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Indian Boy
05-27-2009, 08:38 PM
This is my first time sharing a story with the board. I hope to get some feedback on it. By all means, if you don't like it, please let me know what I can do to improve it. Thanks in advance to anyone who throws me a comment.


Letting Go

Because that was the spot where it all happened. Right there on that very beach, in front of those crashing waves, right on that very same blanket of sand, in the presence of those rocks that smelled of salt and agelessness, that’s where he’d fallen in love with her, that’s where he held her in his arms, embraced her soul and kissed her forever. That’s where he felt life was perfect and long and happy. That is why he’d returned.
Jake’s life was over now—at least that’s the way he felt deep inside. The love of his life, Melinda Travis, had left him for another man. His name is Rich Pierson, and he’s a financial analyst and he’s going places. That’s what Melinda had said to him the night she broke up with him over the telephone. Jake will never forget how her voice rambled on and on through the impersonal receiver about how she needed to be with someone with stability, as though Jake himself was an unfit wandering sheepherder from another continent. And so just like, with a quick goodbye and a click of the phone, Melinda was gone. She went one way while Jake was sent the other. Jake had never loved anybody the way he loved Melinda. Deep love, the kind that burns your insides and makes you feel like you’d do anything for that special other person. In October, when they first met, Jake fixed the brakes on her Jeep. I just wanna make sure you’re safe. That’s what he said while he was rubbing the grease off his hands with a rag. Then in November when she moved into her new apartment Jake not only moved all of her furniture into the apartment but he painted each and every wall too. I’d do anything for you, Melinda, even paint your apartment.
It was her smile that he fell I love most of all. Not her clear blue eyes, or her long blonde hair that never seemed to stop blowing in the wind. Not her soft skin, smooth as silk. Not even her laugh that could light up a room. It was that perfect smile, white and straight, like a mini piano keyboard. Perfect.
By mid-December Jake knew Melinda was the one. He simply couldn’t imagine growing old without her. He walked into the downtown jewelry store and bought the most fancy diamond ring he could find, one that sparkled like a disco ball in the glass cabinet. That’s the one, put it on the card, Jake told the jeweler who smiled and did as he was told.
Jake waited until May to pop the question. He wanted the weather to be warm, the sun to shine down on them just right, he wanted the sea to bare witness to such a sanctimonious moment of love. He held her hand as they walked along the edge of the sand, just close enough so that the final stretch of each wave slid up along the sand and fell beneath their bare feet. Will you marry me, he whispered into her ear. She cried. So did he. The waves crashed out along the break and she nodded her head up and down and everything was perfect.
But all that was before Rich Pierson, Mr. Bigshot financial analyst came into the picture and stole Melinda’s love away like it was some sleazy company stock deal. Now Jake was completely alone and he was sad and hurt and angry all at once. Memories of that wonderful smile plagued him throughout the days and kept him from moving forward with his life, but there was no solace for Jake, no peace, nothing to comfort him. When his friends called he let the machine do all his talking. This is Jake. I’m not home right now, leave a message. Beep. But everything must end eventually, and Jake thought that his depression had gone on long enough, It too was due for an end. That’s why he’d returned to that familiar seashore that day—to put closure on the whole thing—to once and for all let Melinda Travis out of his life.
Jake strolled along the sand for a very long time, watching as the waves crashed out along the break beneath a golden sunset. Occasionally he’d lean awkwardly and skip a flat stone off the big sea and watch as it hopped along the surface several times as though it were alive before plopping into the water for good. Inside Jake’s heart was still hurting and the images of Melinda and her smile continued to run loops his mind, but something about being near the seashore, listening to the herring gulls dancing in the wind, it was all making him feel a little better. This, he thought, is the end of feeling bad about myself. Tomorrow is a new day.
That’s when he saw Melinda Travis twenty yards in front of him kissing some fancy pants man with a mustache. The man was tall, dark skinned, and of course handsome. He was dressed in fancy clothes, a nice baby blue button up shirt, grey slacks rolled up to his ankles, his bare feet submerged in the water. Melinda looked so very happy in his masculine arms. The image looked like something out of a Calvin Klein ad for cologne and it made Jake sick.
You ****ing ****! That’s what Jake yelled as he stormed up to the romantic couple. I loved you! This was our spot! Our beach! How could you come here with him! A cold wave poured over Jake’s shoes but he didn’t care.
Uh, pardon me but I don’t think that sort of language is appropriate in front of the lady, said Rich Pierson, his tone sophisticated and direct.
**** you.
Go away, Jake. It’s over. Has been for months. Deal with it. Melinda could be so blunt and cruel at times.
That was the moment when Rich Pierson tried to be a gentleman. It was obvious that he’d been raised a special kind of way, a sophisticated way, a way that taught him to take the higher road in these types of situations—so he offered a polite handshake to Jake.
But Jake had never learned that sort of thing growing up. He hadn’t attended the prestigious university, he hadn’t been raised with silverware lined up in front of him and gentle talks of the stock market or politics. So Jake reacted in his own way and socked Rich Pierson in the jaw.
Melinda screamed as her financial analyst lover dropped down into the sea. He’d never been clocked before and he was out cold as the next wave crashed upon his sleeping face. When Melinda knelt down to aid her unconscious bow, Jake finally snapped at the sight. He reached down and grabbed a softball-sized rock out of the wet sand. It was oval shaped and dark and wet and he gripped it tightly and used it to bash Melinda off the side of her head. Her head split wide open and the red stuff poured out of the gash into the sea like Hawaiian Punch. She was dazed but not for long as Jake bashed her again and again in the face until her sparkly white teeth were gone, replaced by barren gums and a mouth full of that punch stuff. Her eyes were closed. Her body lay still under the rolling waves, as did Rich Pierson’s. Jake looked down at what he’d done and for the first time in a long time he felt a sense of happiness and comfort. Melinda Travis’s smile was history. From this point forward, thought Jake, I have a new image to remember. And he looked down at the sight in front of him, and that was it.
Jake walked back down the beach and got into his car and sat there for a while watching the sea gulls floating in the wind. He stared out at the sea one final time before turning the key and heading home. This, he thought, was a good day.

