Oh, by the way I mistakenly put a semi-colon where one shouldn’t be…
It should have been written :
After a couple of days, though, I realize how nice it is to have a place to go.
Sorry for the mistake, it was pointed out to me by a semi-colon pro ( i have misguided problems semi-colons…again I apologize.)
Short Story / Christmas With Father
When I wake up, the only wreath in the house is one of cigarette and marijuana smoke that lazily curls around the naked bulb in the ceiling of our studio apartment. I climb out of the top bunk of our bed. It’s hard to escape the view of anyone in a space that small. My brother and my father are sitting on the floor. My brother talks animatedly of nothing, spewing out words that fill the air as surely as my father’s smoke. My father sits in a half lotus, wearing a pink ruffled skirt, and naked from the waste up, taciturn, thinking of himself as a wise man of the world.
He glares at me, and his eyes say the words that I’ve heard so frequently. “Get the fuck out,” those black orbs tell me. I shake out my boots, to make sure no ear-wigs or cockroaches have taken up residence during the night, and I put on my grey leather jacket. It’s warm, but its out-of-style-in-the-70’s look gets me some flak in school; the holiday break is always one that I look forward to, but after a couple of days I realize how nice having a place to go is. I get even more flak for having perfect attendance half-way into my sophomore year, but whatever, they don’t know what it’s like.
I grab a cold pancake from the stove to stave off the dreaded moment I know must come. I ask the question every morning, and every morning my pride battles my greed. “Dad, can I have my allowance?” The question comes out of my mouth quietly, with a subtle stutter. I wish I could speak up, because I know that my stutter will prevent me from saying anything if I have to ask again. He gives me one dollar a day. It’s nice to have a little money, and sure, I know kids who get a lot more, but I hate asking for it, asking for money that he feels obligated to give me, asking for money from a stranger.
Our mom abandoned us with him two years ago. She went to Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Texas, somewhere. I’m not sure. I can’t say I miss her. I had no memory of my father. We hadn’t lived with him since I was a zygote as far as I could tell. My mom would tell us stories of him, usually things about their time in Alaska, where I was conceived, stories of masculinity, of living the home-stead life. Mom had only recently come into contact with him again, and after a nasty divorce with her second husband, dropped us off at father’s studio apartment.
My brother took an immediate liking to him, wanting to participate in his AA meetings, having deep conversations of little significance surrounded by incense and pseudo-spiritual pamphlets, taking of up his filial responsibility for the love of his father. I wanted to take my time to get to know him. Apparently he expected his oldest son to immediately worship him as well, but I saw no reason to blindly love and respect a verbally abusive recovering alcoholic with a penchant for women’s underwear. He hates me for it. With a grunt he gives up his dollar.
I leave the apartment, and immediately put my hands in my pockets. The one good thing I can say about our studio is that it’s warm. I start walking the mile downtown. The lack of traffic and the smell of the woodsmoke that puffs cheerily out of chimineys reminds me that its Christmas. Fuck. I start to get angry. I hate fucking Christmas. Nothing is open. My dollar that I was looking forward to buying a burger or a burrito with is worthless. I usually spend my days wandering the aisles of the local grocery stores, taking the free samples of food from the delis and butchers’ counters, but those stores are closed. All my friends are with their families.
I want to turn around, but I can’t. I want to go home and turn on some sappy Christmas movie about how even people who live in shit have a nice life on Christmas, but I can’t. My dad will yell at me, tell me how he hates me, wishes he could kill me if he weren’t my father, so I keep walking, with nowhere to go.
On occasional car speeds by me on the nearly empty streets. The sky is grey, but with no promise of rain, which I’m glad of. I finally get downtown and the empty parking lots and dimmed lights of the stores affirm my dread. I walk around, wishing that one store was open, where I could just go inside to be out of the wind, and look for the things that I can spend a dollar on.
Denny’s is open. I go inside and join the detritus of humanity sitting at the counter. There are two ragged looking men. One is silent, and the other flirts with the only waitress. She seems disinterested, as though she’s waiting for the promised time that only comes once a year, Denny’s five o’clock closing time on Christmas day. I really want hot chocolate, but I order iced tea, because I know I’ll get refills. The waitress is young enough that my fourteen year old mind fantasizes about her. I’m jealous of the old guy who’s flirting with her, but I know that I can hardly talk to her; I stuttered just trying to order my iced tea.
I fantasize of holding her hand, and kissing her. My biggest fantasy is of telling her that I love her, and hearing the words returned before we gently make love. I’ve never actually done it before, but in the movies the lights are always dimmed and bodies gently rub against each other, and that’s how I imagine myself with this slightly disheveled waitress. I’m frustrated to be a fourteen year old who can hardly talk.
I leave the restaurant and start walking home as the sun sets. Fat drops of rain shock me with cold and surprise as they run down my neck, but my jacket keeps me mostly dry. I take shelter under a small bridge near my apartment. It’s completely dark out, and the bridge is a small shadow in the rain. I imagine myself sheltered from the world, and I masturbate, thinking about the waitress.
I return to the apartment, knowing that my father can’t bitch at me. It’s dark out, and the law tells him that he has to give me a place to sleep, and some beans and rice to eat. I lay down in my bunk, and watch that movie I was telling you about: the one where life doesn’t suck on Christmas. I wish I could tell you about more interesting things, about the people who helped me have a great day, about meeting Santa Claus or Jesus, and finding treasure in their excrement, about being adopted by a rich family and getting a thousand shiny red bicycles, and a puppy, but I can’t. For a boy with nowhere to go, Christmas is a dark, desolate wasteland where hope doesn’t have any place.
