ah thanks, its been more than a few years since i wrote this and I can’t get myself in the mood to put myself back into the story to rewrite it. any ideas?
Short Story / Silhouette (Analysis)
The funeral had been somber and barren.
I stared through the kitchen window and into the backyard. There, a bluebird was perched on a branch of a naked, leafless tree. It moved his head in varying angles until the eye on one side of its head met mine. I stood perfectly still and stared into its eye. Our eyes became locked. And as I stared, everything in my peripheral vision merged with the gray sky in a blurry fashion. My eyes were beginning to play tricks on me as they became fatigued with the prolonged concentration.
Soon, another trick of the eyes befell me, I could see only through gray-scale. Everything had become of shade of black and gray. As I continued to stare, the feathers of the bird changed from its vibrant blue and into a mournful gray. Then the mournful gray faded into a pitch black. And in my eyes was a silhouette of a bird on a branch noted in front of the gray, cloudy backdrop. I could see, hear, smell, and feel nothing but that silhouette.
Then it flew away. I closed my eyes and time stood still.
First of my senses to return to the world was my sense of sound. I heard the muffled sobbing of a sister coming from a distant room. I heard the heavy, prolonged footsteps of a grieving father. I heard the trite condolences offered by a young new minister.
Then I was able to smell the kitchen. I could smell the old dishes which were left soaking in detergent for a few days. I was able to smell the baked goods brought by neighbors to help comfort the family in its grief. I was able to pick up the scent of her grandmother’s perfume. The fragrances of the sympathy flowers laid around the dining table were now climbing my nose. The gladiolas, the white carnations, and the white daisies were fresh and recently picked.
Suddenly the world beneath my feet became concrete. I felt my hands on the cold, ceramic kitchen counter. The suit I had borrowed from my father enveloped me from the top down. The black tie hung loosely on the white shirt. The white shirt encircled my chest, ran down my back and into my slacks. My slacks were held up by my belt and they draped slightly over the scuffed dress shoes. They were my father’s shoes. The weight of the suit bared down on me. I felt a slight tinge of electricity in my chest. It was as if the aligned muscles in my chest snapped like old guitar strings. The pain rang on.
I opened my eyes and gathered my scattered senses. I passed through the kitchen door and entered into the living room of the family. I saw about a dozen black suits and about a dozen black dresses. They had separated themselves into small groups and were conversing amongst themselves. But as they heard the footsteps of my father’s scuffed dress shoes, some faces turned from their conversations and towards the origin of the footsteps.
The first one to approach me was Mrs. Faiga. She was a neighbor and had often had us over because she used to babysit for the Faigas and had become close. Mrs. Faiga embraced me and I smelled her shampoo.
”It must be hard. I don’t think I could ever understand how hard it must be for anyone to lose someone so close at such a young age as you.” she said. “You know whenever she told me about recent happenings, you were always a part of them. You two spent a lot of time together. Weren’t you her best friend?” I nodded and she moved on.
The second one to approach me was the young minister. Minster Mavis lobbed awkwardly forward. His big frame engulfed me as he held me.
”It’s okay to cry. Even if you are a boy! Oh, no I meant man. You’re eighteen now right?” he said while chuckling. Then his face became serious. “It’s okay. It’s part of the grieving process. But don’t worry too much, she’s in a better place now.” he said. Then he attempted to make a comforting smile.
A long pause filled the space between us. My only response was a glare into his eyes.
I excused myself from the minister and walked towards an isolated armchair in a corner of the room. There sat a grandmother. The grandmother was flanked by two of her grandchildren. I walked forward and I began to recognize a smile on her face. She knew me well. She held out her worn hands and I received them. The hands felt course and calloused. They spoke to me without speaking and it was more sympathizing than any spoken word. It was the silent words of a woman who, in her many years, knew as I know and had felt as I feel. I felt sorry to leave her grandmother.
I walked out of the living room, through the kitchen and into the backyard. It was empty but for two of her old friends who were sitting near a patio area. They looked up at me in recognition, then returned to their conversation. I walked passed the edge of the patio and towards a shed at the furthest wall of the backyard. Behind the shed, hidden and isolated, I found her brother.
