The "Creative Writing" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only.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 all started one night, while I was babysitting a little boy accross my road. He had been asleep for hours and I was lying in a chair watching tv when i got a text.
'Just thought I'd better let you know, my parents are going house hunting in New York next weekend'
I dropped the phone, she had told me she might be moving away, but I thought it was another of her attention seeking schemes, perhaps this time
it was for real?
And now, here I am. Standing on a bridge over the Thames, throwing my fries from McDonalds' into the murky grey water. A drop fell and made a tiny splash in the river, but it wasn't rain, it was a tear drop. She had gone, flown off into the clouds, never to be seen again. Of course, she had said "We'll keep in touch, we've both got email, and I promise I'll phone every few days" but I knew that wouldn't happen. She'd find another guy, someone to replace me, and then forget about me all together.
Why did she need me anyway? An average youth, spotty, most likely stinking of odours and with two things on his mind, football and sex, neither of which she was particularly interested in at the time.
Zzzzz. Zzzzz. Jack felt his phone vibrate against his leg. He chucked the rest of his chips, along with the packet, into the water and fumbled round in his pocket for his phone.
'Dnt wri m8, she's jst a bird, u'l find sum1 els no probs. l8rz'
Ahhhhh. He didn't understand, no one understood. She was the one, he was sure of it, she was the one he wanted to spend his whole life with.
Even when they had met at the age of thirteen, there had been something there, something that clicked. Something that would never properly un-click.
Jack was furious, surely Dan, his best mate, would know what she meant to him. 'Just a bird'. The words rung through his ears like offensive language at a Royal Buffet.
Jack turned and walked away, walking off towards the city of London, endless streets of the same thing. Shops, restaurants, cafes, pubs, offices, the same wherever you went. Routine. That's what Jack like, a routine. His life had been a routine. He'd had his mates, to have a laugh with, and he'd had Becky, to love. And to be loved in return.
Jack sighed and sunk his hands into his coat pockets, pulling the fronts together to keep out the fresh winter morning. His hand felt something hard in his pocket. That was odd, he normally kept his wallet and phone in the front pockets of his jeans, safer there. He brought out the mysterious object and held it up to a street light. He could make up a little velvet covered box, with a silver button on the front. He pushed the button, and with a 'click' the top sprung open. He pulled away the top half completely and his jaw dropped. Infront of his eyes was a ring, and lodged in the middle of it a piece of paper....
'I'm home at Christmas on holiday, marry me? xxx'
A huge smile spread over Jack's face as he slipped the ring out of the foam interior and onto his finger. Not just any finger. His wedding finger.
He held his hand up to the light. What before was a normal, grubby teenage hand, now had an eerily shiny glow to it. Or maybe that was just the light behind it, Jack was too happy to care...
'Just thought I'd better let you know, my parents are going house hunting in New York next weekend'
I dropped the phone, she had told me she might be moving away, but I thought it was another of her attention seeking schemes, perhaps this time
it was for real?
And now, here I am. Standing on a bridge over the Thames, throwing my fries from McDonalds' into the murky grey water. A drop fell and made a tiny splash in the river, but it wasn't rain, it was a tear drop. She had gone, flown off into the clouds, never to be seen again. Of course, she had said "We'll keep in touch, we've both got email, and I promise I'll phone every few days" but I knew that wouldn't happen. She'd find another guy, someone to replace me, and then forget about me all together.
Why did she need me anyway? An average youth, spotty, most likely stinking of odours and with two things on his mind, football and sex, neither of which she was particularly interested in at the time.
Zzzzz. Zzzzz. Jack felt his phone vibrate against his leg. He chucked the rest of his chips, along with the packet, into the water and fumbled round in his pocket for his phone.
'Dnt wri m8, she's jst a bird, u'l find sum1 els no probs. l8rz'
Ahhhhh. He didn't understand, no one understood. She was the one, he was sure of it, she was the one he wanted to spend his whole life with.
Even when they had met at the age of thirteen, there had been something there, something that clicked. Something that would never properly un-click.
Jack was furious, surely Dan, his best mate, would know what she meant to him. 'Just a bird'. The words rung through his ears like offensive language at a Royal Buffet.
Jack turned and walked away, walking off towards the city of London, endless streets of the same thing. Shops, restaurants, cafes, pubs, offices, the same wherever you went. Routine. That's what Jack like, a routine. His life had been a routine. He'd had his mates, to have a laugh with, and he'd had Becky, to love. And to be loved in return.
