Well I’ve only done yoga once and there was nothing nice about watching that…
Short Story / A Walk in the Woods
I walk through the woodland listening to the sound of raindrops falling through the canopy, impacting on the leaves on their way down. My feet feel wet. I glance down at the puddle I am standing in and at the brown ooze of mud, rotten leaves and bark seeping into my shoes through the decorative holes cut into the white leather.
What inappropriate footwear for a walk in the woods, my mother would say… I think.
My hair feels cold and wet, the tendrils of my fringe stuck to my forehead. Wet rivulets of rainwater running down the back of my neck. My coat feels heavy; the soft pink cashmere ruined by the rain no doubt. I’m sure it wasn’t raining when I left. But when had I left? And where had I come from?
The questions float lazily around in my head, but the fog that conceals my memories remains in place. For a moment I feel as if an answer approaches, but as I reach for it, it evaporates. I give up and raise my eyes to the canopy above me. I marvel at the sight above me; raindrops descending through the trees like a shower of diamonds illuminated by the shafts of sunlight filtering through the trees; the leaves of the canopy a kaleidoscope of fresh greens; the sky above a deep azure blue. I inhale the air and close my eyes. The air feels heavy and damp, pregnant with the scents of wet earth and rotting vegetation. I open my eyes and look to the floor by my side. I jump and stagger a few steps as I hear a low moan. A moan of horror and fear. It is me that moans, for the sight that I behold is a terrible one.
A young girl lies there. The leaves and bark of the woodland floor caught up in her long blonde hair. Smears of mud staining the flawless white skin of her face. Her body contorted. Her back arched. Her shirt ripped and shredded revealing the pale skin of her chest and shoulders. Her skirt riding high, exposing the soft flesh of her thighs. My eyes are dragged back to her face; the glassy eyes staring at me, the mouth slightly open as if she were about to speak. A mosquito sits on her neck, and buries its proboscis into her soft skin, its body growing fat with blood. A fly swoops down and lands on her open eye. The illusion shattered I give out a scream and fall to her side, swatting the insects away from her beautiful face. I move my hand nearer to her cheek, but stop before I touch it. Although I have never remembered being aware of feeling a person’s heat before I touch them, the absence of this heat horrifies me and I recoil. I feel guilty. No one should fear this girl. She will not hurt me, and someone should close her eyes to protect her from the flies. I reach towards her again, my hand trembling.
I hear a snap of a twig behind me. Withdrawing my hand I wheel around in search of the source of the noise. A woman is standing behind me, her mouth slack, her eyes staring at the girl on the ground.
“Oh my God…”
The woman does not scream these words which I find surprising. She whispers them, sighing as she does so, which somehow injects more feeling and pain into the words than any amount of volume or tears would do. Her hands hang by her sides and I see now that she has dropped the lead she had been carrying. A rustling in the distance pinpoints the position of the dog, a white and tan Jack Russell weaving in and out of the bramble bushes, intent on hunting rabbits and oblivious to the drama taking place in the clearing.
I clear my throat. “I found her just now. She was lying here. I don’t know how long. She needs help. Please….”
I tail off as woman approaches and falls to her knees next to the girl on the floor. Her hand reaches to the girl’s neck and feels for a pulse there and I admire her bravery at so determined an action after my failure before. I edge closer to the girl again and peer at her neck. The bruises there are a fresh and angry red. I glance at the woman.
“Is she alive?” As I ask it I now it is a stupid question. The girl’s skin has a bluish hue to it and her eyes are clouded and dead.
The woman closes the girl’s eyelids and shakes her head slowly. No.
I bow my head in mourning for the beautiful girl lying there on the woodland floor. I wonder who she was and where she came from. Who is sitting at home waiting for her to return? What were the last words she spoke?
The woman withdraws her hand then and stands, her eyes still fixed on the girl as she reaches into the pocket of her coat. Withdrawing a mobile phone she presses four keys and walks away a few steps. My gaze returns to the girl as the woman talks to the police.
“Police please…”
The bruises on her neck…
“I’ve found a body.”
The blood under her nails and staining her fingertips…
“Baston Woods, near North Green.”
