manuscriptx
New Member
There's a little blue in everyone's life. The eye opening; and the sun's wonderful light reaching the cornea, past the tulips and into the brain.
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A grown man.
- Thread starter manuscriptx
- Start date
Is this your latest short story?
Lovecraftian
Active Member
manuscriptx
New Member
more of a thought than a story
the one sentence tries to describe three things;
-what a grown man is supposed to be ( maturation )
-a beautiful sunny morning
-light that goes from the eyeball to the brain
the one sentence tries to describe three things;
-what a grown man is supposed to be ( maturation )
-a beautiful sunny morning
-light that goes from the eyeball to the brain
Lovecraftian
Active Member
Huh. I guess I’m not that literary. I have seen representations like this before, and they just don’t jive with me.
Let me try:
The rusted pot fell, slowly, into the mire; car horns.
If you read closely, this is the tale of a young fella named Wayne who was born in the country to his loving parents, Ethyl and George.
Wayne loved his life: he had a lot of good friends, he was somewhat of a local hero with his karaoke voice, and he knew how to treat a woman.
Wayne was the man.
Over time, though, Wayne began to grow stars in his eyes. He made the fateful decision one Monday to leave his hometown of Simple, Alabama. He mapped everything out closely and, if he maintained 60 mph and slept regularly, he’d be in Hollywood by Thursday, easy.
The road trip went fine and he secured a small apartment in downtown Los Angeles, only a few short miles from the place where dreams come true. He liked his new life and all the interesting culture, but he dearly missed Simple.
The hustle and bustle of the city was getting to him and, as it turned out, he didn’t sing nearly as well as he sounded to himself in the shower. Wayne wasn’t going to make it.
Confused, scared, angry, and alone, he let the life run out of his wrists one night in his tiny bathtub, Rod Stewart playing on his dime-store stereo.
Not bad, eh?
Let me try:
The rusted pot fell, slowly, into the mire; car horns.
If you read closely, this is the tale of a young fella named Wayne who was born in the country to his loving parents, Ethyl and George.
Wayne loved his life: he had a lot of good friends, he was somewhat of a local hero with his karaoke voice, and he knew how to treat a woman.
Wayne was the man.
Over time, though, Wayne began to grow stars in his eyes. He made the fateful decision one Monday to leave his hometown of Simple, Alabama. He mapped everything out closely and, if he maintained 60 mph and slept regularly, he’d be in Hollywood by Thursday, easy.
The road trip went fine and he secured a small apartment in downtown Los Angeles, only a few short miles from the place where dreams come true. He liked his new life and all the interesting culture, but he dearly missed Simple.
The hustle and bustle of the city was getting to him and, as it turned out, he didn’t sing nearly as well as he sounded to himself in the shower. Wayne wasn’t going to make it.
Confused, scared, angry, and alone, he let the life run out of his wrists one night in his tiny bathtub, Rod Stewart playing on his dime-store stereo.
Not bad, eh?
WriterJohnB
Member
manuscriptx
New Member
think " picturesque "
Are you a writer or a realist?
Realists write what they see. Writers write.
I'll let you figure that one out.
Are you a writer or a realist?
Realists write what they see. Writers write.
I'll let you figure that one out.
Peder
Well-Known Member
I'm getting to like a haiku-like form for expressing thoughts and images so, hoping you don't mind too much, here is how I hear it:
There's a little blue
in everyone's life
Eye opening
sun's wonderful light
reaching the cornea
past the tulips
into the brain.
That reads more meaningfully to me. The absence of distracting connectives allows more freedom to the reader in putting together a poetic sense and meaning.
Upon rereading, it doesn't sound so strange at all and I like it.
They do. But only when looking at a tulip. Plus it's just upside down.