On the Train

This is what I consider my "Hemingway voice," although I mean it without pretenses.

Balding businessmen talking about cell phone plans, trapped for 18 months more, cracking open Daisy Cutter pale ale on the top seats of the bi-level 4:44 outbound, riding west side-ways through the sudden dark and utter chill of December 6th Chicago. The car fills with sniffles and squeaks, coughs and mild muttering.

"Oh, I like that orange-yellow we've got going on in the sunset," one says to the other, gesturing across the way out the window.

The girl puts her head over her shoulder to see the colors, then turns back toward them with a wide smile. He seems surprised she's noticed, turns back to his friend and says something about the way his dog turns its head in the same way when he says, "Squirrel." Like she can't hear him, sitting three feet away across the baggage racks. "I guess I need more beer," he chuckles to his friend.

The discussion turns to midnight movie showings at theaters, how they used to get all "liquered up" as teens to go see The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and how he's surprised that now it's teenage girls dressing up in character to see Beauty and the Beast and singing along to all the songs. "Same kind of floor show," he muses, "but a whole lot more wholesome."

The man to her left, probably no older than her, smells faintly of spiced cologne. "Good choice," she thinks, leaning into the cloud. Tasteful. It's so easy to go overboard with those things.

"Whenever I go on Taco Tuesday, I can't ever manage. I eat too much of the chips and guac."

"I think I need some more beer." And it's still not 5 o'clock in Chicago.

There's a woman on the window side of a bench seat on the bottom level playing Farmville very fast on her tablet using the butt end of a pen so the dirt won’t get under her perfectly manicured nails.

"Oh, thank you." Across the way, they crack open two more beers.

Her thumbs fly across the keyboard of her 4-year-old phone, typing words no one will read.

The night is quite complete outside, the cold so deep it quick-freezes ears and lips and noses like Hungry Man dinners. The businessmen talk of their daughters and setting up trains around the Christmas tree. She can't help but overhear, smiling at the memory of taking over the grandparents' basement with tiny metal tracks two generations old, delicate figurines and miniature freight. What did the people on those trains talk about?

Reviews

[Nusquam Esse]

An interesting detached depiction of a moment which seems to be isolated in time. I recommend you check out the writer Roarke on here, he does a style similar to this,,, although, bluntly put, I think he is better at it. Seeing as it is not my forte, perhaps looking over his work can help you further tweak this styled voice?

[DaughterNature]

Thanks, I will definitely look at him.

Yeah, as you've probably seen, I have experimented with lots of different authorial voices, and this is a fairly new one for me to be experimenting with, so it's not my strongest.

[Nusquam Esse]

That is good, by always pushing our limits, we continually improve. I don't delve to quite this extreme, but I likewise vary my voice a bit as well.

[Woody]

I'm really no literary critic so I don't know about the story being "disconnected".
I personally like the ambiance on the train and the narrator's detachment when describing the old men. just painting a picture as an outsider, though she's on the train herself.
I enjoyed the read.

[DaughterNature]

Thanks so much!

[Woody]

you're welcome.

[Einstein Noodle]

lots here that can be developed ... read Tegan's response and yours below so deciphered more easily ... i see you capturing a moment and i think its successful ..however .. the story is disconnected as written (just my opinion)
this stands out more than anything even after reading twice
"something about the way his dog turns its head in the same way when he says, "Squirrel." ..the cruel disregard compels an answer of some kind in my book :))) love and peace Ms. Natural
E.

[DaughterNature]

Hahahaha, yes, I wanted to respond when he compared me to his squirrel, but I had no idea what to say to that! I know it sounds disconnected; since it just happened and I wrote it down, I didn't know what to do with it. I'm hoping to be inspired to put it into something bigger so it appears more connected!

[Einstein Noodle]

i will be looking for it :
E.

[Tegon Maus]

Hi Daughter... I like this one. You seem to be observing but not connected… like a stone thrown into a pond… wet, surrounded by water but not soaked, not part of the water. Nothing that’s going on influenced you beyond its occurrence… like a chronicler or watcher. I find it very interesting.

[DaughterNature]

That's funny! I actually am the girl in the action (the one on her phone and looking at the sunset). I tried writing in this style because the feel intrigued me in Hemingway or Fitzgerald. Not quite sure what to do with it, but it seemed as the moments happened that there was some sort of philosophical significance in it, so I decided to capture it.

[Tegon Maus]

For me… and I’m in my mid-sixties… it seemed the focus was on the wistful thinking of older drinking men and their opinion of women… girls.

[DaughterNature]

I thought they were hilarious, and so silly that these 40-somethings couldn't wait until it was 5 o'clock and they were home, they had to be drinking and talking loudly about weird things on the train!