Remember Me

"Hey" a familiar voice said behind me, I turned around and saw my ex-lover, "So I've heard you'removing out of town" he said in a shy tone, he was always like that, a bitshy but quite mischievous as well, and that's what I love about him "Well it’snot yet final, but we may be moving out, but for now, I'm just having vacation there"

"Oh well, have fun and take care"

"Is that all? I don't think you came to me just to catch up"

"Well… Um..." He said looking away while scratching his head, I could see he wants to say something to me but he seems to hesitate

"Well?" I tilted my head, hoping that I could create an eye contact with him

"That's all, take care"he said to me and gave me a bottle of delight, one of my favorite drink and gave me a sweet smile, those smile was once mine, I wish I could still keep it.I must admit I'm still in love with him and I still want to be with him, but there are things that should remain as it is. "Thank you" I said with a faint smile "I'll be going then" he just smiled at me and I turned my back at him and left cause the provincial bus might leave me.

Leaving him behind felt like I have a big iron attached in my feet, holding me back, but even so, I must go on with life. That's how it should be, we mustn't hold on on such things that will bring us suffering, we have to let it all go like a balloon and let it drift off to the sky, let us send our pain to the universe and maybe the universe might somehow give us the healing that we need.

I was able to catch up with the last trip of bus going to the province, and to my convince, it was ready to leave, but somehow I have this weird hesitation in me, like I don't want to ride on that bus, but I brushed it off and got into it. I was getting into it when I saw the driver and his eyes looked red and he seems to be out of focus which fans my hesitation not to ride it, but then again I just shrugged it off and ride it anyway.

I manage to please a passenger to exchange seats with me so that I could sit by the window side. When I travel, I always want to be at the window side, I don't know why but it puts me at ease just observing stuffs. As I've observe, when its morning, I could see people hurrying up because they're going to work, some are just going home from graveyard shifts. In the afternoon, people are exhausted by the heat but some of them still manage to give off a sweet smile. At night, I could see tired faces and just want to go home, some are happy because something good has happened to them, some of them had pain in their eyes, wishing they could bewitch the person that they love a little more longer, which what I want to be with right now, I wanted to stay a little longer earlier, I wanted to have some small talks with him, so I could be with him a little longer, but I guess I just have to face that he's no longer mine now and move on, rather than to force something that isn't meant to be.

As our bus passed the tollgate,the roads began to be clear i could see the lush terrain filled with trees and plants, it was such a beautiful scenery, but it feels a bit odd, usually this kind of scenery makes me so calm but at this point of time, why do I feel so nervous? Is it because I don't want to leave him behind? Or is it something else?

I tried to focus on the beautiful scenery and held the bottle of delight as tight as I could. Holding it feels like I'm with him, it feels like his also holding my hand which somehow made me calm down and made me appreciate the beauty of nature.

Moments later, I could feel that our bus was moving faster and faster, then suddenly, the bus was not running that smoothly. When the driver turned right, all of us would eventually fall to the right, and when it turns left, we'd stumble to the left, it was just like a roller coaster ride, but in this case, its not as fun at it is in the amusement parks, this is a kind of ride that would literally send us to hell.

Each passing car would hunk their horns at our bus cause the driver was driving recklessly, every second was a cliffhanger, I tried to hold the bottle of delight as tight as could, hoping it'll calm me down, but knowing the fact that we're seconds away from death is something that could give you a nerve wracking sensation that no good memory could ever calm you down.

And in a sharp second, our bus was hurdling up in the sky, then it went stumbling down the stiff hill. Every bounce would sent the passengers off their seats and hit the roof of the bus.

I held on the bottle of delight and tried to remember everything from the very start, I wanted to remember everything before I die, I want to remember how it felt, how it happened, how it all started. I closed my eyes and started to flash the memories of us.

I could remember from the very first time we met, it was the start of school, and he was quite shy upon introducing himself like everyone else, I remember how we first talked to each other, how he was introduced to me by my friends, on how I felt my heart pounded wildly, how I thought it was just my anxieties going up again.

I remembered the time I realized I was in love with him, at first I denied it, but the feelings too strong to hide, I could remember, it was close to midnight at December, he joked about how he was mine, that he, himself is his gift to me. I remember the time when I was so tired in decorating the social hall for our masquerade ball and when I opened my bag, I was surprised cause he put a bottle of delight in it.

I remember clearly at the ball,when he shyly ask me to dance, he couldn't even look at me straight in the eye because he was so shy, I remember how it felt holding his hands, how the people around us seems to disappear while we were dancing, it felt so good, I felt so alive that time, I felt so safe that time. After the party, he waited for me and wanted to escort me home cause it was late that night, but the teachers already gave me a ride.

That night, the night that I couldn't forget, I remembered how he messaged me asking if I was already home, he was checking on me if I was safe, and then he ask me to be his girl, I said yes and he as so happy, I was so happy that night.

