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Literature Text
I used to have a pretty glittering white house until a mudslide splattered it with hideous lines of sorrow and loss. He was the first to walk by and notice with a smooth "Hey" and a glossy "What the heck happened to your home?" with fingers brushing softly against the cracks. His compassion begged to help me repair it but I reassured him that someone else was coming.
That someone showed his existence even less than the cicadas deep in the soil that year. I never had to ask the man for his assistance. Instead, I came home to find him sweating and screwing things, panting and painting things, every afternoon. When our eyes met for the first time, he split open my trust like a peanut and passed its dryness past his moist lips. I rumbled throughout his insides.
Before the slide, I gardened every single day at the exact hour when I could look the sun in the eye and feel its smile rip across the sky. It painted the air opal and amethyst while I sprinkled the earth with flurries of rubies and emeralds. Every brush of a petal rubbed off a little piece of me that someone else had stolen, into the breeze.
I reminisced with the man about my garden but he was not much moved. "Everyone around has told me how your plants radiate with life but it seems I came too late to see it myself." The mud had wrapped its nasty fingers around all of my flowers and choked them until they caved into the dirt. I had nothing left to boast, nothing left to present, nothing left to give. He adored me more with each passing day.
Winter arrived and polished everything white again, but the garden just froze over. Every crack in the ice stung with memories of the dust's whimpers without the green. I lay by the fireplace next to him to forget how it felt to be chilled to the core. I touched his feather hands for the first time and we shook like the flicker of flames within our skin.
Spring followed and no buds dared to break their heads through the rough earth. Each day, his glances lingered longer over the emptiness, and worry slithered farther down his face. I kindled his lips a little stronger each time, until he screeched from the pain and learned to never look in that direction again. His visits burnt out with monotony and we ceased to speak. Another loss became the bat of an eyelash.
One day, he brought his regrets to me, but I poured mine over his. "It was all a lie. I ripped up every god damned flower in that garden. I have become the mud and I will only consume you." I slipped from his embrace faster than the dead grass could shift from the press of my step. I left him breathless, grasping at air. I wept to the wind to steal any memory of my filthy touch and carry it away before the break of dawn could slide it underneath his spotless skin.
The next evening, the sun was crying on the shoulder of the sky, scorching red and then fading back to black. Its wails shook me from my slumber. I stumbled to the window, and awestruck saw from afar his delicate hands glow in the twilight, stained from endless hours of tumbling the dirt. He was searching for even a sole seed, but the only thing that met his hands were tears cascading from his face.
Weeks went without feeling the ocean crash in his eyes and the hills rise in his fingers and the air collapse beneath his fragrance. It was in these weeks that I noticed these things for the first time. His fingers would never shape my dirty skin into mounts of beauty. His aroma would never again softly encompass my stench. His dolphin eyes would never ever flow through the dry brown beaches of mine. I knew the barren terrain had chased him away. The wind had obeyed me.
One morning, I awoke to the exhilarating perfume of petunias and daisies, roses and orchids, pansies and tulips, and flowers to which even I did not know the names. There was no part of my body unswept by sweet petals and stems and leaves. He came forth and planted a honey-coated kiss upon my forehead. "Forgive my absence, my dear. I was gathering these flowers from my garden. I hoped that they would bring back your smile once again." I burst into tears that smoothed the cracks in my grin.
Summer came. Bouquets of butterflies tickled the backs of our hands while birds sipped sweet nectar from my plants. His fingers played tag with the air between mine. We laughed. Smiles spread over our faces and stirred us like earthquakes from the epicenter of my garden, each blossom bringing yet another shake.
Written on 03.24.12
This needs work. Feedback appreciated.
This needs work. Feedback appreciated.
© 2012 - 2024 theshadowkissedgirl
Comments4
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Official #FightToWrite Critique
I use the same five star system that dA uses for its critiques. So I’ve broken this down in hopes to explain my ratings.
Technique- 4 stars
Okay, first of all, I really like this story. I do think that needs some work though like you mentioned in your comments. The beginning is a little shaky. I’m never quite sure if the man mentioned in the first paragraph is the same man mentioned in the rest of the story. It doesn’t seem real clear to me.
One of my favorite things about the story is the flowers and nature relating to the character is also at times some of the most confusing bits. I understand that a mud slide destroyed her house and ruined her garden- the reason she smiled each day with pride. I got a little lost when the scene changed to winter then to spring. So did they get together during the winter and at spring she decided she’d end up hurting him? I’m not so sure about that part. I really came back into the story after this point and it was clearer at this point.
Vision- 5 stars
I could see what you wanted to accomplish with this piece. I love how the flowers and the scene represent what is going on inside the character. I admit I was happy that they ended up together ‘cause I am a romantic at heart so that’s more of a personal influence there.
Originality- 5 stars
I really like how you managed to weave the flowers smells and colors into the mood and scene of the characters. It was just so vivid and honestly, delightful.
Impact- 5 stars
I love the fact that this was written as a fiction prose story rather than poetry. The colors and smells weaved into a story line about renewal was just what I needed to start my own spring out. Honestly, it’s also nice to read a “happy” story for a change. Way too many emo love-bites kind of stories out there right now. Your story has really brightened up my day.
MikeyCam
I use the same five star system that dA uses for its critiques. So I’ve broken this down in hopes to explain my ratings.
Technique- 4 stars
Okay, first of all, I really like this story. I do think that needs some work though like you mentioned in your comments. The beginning is a little shaky. I’m never quite sure if the man mentioned in the first paragraph is the same man mentioned in the rest of the story. It doesn’t seem real clear to me.
One of my favorite things about the story is the flowers and nature relating to the character is also at times some of the most confusing bits. I understand that a mud slide destroyed her house and ruined her garden- the reason she smiled each day with pride. I got a little lost when the scene changed to winter then to spring. So did they get together during the winter and at spring she decided she’d end up hurting him? I’m not so sure about that part. I really came back into the story after this point and it was clearer at this point.
Vision- 5 stars
I could see what you wanted to accomplish with this piece. I love how the flowers and the scene represent what is going on inside the character. I admit I was happy that they ended up together ‘cause I am a romantic at heart so that’s more of a personal influence there.
Originality- 5 stars
I really like how you managed to weave the flowers smells and colors into the mood and scene of the characters. It was just so vivid and honestly, delightful.
Impact- 5 stars
I love the fact that this was written as a fiction prose story rather than poetry. The colors and smells weaved into a story line about renewal was just what I needed to start my own spring out. Honestly, it’s also nice to read a “happy” story for a change. Way too many emo love-bites kind of stories out there right now. Your story has really brightened up my day.
MikeyCam