Disappear

[rabid reader]

I worte this about 4 years ago and summitted for the short story contest almost 2 years ago this month and it was the only one I ever got votes on so I consider it one of my better stories. I hope you all enjoy it.


Disappear

The wind howled in the storm, as Julie stared out her bedroom window. As the rain came down with such anger and misery, the window weakened, and began to crack.

Julie’s face was blank, her expression lost in the blackened expression she saw in her cracked stormy mirror. Her soul trapped in a reality no six-year-old should experience.

“Damn it Darla!” her father yelled, from the kitchen, “If you want the damn sink fixed, then I hope you don’t want the mortgage paid!” A gust of wind pounded the window.

Her parents had been yelling for hours. Julie’s mom had drank a little too much and like usual started some drama that she seemed to enjoy. “Oh, Trevor why don’t you love me?” she would say and he would response, “You know I love you.” and then she would raise some irrelevant point that would have nothing to do with love. Today it was the broken sink, yesterday it was the daycare payments for Julie’s brother Todd.

Of course Julie held no animosity toward her caring mother, who went to school and talked to the teachers. She feed her the most delicious foods and held all the knowledge Julie’s curious heart desired.

“Then let me work Trevor!” the yelling from the kitchen ensued.

“Jesus Christ!” Julie could hear her father’s fist slam on the table, forcing the crack in her window in a second direction. “I have told you, no wife of mine will ever work.” Lightning struck passed Julie’s window. The dark reflection of her pink bedroom lit up to reveal something that had been hidden in the shadows.

It was a figure that laid in Julie’s bed, a dark tattered looking creature, who’s skin was of a dirty grey and eyes black holes that to draw every essences and emotion from those who look upon them. Julie starred at the figure, she did not feel fear she was not even startled. She felt nothing as she stared at the creature who had taken form in her bed.

‘Hate’ the creature spoke in what seemed a voice of gasping air, ‘You hate their yelling. You hate their fighting. Right now you hate them don’t you?’

“Who are you?” Julie quizzed the mysterious creature before her.

“Shut up you misogynistic prick” the yelling continued.

‘I am your muse Julie’ the creature spoke, ‘I am Mneme.” A gust of wind shot a crack straight down the middle of the window.

“What do you want?” Julie asked, still no emotions stirred.

“If wanting to treat you as a goddesses is misogynistic, then fine I am a misogynist.” the yelling continued.

‘I want to inspire your soul, little one. I want to put you in the stars.’ Mneme stood up from the bed, and waved her hand. Julie turned to look out her storm torn window, but all she saw was a Lillie covered meadow.

Julie heard in the distance her mother scream, and the window brake, but all she did was walk into the meadow and dance. She felt nothing but the need to dance.


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

“Julie, it’s dinner time!” Julie’s mother yelled up the stairs, to beckon the daughter she did not know. Julie didn’t come. This came of no surprise her mother, Julie was probably in one of her trances again and cannot hear her.

Julie’s mother trekked up the hall decorated with various awards and plaques, “Most Promising Author, Random House Publishing”, “Most Provocative Modern Tragedy Writer, Mnene Foundation”. The hall stood more as a timeline of the 17 year-old Julie Aoide’s life, then a household hall.

Julie’s mother opened the door, to Julie’s empty room, and asked Mneme to please return her from the meadow.

[Beautifull]

OOKAY! this was a good story, until you lost me at the end...but your writing is very good, and you had me caught at the very beginning! keep up the good work!:D

[JacobF]

I worte this about 4 years ago and summitted for the short story contest almost 2 years ago this month and it was the only one I ever got votes on so I consider it one of my better stories. I hope you all enjoy it.


Disappear

The wind howled in the storm, (comma splice) as Julie stared out her bedroom window. As the rain came down with such (unnecessary) anger and misery, the window weakened, (comma splice) and began to crack. (Why would it all of a sudden begin to crack?)

