Tommy had, early in life, developed a skill that would see him safely through all the tedious years of adulthood. When confronted with something he did not find particularly compelling, Tommy could take a deep breath and slowly exhale through a forming half-smile, and be launched into space. He would leap from foot to foot across a dusty moonscape and stare at the far distant earth through an astronaut’s reflective visor.
“Hello, Earth” he would say.
“Hello, Tommy,” The Earth would smilingly reply.
Tommy would prance about the moon in search of miraculous adventure, and he always found it. A silver chord attached him to reality. He became practiced at automatic and encouraging listening forms. When in conversation, Tommy had perfected the chin in palm method of seeming interested, while in fact, only trying to preserve his energy by not having to hold his own head up. A thoughtful glance at the ceiling or floor, a “hmmm,” here and there, and the occasional, “Really?,” were his weapons of deflection. A master of subtle inflection, Tommy could dance in lunar seas while receiving communication via radio contact with Houston. Through this contact, he would direct hand and arm motions as if a puppet master.
On occasion, some conversation or event would drag him kicking, screaming and clawing all the way back from whatever barren yet fruitful landscape he was on. This was usually accomplished by a woman. She would usually be awaiting a response to some demand.
Tommy and that woman sat in his dingy apartment. Tommy, with his chin in his palm, stared through Megan’s forehead. Her lips where moving quickly as she waved her fragile hands about dramatically in front of them.
“Well?!” She demanded.
He blinked, paused, and answered. “Sorry, I was on the moon.“ He said with a smile, already drifting back into zero gravity.
“What?” she replied.
“Nothing,“ now rooted firmly in the world, he decided it a fine time to use a catch all response to prevent an argument, “I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”
“What are we going to do?”
“That’s. . . a good question.”
What are we going to do? He knew what that meant, but could not bring himself to ignore the vast complexities of the question. The woman who had posed this pragmatic dilemma glared at him. In order to not give the impression of ignoring her, he quickly spit out the first thing that came to mind.
“Let’s go to the bookstore.” he threw out in a pseudo-casual style while holding on to the arms of his chair, so as not to float away.
Megan sighed. While Tommy’s sighs where slow and easy sighs of the content, Megan’s were not. They were a vast intake of air through a slim nose, a momentary pause as daggers where glared at the object of attention, then released in a gale from pursed lips. Such sighs have been known to shake the foundations of kingdoms. If Megan enjoyed the bookstore in lapsed religious devotion, Tommy was baptized in the bright colors of book bindings and the sentences of famous authors.
While the two sat in Tommy’s very small apartment, she decided tonight would be their last Friday night. Feeling a bit of sadness, she smiled through her emotions. In her opinion, Tommy needed a mother and a hairbrush. She could not supply either anymore. The process of this internal resolution did not make itself outwardly apparent. A few moments passed without anything being said.
“We could go catch a movie?” Tommy ventured.
Tommy awoke with wondering hands. They wondered and searched through the sheets for the object of his late night affection. Before he opened his eyes, he knew she had left. She had been gone for a while; her side of the bed was cold. It was with the greatest of efforts that Tommy rolled out of bed each day. The ebb and flow of tidal dreams rocked him as if he were an infant every morning. His right hand rested palm up across Megan’s side of the bed as he laid wide awake. He stared at the ceiling in an effort to understand the absence of his demanding bed-mate. As a custom, a man leaves a late sleeping woman wrapped warmly in bed sheets. This inverse situation tugged on Tommy’s wrist and whispered into his ear. He lay there for a still moment.
“Get up and find her drinking a cup of coffee,” he said to himself without speaking.
Moving his leg wide and throwing the comforter to the other side of the bed with a dramatic and regal motion, he prepared. It is hard enough to trudge out of the comfort of a warm bed on a cold morning. Fate would be cruel to force this horror on him with what he feared he would not find in the kitchen. He summoned courage and threw his right arm and leg over his center of gravity. As the force carried him over the side of the bed he swung his head the opposite direction and both feet came to an abrupt halt on the wooden floor. Trapeze artists would have been envious of this sort of dexterity. Tommy sat with elbows planted against his thighs and his shaggy head in his hands. His mind sifted through half remembered erotic dreams and the fact his feet seemed to be frozen to the floor.
“Get up.”
With the greatest of efforts he stood up and shook his head clear. He snatched his rather dingy and threadbare blue robe and put on a pair of oversized sneaker slippers. As he walked by the full length mirror he never got around to hanging, he stole a glance.
“Looking good, kid.” Tommy said aloud.
He walked into his kitchen while running his fingers through his unruly hair. There was no breakfast, no coffee, no cute red head in an oversized t-shirt. There was only a small piece of paper; it was sitting on his kitchen counter.
“Damn.”