Indian Boy
05-29-2009, 03:39 PM
I noticed that 25 people have viewed my story but not one has left a comment, positive or negative. I must say that this is not doing a whole lot to boost my self-esteem right now. Doesn't anybody have any comments?

JacobF
05-29-2009, 06:07 PM
It had a very strong introduction which kept me enticed, which is good, because I'm not particularly fond of romance stories.

But it gets a little shaky in the middle with the cliche descriptions. "long blonde hair," "blue eyes," "burning love," "perfect smile" -- heard those a million times before. However, you still did a good job of keeping me intrigued, which shows the story has potential.

Then it all begins of falls apart when you decide to place Melinda and the financial analyst at the beach together. It was just too big of a coincidence and tells me that you must have run out of ideas. Then Jake -- a seemingly nice guy who just wanted his girlfriend back -- kills her? I accepted the punch in the face to the boyfriend, but why the hell would he kill Melinda? The ending doesn't fit the character of Jake at all, and it was too much to digest. Honestly, the ending ruined the story for me.

So take this as you will, but I would strongly recommend fixing the ending, which at the moment doesn't make any sense.

Indian Boy
05-29-2009, 07:30 PM
JacobF, thanks for the comments. After reading them I went back and looked at my writing. I think you are absolutely correct. I used too many cliche phrases. I just never really noticed them before. Also, I can see your point that the end falls apart but for some reason I like to end my stories a little bizarre. But I appreciate the comments, so thanks again.

JacobF
05-29-2009, 10:35 PM
JacobF, thanks for the comments. After reading them I went back and looked at my writing. I think you are absolutely correct. I used too many cliche phrases. I just never really noticed them before. Also, I can see your point that the end falls apart but for some reason I like to end my stories a little bizarre. But I appreciate the comments, so thanks again.

There's nothing wrong with being bizarre or surreal or creepy or whatever atmosphere you desire to project in your writing. But make it consistent throughout the whole story.