He was leaning against the shed and held a cigarette between his fingers. The smoke trailed off of the tip and disappeared into the sky. There were spots of spit around his feet and used cigarettes near by. He held a pack of cigarettes at me offering me a smoke. I accepted.
I inhaled and I felt my lungs expand. “You really loved her didn’t you?” the brother asked. “I have your prom pictures you took with her.” He took a drag of his cigarette and the ash fell on its own weight down to the earth. He continued, “Didn’t you two have a date planned for this day before her accident?” I felt the tinge in my chest again. The ringing became louder and the pressure greater. I let the smoke in and burn the knot away.
Soon, I was back in the kitchen and I found her father sitting at the kitchen table. He was alone and was drinking from a glass cup. “Don’t worry, it’s only apple juice.” he said.
I smelled the alcohol.
In the living room, the group was now focused on comforting a single woman. The woman sat on the sofa and the guests fell near her. They offered her sweet promises about the afterlife and told her tender memories. Each time they told her a story, the woman sobbed. The woman sobbed for her daughter. She was the mother. Her mother suddenly looked up directly at me as if she expected me. She got off the sofa and asked me into a bedroom.
We both sat down at the foot of the bed and she spoke, “You knew her well, and there’s so much I never got to know or talk about with her.” I shifted my feet in the discomfort.
She said, “I know you two loved each other very much and I’ve always known you two were more than just friends.” She held my hands and she reassured me, “It’s okay. But please answer my question honestly.”
I nodded.
Then she asked, “Have you ever slept with her?”
I didn’t know how to respond. I felt my hands perspire as she held them. I closed my eyes. I tried to calm myself to answer the question. With my closed eyes, I saw a lark sitting on a fountain. Then suddenly, my mouth burst out, “Yes.”
Her mother stood up and she left the room.
I sat there at the foot of the bed. I looked about the room and I saw our pictures. It was pictures of us she had hung up. The room was exactly as we left it a week ago. An old pair of sneakers was there next to her bed. I closed my eyes again. I lied down on the bed. The same bed we had lied down in over a month ago. This was the bed where we had slept together. Here, I had held her while she dreamt and had felt my head rise and fall with her breathing. Yes, I had slept with her.
With my closed eyes, I saw her large brown eyes. I saw her smile and I saw the details surrounding her eyes. I felt her lips and I heard her breathe. I could smell her hair. But then she began to fade. A trick of the mind and time befell me. I could not see the details around her eyes anymore. The graze of her soft lips against my fingers disappeared. Her smell had gone and would never return. Now, her lively brown eyes faded into a pale gray. Then the pale gray gradually faded into black. She became a silhouette.
Then she flew away. I closed my eyes and time stood still.
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groovieknave reviewed Version 1 -
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I liked this story, it had a consistent feel and was able to change my mood. The imagery was great in most areas but at times I kind of lost where they were. Another thing was the dialogue was kinda mashed together, for example, --I inhaled and I felt my lungs expand. “You really loved her didn’t you?” the brother asked. “I have your prom pictures you took with her.” He took a drag of his cigarette and the ash fell on its own weight down to the earth. He continued, “Didn’t you two have a date planned for this day before her accident?” --
I didn’t know which person was talking… her brother or the main character. Would be good to space these out.
Some redundant sentences, where you mention her mother and what you are hearing at the start of the story… but kinda nitpicking just something that bothered me while reading.
For the most part the pace of the story is good, the imagery gets across what it needs to, and you set the mood right away. I almost expected this to be drawn out, but it was actually short and meaningful. I liked it, it was interesting and mood changing.
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Hawaiianguy07 reviewed Version 1 -
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Entrancing i love how the depression seems make all the wonder of her fly away at every instant during the story. You ability to create a vivid scene for a reader to stand in and look around is amazing. I could see the sad faces, the suits gathering in the living roomm, the boys smoking cigarettes, and the imaginary moment when he watched her breath. It was quite an intense moment you captured.
