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    dots Submission Name: until further noticedots

    Author: Melora
    Elite Ratio:    3.28 - 175/198/128
    Words: 372
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 1014
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 2187

       frosh is my new favorite word. ever.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsuntil further noticedots

    Grace slams the screen door, detonating a mushroom cloud of bug spray. She has to let it bang—slipping in to trick the mosquitoes. Jennie’s knife stops mid-slice, leaving the cucumber unfinished.
    “What’d you think of Alex?”

    I would’ve liked to know her when she was younger, when she wrote poems about melting in the rain and being in love with Tom DeLonge. In the margins of birthday cards from frosh year—her best friend had traced the cover of her favorite album (not knowing who The Academy Is…were) and wrote some declaration along the lines of “friends forever” (though now they’ve drifted, the kind of friends who always agree to hang out but never do) with five exclamation marks and a misspelling of the band’s name. When she was ridding herself of the “darkness” that’s trailed her like ellipses since second grade, when moments were still tagged by school year. They still are. Before she became an untouchable. I’d like to have known her in the days before that—when she watched Saturday morning cartoons. When Saturday morning cartoons were still worth watching, and she knew the pink and yellow Power Rangers were meant to be together. I’d like to have known her when she was shy, kinda angsty; when she’d never been kissed, so she could tell me what it was like, because being her she’d obviously get kissed first. Obviously. Even when she was withdrawing into clinical depression and chemical imbalances: the year you forgot her eyes were hazel because she cried so much. I’d like to have known her when her hair was just brown, before the auburn dye was washed out. Before the auburn dye went in. Before the watermarks that tell me the little I know. Before her sister was flown in as an exotic commodity, coinciding with her depression (but now is the light of her life). I’d like to have known her when I could keep up with her. When she rhymed ‘light’ with ‘night,’ ‘love’ with ‘above,’ and—God forbid—‘fire’ with ‘desire.’ (Tom DeLonge again.) I’ll never know her well enough to stop writing poems about her, just as bad as hers when she was my age.

    Grace shrugs. “She’s okay.”

    Submitted on 2007-01-20 08:17:24     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Just goes to show you that there is a lot going in someone's mind. A lot more than they are letting on. All she says is "she's okay", but her mind actually dwells on Alex in an immense inward soliloquy of poetry and time.

    I liked this. You've got lots of neat things for your characters to think and say. I wish I was this creative with my characters.

    Nice piece, Melora. Keep it up!
    | Posted on 2007-10-25 00:00:00 | by AsiaticFox | [ Reply to This ]
      This reminds me of those artsy poetic "about me" rants on myspace, only from the hands of a real writer. I love the perspectives, and I disagree with Joey's comment, I love the switch from first to third...it makes sense, and gives the first person section a deeper connection with the reader. Hows that for a comment?

    | Posted on 2007-03-29 00:00:00 | by Waywarddaughter | [ Reply to This ]
      This is good (nice to read fiction here for a change ). Your description of Alex is well drawn. I think you should really continue this because you've painted a portrait of a very interesting character here/

    My only nit is technical - you go from first to third person and it's abrupt to the reader. Other than that minor thing (youcould give the reader some indication early on so we know what's happening), nice job.

    Keep going with this!
    | Posted on 2007-01-20 00:00:00 | by joeyalphabet | [ Reply to This ]

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