Story Discussion: 12/26/2009. "Letting Go" by StarInShadows

[StarInShadows]

Thanks for waiting so long for me to start this post. Christmas can get pretty crazy in my neck of the woods. This story started out as a writing exercise for my fiction writing class but evolved into my final short story. We were only allowed 3,000 words so some things aren't as fleshed out as I would have liked but I got an A.

 

[StarInShadows]

I've posted the original story on Lit, but have fixed a few grammatical errors since then that haven't posted to the site yet. Below is my most recent edit.


Letting Go

Mary Thomas frowned at her little sister’s wedding picture displayed on her computer monitor. Leslie was beautiful as expected and looked deliriously happy, but it didn’t take much for her to be happy, just something shiny and lots of attention. Mary chuckled to herself at the thought. “Holy Mother, please don’t let me fall in love with a woman that acts like my sister,” she said with a grin and shook her head.

Mary turned off her computer and rose from her chair. She had to be at the tattoo shop in a little over an hour so she got in the shower. Thirty minutes later, she was dressed and ready. Her tight black leather clothes, black makeup, and black and purple hair were a clear message that she could take care of herself. The dark tribal lines and sharp angles tattooed on her upper arms and the snake tattooed in a coil around her wrist cemented the image. She rarely showed her softer side, but those few who knew her well knew of the tiny black rose nestled over her heart.

Mary headed for the door. As she reached for the keys to her Harley, the phone on the table rang. She impatiently looked at her watch as she answered the phone, “Hello?”

“Mary?”

The small voice struck a chord of recognition so deep that she had to brace herself against the side table. It just couldn’t be her.

“Christa?” Mary felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. Twelve years of pain welled up inside her and silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Mary, I know you’re mad at me, but I’m so afraid. What if they find out? It’s a sin Mary, a sin against God. I’m not supposed to love you, but I can’t help it. He’ll kill me, but I don’t care. I have to see you…” The voice ended with a tape recorder click; a phone message that haunted her dreams.

Anger overcame the pain. “Who are you, you sick fuck!” she shouted into the receiver, but the line went dead. She slammed the receiver into its cradle then ripped it from the wall and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a crash and fell to the floor.

****
He smirked as he heard the sounds of Mary’s anger through the door. He moved away from the porch and made his way into the large stand of trees beside her house where he had hidden his car. “Soon, Christa,” he whispered, “Soon she will be cleansed and you can finally forgive me. Lord, give me the strength to right the wrong I have done to my daughter. Help me to do your work.” He settled in to watch her front door and wait for her to leave.
****

Mary stared at the phone on the floor for a moment as a few angry tears left black streaks down her cheeks. She gave them a swipe and retrieved the phone. She set it back on the table and tried to plug it in, but there was only a frayed wire where the connector should have been. “Perfect,” she muttered and pulled her cell out of her pocket. She dialed the number to Fantasy Inkscapes. Starr answered the phone in her soft low voice that always reminded Mary of warm honey. She told Starr that she was running late, but would be there soon. Starr responded with concern as expected, but Mary brushed her off. She was in no mood to make nice. She hung up the receiver and made her way to the bathroom to repair the makeup she had destroyed. A quick glance in the mirror was all it took for her to wash her face and try again. She set to work and was soon on her way.

Having little regard for speed laws, she arrived at the shop only fifteen minutes late for her first appointment. She dumped her stuff in her office and walked to the front of the shop. Wes was hard at work. He was a big guy with long blonde hair, and a full beard. A dragon wound its way from his wrist to his shoulder with its wings resting on his left shoulder blade and peck. A demon tail wound around his right wrist and the demon gradually morphed into an angel as it worked its way to his shoulder. Its angel wings mirrored the dragon’s across his chest and back. Mary had spent hours perfecting the intricate detail of their lines. His size and his biker persona were intimidating, but he was just a big teddy bear at heart. He was the closest thing Mary had to a friend. He looked up at her and smiled as she came in. She responded with a half-smile and looked away.

Mick was at the front desk going over some artwork with a young attractive woman. He loved to flirt with the ladies and it seemed that today was no different. As far as Mary was concerned, he could flirt all he wanted. His sexy Aussie accent sold more tattoos than anything else did.