As for the cliches, I have the exact same problem. I usually don't catch them until I read my stories for the second or third time. But recognizing cliches, eliminating them, and simply preventing them altogether will come with practice.

Indian Boy
05-30-2009, 01:46 PM
JacobF, again I'd like to thank you for your comments. I've made some adjustments in my story to eliminate the cliches and also to structure it a little better so that the end is not a total shock that makes no sense. If you or anybody else get an opportunity I'd really appreciate it if you could read this draft and again throw out some comments either way. thanks again.



Letting Go

Because that was the spot where it all happened. Right there on that very beach, in front of those crashing waves, right on that very same blanket of sand, in the presence of those rocks that smelled of salt and agelessness, that’s where he’d fallen in love with her, that’s where he held her in his arms, embraced her soul and kissed her forever. That’s where he felt life was perfect and long and happy. That is why he’d returned.
Jake’s life was over now—at least that’s the way he felt deep inside. The love of his life, Melinda Travis, had left him for another man. His name is Rich Pierson, and he’s a financial analyst and he’s going places. That’s what Melinda had said to him the night she broke up with him over the telephone. Jake will never forget how her voice, emotionless and stale, rambled on and on through the impersonal receiver about how she needed to be with someone with stability, someone who could manage his temper. Jake stood in his kitchen hollering back into the phone. I’m going places too God damn it! I don’t have any anger management issues! I’ll show you anger manage—Click. And so just like that, with the click of the phone, Melinda was gone. No goodbye. Just a click. She went one way while Jake was sent the other.
Jake had never loved anybody the way he loved Melinda. Deep love, the kind that burns your insides and makes you feel like you’d do anything in the world for that special other person. In October, when they first met, Jake fixed the brakes on her Jeep. I just wanna make sure you’re safe. That’s what he said while he was scraping the grease off his hands with a rag. Then in November when she moved into her new apartment Jake not only moved all of her furniture into the apartment but he painted each and every wall too. I’d do anything for you, Melinda, I want you to know that.
It was her smile that he fell in love most of all. Not her sea green eyes that never fell sad or her dirty blonde hair that never seemed to stop blowing in the wind. Not the soft touch of her hand upon is cheek in the mornings or at night. Not even her laugh that could make even the dullest party burst into cheerfulness. It was that perfect smile, white and straight, like a mini piano keyboard. Perfect.
By mid-December Jake knew Melinda was the one. He simply couldn’t imagine growing old without her. He walked into the downtown jewelry store and bought the most fancy diamond ring he could find, one that sparkled like a disco ball in the glass cabinet. That’s the one, put it on the card, Jake told the jeweler who smiled and did as he was told.
Jake waited until May to pop the question. He wanted the weather to be warm, the sun to shine down on them just right, he wanted the sea to have a certain springtime calmness to it. He held her hand as they walked along the edge of the sand, just close enough to the sea so that the final stretch of each wave slid up along the sand and fell beneath their bare feet. Will you marry me, he whispered into her ear and for the first time Jake saw tears in those sea green eyes of hers. Tears filled his eyes as well and they stared at each other for a long time. The waves crashed out along the break and she nodded her head up and down and they embraced and they kissed. We can get married next October, on our anniversary, Jake said and she thought it was a great idea. Then they spoke about a romantic honeymoon in Mexico, a country both of them had always dreamed of visiting. We can sleep late and lie on the beach all day, and then dance all night under the stars. It will be the most wonderful time of our lives, in Mexico. Jake’s heart warmed and he smiled as he listened to Melinda talk about such things. Life was going to be perfect.