Jack sighed and sunk his hands into his coat pockets, pulling the fronts together to keep out the fresh winter morning. His hand felt something hard in his pocket. That was odd, he normally kept his wallet and phone in the front pockets of his jeans, safer there. He brought out the mysterious object and held it up to a street light. He could make up a little velvet covered box, with a silver button on the front. He pushed the button, and with a 'click' the top sprung open. He pulled away the top half completely and his jaw dropped. Infront of his eyes was a ring, and lodged in the middle of it a piece of paper....
'I'm home at Christmas on holiday, marry me? xxx'
A huge smile spread over Jack's face as he slipped the ring out of the foam interior and onto his finger. Not just any finger. His wedding finger.
He held his hand up to the light. What before was a normal, grubby teenage hand, now had an eerily shiny glow to it. Or maybe that was just the light behind it, Jack was too happy to care...
Easy to read and relate to on many levels. Though I feel the relationship could have been built up a little more, it just seemed to have an easy-going feel to it near the start.
Still good.
Still good.
Cheers guys. Dunno why I wrote it really, just a bit of a 'let's write a story moment'.
I read it back and can see a whole host of mistakes, so I guess I'll give it a once over and try tidy it up a bit.
Thanks all anyway.
I read it back and can see a whole host of mistakes, so I guess I'll give it a once over and try tidy it up a bit.
Thanks all anyway.
I'd like to say I agree with Mav but I didn't understand all of what he said :)
So I'll just say that I enjoyed it. Easy flowing tempo to the story and, as has already been said, instead of the expected "he jumped off the bridge after his chips" type ending a nice twist and little feelgood factor for a change.
So I'll just say that I enjoyed it. Easy flowing tempo to the story and, as has already been said, instead of the expected "he jumped off the bridge after his chips" type ending a nice twist and little feelgood factor for a change.
Ah, catching me out on my generic critical waffle, eh? :)
Well, fair enough. Basically there was no see-sawing of narrative structure or what-have-you (not that this is necessarily a bad thing, though) and the piece had a set, overall tone to it (rooted in the main character's thoughts) - it was well presented as a whole. This isn't always the easiest thing to do and, if managed, gives it all a more accomplished feel, probably being one of the reasons why it kept me reading.
And as for it being free of pretence, well it just seemed to me like an honest piece of writing - no unnecessary exploration of the narrator's psyche, there was humility in the writing, etc. I may be wrong, but that's just the general impression I got.
Well, fair enough. Basically there was no see-sawing of narrative structure or what-have-you (not that this is necessarily a bad thing, though) and the piece had a set, overall tone to it (rooted in the main character's thoughts) - it was well presented as a whole. This isn't always the easiest thing to do and, if managed, gives it all a more accomplished feel, probably being one of the reasons why it kept me reading.
And as for it being free of pretence, well it just seemed to me like an honest piece of writing - no unnecessary exploration of the narrator's psyche, there was humility in the writing, etc. I may be wrong, but that's just the general impression I got.
Mav wrote:
but otherwise your writing seems to
> have a consistent style throughout, free of pretence.
Explain, please.
but otherwise your writing seems to
> have a consistent style throughout, free of pretence.
Explain, please.
I read this last night, and didn't get a chance to comment.
The punctuation and wording is a bit off in places (e.g. comma splicing), and you could perhaps rethink a few cliched phrases (e.g. "his jaw dropped"), but otherwise your writing seems to have a consistent style throughout, free of pretence.
All in all, it managed to keep me reading and I was pleased when it turned away from the teen suicide story for a happy ending.
The punctuation and wording is a bit off in places (e.g. comma splicing), and you could perhaps rethink a few cliched phrases (e.g. "his jaw dropped"), but otherwise your writing seems to have a consistent style throughout, free of pretence.
All in all, it managed to keep me reading and I was pleased when it turned away from the teen suicide story for a happy ending.
It all started one night, while I was babysitting a little boy accross my road. He had been asleep for hours and I was lying in a chair watching tv when i got a text.
'Just thought I'd better let you know, my parents are going house hunting in New York next weekend'
I dropped the phone, she had told me she might be moving away, but I thought it was another of her attention seeking schemes, perhaps this time
it was for real?
And now, here I am. Standing on a bridge over the Thames, throwing my fries from McDonalds' into the murky grey water. A drop fell and made a tiny splash in the river, but it wasn't rain, it was a tear drop. She had gone, flown off into the clouds, never to be seen again. Of course, she had said "We'll keep in touch, we've both got email, and I promise I'll phone every few days" but I knew that wouldn't happen. She'd find another guy, someone to replace me, and then forget about me all together.