The embroidery on her shirt engrained with mud.
“I’m walking my dog.”
The hanging threads where buttons used to be.
“About 10 minutes along the main path.”
The buttons lying in the mud around her.
“Yes I’ll wait. Please hurry.”
The woman ends the call and glances at the girl again. I see her shudder as she scans the body and sees the bruises, the rips, the buttons, the mud, the blood. I search for words to speak to somehow break the sadness of the scene, but none come, so I remain silent.
The woman’s dog bursts out from under the bramble bush and races to her side, jumping up at her rubber boots and licking the leg of her jeans. This interrupts her silent inspection and she bends down, scoops up the dog, and holds it in her arms like a baby. The dog licks her face lovingly and she turns away from the body on the floor hugging the little dog to her. I find myself wishing for something to hold and comfort me. I stand, wrap my arms around myself and hug. It is not the same but it is in some way comforting. I close my eyes and imagine it is someone else hugging me. My mother perhaps? I try to draw a memory of her face to me but it eludes me.
I let my hands drop and look over at the woman. She has walked out onto the path, scanning the distance for any sign of help approaching. The dog is squirming and yapping in her arms now and she bends down to release it. The dog bounds over to me and sits at my feet, its bright eyes fixed on my face, its tail wagging frantically. I laugh suddenly, surprising myself. Bending down I reach towards the dog. It yaps suddenly making me jump and recoil. I look over at the woman who is now watching us.
“Kipper! Leave her alone!” she calls sharply.
“No no! It’s fine. I like dogs.” Kipper reaches his head forward and sniffs at my hand tentatively.
The woman continues to watch us, her brow furrowed in concern. I reach to stroke his head, but he darts out from under my hand and trots over to the girl. He sniffs at her hand, whines, then licks one of her bloody fingertips.
“Kipper NO!” The woman rushes over and scoops him up again.
“Oh don’t be angry with him. I should have stopped him!” The woman shakes her head in exasperation, reaches for the lead and slips the collar over Kipper’s head angrily.
“The police will be here in a minute and there you are disturbing a crime scene!” she says, tears forming in her eyes as she glances towards the girls every so often, a tremor in her voice betraying her emotions.
I am mortified. “Oh! I didn’t mean to! I’m so confused. I was just standing here and then you arrived. And Kipper… I didn’t know…”
The woman turns and walks towards the path. “Come on. Let’s get away from there while we wait for the police.”
Relief floods through me as I follow her instruction and walk over to stand beside her on the path. I glance over at the girl. From this distance I can almost pretend she is a rag doll discarded in the woods, or a bundle of rags. Not a girl lying dead in the mud.
I hear sirens in the distance and follow the woman as she heads down the path. The sirens get closer and louder and the woman puts Kipper down on the floor and jogs down the path. I feel a strange sensation as I move to follow. Sadness and longing. I am somehow strangely reluctant to abandon the girl. I feel a pull, almost as if I were tied to the girl by a long piece of elastic now pulled taut. I stop and watch the woman disappear around a bend in the path and then return to the path across from where the girl lies. We are alone again she and I.
Who are you? What happened to you?
After what feels like hours I see a group of people come round the bend and head to wards me. The woman is leading three men down the path; two policemen in fluorescent jackets and another man in a suit carrying a briefcase. They are nodding as she talks to them, their faces masks of anxious anticipation. I wave at them excitedly and point into the trees towards the girl. They look in my direction. As they reach me, they sweep past and head over to the girl, waving at the woman and me to remain on the path. We stand dumbly watching as the man in the suit kneels down, removes a stethoscope from his briefcase and presses it to the girl’s chest, while the other two survey the area around her. The woman next to me clears her throat. The man in the suit looks over to her.
“I checked her pulse… I… I probably shouldn’t have touched her but… you know… I wanted to make sure before I…”
One of the policemen surveying the scene overhears and turns to the woman, smiling sympathetically.
“It’s alright madam. We’ll need you to make a statement when my colleagues arrive.”
The woman nods eagerly and then stands silent.