Julie’s face was blank, her expression lost in the blackened expression she saw in her cracked stormy mirror (awkward sentence, not to mention I don't know what you mean by 'cracked stormy mirror.' are you referring to the window?). Her soul trapped in a reality no six-year-old should experience. (don't know what 'reality' you're referring to. that sentence just alienates the reader.)

“Damn it Darla!” Her (you should begin with a capital even after dialog following a question/exclamation mark or period) father yelled, from the kitchen, “If you want the damn sink fixed, then I hope you don’t want the mortgage paid!” A gust of wind pounded the window.

Her parents had been yelling for hours. Julie’s mom had drank a little too much and like usual started some drama that she seemed to enjoy. “Oh, Trevor why don’t you love me?” she would say and he would respond, “You know I love you.” And then she would raise some irrelevant point that would have nothing to do with love. Today it was the broken sink, yesterday it was the daycare payments for Julie’s brother Todd.

Of course Julie held no animosity toward her caring mother (doesn't seem so caring, considering her apparent alcoholism and senseless instigating), who went to school and talked to the teachers. She fed her the most delicious foods and held all the knowledge Julie’s curious heart desired.

“Then let me work Trevor!” the yelling from the kitchen ensued. (when you jump between time periods so much, it gets confusing)

“Jesus Christ!” Julie could hear her father’s fist slam on the table (how does she know its his fist, and on the table, if she's up in her room?) , forcing the crack in her window in a second direction (don't know what you mean by 'forcing the crack in her window a second direction.' and this seems to be a pretty fragile window; first it was broken by the rain, then the slamming of a fist from one story down). “I have told you, no wife of mine will ever work.” Lightning struck passed Julie’s window. The dark reflection of her pink bedroom (doesn't make sense. her entire bedroom is being reflected? on what?) lit up to reveal something that had been hidden in the shadows.

It was a figure that lay in Julie’s bed, a dark tattered looking creature, who’s skin was of a dirty grey and eyes black holes that to draw every essences and emotion from those who look upon them (problematic sentence structure, and 'every essences and emotion' is too melodramatic, especially since we barely know what this dark figure is.). Julie stared at the figure. She did not feel fear and she was not even startled. She felt nothing as she stared at the creature who had taken form in her bed.

‘Hate’ the creature spoke in what seemed a voice of gasping air, ‘You hate their yelling. You hate their fighting. Right now you hate them don’t you?’

“Who are you?” Julie quizzed the mysterious creature before her. (you don't need to say she quizzed the creature. the reader interpreted that when she asked 'who are you')

“Shut up you misogynistic prick,” the yelling continued.

‘I am your muse Julie’ the creature spoke, ‘I am Mneme.” A gust of wind shot a crack straight down the middle of the window. (again, unless it's a hurricane, wind doesn't break windows).

“What do you want?” Julie asked, still no emotions stirred.

“If wanting to treat you as a goddesses is misogynistic, then fine I am a misogynist.” The yelling continued.

‘I want to inspire your soul, little one. I want to put you in the stars.’ Mneme stood up from the bed, and waved her hand. Julie turned to look out her storm torn window, but all she saw was a Lillie covered meadow.

Julie heard in the distance (you've established, many times, that the parents are downstairs. you don't need to say 'in the distance.' it's just empty baggage.) her mother scream, and the window brake, but all she did was walk into the meadow and dance. She felt nothing but the need to dance. (so all of a sudden she 'walks into the meadow?' she doesn't walk downstairs or out the door? there's a break between the action there you need to mend)


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

“Julie, it’s dinner time!” Julie’s mother yelled up the stairs, to beckon the daughter she did not know (she doesn't know her? I thought she was, apparently, a caring mother.). Julie didn’t come. This came of no surprise her mother, Julie was probably in one of her trances again and could not hear her.

