Well I’m glad that you enjoyed it (even though your reveiw was less than constructive) please come back and read more as I continue to add more to the story and I believe you can see the meaning more clearly by the end. Weather it is my meaning for you or your meaning for yourself. :)
Short Story / The Wrong Train
I boarded the steel, lonely train. I stepped up into the hallway of the poorly lit car. I sat myself down on a slightly cushioned piece of plastic next to the window. I closed my eyes and felt the train jerk and start to move. I knew what I was going to see out of that window. Out of that rusted framed glass, past the beautifully painted blue sky, beyond the lush of the tree’s green, even further than all of the architect of the houses waiting for a family to construct the home, there was the inevitable insatiability and doubt.
I knew, before I opened my eyes, I’d see the children with guns, the starving families, the racists, the homophobes, the sexists, the murderers, the helpless druggies, the hopeless homeless, the wife beaters, the hustlers, the child molesters, the war. The crimes committed and the criminals committing. The constant destruction and reconstruction. I saw all the mutilation in everything seemingly innocent and the unveiling of poison in the seemingly pure. Before my eyes could physically see, I saw the scars inflicted from daily force.
What made you do what you did today? Would it be different if no one else existed in that instant? If society hadn’t taken your freedom of perception, where would we be? Or what could we see? My eyes still closed, I saw the constant taking of: The thievery. I knew opening my eyes would lead me to deception. So I kept them closed. And I still saw the condemners and the condemned.
I felt water on the top of my knees, through my jeans. All down my cheek, flooded. When I opened my eyes, to see that beautiful scenery, I was already being blinded by my own jaded cloud of thoughts. I couldn’t see. I contemplated if I should so selfishly leave you alone in your land of cost. I contemplated if I could ever have the ability to save you.
When the beauty of the sight through the window became too overwhelmingly painful, I looked down towards my lap. However, not really looking, or staring, at anything at all.
I’m imagining myself naked. You’re imagining your bare ass. And the scars that have decorated your skin; from the small, fading scratches and burns to the still bleeding wounds that stretch from one corner of your back to the other. And all I can do is wonder if I should hate the weapon that scarred me this way. The weapon that made me ugly. Or maybe the weapons existence is only persistent because of the person who wields it. Should I hate the convict and not what he is guilty of? Or maybe I should hate the victim for never letting the god damn wounds, stretched across your body heal.
The train makes a stop. I don’t know where I am. I wasn’t heading anywhere so I don’t really care either. Someone got onto the train a car back from me but got back off when he was told how much the ride was.
I’m going to have to pay soon if the ticket man sees me. Although it doesn’t matter right now because my car is empty and the ticket man is heading for the back first. Probably because they seem to be the last ones to know where they’re headed. The last ones to be aware of the payment due for the place they’re being taken to.
I look out the window, for a second time, and try to stare ahead of the train. I see the tracks curving out to the left so that I can see the rails and I imagine the ones I’ve left behind.
I get cold from the steel rim around the chair. I hug myself and feel my soft skin. I look down and I’m still naked. I’m still naked and it’s not any less comfortable than before. More comfortable. I put my bare feet on the edge of the chair with my heels pressing against my butt and my knees to my pointed breasts.
I thought I was only imagining myself exposed. Maybe I was imagining the jeans.
Perception is existence.
I know anyone could see me as well as I can imagine myself naked and curled in the chair of some godforsaken train.
Transparent, defective, and perverted.
You’re all alone on a train without clothes or a suitcase. You left a family, a home, friends. You left it behind with the guaranteed future, warmth and food. The world inside a world. The safer place to be. You left that haven. And all you can think about is how you’re going to get off. How you’ll kill yourself this time. How you’ll make yourself cum.
My legs embraced, I wondered if the tracks I’ve traveled and left even matter. If it’s where I’m headed that should. I wondered if the past ever even existed. If what is now is all that exists. But if it were the present that carried existence then do our stories even matter? Will it matter to you? Will it matter to them? Should it matter to myself? Because a second goes by and I didn’t think that moment mattered much at all.