Starr came out of the back room with a cup of coffee that she put on the counter at Mary’s station. Mary couldn’t help, but notice the soft inviting curves beneath her ultra mini skirt and open back tank top. She had a Chinese blue dragon tattooed on her back. Its head rested on her shoulder and its tail dipped under her skirt, down her right leg and wrapped around her ankle. Mary would object to her revealing clothing, but covering that gorgeous piece of art would be a crime.

Starr walked up to Mary unaware of her silent appraisal. “Hi. Your station is all ready for you and so is your client,” she said. The scent of jasmine washed over Mary and she had a sudden urge to run her fingers through Starr’s long dark auburn hair to see if it was as soft as it looked. She ran her fingers through her own hair to distract herself.

“Thanks,” she said and headed for her client. She soon lost herself in her work as customers came and went, but she could not shake what happened. Her employees noticed the difference in her. She felt their eyes as they watched her and more than once she caught Starr looking at her with concern.

Later that afternoon Mary headed to the back room to grab a bite to eat, but just outside the break room door she overheard Mick say, “You should just tell her.”
“I can’t tell her. Mary’s not in love with me. I’d feel so stupid,” Starr said with a sigh. Mary was surprised by what she’d heard, but it sent a thrill up her spine.

“How can you know if you don’t tell her?” Mick asked. “One of these days you’re going to have to suck it up and tell her or get on with your life, mate. You can’t keep moping around forever.”

Mary felt a sharp pang of guilt at her reaction to Starr’s words. Angry with herself, she yanked the door open and strode to the fridge. Mick and Starr watched in silence as she grabbed a yogurt. She turned to Starr. “I’m leaving. Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day,” she said with a curt nod and walked out the back door.

As soon as the door closed behind her, she regretted her actions. She stalked over to her bike and remembered that she’d left her jacket and her helmet in her office. She was debating whether she should just ignore the cold and face a ticket or go back inside to get them when the shop door opened.

She looked over her shoulder to see Starr carrying them out to her. The butterflies in her stomach took wing as she turned and waited. Had she never noticed how beautiful Starr was before or had she not allowed herself to acknowledge it? Her face was adorable with her soft brown eyes, button nose, and full lips. It didn’t help that she had a body most Playboy Bunnies would die for. Mary let out a breath that she didn’t realize she had been holding as Starr held her things out to her.
“You forgot these. I thought you might get cold without them,” Starr stared at her feet and shivered though she wore a coat. Mary wanted to pull her into her arms and warm her.

Ignoring the urge, Mary’s conscience got the better of her and she said, “Thank you.” She paused for a moment then said, “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that. I’m just not myself today.” She set her helmet on the seat of her Harley and put on her jacket.

“Is everything ok? We’re all worried about you.” Soulful brown eyes sought her ice-blue ones and seemed to look through her. She looked away uncomfortable with the emotion she saw there.
“I’ll be fine. I just have some things on my mind. Look, I gotta go. See you tomorrow,” Mary put on her helmet, got on her bike, and started the engine. As soon as it roared to life she was gone, Starr behind her, but not forgotten.

****
He watched from his vantage point across the street with a scowl on his face. She was up to her old tricks again. A blind man could see how she had bewitched the poor little girl. Her evil must be stopped. Soon, the time would be right to teach her the true way. Soon, he would save the little girl as he couldn’t save Christa. He smiled and fingered his rosary as he pulled into traffic and followed, careful to remain unnoticed.
****

It started to rain as she pulled into her driveway so she put her bike in the garage and went inside. She went into her bathroom and washed her face then changed into sweats and a hoodie. She walked through her bedroom, picked up a lap blanket and went out to watch the rain.

She curled up on the porch swing with her knees tucked under her chin and the blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she watched the rain soak the ground and the sky slowly darken as night set in. Christa came unbidden to her mind when she tried to analyze the feelings that Starr had invoked in her this afternoon. How could she be thinking about another woman? Christa had died for their love. How could she turn her back on it so easily? She knew that Christa would want her to be happy, but how could she?