Julie’s mother trekked up the hall decorated with various awards and plaques, “Most Promising Author, Random House Publishing”, “Most Provocative Modern Tragedy Writer, Mnene Foundation”. The hall stood more as a timeline of the 17 year-old Julie Aoide’s life, than a household hall. (what? I thought you said Julie was six...)

Julie’s mother opened the door, to Julie’s empty room, and asked Mneme to please return her from the meadow.

Don't take any of this personally, but your story was rife with technical and plot problems, and parts of it just didn't make sense (e.g. how the window broke, how Julie suddenly appeared in the meadow, and who Mneme is.) I suggest you read more short stories to see how other authors approach the craft. And as tempting as they are, avoid nonsensical endings and sudden "twists" (the Mneme thing) that leave the reader flabbergasted. If you want to write a surreal story it still has to make sense and have some sense of progression.

PS: It's nice to see someone else from Ontario.

[Beautifull]

Don't take any of this personally, but your story was rife with technical and plot problems, and parts of it just didn't make sense (e.g. how the window broke, how Julie suddenly appeared in the meadow, and who Mneme is.) I suggest you read more short stories to see how other authors approach the craft. And as tempting as they are, avoid nonsensical endings and sudden "twists" (the Mneme thing) that leave the reader flabbergasted. If you want to write a surreal story it still has to make sense and have some sense of progression.

wow...can you proofread my stories? :lol:

[JacobF]

wow...can you proofread my stories? :lol:

Sure. Just point me in the right direction.

[Beautifull]

Sure. Just point me in the right direction.

oh, it's in my blog, just click the 18 number by my avatar and you're there...though what i have is still in progress...the last one is my first entry.

[JacobF]

oh, it's in my blog, just click the 18 number by my avatar and you're there...though what i have is still in progress...the last one is my first entry.

You mean the entry with chapter 4? I can go through it if you want, but if it's a chapter of a novel I doubt I'm going to be able to follow it.

[Beautifull]

You mean the entry with chapter 4? I can go through it if you want, but if it's a chapter of a novel I doubt I'm going to be able to follow it.

okay...well try the very last entry...it's called A Little Excerpt...(idk if i spelled correctly...

[rabid reader]

Don't take any of this personally, but your story was rife with technical and plot problems, and parts of it just didn't make sense (e.g. how the window broke, how Julie suddenly appeared in the meadow, and who Mneme is.) I suggest you read more short stories to see how other authors approach the craft. And as tempting as they are, avoid nonsensical endings and sudden "twists" (the Mneme thing) that leave the reader flabbergasted. If you want to write a surreal story it still has to make sense and have some sense of progression.

PS: It's nice to see someone else from Ontario.

thanks for the words of advise. I never meant to make it have any sorts of twists I was just trying to discribe my own personal experince with isolation and detachment with my relationship with my parents, whilst still maintaining a sort of simplistic whimsy about it. The window in reality does not brake, I cannot fully say there is a real window. The mother is caring but no matter how caring you are if your child is detached then you never really know who they are or what they think. Mneme is nothing but a person of Julie the artist, but I mustn't have been effective in portraying her.

In the end what I think I was trying to depict was a place of refuge where they can be left to their thoughts, Julies was a meadow through a broken window, I have a stream in a bedroom.

[rabid reader]

OOKAY! this was a good story, until you lost me at the end...but your writing is very good, and you had me caught at the very beginning! keep up the good work!:D

Thanks for the kind words.

[Beautifull]

your welcome and keep on writing!

[Maximilianus]

Don't take any of this personally, but your story was rife with technical and plot problems, and parts of it just didn't make sense (e.g. how the window broke, how Julie suddenly appeared in the meadow, and who Mneme is.) I suggest you read more short stories to see how other authors approach the craft. And as tempting as they are, avoid nonsensical endings and sudden "twists" (the Mneme thing) that leave the reader flabbergasted. If you want to write a surreal story it still has to make sense and have some sense of progression.

PS: It's nice to see someone else from Ontario.