Why did she need me anyway? An average youth, spotty, most likely stinking of odours and with two things on his mind, football and sex, neither of which she was particularly interested in at the time.
Zzzzz. Zzzzz. Jack felt his phone vibrate against his leg. He chucked the rest of his chips, along with the packet, into the water and fumbled round in his pocket for his phone.
'Dnt wri m8, she's jst a bird, u'l find sum1 els no probs. l8rz'
Ahhhhh. He didn't understand, no one understood. She was the one, he was sure of it, she was the one he wanted to spend his whole life with.
Even when they had met at the age of thirteen, there had been something there, something that clicked. Something that would never properly un-click.
Jack was furious, surely Dan, his best mate, would know what she meant to him. 'Just a bird'. The words rung through his ears like offensive language at a Royal Buffet.
Jack turned and walked away, walking off towards the city of London, endless streets of the same thing. Shops, restaurants, cafes, pubs, offices, the same wherever you went. Routine. That's what Jack like, a routine. His life had been a routine. He'd had his mates, to have a laugh with, and he'd had Becky, to love. And to be loved in return.
Jack sighed and sunk his hands into his coat pockets, pulling the fronts together to keep out the fresh winter morning. His hand felt something hard in his pocket. That was odd, he normally kept his wallet and phone in the front pockets of his jeans, safer there. He brought out the mysterious object and held it up to a street light. He could make up a little velvet covered box, with a silver button on the front. He pushed the button, and with a 'click' the top sprung open. He pulled away the top half completely and his jaw dropped. Infront of his eyes was a ring, and lodged in the middle of it a piece of paper....
'I'm home at Christmas on holiday, marry me? xxx'
A huge smile spread over Jack's face as he slipped the ring out of the foam interior and onto his finger. Not just any finger. His wedding finger.
He held his hand up to the light. What before was a normal, grubby teenage hand, now had an eerily shiny glow to it. Or maybe that was just the light behind it, Jack was too happy to care...
'Just thought I'd better let you know, my parents are going house hunting in New York next weekend'
I dropped the phone, she had told me she might be moving away, but I thought it was another of her attention seeking schemes, perhaps this time
it was for real?
And now, here I am. Standing on a bridge over the Thames, throwing my fries from McDonalds' into the murky grey water. A drop fell and made a tiny splash in the river, but it wasn't rain, it was a tear drop. She had gone, flown off into the clouds, never to be seen again. Of course, she had said "We'll keep in touch, we've both got email, and I promise I'll phone every few days" but I knew that wouldn't happen. She'd find another guy, someone to replace me, and then forget about me all together.
Why did she need me anyway? An average youth, spotty, most likely stinking of odours and with two things on his mind, football and sex, neither of which she was particularly interested in at the time.
Zzzzz. Zzzzz. Jack felt his phone vibrate against his leg. He chucked the rest of his chips, along with the packet, into the water and fumbled round in his pocket for his phone.
'Dnt wri m8, she's jst a bird, u'l find sum1 els no probs. l8rz'
Ahhhhh. He didn't understand, no one understood. She was the one, he was sure of it, she was the one he wanted to spend his whole life with.
Even when they had met at the age of thirteen, there had been something there, something that clicked. Something that would never properly un-click.
Jack was furious, surely Dan, his best mate, would know what she meant to him. 'Just a bird'. The words rung through his ears like offensive language at a Royal Buffet.
Jack turned and walked away, walking off towards the city of London, endless streets of the same thing. Shops, restaurants, cafes, pubs, offices, the same wherever you went. Routine. That's what Jack like, a routine. His life had been a routine. He'd had his mates, to have a laugh with, and he'd had Becky, to love. And to be loved in return.
Jack sighed and sunk his hands into his coat pockets, pulling the fronts together to keep out the fresh winter morning. His hand felt something hard in his pocket. That was odd, he normally kept his wallet and phone in the front pockets of his jeans, safer there. He brought out the mysterious object and held it up to a street light. He could make up a little velvet covered box, with a silver button on the front. He pushed the button, and with a 'click' the top sprung open. He pulled away the top half completely and his jaw dropped. Infront of his eyes was a ring, and lodged in the middle of it a piece of paper....
'I'm home at Christmas on holiday, marry me? xxx'
A huge smile spread over Jack's face as he slipped the ring out of the foam interior and onto his finger. Not just any finger. His wedding finger.
He held his hand up to the light. What before was a normal, grubby teenage hand, now had an eerily shiny glow to it. Or maybe that was just the light behind it, Jack was too happy to care...