Her thoughts drifted back twelve years to the day and she remembered rushing to Christa’s house when she’d heard the sirens. Somehow, she’d known that Christa’s fear of her father had been justified. She had to know she was okay, but what she found was Christa’s father in the back of a squad car and Christa in a body bag. There was no rushing her to the hospital. There was no need. He’d beaten the life from her. She was gone before the ambulance ever got there.

Something inside Mary had snapped that day. She ran to the squad car and pounded her fists on the glass cursing him at the top of her lungs. She screamed her hatred at him, “You killed her! I hate you! I’ll kill you!” She fought to get to him even as the officers carried her away.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts then she closed her eyes and whispered, “Christa. You know I love you and I always will, but I need to move on with my life. Can you ever forgive me?” She paused and listened not really knowing what she was listening for. Nothing came, but the sound of the rain and the rumbling of thunder joined quickly by the rumble of her stomach. She sighed and almost chuckled then went inside to make dinner.

She laid the blanket on her bed and moved into the hall. She made her way into the living room and saw the last person she ever expected to see. It startled a momentary scream from her, but then the old hatred welled up, “What are you doing here you son of a bitch? Her life wasn’t enough. Now you’re here to torment me? It was you who called this morning wasn’t it?” she shouted. Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails drew blood from her palms.

Timothy Webber sat calmly in her favorite chair fingering his rosary and whispering his Aves under his breath. There was gray at his temples now and a few more lines around his mouth, but there was no mistaking him. He looked up at her, “You know it was your name that finally made me realize what God wanted me to do. He wants me to save you. Christa was a good girl. The demon in you destroyed her,” he said. There was something not quite right about his eyes.

“No, you destroyed her. She was your daughter. How could you do that to her?” she shouted.

Timothy made the sign of the cross and kissed his rosary. “I was surprised when they believed the insanity plea my lawyer dreamed up for me. I spent the next six years on my knees thanking God for his intervention before He revealed His plan to me. He helped me convince the doctors that I was ‘cured’ so that they would let me out of the hospital. Six more were spent gaining their trust so that they would let me live on my own. I had to be on my own to do His work.”
Lightning flashed and thunder soon followed. Timothy smiled and rose from the chair. He was taller than she remembered. He moved to tower over her. She took a step back as she looked up at him. “The Almighty wants me to right the wrong. I must cleanse this world of your evil, but most importantly, I must cleanse you.” His eyes darkened. “He wants me to save you before you corrupt that poor little girl at your shop like you did my Christa,” He said and lunged for her.

Mary tried to dodge him, but he grabbed her by the hair and hooked her behind the knee, tripping her. Her scalp burned as he followed her to the floor and wrapped his rosary around her throat. Her eyes widened in panic as he squeezed it tight with one hand and wrestled her pants off with the other. She clawed at the rosary and then at his face drawing lines of blood down his cheek. He backhanded her and split her lip. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “So, demons can bleed,” he said. Her stomach lurched as he licked the blood from her lip. Her disgust renewed her resolve and she fought him desperately as he opened his fly. He prayed fervently as he pushed himself between her thighs. His hand that held the rosary tightened and her face turned blue as he shouted, “Oh Lord, cleanse this woman of her evil. Help me to teach her the true way.”

Mary felt her strength leaving her and her mind became foggy as she fought for breath. Then she heard the smallest of whispers, “I won’t let him win, Mary.” The rosary around her neck snapped and she sucked in her breath. Fireworks went off behind her eyes as the blood rushed back into her aching head, but with it came a surge of energy and strength. She threw up her knee to dislodge him just in time to keep him from sinking himself inside her and shoved against him with everything she had. He fell back far enough for her to deliver a clear kick to his groin. He bellowed with pain and curled into a fetal position.

Mary rolled onto her hands and knees and tried to stand. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her off her feet. She kicked him hard in the face with her other foot and he released her with a grunt. She turned and scrambled for the door. She knew that she had to reach the gun she kept there. Just as she reached it, she felt him grab hold of her ankle, but she’d made it far enough. She reached behind the table and gripped the handle of her small pistol. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind as she remembered not to close her eyes when she squeezed the trigger.