Rika_Ricardson reviewed Version 1 -
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I really loved how you incorporated all of the senses in the beginning, and I liked how you brought everything into focus slowly, showing the mood. I think that the very first sentence was a little unecessary, and the reader would have been more captivated and would wonder more if you left out “The funeral had been somber and barren.” The whole opening paragraphs would have a stronger effect, and would have been less overshadowed by that looming first sentence.
Some of it was slightly confusing, all the italicized ‘shes’ and the lines that didn’t make sense.
I really liked the quick transitions you used in the excerpt:
“I let the smoke in and burn the knot away.
Soon, I was back in the kitchen and I found her father sitting at the kitchen table. He was alone and was drinking from a glass cup. “Don’t worry, it’s only apple juice.” he said.
I smelled the alcohol.
In the living room…”
I like the short fragments. They’re punchy. To the point.
The ending was amazing, and very sad. You really did a great job with this story, and I found it very entertaining and meaningful.
Wonderful job!
oneshot92 reviewed Version 1 -
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The first paragraph is very repetitive with things like – head, and eyes. Be careful of this, as it tends to read awkwardly.
flowers laid around the dining table were now climbing my nose.- flowers, which laid around the kitchen table, were now scaling the fine hairs of my nostrils. – It says the same thing, yet converts this to a more vivid scene.
I saw about a dozen black suits and about a dozen black dresses. – I found near a dozen black suits and close to as many dresses of the same shade.
some faces turned from their conversations and towards the origin of the footsteps. – replace footsteps with noise. It breaks down on repetitiveness, as you already have footsteps in the first half of this line.
There were spots of spit around his feet and used cigarettes near by. – There were droplets of spit dribbled around a pile of butts at his feet.
This is a very nice piece you have written. I like the feel of the narrator as he makes his rounds throughout the story. You also managed to give me a wonderful feel for the character who was sadly absent from the scene. You must work on avoiding repetitive word use. This will clutter a good story very quickly.
BrianA reviewed Version 1 -
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This was a great story to my mind. The opening sequence with the symbolism of the blue jay and the use of it as a focus for the mind of the narrator – reducing the world to a silhouette. I especially liked how his various senses returned, this was well-handled and `real’. This device as a component of structure for the story I thought excellent, as through it you dismantle/dissect the anatomy of a funeral and participants. Well done. Some points:
`It moved his head…’ – only reference to sex (are all `blue’ jays male? my ignorance if so) – otherwise `it’s’
`…branch (noted) in front…’ – suggest omit – not needed & interrupts sentence & rhythm.
`…suit (bared) bore down…’
`…suit (I had) borrowed…’ – passive voice – `had’ an indicator – may be other places where can eliminate or replace with active verb. This instance removes an `I’ always good imho in 1st person narratives.
`(It was as if t) The aligned…’ – can see here possible straight simile – reader is with you, until you remind them.
`…now(.),” he said.’ – dialogue punctuation – regarded as one sentence.
`…said(.), (Then he) attempt(ed)ing…’ – just a suggestion as noticing use of `then’, in text – once again reader is with you, even though relating past event want them as close to reliving as narrator.
`course’ – coarse
`They spoke to me…it was…sympathizing (sympathy) than any spoken word. It was…’ The first sentence seemed awkward towards closing clause and phrase – suggest re-phrase. Also here more use of `it was’ – another passive indicator eg in the second sentence changing last word to `felt’ – you could eliminate `It was’ and begin `The …’ – just being more direct and following previous thought-line as reader will do.
`…pictures(.) – (It was) pictures…’ use of dash (see you didn’t use in text) can add direct narrator resolution/summation – at times impact.
`…had held her while she dreamt and (had) felt…’ – sorry had to comment, and next sentence, to me, sounds bolder without it.
