Want

little story

She lived. She breathed. She sang. She wore her days like an old sweater. She talked, and listened, and ate, and she worked, and she slept. She saw, and she heard, and she dreamed.
            She had an uncanny ability to sense what someone wanted. Whether it was warm weather, or a person, or laughter, she always seemed to know before any truths were spoken. She knew that her mom wanted a different home. She knew her dad wanted more patience. She knew her brother wanted her to pay more attention to him. She knew her neighbor across the street wanted something that he had lost, and that is why he was always alone.
            She also knew what she wanted. Although she couldn’t quite give this thing a name, she knew the feeling of it. She could tell when she got goose bumps that she needed it. When she got shivers, she really needed it. Most of the time, she just felt an empty want for this thing she couldn’t give a name.
            She lived. She ran. She drew. She carried her days with this want nagging at her, like a hungry dog waiting to be fed, or like a child waiting to be given the go-ahead. As days continued on, she felt it more and more. She got those goose bumps whenever she looked out the window and saw the light on across the street. She got shivers whenever her mother turned out the lamp.
            She felt she was getting closer. Every day was just another spent breathing, and getting closer. Peeling an apple, she was getting closer. Holding the door, she was getting closer. She once dreamed that she was the minute hand on a clock, her head pointing towards the roman numerals. She felt it most when she was with her family (*with* being the key word, for they were always immersed in their individual activities).
            Then she had a very strange day. No matter what she did, it was never enough. The muscles in her hand cramped because she had written too many words, but they weren’t enough. She drank multiple glasses of water, but couldn’t quench her thirst. She stuffed her body full, but was still hungry. This dissatisfaction was foreign to her. She went running outside and ran as far from her house as she could. She thought it might be playing tricks on her.
            Her feet took her exactly where she needed to go. Her hair flying back and her shoes crunching the gravel, they took her in the direction she needed to go, of the want she felt. She didn’t realize this at the time. Her feet carried her and glided her and shifted her and flew her and then she landed, like a bird on ice. She was frozen, still, unmoving.
            The feeling of getting closer was now burning inside her. She felt that every blink was a spark dancing off her eyelids. She was captivated. She opened herself up to this more and more until she was nearing rupture. She had to know what this was. She threw her knees on the ground and jerked her head up towards the sky. “Show me what this is!” she screamed to the empty blue. “I need to know! Show me, please!” The blank sky answered her.
            She felt every nerve impulse jump, every muscle contract, every hair stand, and her blood rush through her. With her face still pointed toward the sky, she let it wash over her. She let it drown her, shred her, and lose her. She was on fire. The silence disappeared into a mass of noise she couldn’t see, a ferocious jumbled mass. She felt a moment of pure satisfaction as every piece of curiosity she had came together and presented itself to her.  She felt every emotion there was to feel. Her head swirled as her heart cried and her soul laughed and her body crumpled to the ground. Her eyes sparked once more, and she was gone.

Author's Note

This is the first polished story I've ever written, i just kinda wrote it. i wanna know what you think!!!
Also, i got the idea for this story while listening to Noah and the Whale's 'First Days of Spring' but this isn't related to the song's lyrics. At the end of the song, when everything explodes, that's kinda what i tried to describe. blah blah. :)

Reviews

[David Lewis Paget]

This is excellent! I don't usually review stories, but I must admit your compelling style and immediacy dragged me kicking and screaming through to the end. If this is an example of what you can do at High School level, I can predict a remarkable writing future for you.
I thought you perhaps lost a little concentration towards the end.

'She felt a moment of pure satisfaction as every piece of curiosity she had come (came) together and present(ed) itself to her.

[Jay. E. V.]

Idk who this Johnny character seems I think he is. Nor do I want to find out. As far as I'm concerned,he's is nothing more than a sad joke, playing at the word "expert."
That being said everyone deserves their own opinion, however shriveled and worthless it may be.
I loved this piece:). The sense of urgency, the excellent use of repitition and your simple language allowed for a flow that sucks the reader in. You could make this better, and you already know how:). Loved it. 100/100

[JohnnyMagrinho]

The majority of short stories on here are awful, as well as a lot of poorly constructed lazy poetry, but I found your short story interesting and well written enough to carry on reading till the end.

I will admit now that I didn't enjoy all of it, and perhaps in part it was a bit pretentious but the style is truly your own. The forced use of her pronoun is very interesting. She, she, she. Her, her, her. She is trying to find something, discover a notion of some sort and she is running. The continued and heavy use of those pronouns push the poem forward at more than a canter.

I liked the oblique, unorthodox use of everyday objects and tasks to describe how she is finding whatever it is she is finding. I suppose that makes it easier to relate to her quest in some way. Some choice of words I would say are a bit poor, but as you say, this is your first polished story so to speak, and so, that hunt for decent vocabulary and extensive use of interesting metaphors and analagies is definitely a progressive one.

Like D.L Paget says, if this is what you are writing when you are just a teenager, not even in college, it's definitely promising.

Perhaps when you write about how her body is aching and feeling you could go into the biology of things. Use a touch of scientific language to make it feel even rawer. You do not need to leave your language clean and non-offensive. At times emotion can be felt, and with style, through expletives if carefully considered within the tone and style of the piece.

I liked the part about her screaming into the empty blue. That was nice imagery.

I would say leave this piece alone and concentrate on something new, as well as perhaps looking at writing a fast paced poem, like, in the style of a rap or continued monologue. You seem to have a knack for off-setting decent imagery and visualisations against a fast pace, as well as using metaphors and analagies relatively well.

I'd say that's a good effort, but I'm sure you can be more original with your content in the next one. Self-discovery is often rather cliched and I don't think you'd get too many brownie points for babbling on about something you, as your age dictates, know very little about.

[Eagle Cruagh]

I dont know. What do you invest in the someone you love ?
You are correct this is polished. The story is perfect , as far as
it goes. I do not believe the death was an appropriate end.
I think you could end it with burning ambition to write, or your
burning desire for the one you love, anything but her death.
In the beginning you capture the readers interest and it is
intensified to the very end.
Tjere is nothing wrong with this except for the ending. Just
polish the ending with a more intense live terminus and you
will have a great story.
----- John

[Melanie Jane Boicourt S..]

Hmm. Interesting. It is left so open to interpretation but I really wonder what YOU meant by it. It seems like some sort of rapture or something like that. The writing pulls you in with curiosity but then leaves you at the end still curious. I like it, don't get me wrong. It seems like there is so much more to the story that you make the reader want to know. I like how you describe the feeling of "longing".

[Manda]

The emotion was strong, the concept brilliant, and the length adequate. For subject matter so passionate, and for your first polished story, this has definite potential for us here to see what you are made of. Great job :)

[EMF]

I read the first paragraph and I know I want to read more...Damn. I'm too busy but will return