Tommy stood for a moment and scratched angrily at his unshaved cheek, then walked behind the counter to make a pot of coffee. He took utmost care to avoid even glimpsing at the small piece of paper that stood high like a black monolith. It would surely foretell his doom. He decided that if he were to not actually get this message, nothing would change. He could have a cup of hot coffee in his sneaker slippers, eat a banana, and go to the bookstore. This philosophical conundrum was interrupted by the ding of his microwave. The noise announced the status of a slice of last night’s left over pizza. With a shrug he pulled the pizza out of the microwave by the dampened paper towel it was sitting on and walked back into his bedroom. He shielded his vision of the doom note with his coffee mug.
Chewing noisily, Tommy was very happy with the fact that torn up jeans had, by some miracle, come into style. He stood in front of his closet and pondered over the three or so pairs of pants he owned. Homeless chic was what he was best at; it was all he knew. Fully dressed and having given himself a thumbs-up in the un-hung mirror, he walked out of the apartment and into the world, and It was very bright.
As Tommy walked along the sidewalk, he ran through his list of tasks to accomplish: pick up Watson from Dave’s, check his overdrawn bank account, finagle a way into covering said bank account, go to work, and reach enlightenment. He therefore decided to visit to the bookstore.
A number of years prior, Tommy found himself in desperate need of a book-mark in one of the large, chain bookstores where he incidentally could not afford to buy books. He sat with a gratis cup of black coffee, the origin of which brought him no pride. Reached deep into his pockets, he scoured the linings of his jeans. Nothing there. He grudgingly decided to pull out his wallet and see if he had anything he could slide into the proper page of “Men Without Women.” He splayed his weather-torn, leather wallet open and stared dismally into its yawning maw. There was a single green bill and a number of random membership discount-cards which had yet to pay themselves off. Tommy tossed the idea of dog-earing about, then decided against it. While he might be a destroyer of books he cared for, another may treasure them. He followed this vein to its only logical conclusion and pulled his sole dollar bill from the wallet. He winked at it, said good luck, and stuck it into page one hundred and two. He smiled broadly.
“A reward for the well read, if you find it before I finish” he thought.
Sipping his coffee, Tommy nodded at the girl serving coffee and went to replace his book. As he conspiratorially slid the book back into the bookshelf he looked up to the ceiling. Surely Hemingway would not mind this game, perhaps he should have started with Steinbeck. John surely would appreciate the idea. Hemingway was known to be a jerk.
To date, Tommy had spread over fifty dollars throughout the cities random large book stores. He did not keep a list, for that would interfere with the nature of the contest. If he forgot that he had been reading “Slapstick” by Vonnegut, then that was his own fault and woe unto him. Besides, he was never more delighted than when he found one of his own dollars in a book he had forgotten about. In the beginning, his rules were very simple. It must be a classic or a modern book with presumed classic potential. It must be somewhat unknown and out of the ordinary. He was not going to waste a fortune reading “The Davinci Code.” He was not going to read it either way for that matter.
His game had slowly evolved into a different animal entirely. Each time one of his partially read books was placed back onto a shelf, he would close his eyes and dream. A shapeless figure would drift through the aisles, perusing. Only at the last minute would the form catch the title of a half forgotten book and say to him or herself.
“Where do I know that book from?”
The shape would swirl and shift inside of Tommy’s mind and gain a slightly human figure as it reached out and placed a fingertip on the top of the book. A man, a woman, a professor, a student, a CEO or a bum would pull the book towards them, top first. They remembered the name of the author from somewhere. Holding the spine of the book, they would thumb through it as if to garner some recognition from the blur of pages. And then the Father of the country would be there.
“Hi, how are you?” George Washington would ask.
“Why are you here?” the professor might ask.
“What a waste of a dollar,” The CEO would state.
“Yes, A dollar!” The out-of-work, and homeless professor or businessman would most certainly declare.
The thrill of these day dreams drove Tommy to expand this game into heights of twisting and perilous detail. It was no longer dollars in books he was reading, but written messages in books he already had. Interesting pictures went into books he had not read, but knew the author. Fast food receipts were destined for Marx and a union pamphlet for modern conservative political pundits. Always extraordinarily careful, he would not allow the employees or his fellow customers to observe his intrigues. He would stalk through the aisles of Books-A-Million as a predatory assassin bent on killing of the King of France in order to leave a message in “The Three Musketeers.”
It said “Keep reading, it gets better.”
Other times, Tommy would stride powerfully and scowl threateningly at children in order to drop a slip into “Treasure Island.”
It read “No really, you can stop now. It doesn’t get any better.”
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This 580 word review has not been unlocked.
I know you asked that we not list grammar or usage problems, but just one thing stood out to me that, if you changed it, would add a lot to the readability of the piece: you should use “wandered” instead of “wondered.”
