My 10th entry to the WOW writing group has surfaced!! I began to write something similar to this when the "Clock winked" exercise came up, but I never posted it because I had little confidence. LOL. I have tweaked it a bit and tried to get out of my poetry escapades. I decided to use this piece for the "Make it Better" exercise. If you have any suggestions on how to keep my poetry voice when writing fiction, I am all ears. :)
The clock read seven.
His hands ruffled through the crispy leaves, while he was trying to find a spot to lay on. He beamed as he dipped his hands in his pockets. The pockets were full of dirt; grime that ran deeper into the core of the earth. It was his dirt he thought. His life was packed away in his pockets.
Another day of a tin can banged in the wind. It would fluctuate with the air stream, making a musical dance of a lonely life. Many people stopped, but never remained. Perhaps a penny may appear. “No, it is not time.” he thought to himself.
The chill in the air was beginning to accompany him. He designed a blanket of yellow and orange leaves; patching them all together creating a quilt of sunsets. His flesh was breaking due to the bitter winds, but his essence was cordial.
The cloudless atmosphere turned into a black hole of rain. He watched as people splashed their muddy life on his beard; a life that he chose not to return to.
His muddy tears dried but remained on his heart. “It is now time.” he said to himself. A young man appeared, drenched with pearls of water. “Let’s go dad.”
He glanced at his son’s watch, remembering when he bought it for him years ago. The golden exterior was beginning to fade, much like his sons life. Things were now changing.
The clock read seven.
5 comments:
I am very interested by this piece- I think it really pulls you and the descriptions are great. The only problem is that I found myself very confused. The speaker was a little vague and I wasn't quite sure what kind of person it was. At one point I thought the narrator was a tree! Anyway, it was well written and I am sure it could be fabulous if you tweaked it a little bit...
Wow! Your descriptions are poetically beautiful and I was very drawn into the picture that you created. It is a very mysterious piece where the reader is left unsure as to who "He" is, where he came from, why he is there and where he is going and this could go on be explored further. It had a lovely pace to language and lilt and there was a lovely sense of mystery there.
Hii Stephanie
I got a bit lost too, not sure whether this was a person or "Father" Nature, or, Old Father Time perhaps?
Loved the line "muddy tears dried on his face but not on his heart'.
Not sure what the line" bt his essence was cordial" meant.
An interesting floaty piece, maybe if as a part of a larger whole , this would clarify the images?
kate
Hi Stephanie,
I did get a little lost too with this piece, and reading through it again, I think it's the second paragraph that threw me a little. I wasn't sure what the first sentence was referring to or symbolising, I just couldn't get my head around it.
I did have a couple of ideas of who this character might be, but I'm still not quite sure, so maybe there needs to be a little more about him? Perhaps his appearance, or his background?
Thank you all for you comments. Will take everyone's advise and try to revise this piece a bit.
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