A Warm Place

Made a view revisions and more are sure to come.

A Warm Place 

-J.H. Byrd-

 

            The whiskey bottle tipped; what little remnants persisted were now spilling onto the already stained floor next to a pile of ash from a burning cigarette. Taking with it what little was left of his spirit. The cigarette sat between the fingers of a man, un-smoked and forgotten. Tears fell sedately to the ground next to the capsized bottle, stemming from an eye covered by an otherwise unoccupied hand.

 

His head bowed, hands caressing his temple, sitting in the rotting forbidden tomb that was his room, the man trembled. He had searched all night among thoughts for the strength of this origin; some stronger godly hand to return his strength as he slowly became more lost. He drowned out this sorrow, now spilling out onto the floor.

 

            His soul was sundered. Why couldn’t he pull it all together again like before. It was eating his mind, haunting his dreams. Before he grabbed the bottle of whiskey, looking for that warm place again, he had seen her. He first blamed himself; then he blamed her. He blamed everything there was but nothing made it feel any better, so he gave that up.

 

            She had come to him again, resting on his lap, starring into those deep eyes so full of mystery like the tiding oceans. Solemnly he grasped her arms, remembering that divine touch.

 

            For years his dreams had been filled with this woman, this “dream girl”. Never having a face, she would dance with him, talk, walk among sacred beaches and every time he fell in love with her. She always wore a black dress, long and slender, cut off at the arms to show her magnificent skin, radiating as if she had consumed the moon and it now was emanating from her very soul. Yet she never bore a face to remember.

 

            Waking from a dream, convinced that it was real can be shocking. Waking from a moment of falling in love is devastating. This waltz of madness and love had drifted on for years. Slowly, it ate away at his dreams until he was dying to go back to sleep just to dance with her again.

 

            This time she came to him. This time in his own home. He opened his eyes to see her gazing back at him, so lovingly and filled with all the beauty he had remembered. He knew that face from years before and here she was, in black dress, caressing his hair like she used to.

 

            “You’ve come back?”

            “Yes,” she whispered, “and together, we shall live forever.”

            “My darling, I have missed you so. How many nights has my mind turned over just the thought of you? How many of those times did you come in my dreams, faceless, yet here you are now?”

 

            “I know my love; you have suffered. Your queen has her conquistador, noble and brave.”

            Gasping for air he opened his eyes, realizing she had gone. Frantically, he looked around him. Nothing. Emptiness. Not wanting to believe it had been another dream he searched around him still. Finally, he succumbed to the truth he knew was reality. He screamed from the depth of his soul into the empty blanket of the night.

 

            This is how he came to be in present state. This is how he had come to ask himself “Why?” so many times. “Why had she gone?” “Why did she haunt his dreams, tormenting him so?” “Why could he not escape it?”

 

            His thirst only numbed him, but it could not cure what ached.

Reviews

[JayG]

• The bottle tipped.

For you, who know where we are in time and space, what’s in the bottle, if it’s tipping into a glass, a well, the sea, the mouth of a living being, or onto the floor, this makes perfect sense. For a reader it’s just meaningless words, spoken in a monotone. And though you clarify, you can’t retroactively remove confusion. So why not give the reader context for where they are, who they are, and what’s going on? A small thing like, “The whisky bottle tipped.” And since bottles don’t tip by themselves, make them know what’s going on. Without that, the words are just words, not story.

There’s a lot to writing fiction that's not apparent, and the report-writing skills we’re give in school gave us none of them. So some time spent in the fiction-writing section of the library would be time well invested.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/

[JHByrd]

I see what you mean. I was wanting to make it seem more like a sudden action and I felt more descriptive words would take away from that but I agree that it might be more valuable to expand on it.

I haven't worked on this one in a few years and I was just starting to create my own writings. I've recently been going back over my old writings and editing them now that my own skills have increased and I have learned much more. I was having trouble with this one though.

That being said, do you have any more critiques that could help me out?

Again, thanks for the tip and I am tinkering around with some ideas!

[JayG]

• I agree that it might be more valuable to expand on it.

Nope. It’s not expansion you need. That would only make it read as more of a report. You need a change from the outside-in reporting approach you’re using—which is inherently dispassionate, and useless for fiction—to the inside out approach of fiction-writing.

If the bottle fell, for example, and he didn’t notice it, would it matter to the story? No, because it’s what you’re noticing, not what matters to him. Let’s say he farts. should you mention it? Only if he reacts in a way that moves the plot or develops character.

But if he knocks the bottle off off a known to the reader surface, notices and reacts to it in a way that sets the scene, develops character, or moves the plot, THEN it matters. So in this case, since it has an effect on his mood that matters to the plot, it’s worth reporting, but only as a cause, effect, and reaction motivated by the falling bottle set. So you would present him doing something that tips the bottle as the reader “watches.” The bottle would fall and he would perhaps look at it and leave it be, with his mood getting darker, which woud demonstrate his feeling of hopelessness. Or, he picks it up, his listless movements demonstrating the same thig in a different way. Or… But keep in mind that if it’s important enough to mention it’s important enough for him—not you—to react to. That’s not expanding thre story, that’s placing it into HIS viewpoint.

For why an inside-out approach is necessary, try this article:
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/2015/05/13/inside-out-the-grumpy-writing-coach/

My point is that there are hundreds of things like this that are waiting to trip you up because the report-writing skills are useless on the page. And practicing them only makes you better at writing reports. Not much help if you’re writing stories. So try a book on fiction-writing technique. If you’re not willing to spend even a few hours on learning the techniques of writing fiction…

As an aside, and as a long reformed 3 pack a day smoker:

1. A cigarette does NOT fill the room with smoke unless you’re in a closet—especially if he’s not smoking it.
2. An unsmoked cigarette won’t continue to burn as you have his do. A normal, tightly packed cigarette, will go out if not occasionally puffed. If you want it to burn down, as people have done to construct a delayed action fuse (don’t ask), you first roll it between your palms to loosen the tobacco and leave room for air to get to the burning tobacco.

[JHByrd]

Great! Thanks for the feedback, especially those tidbits regarding cigarettes. Sounded good when going for a more dramatic appeal but definitely doesn't make sense.