I look at her face. Her brow is furrowed, the corners of her mouth turned down. Her eyes look watery as if she might cry at any moment.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
The woman doesn’t respond. A fat tear falls down her cheek and she wipes it away hurriedly.
I lose sense of time as people come and go. More policemen arrive to take the woman’s statement. She follows them gratefully, taking herself and Kipper away from the scene and towards the car park. I stay out of the way as much as possible and wait for someone to come and ask me questions.
Why don’t they come for me?
I watch as other policemen arrive and move around the clearing taking pictures. They place evidence into clear plastic bags and roll out a fluorescent tape, attaching it to metal poles and trees to cordon off the area.
Policemen in white overalls carrying big black leather cases arrive and kneel down next to the girl. They take samples; from her skin, her clothing, from underneath her fingernails. They point to the ripped clothing and bruises and talk in hushed tones in between clicks of their camera shutter.
More policemen arrive and begin to search the undergrowth around the clearing. They push past me, their eyes fixed on the leaf litter under their feet.
Why don’t they talk to me?
A shout goes up from the woods across from where the girl lies and a policeman emerges from the brambles, his hat knocked askew by the branches, his face scratched by thorns, pulling stray leaves out of his collar. He is wearing gloves. In his left hand he carries a coat. A pink cashmere coat. Soiled and crumpled, muddy water dripping from its hem. In his right hand he holds a pen with a shoe dangling from it. A white shoe. With decorative holes punched into the leather.
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VoidSucker reviewed Version 1 -
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Okay, here’s my honest review with comments designed to improve your piece.
’...on their way down. My feet feel wet. I glance down at the puddle…’
You use ‘down’ twice in quick succession – try to avoid this.
Usefully, in the:
‘impacting on the leaves on their way down.’
you don’t need the last four words, so if you cut this you improve the sentence AND remove one of the ‘down’s.
I realise there are different styles, but for interior monologue I believe that you should not set it out as separate from the rest of the prose. Your ‘What inappropriate footwear…’ is separate AND in italics. Since the narrator is first-person, there is no need to use this approach for it reminds the reader that they are reading a novel, and so prevents them from being immersed in your work. Integrating thoughts into the rest of the narrative is more seamless.
‘Wet rivulets of rainwater running…’
Rainwater is always wet, so you don’t need ‘wet’ here. You could also change the tense:
‘Rivulets of rain run down my neck.’
In a first person narrative, the only voice is yours. Therefore, you don’t need to remind us it’s you. Take this:
‘I give up and raise my eyes to the canopy above me. I marvel at the sight above me; raindrops descending through.’
We don’t need the ‘I marvel at the sight above me;’ because (a) you have just old us you have raised your eyes up to the canopy; and (b) who else is doing the marvelling? So cut it:
‘I give up and raise my eyes to the canopy. Raindrops descend through…’
The canopy is above you so don’t tell us this.
‘I inhale the air and close my eyes’
You don’t really need ‘the air’ here as what else would you inhale?
If you want to retain it, you could rewrite it and the next part:
‘I close my eyes and inhale the air. It feels heavy and damp…’
This part has too many words:
‘I jump and stagger a few steps as I hear a low moan. A moan of horror and fear. It is me that moans, for the sight that I behold is a terrible one.’
How about:
‘I jump and stagger a few steps and release a low moan of fear.’
Don’t fall into the trap of telling us you have seen something (behold) and THEN show us what it is you have seen – just show us it. It’s more immediate and more effective as you remove the narrator from the scene.
This sentence is, again, too wordy:
‘I move my hand nearer to her cheek, but stop before I touch it. Although I have never remembered being aware of feeling a person’s heat before I touch them, the absence of this heat horrifies me and I recoil.’
What about:
‘I move my hand nearer to her cheek. I touch it but the absence of her bodily heat makes me recoil.’
You might not agree with the rewrite, but in your version you definitely do not need ‘horrifies me and I recoil’, for what else you do recoil from? Only things that scare you, like snakes etc.
Again, edit for brevity:
‘I hear a snap of a twig behind me. I wheel around and a woman stands, her mouth slack, her eyes staring at the girl on the ground.’