Sorry can’t help picking at text – hope above is of some assistance. In your story you managed to convey the emotions of this young man very well. You took the reader from the miasma and confusion, awkwardness of the day, through a journey of his person grief to resolution. You certainly have talent – good luck with this piece.
falconviews reviewed Version 1 -
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It moved his (its) head in; course – coarse; passed – past; Hey, nice story buddy, not many mistakes. Just perfect. But somehow I feel it could have been more haunting! For your age, I’m surprised that you managed it so smooth. There is no touch of amateurishness except for a couple of spelling mistakes. Still, I’d say you could work on it, to create more impact. The purpose is to convey the evanescence of life. You did it successfully, but that much feeling has not transpired. Throughout the story, you sustain the interest through the eloquence of your narrative, and the suspense factor of where this is leading to. And yet, it felt a little dry, not much value in itself. I had to push myself a little, which need not be the case if you can try to evoke a little more of that evanescent, haunting quality, from the beginning. So think creatively, you have the mastery of the language, but you should have the ambition to give the very best you can, nothing less! Something a little bit stunning. You have to go for the kill.
Kiska reviewed Version 1 -
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You are incredibly descriptive, not too verbose, just right. I loved it. “Minster Mavis lobbed awkwardly forward” as an example. It was perfect! Italicizing “her” was a very creative and interesting approach that I enjoyed.
Throughout the story I felt as though I was right there. Excellent writing! You have something! This is likely the best and most captivating story I’ve read here thus far, in my opinion.
I felt so sad to find out that they had a date previously made on the day of her funeral. I felt my heart sink for him. I also loved the tension you created when the mother takes him to “her” room and asks if they had slept together.
Very power! I absolutely loved it!
VoidSucker reviewed Version 1 -
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I like this story but it has a lot of things I think need to be tidied up. It needs to be edited and a lot of unnecessary words could be removed to make it a tighter piece.
Your second paragraph is too long because it repeats the same idea. Consider this version:
‘I stared through the kitchen window. In the backyard, a bluebird perched on a branch of a naked, leafless tree. It moved his head until an eye met mine. I stood perfectly still. Our eyes locked. Everything in my peripheral vision merged with the gray sky in a blurry fashion. My eyes became fatigued with the prolonged concentration.’
Better?
‘Soon, another trick of the eyes befell me, I could see only through gray-scale. Everything had become of shade of black and gray.’
You tell us you see everything in gray-scale and THEN you tell us everything has become shades of black and gray. You don’t need the second sentence here as it repeats the first. Just have:
‘Soon, another trick of the eyes befell me: I saw only gray-scales.’
Again, edit this:
‘First of my senses to return to the world was my sense of sound. I heard the ‘muffled sobbing of a sister coming from a distant room’
to be:
‘My senses returned. I heard the muffled sobbing of a sister coming from a distant room’
and change this:
‘Then I was able to smell the kitchen…and the white daisies were fresh and recently picked.’
to this:
‘Then, from the kitchen, I smelled the old dishes soaking in detergent. The baked goods brought by neighbors to help comfort the family in its grief. Her grandmother’s perfume. The fragrances of the flowers around the dining table: gladiolas, white carnations, and white daisies, recently picked.’
My examples are shorter and punchier, yet lose no meaning compared with yours.
I hope you agree!
‘I saw about a dozen black suits and about a dozen black dresses’
edit this to:
‘I saw about a dozen black suits and dresses’
There are a lot of problems here:
‘I excused myself from the minister and walked towards an isolated armchair in a corner of the room. There sat a grandmother. The grandmother was flanked by two of her grandchildren. I walked forward and I began to recognize a smile on her face. She knew me well. She held out her worn hands and I received them. The hands felt course and calloused.’
You have repetition with the worn hands plus the ‘walked’ (HOW did you walk?) and the passive verb (‘There sat a grandmother’). You also seem to say you are recognising a smile? That’s odd.
I’d edit this to be:
‘I excused myself from the minister. I shuffled towards an isolated armchair in a corner of the room and two children flanked a grandmother. She smiled. She held out her hands, course and calloused. I received them.’
Not bad, overall, just needs some editing.
cdnsurfer reviewed Version 1 -
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Name the family members right away and describe them. It becomes more personal immediately that way. I think that’ll live it up. Overall, I like your writing style—strong, vibrant, colourful. Other than to above comment, I think this was a very well done story. Thanks for sharing with us.
LynnFollett reviewed Version 1 -
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A great magazine article you should submit it. I could spot no errors not that I’m an expert. I enjoyed reading it and I really think you should submit it.
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