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
free_willy reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
I must say that this story presents a very graphic and very dismal picture of a day in the life of a 14 year old. This hit me pretty hard on several different levels. I’ve always hated Christmas, and for many of the same reasons outlined in this story. It was very well written to evoke that kind of response in me, and I congratulate you on that. I did not find anything that I would change in any way. I just hope that it is not autobiographical.
- add/view comments (1)
icedsapphire reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
What is your point? I guess more importantly, what is the story you are trying to tell here? You seem to have a clear character, but what you lack is a story. Sure kid gets up, goes out, finds out it is Christmas (sucky for him), goes to Denny’s and has an iced tea, then goes home. What you have presented is a sequence of events. But having a sequence of events is only part of what you need.
You also need a clear obsticle for the character to overcome. You also need an antagonist that tries to prevent you character from achieving what he wants to do.
So first off, decide on what your story is. “This is the story of a guy who…” Fill in the blank.
At the same time come up with your obsticles. Antagonists.
And while you are at it, get some damn dialogue into this piece. God I find it boring sitting there in your characters head the entire time.
scottsta reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
well written, somewhat monotonic (in character) for my liking. (which is the part of reviewing that stinks: does one critique the writing or tell the author if they as reader can relate?)
there were some very good phrases – and some over slightly written phrases, the kind that stand out as too clever. (when he walked outside i could picture the street.)
“He glares at me, and his eyes say the words that I’ve heard so frequently. “Get the fuck out,” those black orbs tell me.”
could be written – He glares at me, “Get the fuck out,” those black orbs tell me.
I miss actual dialogue which might spice your story. I also wondered about the time it takes place. (as a dollar doesn’t go to far these days)
there is a tendency toward exposition which could be re-written as active.
my biggest criticism – there is character but little action. my harshest criticism / hopefully taken as ‘constructive’ – is that you use this as a character outline and write an active story with these characters. anyway – hope this helps some.
caravans reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
‘having deep conversations of little significance’ This is a catchy put-down of course, but also contradictory. Some specific example might be better.
‘Fat drops of rain shock me with cold’ good line.
With a little dialogue the other characters would come to life like the speaker.
chelly reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
There are a few sentences that made me have to do a reread as they ran too long. Try to break some of these up into two sentences and/or reword them.
A couple of examples:
It’s warm, but its out-of-style-in-the-70’s look gets me some flak in school; the holiday break is always one that I look forward to, but after a couple of days I realize how nice having a place to go is.
Maybe try:
It’s warm, but out of style and gets me some flak in school.One reason I look forward to the holiday break. After a couple of days, though; I realize how nice it is to have a place to go.
My mom would tell us stories of him, usually things about their time in Alaska, where I was conceived, stories of masculinity, of living the home-stead life.
Mom would tell us stories of him. Usually things about their time in Alaska, where I was conceived. Stories of masculinity and of living the homestead life.
Other than the run on sentences, it it a pretty good story. Once you edit it up some it will be easier to feel this kids frustration.
00_Swanky reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
Very average short story with a few flashes of brilliance in the prose. After reading the whole thing, especially with the last line (great) it felt more like the entire story was a set up just to get to that last sentence.
I’m not bashing the story, but it just felt more like that sentence was a thought you might’ve had while seeing someone less fortunate, and created the story around it. The story itself is fairly sad, painting a picture of what a holiday must be like for someone who rarely sees happiness while the rest of the world is embracing it with family members.
The first person voice was well-defined and consistent throughout, although I think the introduction of the boy being 14 should be almost immediate, that way the emotional impact of what we’re seeing through his eyes takes a greater weight. And while I never want to say to dumb it down, the voice feels a little older than 14, but that’s just a minor gripe. I can’t think of a single 14 year old who uses the word ‘detritus’ at all :D
It’s a very humbling piece, and with a few revisions it could be very very powerful. Definitely keep on cracking at it.
Anliya reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
The the image that comes to mind from the description of the brother and the father in the first paragraph is strangely beautiful and even humorous—I pictured an eccentric and enlightened figure sitting in the middle of these swirls of smoke, an ironic but somehow fitting image of the father. The narrator’s resent and passiveness is nicely reflected in the almost casual tone of the story. All of it is very real to me, the people in Denny’s, the desperate adolescent way the boy reacts to the waitress that reflects his same passiveness at home. Good job!
I have no criticisms about the language, but the reason this didn’t seem very publishable to me is that it’s just so depressing. As a character sketch, it works well, but I don’t think it works as a story on its own. You definitely managed to convey a false sense of hope for the character in the first half, but instead of confirming that hope in the end, you destroy it completely, which makes the story kind of meaningless and isn’t the message many readers care to hear.
Lyrikkal1 reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
Wow. this is heart wrenching and meaningful (and you managed to do it wthout making this story incredibly trashy teen-angst which I applaud you for). I’s short, stark and leaves me with a real empathy with the main character.
A great read.
RoadHousePress reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
On occasional car speeds = an occasional car speeds
fantasize of holding her hand, and kissing = fantasize holding her hand, and kissing
Although this is a bit of a dark tale, I enjoyed the writing; it was captivating and held my interest. I don’t think this should end here though. As a short story I think there is supposed to be an epiphany .. and really, I think this is the beginning of a much longer story.
SnownLighting reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
The story here makes me feel. Way to set the mood. “who’s flirting with her” “watch that movie I was telling you about” Unneeded I could tell what you were talking about with out those tags. “It’s hard to escape the view of anyone in a space that small.” I know what you mean here but you could change the wording here to make it flow. Very good story.
Showing 1 - 10 of 20
Next →
Review item
Add to favesCreator
Relevant Links
Item Stats
GENERAL
20 Reviews 4 Comments
Version 1
Latest Activity: 9 months ago
REVIEW QUEUE
Appeared in Queue: 323 Times
Skipped: 4 Times
Ratings & Rankings