In any case, the subject matter is intriguing and, after digging myself in through the first page, which felt a bit tedious but does some important foreshadowing about Tommy’s wild imagination, I cruised through the rest quite easily.
I think that your scenes in which you launch readers into a dreamscape, be it the moon or the wild west, could use a little polishing on the transitions. Perhaps a little more set up when it comes to your wild west imagery? Maybe illustrating that Tommy had been transported a little better instead of telling readers that the bookshelves just melted away. I think this would help a lot with the rythym of the piece.
In all, I found this enjoyable. If you were to elaborate on this, I think that you’d have a very interesting short story. Perhaps even something you might thing of publishing. Right now the market is very hot on novels, so maybe you could develop Tommy into a kind of coming-of-age charachter and give it a shot at a thorough resolution.
Hi! your my first review! I loved your story, tommy totally reminds me of well me even though I am female..I only give nines as reviews because I believe there is always some flaw to writing and that’s what makes a story good..A little wierd I know, besides the obvious fact that nothing is perfect, and since a “10” is usually discribed as perfect, I will refrain from using them. I think you have a great talent, and I enjoyed the humor in the story very much. I would like very much for another cup of Tommy! :) best wishes
LC Miller
He “was” practiced might sound better than “became.”
“barren yet fruitful” You are using to opposite words and one cancels the other out. How can something be barren and yet fruitful? The readers needs to know. To fix this, you can take out one or the other or explain how this can be.
You have created a very interesting character in Tommy. I am not sure how old he is. You might tell the reader. I liked Tommy’s choice in books and authors,too. I also enjoyed the little games he played with the dollar and the notes in the books. This story is peculiar in a sense that one must read and re-read to understand its meaning. I would have liked some general descriptions of him his age, and such. I like how his imagination that transports him to places other than the mundane world. I think you could use more general things, maybe more about his past. Overall, imaginative. Sandi
I like how this doesnt really have an ending or an actually plot but it’s very entertaining. This is something your read twice..because the part with the little girl sent me into WTF mood…until I realized it was his imagination at work…than I went back and saw how cool the details made that part. I liked all the characters and the main character was a likable guy. This was kind of like a day in the life of….and thats it. Overall though it was a fun read.
slowly exhale through a forming half-smile, <- a bit awkward
drag him kicking, screaming and clawing<- cliche. revise
She demanded. <- that’s a dialog tag. ‘said’ is most often the most appropriate, and most beloved by publishers. Other tags are usually used to prop up weak dialog, so make yours as strong as possible and ‘said’ will be almost all you’ll ever need.
daggers where glared at the object of attention <- ‘were’ and not ‘where’?
In the same paragraph you drifted from Megan’s sighs to a analogy about bookstores and religion. Very confusing.
Tommy ventured.<- another tag.
as he laid wide awake <- cut
without speaking<- cut
like a black monolith. It would surely foretell his doom. <- this is a bit melodramatic. In fact, in many places you seem to be trying to hard with your prose. It’s not necessary to dazzle us with your sentence structure, similes or descriptions. Being a good storyteller is the most important thing.
He therefore decided to visit to the bookstore. <- perfect example. This flowery structure is unnecessary. What you’re trying to say is that he’s overwhelmed by his responsibilities so he’s playing hooky at the bookstore instead.
woe unto him.<- really? revise.
nearly collapsing under the strain of existence.<- cut. totally out of place.
Daydreaming about being on the moon, and the odd habit of the bookstore seem connected but Megan breaking up with him doesn’t. At this point, the story doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and if it’s a novel, that’s a problem. Character studies work well in short stories; maybe that’s the direction you should go.
“Tommy needed a mother and a hairbrush” This is a very interesting line and I wonder if my guess at its meaning is correct—does Tommy need a mother to turn him over her knee and spank him? Did I guess correctly. Interesting image if that’s the case.
I like the dream world that Tommy seems to live in. Is it a coping mechanism, or a cop out for escape. You’ve given him a taste in literature that I can relate to—the DaVinci Code is a complete waste of time.
I would like to know how Tommy supports himself. Does he work? How does he manage to keep an apartment? Does he truly intend to find the woman he loves, or does he only intend to look for her?
“ESCAPE!! ESCAPE!!! ESCAPE!!!” demanded Tommy’s brain as he stood absolutely immobile and panic-stricken. Nice cliff hanger.
Watch your grammar. I found more mistakes but ignoredthem.
I get the sense that Tommy is somewhat aware of his own disconnectedness with the world, but seems to accept it. I appreciate the way the storyline goes back and forth between Tommy’s daydreams and his interactions with reality, and how one tends to interfere with the other. They are clear transitions, and as I reader I did not have any difficulty distinguishing between the two. I particularly liked his eccentricities, leaving money and notes in various books, and his dishiveled appearance.