Time stopped and the sounds of the storm faded. Timothy’s eyes widened in surprise as a dot of red appeared on his forehead. His jaw went slack as he fell forward. The struggle had only lasted a few minutes, but felt like an eternity. The gun fell from her hands as the tears fell from her eyes. The broke phone on the table beside her began to ring though she didn’t recognize it for what it was at first. She stared at it for a moment then answered it wondering if the lack of oxygen had damaged her brain.

“Hello?” she rasped. Her throat ached where the rosary had dug into her neck.

For a moment, there was silence on the line then she heard Christa say, “I love you, Mary. Goodbye.”

She felt the unmistakable pressure of lips pressed into hers for a moment. She put her fingers to her lips and whispered, “Goodbye, Christa.”

 

[StarInShadows]

Before writing this story I had never managed to write more than a few sex scenes and a few unfinished story ideas. I got several critiques from the other students in my class but I was hoping for some critiques from authors who aren't just taking a required Lit class for their major. I'm really interested in developing my style, fine-tuning the plot, and character development. I think I have most of the grammar cleaned up, but please point out anything you find. Thanks for your help!

 

[Penelope Street]

Hi Star,

Thanks for sharing your story with us! You have characters, plot, and resolution, and all within a very short, well-written tale too. I enjoyed it.

Since you didn't say otherwise, I'm assuming you wanted your story run through the proverbial fine-toothed comb. Because this is such a strong story, most of my thoughts on where it might be improved will be on the nitpicky side.

You mentioned having to work with a word count and not being able to flesh a few things out. If you were looking for places to save a few words to use elsewhere, there might be a few opportunities to do just that. For instance, does that opening paragraph really matter? I don't see how it changes this story one bit, so why not just start with our tattooed, leather-clad heroine stopping to answer the phone while rushing to the door on her way to work?

Showing us the villain a few times was useful to raise the suspense, but I'm not sure we really needed to share his thoughts. Just seeing him might be enough- and that could save a few words.

Between the scenes you might be able save several sentences, like when Mary returns to her mirror before going to work. What's wrong with showing us Mary beginning to reapply her makeup, then ending that scene and skipping right to her walking into Star's shop? Ok, we'd miss Mary's flaunting of the speed limits, but later she seems overly concerned with the helmet laws, so I'm not sure that moment really adds anything.

Another good choice for trimming a few words might have been in the physical description of your characters, particularly Mick and Wes (could they have been combined into a single character?) and to a lesser extent Starr. The descriptions are great, but that's over one hundred words for Wes and almost fifty words for Star, that really don't really change the story, unless Mary is so superficial that she won't consider a relationship with anything less than Miss January- and I'm not getting that from her.

While on this subject, I had a hard time believing Mary, an tattoo artist who is so concerned with her own appearance, wouldn't notice another woman's beauty at once: Had she never noticed how beautiful Starr was before or had she not allowed herself to acknowledge it?

Also stretching believability for me is Mary's reaction to hearing Christa's recorded voice. This is the first time it happened, right? The physical reaction, having to brace herself and all that is fine, but I have to imagine she knows who is behind this right away, and should sense and react to the danger instead of just trying to go on with her day as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

If nothing else, it's a good time for her to think about taking that gun with her to work. The gun's appearance late in the story is totally plausible, but it still seems to come out of nowhere for the reader. Even though it's a short story, should we have seen or maybe heard about a plot ingredient like that sooner, like we did with your fine foreshadowing with the rosary- which later becomes a weapon?

Even though it might be counter-intuitive, I think we would have been willing to believe Wes showing up a lot more since we've already seen him. Sure, he'd need a reason to show up, but Christa could have called him too, right?

Though I enjoyed it, Christa's brief "appearance" isn't foreshadowed either- and a ghost is much harder to believe than a simple gun in a drawer. Plus, if Christa can speak without the phone, why would she choose to use a phone later?

I understand you were working with a word count limit, but instead of having it paraphrased, I would have liked hearing the following conversation since it's our first glimpse of Starr and Mary interacting:She dialed the number to Fantasy Inkscapes. Starr answered the phone in her soft low voice that always reminded Mary of warm honey. She told Starr that she was running late, but would be there soon. Starr responded with concern as expected, but Mary brushed her off. I really enjoyed your dialog and felt cheated that you left some out.