Somehow, I manage to put a smile on my face despite of this accident, I don't know why but those memories has put me at ease, and with a final bump, our bus was at the edge of the hill, I could hear screams of help and cries of agony, but I lay there on the ground,feeling so weak and helpless.

I tried to tighten my grips on the bottle as I become more numb. Once more, I tried to remember everything, but the more I try to remember the more my memory become more vague, I could remember some events but his face was all a blur. I tried to remember more but I could not recall the events.

Please let me remember him for the last time, please, I want to relive the days that I was with him, for the last time please let me feel once again how it felt when he held my hands, please let me remember him.

I tried my hardest, but the more I tried to remember the more it becomes a blur, I couldn't do anything. I could feel that my eyes are crying, and with a final blimps of the bottle of delight everything went black.

Reviews

[JayG]

• "Hey" a familiar voice said behind me, I turned around and saw my ex-lover,

The first quote should have ended with a comma for the tag. And, this sentence should have ended with a period. When using a mid sentence tag, one that’s obviously mid-sentence, a comma works. Here, it doesn’t.

And always, always, always, avoid the comma splice. Had this been a submission, that, alone, would have stopped your audition at this point. Punctuation matters a great deal, because it helps the reader “hear” the story as you want them to.

And edit, edit, edit. Missing periods, commas used where a period should be, and other such things, pull the reader out of the story. So post nothing but your “A” game work, edited to perfection.

And here’s where we get into the meat of it: To the one supposedly living the events, they didn’t turn and see an ex-lover. Have you ever, in all your days, turned, and thought, “It’s my friend,” or “That’s my Mom?” No. You know them, and use their name.

I see that you want the reader to know her status, and should. But instead of stepping on stage to talk to the reader, use something like:
- - - -
“Jack?” I said, as I turned. “I didn’t expect to see you up and about this early. You’re not usually out of bed before nine on weekends.”

He laughed, before saying, “And, a good morning to you, Stella.” He spread his hands, adding, “With you lying next to them, what man would want to get out of bed earlier than they have to?”
- - - -

Not your story or your characters, of course. It’s just a parallel to illustrate a point. But look at what we learn, without the author stepping on stage to lecture the reader:

1. It’s morning, on a weekend.
2. They once spent their nights together.
3. They both have names.
4. They’re on friendly terms.
5. We learn their gender.
6. Their banter demonstrates a bit of character development.

And note that all that happens in real-time, in the viewpoint of the one living the story, not someone explaining it in the words of a a storyteller who is pretending to be the person they’re talking about.

That matters a great deal, because the approach you’re using isn’t either first person narration or fiction, as a publisher views it. Readers don’t want to read the words of a storyteller. They want to be made to feel as if they’re living the adventure in real-time, on the scene, and as the protagonist. They want an emotional experience, not an essay on how someone fictional feels about fictional events.

What you’re missing is that only you can hear emotion in the words of the storyteller you’re transcribing. The reader has no idea of the emotion you want them to place into your words. And, they can’t guess because they won’t know what a line says till AFTER it’s read, and then it’s too late. You know, but you cheat. Before you read the first word you know the gender of the people and can hear their voices. You know what’s going to happen, and why.

What does your reader have: Only what punctuation suggests, and what your wording suggests to THEM, based on THEIR background, not yours. That’s a killer, and why it’s best to present the story in the protagonist’s viewpoint, as-they-live-the-story instead of a report on it presented by a dispassionate outside observer who’s reporting and explaining.

Here’s the deal: All those reports and essays you wrote in school? Useless techniques for fiction, because nonfiction informs, but fiction entertains by giving the reader an emotional experience. And reading the words of someone talking about what once happened, in a voice we can’t hear, won’t entertain.

So what you need is a few of the tricks the pros take for granted—things only someone who has studied the professional skills of fiction-writing will know.

Not good news, I know, but everyone you know has been selecting only professionally written and prepared fiction since they began reading. To impress them you have no choice but to make use of the skills they expect to see used, even if they don’t recognize them as being used, any more than does the audience know how a magician does the tricks that amaze them.

So the path you need to tread is one of acquiring the knowledge and skills of a magician of words: a fiction-writer. And the good news is that if you are meant to be a writer, the learning will be fun.

I’m pressed for time at the moment, so let me give you a prescription for acquiring those skills:

First, check out the articles in my writing blog for a better idea of the kind of skills you need, and why. Then, pick up a copy of either Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer, or James Scott Bell's, Elements of Fiction Writing. Read the book slowly, with lots of time for thought and practice as each new idea is discussed, to make it yours, rather than something to note and forget two days later.

If you’re meant to be a writer the learning will be fascinating. If not, you’ll learn that quickly. So it’s win/win.

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