I pressed my face to the dirty window and stared into my eye’s reflections. I see my mother. I see my brother. I see my father. I saw the angry fights turning into violent nights and it was always sex and war for me.
My mother always the victim. Her co-dependency had killed her more slow than the pain that had been brought onto her when she was young. She was tortured by her chronic need to play that wounded child.
The toxicity we chose to create and breath over the oxygen already produced.
My father, strong and ambitious, had gotten what he wanted. Never a dad but always a father. The God of the household as well as the provider.
Typical but corrupt. Twisted but American.
In my eyes, I see my younger brother growing up to be just like me. Just like me but different. The perfect mix between two people. The ultimate combination of perfected and flawed genetics and qualities. I see my brother, the second living embryo, influenced greatly to obtain the worse success.
With my head to the window, I can feel the vibration of movement. I hold my legs closer and hug my calves to my thighs even tighter. The cold wind pressing through the window on my cheek makes the hairs on my arm stand up even straighter.
Violated. Already used.
While I had let the bitter tears on my cheek air dry, I thought about a cure.
What you want is a cure. A cure for what? You want a cure for what? For everything you’ve done wrong? For everything you could’ve done right? You want a time machine?
Redemption. Prosperity.
It’s what we’re all begging for. But you continue to fail and realize. A savior, like Jesus Christ or some divine power, can’t be found anywhere. Or else where. And the further you continue to look for Prince Charming or Heracles, the more you fail to change anything at all.
Non-existent. A sham.
I didn’t notice him, but a man came onto my car. All these empty seats made me think why he chose to sit next to me. Then soon after it crossed my mind what he thinks of my bare body quivering next to him. Would he find it strange or seemingly attractive? My exposed right side on his clothed leg. The feeling gave me a shock of warmth throughout for only a moment. I haven’t looked at him yet. Only felt his leg on my side. I turn to look at him and pull away slightly; politely. He’s tall and not much older than me but significantly enough.
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RavenJake reviewed Version 3 -
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I like where the heart of the story, it seems unbalanced and on the fringe of collapse. The story arc works well, though a bit much of it seems deeply internalized at times. Without losing the closeness to the character it would also be great to have an intimacy with the actions that are happening with attention to minute details. I like this story, but I don’t think it’s yet in the perfect form that it could be told- the form that you show glimpses of in a few great sections.
I’m extremely critical when I read so don’t take offense like I’m ripping your work up or anything. Here are the notes I took while reading, hope some of it is useful:
(The first few steps, seemed to be the easiest.)
They didn’t seem to be, they either were or they weren’t.
(I felt more tired and my strength only felt more limited as I became more determined)
This is passive in the second sentence. The character doesn’t have to feel “more” tired as it’s redundant because the degree of his exhaustion hasn’t been established. The progressive nature of the exhaustion should be tweaked. ”Afterward” as in after the first few steps? The time tag can be left out.
(steel, lonely train)
Steel can be dropped or stated in a different why by the manner in which the character boards the train (i.e. the sound of the shoes on the ground). However,
most readers will assume “steel” without it being stated.
(felt the train jerk and start to move)
The emphasis isn’t the train, it’s the character. What effect did the start have on the character? Bumped the glass? Grabbed a hold of something?
(rusted framed glass)
One too many adjectives for this particular sentence. Framed is inferred.
(even further than all of the architect of the houses waiting for a family to construct the home)
It’s “farther” as we’re speaking in terms of distance. This aspect of the sentence seems a bit confused.
(I was already being blinded by my own jaded cloud of thoughts)
I like the idea here, but blinded could be dropped, and cloud could be rearranged to be the verb in “clouded,” when discussing the vision. It’s a good sentiment there.
