oggy
12-07-2010, 01:17 PM
Could you please comment and give tips on how to improve this story, thanks :D oh, and could you please give me tips on how to develop my characters more effectively.
It was a cold winter’s day in Cardiff; shoppers were scuttling around from shop to shop clinging onto their scarves and woolly hats, noses red from the piercing north wind and their breath rising in steam.
Amidst the Christmas crowds sat a wrinkled old man. He was leaning up against a cold concrete wall clutching a thin rag up to his weak skeletal body. A large black dog lay next to him, its head resting on his lap. Its eyes would follow passersby, looking dully into their blank faces. The old man stared longingly at them, jealous not of the expensive clothes but of how none them were alone.
No one even hazarded a glance at him, the ones that did would turn away in shame, somehow embarrassed by how unfortunate he was. Others would chuck a couple of coins onto his lap, maybe give the dog a pat and then just walk away, not a word spoken.
Leaving Earnest & Young (a small jewellers), Simon thought it was probably the coldest day of the year and was glad that he had remembered his coat. He was in his fifties, had short grey hair and a well trimmed beard. Sat on his long thin nose was a pair of designer glasses and on his wrist a shiny Rolex watch. Clutched in his hand was a long, thin black box containing an eighteen carat gold necklace, a Christmas present for his wife. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a wrinkled old man in a pitiful bundle of rags; he looked very thin and somewhat familiar.
The old man raised his head to look at Simon which was followed by a moment of recognition. Simon froze a look of shock upon his face. He of course knew the man, as soon as he saw those piercingly blue eyes and his large crooked nose. “Alan?” said Simon approaching him. Alan’s eyes met Simon’s, his face breaking out into a wide smile, causing at least ten years to just fall off his deeply lined face.
“It’s good to see you” he said getting to his feet and wringing Simon’s hand, he was surprisingly tall.
“How long has it been since we last saw each other?” asked Simon, a small smile playing on his face.
“Twenty eight years” Alan answered quickly, still grinning widely
“How have you been?”
The grin faded from Alan’s face “I know what you are wondering, how I ended up here” he sighed deeply “It’s because after what we went through, I had a lot of difficulty recovering. I just couldn’t take it any longer” Out of the pocket of his faded green trousers, he produced a pack of cigarettes and a silver Zippo lighter. “I kept having these flashbacks, of that day, do you remember?” He shook his head a sad look on his face “I went to see a shrink after a couple of weeks, he said that I had something called Post-traumatic stress disorder and gave me some pills” He lit a cigarette “but I find that smoking helps more” he gave a soft, nervous laugh.
“What happened then?” asked Simon looking at his old friend with pity in his eyes
Alan stood there in silence, taking a few drags from his cigarette before answering “Gambling, bled me dry, didn’t have two pennies to rub together”. The two men stood there in silence, as if no time at all had passed since the last time they had been together on HMS Sheffield. The sun slowly set casting them in darkness as the few remaining shoppers slowly made their ways home.
“I never got to thank you properly” said Simon
“What for?” asked Alan curiously
“Saving my life” Simon crouched down and lifted up his trouser leg, revealing a long metal pole attached to a stump just below his kneecap, the remains of an explosion in the Falklands War. Alan looked at it thoughtfully and asked “Do you want to meet up sometime?” Simon lowered his trouser leg.
“Here” said Simon passing a card over to Alan “That’s got my number and address on it, come over when you have got a chance. We can have a proper chat then” Alan smiled and took the card
“Have a good Christmas, and, thank you for everything” called Alan as he watched his old friend walk off down the street and disappear around a corner. Sitting down Alan pulled his small rag over his thin legs and gave his dog a good pat on the head.
It was a cold winter’s day in Cardiff; shoppers were scuttling around from shop to shop clinging onto their scarves and woolly hats, noses red from the piercing north wind and their breath rising in steam.
Amidst the Christmas crowds sat a wrinkled old man. He was leaning up against a cold concrete wall clutching a thin rag up to his weak skeletal body. A large black dog lay next to him, its head resting on his lap. Its eyes would follow passersby, looking dully into their blank faces. The old man stared longingly at them, jealous not of the expensive clothes but of how none them were alone.
No one even hazarded a glance at him, the ones that did would turn away in shame, somehow embarrassed by how unfortunate he was. Others would chuck a couple of coins onto his lap, maybe give the dog a pat and then just walk away, not a word spoken.
Leaving Earnest & Young (a small jewellers), Simon thought it was probably the coldest day of the year and was glad that he had remembered his coat. He was in his fifties, had short grey hair and a well trimmed beard. Sat on his long thin nose was a pair of designer glasses and on his wrist a shiny Rolex watch. Clutched in his hand was a long, thin black box containing an eighteen carat gold necklace, a Christmas present for his wife. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a wrinkled old man in a pitiful bundle of rags; he looked very thin and somewhat familiar.
The old man raised his head to look at Simon which was followed by a moment of recognition. Simon froze a look of shock upon his face. He of course knew the man, as soon as he saw those piercingly blue eyes and his large crooked nose. “Alan?” said Simon approaching him. Alan’s eyes met Simon’s, his face breaking out into a wide smile, causing at least ten years to just fall off his deeply lined face.
“It’s good to see you” he said getting to his feet and wringing Simon’s hand, he was surprisingly tall.
“How long has it been since we last saw each other?” asked Simon, a small smile playing on his face.
“Twenty eight years” Alan answered quickly, still grinning widely
“How have you been?”
The grin faded from Alan’s face “I know what you are wondering, how I ended up here” he sighed deeply “It’s because after what we went through, I had a lot of difficulty recovering. I just couldn’t take it any longer” Out of the pocket of his faded green trousers, he produced a pack of cigarettes and a silver Zippo lighter. “I kept having these flashbacks, of that day, do you remember?” He shook his head a sad look on his face “I went to see a shrink after a couple of weeks, he said that I had something called Post-traumatic stress disorder and gave me some pills” He lit a cigarette “but I find that smoking helps more” he gave a soft, nervous laugh.
“What happened then?” asked Simon looking at his old friend with pity in his eyes
Alan stood there in silence, taking a few drags from his cigarette before answering “Gambling, bled me dry, didn’t have two pennies to rub together”. The two men stood there in silence, as if no time at all had passed since the last time they had been together on HMS Sheffield. The sun slowly set casting them in darkness as the few remaining shoppers slowly made their ways home.
“I never got to thank you properly” said Simon
“What for?” asked Alan curiously
“Saving my life” Simon crouched down and lifted up his trouser leg, revealing a long metal pole attached to a stump just below his kneecap, the remains of an explosion in the Falklands War. Alan looked at it thoughtfully and asked “Do you want to meet up sometime?” Simon lowered his trouser leg.
“Here” said Simon passing a card over to Alan “That’s got my number and address on it, come over when you have got a chance. We can have a proper chat then” Alan smiled and took the card
“Have a good Christmas, and, thank you for everything” called Alan as he watched his old friend walk off down the street and disappear around a corner. Sitting down Alan pulled his small rag over his thin legs and gave his dog a good pat on the head.