You specifically mentioned grammar. I don't think you have much to be concerned about on that subject. I only noticed one truly trivial issue: She slammed the receiver into its cradle then ripped it from the wall and threw it across the room."It" refers to the receiver, but does she not rip the entire phone from the wall?

Well, that's seven hundred words of nitpicking on a three thousand word story- so I suspect I'm way over my word count limit

Even though I think there might be room for a few tiny improvements, this is still a fine story just the way it is. You easily deserved your 'A'.

Take Care,
Penny

 

[StarInShadows]

First, I must apologize for taking so long to respond. I've been feeling under the weather since Christmas, and it really hit me the last couple of days.

Thanks for sharing your story with us! You have characters, plot, and resolution, and all within a very short, well-written tale too. I enjoyed it.

Thank you. I'm glad you liked it.

Since you didn't say otherwise, I'm assuming you wanted your story run through the proverbial fine-toothed comb. Because this is such a strong story, most of my thoughts on where it might be improved will be on the nitpicky side.

That's exactly what I wanted. I finished the 3000 word version for class, but now that I don't have that constraint I'm looking to polish it.

You mentioned having to work with a word count and not being able to flesh a few things out. If you were looking for places to save a few words to use elsewhere, there might be a few opportunities to do just that. For instance, does that opening paragraph really matter? I don't see how it changes this story one bit, so why not just start with our tattooed, leather-clad heroine stopping to answer the phone while rushing to the door on her way to work?

I'm not worried so much about word count now, but I must admit I've wrestled with this idea for a while now. I kept the opener because I think it gives good insight into her personality. On the other hand it could easily be trimmed.

Showing us the villain a few times was useful to raise the suspense, but I'm not sure we really needed to share his thoughts. Just seeing him might be enough- and that could save a few words.

I originally didn't put any internal dialog into those sections, but everyone in my class, including my professor, told me it needed it. To be honest, I liked it both ways.

Between the scenes you might be able save several sentences, like when Mary returns to her mirror before going to work. What's wrong with showing us Mary beginning to reapply her makeup, then ending that scene and skipping right to her walking into Star's shop? Ok, we'd miss Mary's flaunting of the speed limits, but later she seems overly concerned with the helmet laws, so I'm not sure that moment really adds anything.

LOL. I completely missed that little gem. Good catch!

Another good choice for trimming a few words might have been in the physical description of your characters, particularly Mick and Wes (could they have been combined into a single character?)

I originally didn't describe Wes with so much detail, but again the prof told me I should. I was going for that 'A'.

I think it's important to have both of them because it gives Starr a purpose for being. A shop with only two artists wouldn't necessarily need a shop manager and quite possibly wouldn't be successful enough to support one.

Some of the things that I had to leave out of the story are that Wes is much older (more like a father figure), Starr is apprenticed to Mick, and Mick is in love with Starr. I discovered that if I develop my characters before putting them in a story, the story writes itself. I have plans to write a second story that could be a stand alone but is in essence a sequel.

The descriptions are great, but that's over one hundred words for Wes and almost fifty words for Star, that really don't really change the story, unless Mary is so superficial that she won't consider a relationship with anything less than Miss January- and I'm not getting that from her.

I used the descriptions of Starr to illustrate Mary's growing realization that she's attracted to her. It's disconcerting to her considering the fact that she's never let Christa go.

While on this subject, I had a hard time believing Mary, an tattoo artist who is so concerned with her own appearance, wouldn't notice another woman's beauty at once: Had she never noticed how beautiful Starr was before or had she not allowed herself to acknowledge it?

She did notice. She wasn't ready to move on yet so she didn't allow herself to acknowledge it. That's what I meant by that sentence. Perhaps I should reword it.

Also stretching believability for me is Mary's reaction to hearing Christa's recorded voice. This is the first time it happened, right? The physical reaction, having to brace herself and all that is fine, but I have to imagine she knows who is behind this right away, and should sense and react to the danger instead of just trying to go on with her day as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

If anything, hearing that phone message would be confusing and that confusion would be unsettling. It was originally left on her answering machine when she was 16. To her knowledge she had erased it 12 years before. It no longer existed to be replayed, which is why she didn't fear for her safety. She feared more for her sanity. What I neglected to make clear in the story (again because it hit the chopping block) was that Christa made that call. Timothy just happened to be on the porch spying on her at the time.