It adds to the complexity of his relationship with Megan. Obviously, from his own unattentiveness and daydreaming, Tommy was just not there to meet Megan’s emotional needs, and in turn, Meagan left. I would like to get a better understanding of the background of their relationship, in terms of how long they have been together, how long have they had this same argument, and how many times Tommy deflected the conversation. I think some of that information would help explain what made this particular incident different, causing Megan to walk out. However, I do like the way the plot hints at some of this history, allowing the reader to connect the dots. I guess I’d just like to see a few more hints.
The only part that jarred me a bit was the break in perspective, moving away from Tommy and to Samatha from the paragraph “Samantha looked sideways at Tommy in a practiced manner, raising one eyebrow just a fraction. As a teenager she had spent some time in front of a bathroom mirror perfecting her various ‘looks.’” Although I liked the descrption there, it seemed to stray away from Tommy’s perspective; would he really know about Samatha’s practiced looks? I think it would be a minor tweak here to have Tommy observe Samatha’s behavior and come to a similar assessment.
The end does leave me wondering who is the mysterious voice behind him. I’m assuming that might be for another chapter. Overall, I think the storyline is starting well. Excellent work.
first page, “smilingly” reply- i would lose smilingly for sure-
“tommy was baptized in book bindings,” this running metaphor through that section is badass- i feel just like this while in a library- bookstore, library, same thing, minus the currenct exchange
on the previous page, the part about resting his chin on his fist to look interested while actually doing this to conserve energy, also fantastic—
“such sighs were known to shake foundations of kingdoms” – just fantastic-
lol- he needed, in her oppinion a mother and a hairbrush- this nails on the head how woman look at men, atleast in my experience- of course i too need a mother and a hairbrush-
if he doesn’t read the note nothing will change- i live my life by that very philosophy-
the “looking good, kid” line= awesome- he was thankful that torn jeans somehow came in fashion- etc etc etc- i love this character- its ME! this is a great story- you are a fantastic writer- truly – keep up the great work-
unhung mirror- great touch-
da vinci code line- brilliant and the line about hemmingway being a jerk- lol-
and on and on and on- this is a BRILLIANT piece- maybe the best piece of unpublished work i have ever read- i would offer insight on how to improve but this is perfect (except for “smilingly”- ditch smilingly- you made my day- what a piece of work = toast the future
In the first section I had the impression that Tommy is about six years old until the end. If this is the intention, fine, but if not, there needs to be some indication that he’s in HIS apartment nearer to the beginning. I think the problem is that the description of his apparent daydream flying seems to be locked in his childhood. Maybe a progression toward adulthood in these daydreams?
I enjoyed this. There were moments (needing a bookmark for the book Men without Women) when I laughed.
Ah, Tommy reads the books and puts them back at the bookstore. Nice. But is it believable that Tommy would put a dollar in the book when there are all those worthless discount cards there? And there’s absolutely nothing in the wallet? I’d make the dollar the ONLY thing he’s got.
In the end, I find Tommy endearing. I’m not sure that the first part about his childhood is so important to this story. Flying as escape does not follow throught the narrative. The theme of escape through literature does. One issue seems inconsistent. He says he puts his dollars and notes in obscure books that aren’t often read, but all of the books mentioned are classics that would be on reading lists (more often read than a lot of other books, even if the students are forced to read them).
Proofreading notes:
on the moon.“ He said (should be a comma)
“Nothing,“ now rooted (should be a period)
catch all = catchall
knew what that meant, but (I would delete this. The clause that follows about pondering the complexities of the problem implies that he knows what the question means.)
late night affection = late-night (prenominal compound modifiers are hyphenated except when the first ends in -ly)
laid wide awake = lay (intransitive, past tense of lie)
half remembered = half-remembered (see note directly above)
he never got around to hanging = he’d (because this action is before the action of the story, which is in the past tense already)
decided to visit to (typo)
book-mark = bookmark
the origin of which … (This clause struck me odd. Is there a way to show his embarrassment without saying this?)
finish” he thought (comma missing)
cities = city’s (possessive not plural)
random (Why random? I’d delete this.)
book stores = bookstores
The Davinci Code = The Da Vinci Code (horrible book)
day dreams = daydreams
any better. (terminal quotation mark missing on Treasure Island message)
fore-finger = forefinger
decided to go talk to (repetition of to awkward)
“Please.” he said (should be a comma)
counter, unconsciously (This comma falls between the subject and the verb of the sentence. You need to delete it. Changing the word order in the nominal clause before it (The unruly and exasperated mess . . .) would make it easier to read.)
house broken = housebroken
ninety.” She said (should be a comma)
please.” She (and here)
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