“Is she alive?” As I ask it I now it is a stupid question
I’d cut this as it’s pointless thinking she is alive. You’ve already touched her cold body, so we don’t need this bit. Also, cut this:
‘My gaze returns to the girl as the woman talks to the police’
You tell us the woman talks to the police and THEN your dialogue says ‘Police.’ This is more repetition and sounds amateurish.
Perhaps it’s just me, but I can’t stand this construction:
‘The dog is squirming and yapping in her arms now…’
Make it more immediate:
‘The dog squirms and yaps in her arms now…’
A subtle difference but for me it is a lot better.
Simple answers:
1. Yes, I liked this. The ending was unexpected and it lifted an otherwise orthodox piece.
2. No, it didn’t make me want to read it through again after the first read. If you revise your work where indicated and try to write for brevity then maybe I would want to read it a second time.
I like the piece but it has a lot of simple errors and too much narration.
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brunswick reviewed Version 1 -
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I kind of liked your story. I did proceed to read it again after finishing it, because by the last quarter, I was getting the feeling the narrator was the girl.
In a sense, it does work. The woman’s speech could be seen as her talking to the dog instead of the narrator. But I think that sometimes, you’re kind of stretching it. I guess that in an upsetting situation like that, the woman could have spoken much to her dog, or she could just be that sort of woman, but it seems a little far. I think you should make the words and actions a little more ambiguous, instead of the woman seemingly responding directly to the narrator, make it a little more ignore. Such as when the girl asks if the body is alive, I think making the woman shake her head is a little too direct. Something more along the lines of looking away or something more subtle that the narrator has to interpret.
Overall, it’s an alright piece. It didn’t affect me as much as I would assume it should. I’m not sure what to say about that though.
RudiRudi reviewed Version 1 -
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There’s much here that is good. You write with a very fine, elegant “pen”; your use of description is often powerful and inventive. However, I found the story overly-descriptive to the occlusion of plot thread. Also, there were certain confusion over the reliability of narrative, which I’m not sure was intentional. The itallicised thoughts of the narrator jarred, in as much as they appeared to overlap or contradict the main tract of the story itself (that which was establishing the narrator’s motives/”identity” anyway).
All the same, this is impressive work. Well done.
Lena17 reviewed Version 1 -
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This was a great first attempt; your tone was good, although slightly confusing. What exactly are you going for here? An murder mystery? An abstract drama? I don’t know if there are other parts to this, so I won’t judge you on it feeling incomplete, of course!
The first person really did it in for me; I had no idea who was talking half the time. I’m sorry, but maybe first person isn’t the best route to take UNLESS you have a narrative that runs straight through like a diary entry or an offscreen monologue in a movie, and then, it goes right back to the story in third person. Hope that helps.
Overall good story. Just work on adding a bit more detail, and not using ALL first person!
Best of luck with your future writing! _
~JMB
Zakari39 reviewed Version 1 -
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1. Yes – I liked it – extremely atmospheric and ‘close’. I felt as if I were right there with her…
2. Yes – I was looking for things I might have missed – clues to make me realise it was her own body sooner.
3. Yes – triumphantly and firmly so. I knew before the end it was her – but the way you described it in short factual snippets: that was really powerful and concise – a metaphor for how she comes to the shocking realisation that she was dead.
Writing Presently is a real skill – it works well here – as a Present Imperfect in narration, rather than real Present (it’d be like a Screenplay then).
I’d definitely like to see more of your exercises, if this is how good it is.
(wait – that sounded distinctly wrong!)
pricillacox reviewed Version 1 -
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My first comment is that the plot works slightly. First off though, as soon as we hear the moan and then she sees the body, my mind thought, “I wonder if she is looking at herself.” However, that thought was evacuated as I read further. But then as soon as she wonders why they aren’t talking to her, I knew that the body was her. I suggest taking those thoughts in italics out. They make it much too obvious, and I am assuming you want it to be a surprise.
My second comment is why is she dead in the woods? I think there needs to be some explaination.
I wonder why she is in the woods from the very beginning. She realizes she is dressed innapropiatly, but does not give any hint to why she is here. I realize there’s the possiblity she was killed elsewhere and brought here, but something needs to tell us that, or give us some informatino, otherwise it’s too much questioning. I realize the narrator is questioning too…but this just doesn’t work. She needs to have some sort of memory.