Just a humble opinion of mine. I don't really believe a story should be explained in every detailed, and I don't really mind being left a little flabbergasted. It would be just fine if you wanted to make an exact account of events, let's say for a court case, but I don't think it's really compulsory to fill in the gaps of every plot, especially when we want to give some mystery to it, or thrill, or ... whatever you want to call it. What's wrong with letting the reader fill in some gaps anyway, everyone with their own imagination? I think it's an interesting resource to make the reader's brains burn a few ideas.

I liked the story very much rabid. Thank you for sharing your feelings with us. :thumbs_up

[Maximilianus]

...it's called A Little Excerpt...(idk if i spelled correctly...

You did, beaut ;)

[Beautifull]

You did, beaut ;)

thx...excerpt just looked weird...

[JacobF]

Just a humble opinion of mine. I don't really believe a story should be explained in every detailed, and I don't really mind being left a little flabbergasted. It would be just fine if you wanted to make an exact account of events, let's say for a court case, but I don't think it's really compulsory to fill in the gaps of every plot, especially when we want to give some mystery to it, or thrill, or ... whatever you want to call it. What's wrong with letting the reader fill in some gaps anyway, everyone with their own imagination? I think it's an interesting resource to make the reader's brains burn a few ideas.


Well, of course a story shouldn't be explained in every scrutinizing detail. The writer should ideally "show the reader the smoke and let the reader find the fire," to quote an author whose name I now forget.

But I didn't say anything about "an exact account of events." I was referring to unloading strings of plot with no explanation and expecting the reader to digest it. We're talking about a story -- it has to follow a logical order of events whether it's realistic or fantasy or horror. Again, there's nothing wrong with gaps, as long as they can be filled by the reader, and the writer provides a basis for those gaps to be filled. To give a scenario: an angry husband discovers his wife is cheating on him, and we know he's a violent person. Then the wife goes home one night and four days later her friends and colleagues haven't heard from her since. The reader can fill the gap that the husband most likely killed her based on facts from the story, therefore the reader has used their imagination to come to a conclusion and is satisfied with the story (unless it's badly written).

Now, imagine that we don't know the wife is cheating on the husband, and we don't know that the husband has a violent temperament, but the same event happens: she disappears for four days. There aren't enough facts to come to a real conclusion; maybe she went on vacation, maybe she's sick, but there's no foundation to base any of those thoughts on. So the reader can simply guess what happened to the wife, using their same imagination, but it's not really much fun anymore is it? It's like thinking about why the chicken crossed the road.

[Maximilianus]

Well, of course a story shouldn't be explained in every scrutinizing detail. The writer should ideally "show the reader the smoke and let the reader find the fire," to quote an author whose name I now forget.

But I didn't say anything about "an exact account of events." I was referring to unloading strings of plot with no explanation and expecting the reader to digest it. We're talking about a story -- it has to follow a logical order of events whether it's realistic or fantasy or horror. Again, there's nothing wrong with gaps, as long as they can be filled by the reader, and the writer provides a basis for those gaps to be filled. To give a scenario: an angry husband discovers his wife is cheating on him, and we know he's a violent person. Then the wife goes home one night and four days later her friends and colleagues haven't heard from her since. The reader can fill the gap that the husband most likely killed her based on facts from the story, therefore the reader has used their imagination to come to a conclusion and is satisfied with the story (unless it's badly written).

Now, imagine that we don't know the wife is cheating on the husband, and we don't know that the husband has a violent temperament, but the same event happens: she disappears for four days. There aren't enough facts to come to a real conclusion; maybe she went on vacation, maybe she's sick, but there's no foundation to base any of those thoughts on. So the reader can simply guess what happened to the wife, using their same imagination, but it's not really much fun anymore is it? It's like thinking about why the chicken crossed the road.

Hmm... I seem to catch what you mean, Jacob. I'll pay it a careful thought :)