But all that was before Rich Pierson, Mr. Bigshot financial analyst came into the picture and stole Melinda’s love away like it was some sleazy company stock deal. Now Jake was completely alone and he was hopeless and hurt and angry all at once. Memories of that wonderful smile plagued him throughout the days and kept him from moving forward with his life. There was no solace for Jake, no peace, nothing to comfort him from the pain. When his friends called he let the machine do all his talking. This is Jake. I’m not home right now, leave a message. Beep. The voices always said the same thing. Jake, hey buddy, haven’t heard from you in a while. Hope everything’s ok. Gimme a call sometime. Finally Jake had enough. He grabbed the answering machine and smashed it off the wall into a thousand pieces. Jake’s seclusion went on for weeks until his face was dark with stubble and his breath reeked of booze and many things in his apartment had been smashed. But everything must come to an end, and one afternoon Jake woke up, drank a cup of coffee, stared out at the day and finally thought to himself that his depression and all this anger had gone on long enough. That’s why he’d returned to that familiar seashore that day—to put closure on the whole thing—to once and for all let Melinda Travis out of his life.
Jake strolled along the sand for a very long time, watching as the waves crashed out along the break beneath a fluorescent sunset. Occasionally he’d lean awkwardly and skip a flat stone off the big sea and watch as it hopped along the surface several times as though it were alive before plopping into the water for good. Inside Jake’s heart was still hurting and the images of Melinda and her smile continued to run loops in his mind, but something about being near the seashore, listening to the herring gulls dancing in the wind, it was making him feel a little better. This, he thought, is the end of feeling bad about myself. This is the end of all this anger. Tomorrow is a new day.
That’s when he saw Melinda Travis twenty yards in front of him kissing some fancy pants man with a dark mustache. The man was tall, dark skinned, and of course handsome. He was dressed in ritzy clothes, a baby blue button up shirt that must have cost a regular fella’s paycheck, grey slacks rolled up to his ankles, his bare feet submerged in the water, a gold watch around his wrist to match the sunset. After their kiss Melinda tilted her head back and laughed. She looked so very happy in his masculine arms. The entire image looked like something straight out of a Calvin Klein ad for cologne, it made Jake sick.
You ****ing ****! That’s what Jake yelled as he stormed up to the romantic couple. I loved you! This was our spot! Our beach! How could you come here with him! You’re a whore! A cold wave poured over Jake’s shoes but he didn’t care.
Uh, pardon me but I don’t think that sort of language is appropriate in front of the lady, said Rich Pierson, his tone sophisticated and direct.
**** you.
Go away, Jake. It’s over. Has been for months. Deal with it. Melinda could be so blunt, so cruel at times.
That was the moment when Rich Pierson tried to be a gentleman. It was obvious that he’d been raised a special kind of way, a sophisticated way, a way that taught him to take the higher road in these types of situations—so he offered a polite handshake to Jake.
But Jake had never learned that sort of thing growing up. He hadn’t attended the prestigious university, he hadn’t been raised with silverware lined up in front of him or gentle talks of the stock market or politics. So Jake reacted in his own way and socked Rich Pierson in the jaw.
Melinda screamed as her lover dropped down into the sea. He’d never been clocked before and he was out cold as the next wave approached and crashed upon his sleeping face. Melinda knelt down to aid her unconscious darling and she began weeping, baby are you ok, wake up. This sight caused Jake to finally snap. He reached down and grabbed a softball-sized rock out of the wet sand. It was oval shaped and dark and wet and he gripped it tightly and used it to bash Melinda off the side of her head. Her head split wide open and the red stuff poured out of the gash into the sea like Hawaiian Punch. She was dazed but not for long as Jake knelt down and bashed her again and again in the face until her sparkly white teeth were gone, replaced by barren gums and a mouth full of that red punch stuff. Her eyes were closed. Her body lay still like a mannequin under the rolling waves, as did Rich Pierson’s. Jake looked down at what he’d done and for the first time in a long time he felt a sense of happiness and comfort. Melinda Travis’s smile was history. From this point forward, thought Jake, I have a new image to remember. And he looked down at the sight in front of him, and that was it.
Jake walked back down the beach looking over his shoulder to make sure no one had seen what he’d done. When he got back to his car he relaxed and sat there for a while watching through the windshield as the sea gulls continued floating in the wind, always floating like they had no where to go. He stared out at the sea one final time before turning the key and heading towards Mexico. This, he thought, was a good day.

miyako73
05-30-2009, 08:03 PM
A generic phrase or word for a title is weak. Letting Go, Forgeting, Remembering and the likes are some of the examples that are best used in the body of the story.