The imagery of the rain is gorgeous. I’ve never liked the cliche of hearing and noise before “realizing” it came from you. I think the action would flow easier without that break.
Why does she not recognize herself?
The rest is interesting, and was a fine read. Moved quickly and at an accurate pace. Fixing a few things, thinking about the things I mentioned, will surely improve the quality.
Re reviewed Version 1 -
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The details in the beginning are so pretty that I thought the story was just a tree hugging mediation on nature. The fact that the girl had forgotten everything allows the story greater subtlety and momentum.
Yes, it really works and I didn’t suspect high strangeness until that final
“Why don’t they talk to me?”
This is without a doubt one of the best short stories I’ve read, ever. In fact, it’s so good I wonder if it’s been done before using the same plot devices. I don’t think so.
liquidsoul reviewed Version 1 -
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Hmm this is a good attempt at first person. I can definitely tell you have usually done third person writing. At times there are awkward words. Nothing really major just a few minor things here and there. For example,
“What inappropriate footwear for a walk in the woods, my mother would say… I think.”
Now I am not sure if this is actually thought or if you aren’t sure what your mother said.
I can picture a lot of nice imagery here as someone clumsily approaches the crime scene and gets reprimanded by someone who was there and seems like she was a friend of the victim.
You have some nice things going for you here but I think you need to look over a few things. Keep up the good work.
Jarl reviewed Version 1 -
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Did you like this?
The simple answer was yes. I thought it was well paced and neatly structured. I have some criticism though, take or leave them as you see fit. Some of the language is a little pedestrian. For example, you use the word feel a little two often and at times mechanically.
There are one or two consistency errors as well but nothing shockingly so.
Did it make you read through it again after the first read?
No. I didn’t feel the need to re-read it.
I could see the outcome ahead of time but still enjoyed the way you got there. There were some nice touches here and there that allowed the story to stand out as better than the average.
Some of your descriptive work is very good and keeps the reader involved in the scene you’ve set. I could imagine the environment fully and you offer up enough visual description to allow the reader to fill in the gaps.
I also liked the way in which you used the closing line.
Overall I enjoyed this story and think with a little bit of spit and polish you’ve got a nice piece of work here.
Thanks for sharing.
Wordtinker reviewed Version 1 -
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1) Yes. 2) Yes. 3)Yes. I like it – a lot.
I love the way you managed to describe the crime scene without dragging me through pointing everything out for me -the brief descriptions alternating with the one way phone conversation – wonderfully done.
Solid story, flows well, just needs another ruthless edit and spit polish. For example, you used ‘feel’ three times in your first seven sentences. (I wouldn’t notice, but I do it myself)
P.1 – cut first sentence- try “My feet feel wet. I glance down at the puddle I am standing in, at the brown ooze of mud, rotten leaves and bark seeping into my shoes through the decorative holes cut into the white leather and listen to raindrops impacting leaves.
P2 – you’ve italicized, we don’t need ”... I think”
P3 – replace ‘feels’ with ‘is’ (inanimate objects can’t feel, and a reader WILL make that point eventually).- delete second ‘wet’and change ‘running’ to ‘run’. You still have that nice alliteration and don’t bludgeon the reader with wet water is wet.
P4 – you wrote ‘the air’(insert five words)’the air’. She should inhale (deeply?), then note the air’s texture and aroma or she can do both at the same time.
You see how I do this, right? Take each paragraph individually, line by line and turn it inside out trying to carve away the fat and leave the muscle?
Watch out for ‘feel’, replace it with a real verb. Like me you’re fond of passive voice – it sounds pretty - its unobtrusive, but its boring. Cut away all those nice little indicator words – “impacting ‘on the’ leaves” – you’ll avoid passive voice that way, as well. Maybe I just caught on early (P10), but then again perhaps you should review your treatment of the police activity and the speaker’s reactions to it. It’s necessary to explain for some readers, but I felt like I was being reminded constantly that the speaker was a ghost.
P10 – typo spellcheck won’t catch and another in P11.
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