If nothing else, it's a good time for her to think about taking that gun with her to work. The gun's appearance late in the story is totally plausible, but it still seems to come out of nowhere for the reader. Even though it's a short story, should we have seen or maybe heard about a plot ingredient like that sooner, like we did with your fine foreshadowing with the rosary- which later becomes a weapon?

I did think about that originally but where she doesn't believe that it could have been a person behind it I don't think that she would have armed herself.

Even though it might be counter-intuitive, I think we would have been willing to believe Wes showing up a lot more since we've already seen him. Sure, he'd need a reason to show up, but Christa could have called him too, right?

I'm not positive that I understand what you mean here but in the original ending Wes, Mick and Starr arrive just after she shot Timothy because Christa had called them. Just another thing that hit the chopping block.

Though I enjoyed it, Christa's brief "appearance" isn't foreshadowed either- and a ghost is much harder to believe than a simple gun in a drawer. Plus, if Christa can speak without the phone, why would she choose to use a phone later?

Again, my fault from earlier. Christa was supposed to be foreshadowed in the earlier phone call. Christa's method of communication stems from my geeky fascination with all things paranormal. It is believed that spirits require energy to manifest and it's easier for them to draw energy from electronic devices than it is for them to draw it from the air. When she whispered in Mary's ear, and broke the rosary she weakened herself. She had to use the phone to draw enough energy for the final scene. I should have added more detail like the room going cold, and the lights flickering. It would have made more sense I think.

I understand you were working with a word count limit, but instead of having it paraphrased, I would have liked hearing the following conversation since it's our first glimpse of Starr and Mary interacting:She dialed the number to Fantasy Inkscapes. Starr answered the phone in her soft low voice that always reminded Mary of warm honey. She told Starr that she was running late, but would be there soon. Starr responded with concern as expected, but Mary brushed her off.

That part always felt rushed to me also. I should have stuck to my guns there.

I really enjoyed your dialog and felt cheated that you left some out.

I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my writing. Thanks. *Blush*

You specifically mentioned grammar. I don't think you have much to be concerned about on that subject. I only noticed one truly trivial issue: She slammed the receiver into its cradle then ripped it from the wall and threw it across the room."It" refers to the receiver, but does she not rip the entire phone from the wall?

Ugh. I missed one. Definitely not trivial. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to grammar. It just makes sense that if you're going to take the time to coax your characters to life and tell their stories than you shouldn't be sloppy about it. /rant

Well, that's seven hundred words of nitpicking on a three thousand word story- so I suspect I'm way over my word count limit

No worries. I loved every bit of it.

Even though I think there might be room for a few tiny improvements, this is still a fine story just the way it is. You easily deserved your 'A'.

Thanks!!

 

[Penelope Street]

I originally didn't put any internal dialog into those sections, but everyone in my class, including my professor, told me it needed it. To be honest, I liked it both ways.

I agree it would work either way.

I originally didn't describe Wes with so much detail, but again the prof told me I should. I was going for that 'A'.

I think we can all relate to catering to teachers, even when they're wrong.

I think it's important to have both of them because it gives Starr a purpose for being. A shop with only two artists wouldn't necessarily need a shop manager and quite possibly wouldn't be successful enough to support one.

Speaking of teachers, what if Starr and Mary were teachers and Mary walked into Starr's classroom; how many of the students would warrant a description of any sort?

While on this subject, I had a hard time believing Mary, an tattoo artist who is so concerned with her own appearance, wouldn't notice another woman's beauty at once: Had she never noticed how beautiful Starr was before or had she not allowed herself to acknowledge it?

She did notice. She wasn't ready to move on yet so she didn't allow herself to acknowledge it. That's what I meant by that sentence. Perhaps I should reword it.

I'm not at all sure rewording it will help. Part of the issue may be how often a character suddenly notices a long-time acquaintance's attractiveness, especially in erotica. Yeah, I know the reader is supposed to believe the protagonist is suddenly looking at the acquaintance through different eyes- trouble is, I just don't think it's very likely.

