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Tags: Writers, Poetry, Short-Stories, Writing, Creativity 

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'TIS FINALLY FINISHED!!! :D

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shnarf9892

PostPosted: Sat Jun 20, 2009 9:50 pm


Untitled


I can only stare at him and shake my head. He's passed out on the couch with his hair ruffled and a line of drool leaking out the corner of his open mouth. Today was a bad day for him. I'm disappointed. Frustrated. Angry. Ashamed of my father. But I can't do a thing about it.

He doesn't smell of alcohol; he switched to vodka to nix that giveaway. I can still tell though, just by the way he's sleeping. After all these years, I haven't gotten used to that uncertainty factor. One day he's fine. The next day he's plastered. It is nearly impossible to be able to trust someone when that person disappoints you time and time again. Violence is not the problem; he doesn't get violent when he's drunk. He's just...not there. Physically, yes, emotionally, he's gone. There's just no stability.

Hooray for dysfunction.


The notebook shook in his hands. Tears began to mar the perfect purple penmanship. Sloppy and salty, they spilled across the page. He read on.

I've given up on confronting the problem. When he's sober, I don't want to bring it up. I just want to enjoy the time I have with my dad. On the other hand, when he's drunk, he's not going to remember anything I say anyway, so what's the point in trying? So many times were there important moments--like Christmases or family get-togethers, events that most dads would cherish for years after--that he will never remember. I recently sifted through some old videos from past Christmases, and in each one, I can see that he's had a little to drink. It was just enough so that he was relaxed but not enough so that we ever noticed over the festivities. How much of those times does he actually remember? I don't know and I doubt I ever will.

So what was the occasion today? It was my birthday. He was so incredibly plastered I almost couldn't believe it. I know he won't remember any of it. "Happy birthday, Liz," he had slurred, eyelids drooping over bloodshot eyes. He had been drunk the day before, and I had been hoping, praying,
begging to God, "Please, please let him be okay for tomorrow." But my prayers were ineffective. I could only sit there and cry as the candles on the cake turned to puddles of chocolate wax. I've seen it all and gone through it all before, yet it always seems to catch me by surprise. Each day poses the same questions over and over. Is he going to be alright today or not? Will he be there for me or the bottle? Is he going to be my dad today, or will he just be my father?

His breath caught as he read the last line. The bright orange jumpsuit he wore boasted tear stains. He didn't want to keep reading. He hated what was written over and over in that purple notebook. But he just couldn't stop. It was the only thing he had left of her.

It's hard. It's so hard to keep going like this. I don't know how much longer I can take this. The only constant in this aspect of my life is the uncertainty factor. It's always there. But even through all of these repeating occurrences, I can't just walk away from him. I love my dad to death, and nothing he does is going to stop me from loving him, no matter what.

He couldn't take it anymore and he threw the notebook across the cell, screaming, "How can you love me when I killed you!" His body convulsed with sobs as he leaned back against the wall and drew his knees to his chest, hugging his legs as tightly as he could.

It hadn't been more than a month earlier when it happened. He didn't actually remember the incident, but the police had told him that he was way over the legal BAC*. Apparently, he had been driving her in to town to get her learner's permit when he ran a red light and got T-boned from the passenger side. She was killed instantly. He walked away without a scratch nor a recollection of the event. The only thing he retained from the incident was the horrendous guilt he felt every waking and every sleeping moment of every day.

With tears rolling down his cheeks and his head pressed back against the dank cement wall, he sobbed, "Elizabeth, my Elizabeth, why have I forsaken thee?"

*Blood Alcohol Content
~~~~~

As you can see, it's finished now. What do you guys think of it? Post comments and criticisms please! biggrin
PostPosted: Mon Jun 22, 2009 6:01 pm


Good beginning, but, I really can not form any true opinion until the piece is further along. At the present moment, there is no plot, just thoughts, almost like a journal entry.

DreamingRoses1224
Crew


Deadman Riseing

PostPosted: Thu Jun 25, 2009 3:24 am


Its ok it's tricky to get on idea of whats going on but all in all it's a good start
PostPosted: Wed Jul 08, 2009 2:07 pm


I think the "Hooray for dysfunction" line is what makes it feel... less like a story and more like a journal entry.

I also think the last paragraph feels... almost like a departure from the rest of it. I can see where it comes from, but the transition just doesn't feel smooth.

Cathartic Denouement

Anxious Codger


shnarf9892

PostPosted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 11:03 am


I decided to turn it into a journal entry and I got rid of that last paragraph, replacing it with a new one! biggrin Thanks for all the help! It is finished now, and I'd like some feedback please.

mrgreen
PostPosted: Sat Jul 11, 2009 9:35 pm


I like it better as a journal entry.

The last line -- the "Elizabeth, my Elizabeth, why have I forsaken thee?" seems a little... jarring. Judging from the descriptions of the father in the journal entry, it doesn't seem like something he would say.

Cathartic Denouement

Anxious Codger


DreamingRoses1224
Crew

PostPosted: Sun Jul 12, 2009 8:47 am


I agree with CD. That is my only problem with it. I like it like this, though why she would ever get in the vechicle with him is beyond me, especially to get her Learner's permit, but love works in strange ways, which you've made very clear in this written work.
You're an excellant writer. Can't wait to read more of your stuff! --ATW
PostPosted: Tue Jul 14, 2009 3:46 am


Its is still good

Deadman Riseing


shnarf9892

PostPosted: Tue Jul 14, 2009 10:19 am


Actually, it's not uncommon for someone to get into a vehicle with an inebriated person. Half of the time, that person is fine before they start driving. Alcohol gets in the bloodstream scarily fast, partly because it can pass straight through the lining of the stomach into the bloodstream. If it was a longer drive to town, he could have been fine before getting in the car and plastered half way through. It's a scary thing and I've seen way too many people's lives and families ruined on its part. That's why I wrote this. As for that last line, I wanted to make it kind of like he reworded a phrase from the Bible. I probably should have described the dad when he was sober more, but alas, I did not. Oh well.

Thanks for the helpful comments and criticisms! biggrin
PostPosted: Sun Aug 09, 2009 10:43 am


You're an extremely talented tragedy author. You should try writing something bigger than a short story.

Argus Plexus


damaged-reality

PostPosted: Wed Aug 12, 2009 7:07 pm


I think that if you were to make it seem more story-like, opposed to more preview-like, then it would make more sense. Other then that, I think that your writing it great! your writing it great, but we just need more of it!
PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 5:24 pm


There are quite a few of my stories up in this subforum if you want to take a look. Thanks everyone! biggrin

shnarf9892

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The Chamber of Lore

 
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