story there...
Top quality story there...
A love affair that never happened *gets tissues out*. I liked that. I liked the way the relationship was building ever so slowly and then she just walks away, without a word or a backwards glance. Waiting just long enough for him to arrive so that he'd find the picture.
Oh and good choice of name for the girl. I like that name :D
Oh and good choice of name for the girl. I like that name :D
Very, very nice.
Kinda soft and gentle ... subtle but wonderful.
And no-one died horribly, which is always nice.
Although this does indeed make you an assclown.
Kinda soft and gentle ... subtle but wonderful.
And no-one died horribly, which is always nice.
Although this does indeed make you an assclown.
One word:
'Wow'
'Wow'
Really, really bloody good you big cheating cheater!!
That was probably the best thing of yours I've read, ever.
I think, if you were to go back and tweak it, I'd build the relationship between the two a little bit more, then it seems more gasp-worthy when she walks away from him.
Brilliant ending, though, subtle use of "full circle" and yes, just wonderful!
That was probably the best thing of yours I've read, ever.
I think, if you were to go back and tweak it, I'd build the relationship between the two a little bit more, then it seems more gasp-worthy when she walks away from him.
Brilliant ending, though, subtle use of "full circle" and yes, just wonderful!
That was just... beautiful. Wonderful, Assclown.
It was spring, the season of new beginnings, when I first saw her. On the bench in the park, which would have previously been occupied by myself, she would sit and wait, glancing around as if she was interested in the surroundings. I knew she wasn’t. Following my unconfident laws, I’d pass by pretending as if I wasn’t looking at her, and take my seat somewhere at distance. Just watching the way she’d play with her fingers and flick her hair away from her face made me smile. Lunch breaks became a joyous reliever of pressures.
It must’ve taken me a month to even make mutual eye contact with her, and in that case it seemed an impassive peek to contrast my fascination. In the end it was the summer sun that swept me into her path. I walked past the worn bench just as always, but there was something in the air that particular day that made me turn around; take a seat the citizen’s customary gap away from her. As she positioned her hair in her normal loveable way, she turned her attention to me. I’d never noticed how blonde her hair was, how cute red her lips were. Her pink velvet-soft coat hung off her, uneven threads dangling from it. Close up I realised how much she stood out, and it was in wonderful fashion. Any imperfections she had seemed to make her more perfect. I stared deep into her eyes and she looked back, smiling; both of us smiling.
“Hello” I opened, as the show lights went out.
”Hey” her reply came, as she set her book to one side.
She was listening. Listening to me. I almost forgot I needed to say anything else.
“I’ve noticed you around.”
”Oh?”
There was a momentary pause as we both gasped the same gasp; breathed the same breath.
“Yeah” I sounded, through smile-stretched lips. “I have”.
Believe it or not, the conversation didn’t run on such uncomfortably jolty train tracks the whole time. Me being me, it had to for some of the way, but sometimes speaking with her…Helen, actually…seemed so pure. So right to me, and seemingly to her as well. She was 26, a year older than myself, but her modesty seemed to even any gaps out. She was just kind, really, almost impossible to offend in every way. To say I liked her would be an understatement.
Our meeting ended with her saying she stopped by in the park everyday. I told her so did I; she told me we should sit together. And we did. We sat there as the green summery leaves burnt brown with the ginger of autumn. The sun’s bright waves descended into a mellow red cast across the sky. Autumn seemed such a better season with Helen around. We’d sit there and chat away about so many things. Food, country’s we’d visited (she was well travelled) and anything that sprang to mind. At the time it seemed like I’d learnt so much about her in such a short time. In hindsight I can say it was the things that we didn’t talk about that shrouded our connection.
Then it was one day, towards the end of November, when I did something I’d not done before. I bought Helen a gift. She’d been talking about how her parents used to take her to Holland each year as they had relatives there, and how she had grown to love the place. So I bought her a small wooden figure, with studded clogs and decorated jewellery and clothing. It cost me a fairly extravagant sum, but the initial look on her face as I presented it to her was more than worth it. It was the reaction I received a while after that made me regret ever buying it. I’m not sure what it was, but something made her feel uncomfortable about giving her the gift. I’d love to say my offering made her fall for me, but the truth is that it probably just struck a nerve. I’ll never know, and I don’t know if I want to. Because it was the events that followed that made me wonder if it was this deed that sealed our direction.
It was winter, just before Christmas, when any infatuations shared between us ended. One day I just strolled over in my normal manner, about to greet her with my chill-fixed “hello stranger” and she just got up and left. No eyelids fluttering. No heads turning. Just me standing there on two toppling towers of legs waiting to give way. I sunk back into the warmth of the bench, snow clasping around my shoes. As I followed the trail she’d left away, I noticed a lone square of paper on the floor. I reached down and grabbed it, snow clinging to the undersides of my fingers. It was at that moment that I knew any chances of her returning would have evaporated. The paper contained a photograph of her, clad in a stylish wedding dress, standing in the arms of a man. An older man. Glamour everywhere, expense everywhere. It wasn’t just wedding glamour though. It was “we’ve got loads of money and are showing it off” glamour.
