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Literature Text
Six months, four days, eight hours and nine minutes.
The clock ticks away the seconds, slowly ticking away my life.
Ten minutes gone.
Some call me obsessive. Some say I should've been sent away long ago. I stopped hearing those people a long time ago.
Eleven.
They said I was crazy, waiting here for you. They don't understand; it's all I have. I need that small glimmer of hope, that one day you'll come back for me.
Twelve.
Do you remember when we first met, that fateful day? It was mid-autumn, temperate, not too hot or cold.
Thirteen.
You saw me from across the park, feeding the pigeons. You came over and sat by me, watching the bunch of ravenous birds that had formed at my feet.
Fourteen.
You took my hand, and together we walked. I saw a recording of your speech, you said to me. You are an amazing speaker.
Fifteen.
You confessed to me your secret, the secret we both shared. You gave me a number, and told me to keep in touch. I did.
Sixteen.
We stayed together for over a year. We had a civil union in the park where we first met. It was the happiest moment of my life.
Seventeen.
Then, the shadows came. Dirty, sinful wretches, they called us. I tried to protect you, but they took you away from me.
Eighteen.
The man in white saw me the day after. He told me that you had left, but I just could not believe. I refused to believe.
Nineteen.
Now I sit and wait, watching the clock count away the seconds. Life has not been the same without you here. It will never be the same.
Twenty.
Another swig of vodka, a hollow feeling inside. The seconds continue on, oblivious, eating away at my life.
Six months, four days, eight hours and twenty-one minutes.
I've missed you through every second of it.
The clock ticks away the seconds, slowly ticking away my life.
Ten minutes gone.
Some call me obsessive. Some say I should've been sent away long ago. I stopped hearing those people a long time ago.
Eleven.
They said I was crazy, waiting here for you. They don't understand; it's all I have. I need that small glimmer of hope, that one day you'll come back for me.
Twelve.
Do you remember when we first met, that fateful day? It was mid-autumn, temperate, not too hot or cold.
Thirteen.
You saw me from across the park, feeding the pigeons. You came over and sat by me, watching the bunch of ravenous birds that had formed at my feet.
Fourteen.
You took my hand, and together we walked. I saw a recording of your speech, you said to me. You are an amazing speaker.
Fifteen.
You confessed to me your secret, the secret we both shared. You gave me a number, and told me to keep in touch. I did.
Sixteen.
We stayed together for over a year. We had a civil union in the park where we first met. It was the happiest moment of my life.
Seventeen.
Then, the shadows came. Dirty, sinful wretches, they called us. I tried to protect you, but they took you away from me.
Eighteen.
The man in white saw me the day after. He told me that you had left, but I just could not believe. I refused to believe.
Nineteen.
Now I sit and wait, watching the clock count away the seconds. Life has not been the same without you here. It will never be the same.
Twenty.
Another swig of vodka, a hollow feeling inside. The seconds continue on, oblivious, eating away at my life.
Six months, four days, eight hours and twenty-one minutes.
I've missed you through every second of it.
This is nothing of importance; just an idea that came to mind. It’s 100% fiction, although I do have a habit of counting the minutes after break-up’s...none of my ex’s have ever died, though.
Also, I haven't submitted anything of much worth recently. This I actually put some effort and time into.
EDIT: Because people seem confused, the characters are actually supposed to be two women...it was based off a real-life scene with my ex girlfriend.
© Kelsey Jones 2012
No part of this may be copied, altered or otherwise reproduced without the prior permission of the author.
Also, I haven't submitted anything of much worth recently. This I actually put some effort and time into.
EDIT: Because people seem confused, the characters are actually supposed to be two women...it was based off a real-life scene with my ex girlfriend.
© Kelsey Jones 2012
No part of this may be copied, altered or otherwise reproduced without the prior permission of the author.
© 2012 - 2024 ethanoI
Comments14
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Overall
Vision Originality
Technique ImpactA really thoughtful piece of art. I like that you use repetition throughout, and repetition is indeed a very good way to often make readers know what is going on, as humans learn from repetition. It makes us remember.
I also like how you managed to add such a short story in there, and how you change between italics and normal text. By starting on a new line also gives this feeling of fragmentation, that helps to increase the sense of despair of the unnamed narrator is describing.
The topic that you choose is also good. Death and loss are very powerful themes to work with but it might hard to always create an impact on the reader but I think you managed to do that well here by giving us bits and pieces of the narrator's past.
The way you chose to present the story is original. Brief and to the point, but yet gives us all the vital information we need to understand what is going on.
My only real complaint here is that the technique could sometimes be a bit better. The counting on the clock is disconnected from the mentioning of time that passed by that far exceeds the time of a clock. I initially thought it were months the narrator was thinking of, so that is something you could perhaps clarifying somehow without losing the essentials of your piece. It is also unclear what caused the separation between this man and woman and it is only from reading the comments that I understand it was death. Unless it was a deliberate choice to make it unclear I suggest it is also something might want to clarify somehow.
Overall a very thoughtful piece with great impact on the reader but could use some polishing in terms of technique to make the reader a bit less confused.