Even though it might be counter-intuitive, I think we would have been willing to believe Wes showing up a lot more since we've already seen him. Sure, he'd need a reason to show up, but Christa could have called him too, right?

I'm not positive that I understand what you mean here but in the original ending Wes, Mick and Starr arrive just after she shot Timothy because Christa had called them. Just another thing that hit the chopping block.

My comment was related to how foreshadowing works. What if Wes appeared at the proverbial last instant and saved Mary? I suspect most readers would be receptive to Wes reappearing more so than the gun appearing for the first time. I'm not even saying this conclusion would make for a stronger story- quite the opposite, I think it would be a poor choice.

If anything, hearing that phone message would be confusing and that confusion would be unsettling. It was originally left on her answering machine when she was 16. To her knowledge she had erased it 12 years before. It no longer existed to be replayed, which is why she didn't fear for her safety. She feared more for her sanity. What I neglected to make clear in the story (again because it hit the chopping block) was that Christa made that call. Timothy just happened to be on the porch spying on her at the time.

I got that Christa made the original call years earlier. That's not the issue. It's Mary's reaction that confused me. If she imagines she's hearing things, I'd expect her to stare at the receiver and mutter something like, "What's wrong with me?" Instead she yells, "Who are you, you sick fuck?" To me that indicates she believes another person is behind this- and the list of suspects ought to be pretty short. I can't imagine this would be anything other than a terrifying occurrence, cause sick fucks are just plain scary.

Great villain, btw.

 

[jacks4u]

Hey, Star!

Nice story you've got here! Thanks for sharing it with us.

I enjoyed reading your tale. You certainly deserved that 'A'.

Somewhere between the shots of tequila and the cheese ball and crackers I lost something, I must apologize! But two days of partying to excesses has taken it's toll on me, muddled my wits somewhat. I'll have another read of your story as soon as I've recuperated a bit more.

Jacks

 

[driphoney]

I, too, meant to let you know that I read your story. Twice, actually. I enjoyed learning from Penny's critique, and I really have nothing to add except ... can you teach me? Seriously, the only thing that struck me was probably a personal issue and not a legit critique, so it's not worth mentioning.

Thanks for sharing.

 

[jacks4u]

Star,

Dang! sorry about that - one hell of a party - took 3 days to recoup!

Back to your story, after I've had a chance to re-read it.

I found your story enticing, inviting me further into the tail, an admirable quality, to be sure! I'm not as much an author as I am an avid reader, so my comments will be from a reader's viewpoint. Your mileage may vary.

There are so many things I like about your story, any comments will be more like nit-picking, and should be viewed as such.

I tend to agree with Penny that your first para. really doesn't add anything. It almost sounds like Mary is actively seeking a love relationship. Further on though, we find out that she's actually stuck in the past, in a relationship that ended tragically. No big deal really, as it took me twice through to figure that out. At the end, it almost sounds like Christa has actually given her permission to move on.

One thing that reached out to touch me was the repeated words at the beginning of some closely linked paragraphs. Take the first three paragraphs for example. Then at the end, another three Mary's in a row. And again, in the middle, several "She"s in a row. This didn't really pull me out of your story, and it's a really minor issue, but I was aware of the repetition. Perhaps you could break it up a bit? After all, there's no doubt whom you are referring to, most of the time.

Another area, where I agree with Penny, is Mary's apparent blindness to Starr's beauty, and Starr's apparent attraction to her.

Personally, I think that successful lesbian goth biker tattoo artists would likely not wait twelve years for another love relationship, But if she did, that must have been a very tragic and abrupt end to the relationship with Christa. But yea, death by religiously deranged, psychopathic parent fills that bill.

See what I mean? nit-picking, all of it. Perhaps there's a sequel in the making? Where Mary and Starr hook up? "Oh my Starr"!
Again, Good job and thanks for sharing your story with us!


Jacks

 

[StarInShadows]

Sorry guys. I guess it was my turn to fall off the face of the planet. Thank you all for taking the time to read my story and give me such excellent advice. I really appreciate it.