Was she a sell out?
Please God don’t let her be a sell out.
Something inside told me that, either way, I didn’t want to know the other half of the story. Surely though, her walking away meant that she was falling for me. Did it? Could I be loveable? I didn’t know. What I did know was that once again all with my life was normal. Or was it? Doubt shrouded my thoughts as I sat there. Silent, still; immersed in thought.
Winter’s harsh winds encircled me, freezing branches cracked under the bitter cold, rotting leaves decayed on the ground.
These things didn’t remind me of a relationship rotting away.
Everything of the winter season reminded me that I was alive.
It must’ve taken me a month to even make mutual eye contact with her, and in that case it seemed an impassive peek to contrast my fascination. In the end it was the summer sun that swept me into her path. I walked past the worn bench just as always, but there was something in the air that particular day that made me turn around; take a seat the citizen’s customary gap away from her. As she positioned her hair in her normal loveable way, she turned her attention to me. I’d never noticed how blonde her hair was, how cute red her lips were. Her pink velvet-soft coat hung off her, uneven threads dangling from it. Close up I realised how much she stood out, and it was in wonderful fashion. Any imperfections she had seemed to make her more perfect. I stared deep into her eyes and she looked back, smiling; both of us smiling.
“Hello” I opened, as the show lights went out.
”Hey” her reply came, as she set her book to one side.
She was listening. Listening to me. I almost forgot I needed to say anything else.
“I’ve noticed you around.”
”Oh?”
There was a momentary pause as we both gasped the same gasp; breathed the same breath.
“Yeah” I sounded, through smile-stretched lips. “I have”.
Believe it or not, the conversation didn’t run on such uncomfortably jolty train tracks the whole time. Me being me, it had to for some of the way, but sometimes speaking with her…Helen, actually…seemed so pure. So right to me, and seemingly to her as well. She was 26, a year older than myself, but her modesty seemed to even any gaps out. She was just kind, really, almost impossible to offend in every way. To say I liked her would be an understatement.
Our meeting ended with her saying she stopped by in the park everyday. I told her so did I; she told me we should sit together. And we did. We sat there as the green summery leaves burnt brown with the ginger of autumn. The sun’s bright waves descended into a mellow red cast across the sky. Autumn seemed such a better season with Helen around. We’d sit there and chat away about so many things. Food, country’s we’d visited (she was well travelled) and anything that sprang to mind. At the time it seemed like I’d learnt so much about her in such a short time. In hindsight I can say it was the things that we didn’t talk about that shrouded our connection.
Then it was one day, towards the end of November, when I did something I’d not done before. I bought Helen a gift. She’d been talking about how her parents used to take her to Holland each year as they had relatives there, and how she had grown to love the place. So I bought her a small wooden figure, with studded clogs and decorated jewellery and clothing. It cost me a fairly extravagant sum, but the initial look on her face as I presented it to her was more than worth it. It was the reaction I received a while after that made me regret ever buying it. I’m not sure what it was, but something made her feel uncomfortable about giving her the gift. I’d love to say my offering made her fall for me, but the truth is that it probably just struck a nerve. I’ll never know, and I don’t know if I want to. Because it was the events that followed that made me wonder if it was this deed that sealed our direction.
It was winter, just before Christmas, when any infatuations shared between us ended. One day I just strolled over in my normal manner, about to greet her with my chill-fixed “hello stranger” and she just got up and left. No eyelids fluttering. No heads turning. Just me standing there on two toppling towers of legs waiting to give way. I sunk back into the warmth of the bench, snow clasping around my shoes. As I followed the trail she’d left away, I noticed a lone square of paper on the floor. I reached down and grabbed it, snow clinging to the undersides of my fingers. It was at that moment that I knew any chances of her returning would have evaporated. The paper contained a photograph of her, clad in a stylish wedding dress, standing in the arms of a man. An older man. Glamour everywhere, expense everywhere. It wasn’t just wedding glamour though. It was “we’ve got loads of money and are showing it off” glamour.
Was she a sell out?
Please God don’t let her be a sell out.
Something inside told me that, either way, I didn’t want to know the other half of the story. Surely though, her walking away meant that she was falling for me. Did it? Could I be loveable? I didn’t know. What I did know was that once again all with my life was normal. Or was it? Doubt shrouded my thoughts as I sat there. Silent, still; immersed in thought.
Winter’s harsh winds encircled me, freezing branches cracked under the bitter cold, rotting leaves decayed on the ground.
These things didn’t remind me of a relationship rotting away.
Everything of the winter season reminded me that I was alive.