Ozoni, The Contributor
He is alone
He is alone
He lacks a friend
He lacks a home
And being hungry
Lacks a bone
As from today
He's but a stray
He has no place
Where he can stay
He's but a dog
A lonely dog
Recent Poststear me a new one please on 9/18/2019 9:24:33 AM
Thanks for the feedback! Then I think the main issues are to do with sentence structure and clarity, telling instead of showing, and a lack of a realised character.
I can think of solutions to the final two problems, but I'm having a bit more trouble with sentence structure. In response to the part where "Alice unfastened the glovebox... had put there to fall out", I think the general rule of thumb is to split the sentence in two. The bit about paper logistics could also do with a rework.
Not sure of how to clarify the sentence: "Her mother pulled over habitually outside a bottle shop..."
So far I'm thinking of putting 'habitually' in front of 'pulled' - 'mother habitually pulled over' - but I'm not sure if that changes the meaning.
The final their/his bit, was supposed to show that the two shared those characteristics - although there are more direct ways to do that in retrospect.
tear me a new one please on 9/18/2019 7:17:32 AM
I feel like I'm stagnating in some way :(
tear me a new one please on 9/18/2019 7:13:52 AM
“What’s that, Mummy?” Alice pointed apprehensively at an ominous-looking gate set in the middle of the room.
“It’s a metal detector, sweetie. Just like at the airport.” Alice sucked her lip, then gave a quick “Oh” of recollection. She stood quietly in the queue, twisting her lovingly-tied pigtails around her finger, imagining planes flying past the window. Her speculations ended abruptly, as she was ushered through the detector and into a waiting room glowing with neon light.
Easily the youngest person there, she was used to towering head and shoulders over her fellow peers, but cowered under the intimidating efficiency of the formally dressed adults around her.
“Why does Daddy stay here? It looks like a prison,” asked Alice, turning up her nose.
“It’s not a prison, dear. You don’t know about these things. Daddy just likes to stay here because it’s safe.”
“But Mummy, I thought Daddy went overseas on business.” Alice didn’t understand business – in her imagination it was just a bunch of men in handsome suits... like those posh business people she’d seen in the QANTAS Club on the long journey to see her father.
“Well, this is where he stays when he’s away,” said her mother. Alice had fading memories of her father smiling and joking with her mother while they were making popcorn strings, and had no idea why he would ever want to spend time in such a dreary building.
After what to her seemed an unendurably long wait, while her mother fingered copy after copy of out-of-date magazines, they were shepherded into a long, draughty room broken into two halves by a huge pane of glass. Men lined the other side of the glass, each sitting in an individual booth. Having stopped to look around, Alice felt herself being wrenched towards a booth by her mother, suddenly stopping as she gleefully recognised the man sitting in it.
“You look thin, Daddy,” she observed. “Hey, what’s that?” She pointed to a badge on his black uniform. It read, ‘Solitary’. “Daddy, why are you playing cards alone? Is that why you’re on the other side of this window?” He looked momentarily baffled, then deciphered her question.
Before he could answer, they were interrupted by the kind of person Alice would have called a businessman.
“Mrs. Allerton? I just need a quick signature regarding last year’s incident.” Alice’s mother glowered at the man, jerking her head slightly in Alice’s direction.
“Maybe we can discuss this a little later?” she asked pointedly. The man’s face remained carefully blank as he bobbed his head in apology and left.
A more experienced observer than Alice might have noticed that Tim Allerton’s body released itself from the hunched, nervous knot it had been. Fortunately, she had forgotten her earlier question, although the relief didn’t last long.
“Daddy, what are you doing here?”
“Daddy’s here because he wanted to come here.”
“But why? It’s boring here. There’s nothing to do.” She poked out her tongue, as if to say that places with out-of-date magazines in the waiting room weren’t worth her time.
“Well,” said her father slowly and patiently, “I had to come here. And I like it here. Black is my colour.” And he chuckled, as if to say that living with out-of-date magazines wasn’t so painful if you could wear colours which suited your complexion. Her mother frowned.
Alice had no idea what this was supposed to mean, so she asked again, “Why are you playing cards alone?”
“Well, I…” He trailed off as he quailed under Alice’s mother’s furious glare.
“That’s it. We’ve done what you asked. We moved away for a reason. Alice, we’re leaving,” announced Mrs. Allerton unexpectedly, with an air of finality.
For the umpteenth time that day Alice felt her mother dragging her jerkily out of the room, utterly perplexed by her father’s queer behaviour. She didn’t think that the refined suits of business had done her father any good, and wished he had never involved himself with those professional people. Alice jerked to a halt as her mother stopped to grab the pile of documents from the businessman before marching off to the hire car, where she shoved the documents unceremoniously into the glovebox, making Alice all the more perplexed.
As they drove, her bafflement slowly became hunger, so she barely noticed her mother’s pursed lips and concerned glances. Her mother pulled over habitually outside a bottle shop, promising she would only be gone a moment. Searching the car for some kind of food, Alice unfastened the glovebox, causing an empty pack of cigarettes and the pile of documents her mother had put there to fall out. She picked one up at random, seeing an emblem with a title embossed: St. Gloria’s Prison – Secure Correctional Facility. Perusing the file, she understood barely a word among the mess of legal jargon. Three words jumped at her off the page: murder, and Tim Allerton.
Alice dropped the file, knocking the pages to the floor. Absently, she grabbed a stick of gum from the glovebox and threw it into her mouth, although her brain still worked more furiously than her jaws.
Murder. She attributed it vaguely to her mother’s television, and blood, and blunt instruments and evil. Prison made her think of bloodshot eyes and tattooed men. But when she thought of Tim Allerton... she thought of their chestnut hair, their slightly pointed noise, his two dark, brooding eyes. Soft tears slid down her cheeks as she read and re-read the page, searching for anything to confuse her, to baffle her. The truth had cut through any of her mother’s lies.
Her mother emerged from the bottle shop. Alice took a deep breath, and shoved the pages back into the glovebox.
“Everything all right?” asked her mother, noticing her daughter’s blotchy eyes as she hopped into the car, bottles clinking in her hand.
“Fine,” lied Alice, as if nothing had happened. “It was just nice to see Daddy.”
For a 1000 word short story what can I do to make this more interesting?
Tally Ho, Chapter Two on 9/14/2019 7:37:58 PM
Lets get our mans.
Let's Play: Tally Ho, by Gower on 9/13/2019 8:53:20 AM
Let's make our butler the best homewrecker chad on Earth.
Let's Play: Tally Ho, by Gower on 9/13/2019 8:26:36 AM
You're turning our butler into a passionless bot :((((((
Let's Play: Tally Ho, by Gower on 9/13/2019 8:24:00 AM
NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING??
Let's Play: Tally Ho, by Gower on 9/13/2019 8:20:02 AM
2. But make Frankincense secretly a guy.
Let's Play: Tally Ho, by Gower on 9/13/2019 6:25:29 AM
1. So real.
Help. on 9/7/2019 4:42:42 AM
On the moon.