(I couldn’t see and only felt the hot sun beat down on my face like the rage I possessed all these years)
This is another sentence that feels 3/4 there. Perhaps if this started with, “I closed my eyes to the sun that beat down on my face like…”
(You’re imagining)
If this is vicarious while still addressing the main character then it should be adjusted, if not- march on.
(I get, I thought)
These are tense disagreements with the rest of your passage. The majority is past/active, so eliminate the stragglers.
(perfected and flawed)
“Perfected” will reduce the readers ability to relate.
(All these empty seats made me think why he chose to sit next to me.)
“All these empty seats, why the hell does he have to sit next to me?” Don’t distance the reader with needless insertion of character perspective. Show this action. Reading on, the same goes for that paragraph. Any action that happens, let it speak for itself without perspective. Her reaction will convey these internal conflicts and trepidations.
(his name was Morpheus)
I’m sorry, this name is a no-go. I believe the Matrix removed and possible use of that name for the next 32 and 3/4 years or so.
(I’ve never heard it before) oh yes she has.
(Eden never existed)
This is too easy and expected. The nature of the revelation is lost. Something like “Eden was so close,” would allude to the fleeting nature of the fantasy without explicitly making a generalization.
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Lillie_M reviewed Version 2 -
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steel, lonely train – I read it out loud and lonely, steel train sounded better.
my arm stand – my arms stand
This feels very much like a piece about society and all of us in it. Although I could be wrong. If I am, please hide this review!
‘The last ones to be aware of the payment due for the place they’re being taken to.’ – This line made me think of those oblivious to what is going on around them.
‘I’m still naked and it’s not any less comfortable than before.’ – Was this your way of saying that whether we open up our emotions or not we are all the same.
‘Perception is existence.’ – Loved this line. I always think we are a product of our enviroment. In terms that what we see and think is down to how we live.
‘I saw the angry fights turning into violent nights and it was always sex and war for me.’ – I know that feeling.
I really enjoyed this even though I’m not sure if I got the meaning correct. You write very well while using a good vocabulary. The story just seemed to draw me in. I loved the descriptions you used and it had great imagery. It is one of those pieces that I loved but I can’t put my finger on exactly why.
aqriusldy09 reviewed Version 1 -
Read 20% of the Item
The opening line is very intriguing and enigmatic. The first few paragraphs allow the reader to travel inside the protagonist’s mind. The description of the vulnerability that the protagonist feels when imagining herself as naked and shivering is very well-written. Including descriptions of her family’s hardships and the despair that she feels as a direct result provide background of the protagonist and the reasons for her current thoughts. The reader soon gets the feeling that the train is moving into the future (figuratively). However, she is uncertain of her future and feels that she’s lost, or even abandoned the concept of time. The first chapter is a great beginning. Continue with this character and her vulnerability. There a few spelling errors. Overall, this is quality writing.
AnimusLight reviewed Version 1 -
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The first sentence needs to be changed. The first thought that entered my head was, “How can a train be lonely?” There’s not much to personify the train just yet, so even if you want to do it, you’ll have to do it later. It should seem more like the narrator projecting humanisms onto the train rather than qualities the train possesses itself.
The first five sentences start with “I (verb).” Try to vary it a little bit more, because this gets boring fast.
“What made you do what you did today?” This seems a random interjection. I’d recommend not going to second-person in this context.
You jump between past and present tense, so be careful of which one you want to use.
The writing, overall, is quite good, especially for being under 18. Keep this up and you’ll go far.
Angela_N_Tharp reviewed Version 1 -
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This is good writing but it’s not flowing as best it could. There area a few areas where it’s easy to get tripped up. Also, try to explain whats happening more, that long list of things happening outside the window we all know about but the list is too long. Take some time with that part.
Who is the character talking too? the reader or are they talking about someone? this part is unclear and should be fixed slightly.
I’m to guess that when it starts saying ‘you will’ or ‘you did’ she is talking to herself. Try to do something to show that. Italicize it or something like that.
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