For Saturday's WE workshop, dropping into the amazing painting of CC Miranda.
His tortoise-like pace slowed even more as he neared the pink house. He held his breath briefly, as he gazed up at the clean lines of the place and felt the tiniest prick in his distant memory banks of…something. Something. Exhale. Think.
When he was...what? A boy? Yessss. A tiny sliver of a memory fought its way to the surface, crying to be recognized. Walking up that sidewalk with…Mother? Yes! And Grandmother. A young boy, he was. He walked through that door with them and…what?
He clung to the wrought iron fence on the perimeter of the yard; eyes darting, his vision trying to drink in that which jarred him to think of that other life. That other time. Before.
He felt the sharp rap of the stick on his backside and heard the harsh words of the young policeman telling him that he needed to move on; that his presence wasn’t welcome in a neighborhood like this.
His rheumy eyes blinked up at the baby faced officer. He nodded his understanding as his grimy hands picked up his bag of aluminum cans and he trudged away, looking back over his shoulder to the house, moving slower than ever before.
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Comments: 41
I'll have to come back later (I just got a real-world assignment that needs to addressed,) and really fall into it.
Thanks for finding some time to play; I know how busy you are!
I can't really offer critiques worth any weight here because I am just a student of the language myself but I can tell you where I stumbled...
His tortoise-like pace slowed even more as he neared the pink house. He held his breath briefly, as he gazed up at the clean lines of the place and felt the tiniest prick in his distant memory banks of…something. Something. Exhale. Think.
I'd put the first "something" right after 'prick', I think. Like so:
His tortoise-like pace slowed even more as he neared the pink house. He held his breath briefly, as he gazed up at the clean lines of the place and felt the tiniest prick of... something in his distant memory banks. Something. Exhale. Think.
Whatcha think?
Duckie, I like your suggestion. I think that helps the flow and total flavor a lot!
Kris, do you have any suggestions how I could pick up the pace of the first paragraph?
He felt the sharp rap of the stick on his backside and heard the harsh words of the young policeman, "Move on, kid!"
He knew his presence wasn’t welcome in a neighborhood like this.
i like how you delved into the southern slave history for this one. the fact that two streets away from this house is a very poor neighborhood with a lot of homeless, and in the back of the house is the "carriage house/slave quarters", it works so well. it's easy when looking at the beauty of the old homes to forget that there is a darker side to maintaining that lifestyle.
I honestly didn't know about the surrounding neighborhoods. I was trying to get the "homeless" feel, more or less. I guess it was just a fortunate accident.
Did you ask for a Thank you for posting to this group whose only purpose is to thank you for posting to this group? If so, there it is. If not, there it is.
I like Duckie's suggestion, too. Starting with his gaze might result in the kind of beginning you are looking for. Short sentences can help speed up pacing.
The only thing I would change would be the repetition of the "as he" structure in two consecutive sentences. I'd try to rewrite one of them to say the same thing in a different way.
I love this. You can write anything well - sometimes, when I have a little time, I just go and read some of my favorites on here - you are always one of them.
Marilyn
Oh, and drawing from your clients is NOT cheating. You write what you know and it will sound real and draw the reader in.