I am aware of the passive sentences. the editors allow for some in a manuscript. Short stories are always full of ambiguity. I enjoy ambiguous. All mine have have gaps. It is my style Many famed writers leave a lot to the readers discretion. i am counting on smart readers like you reading my work and will allow that the aunt is dead. The “hads” are a problem. I will fix them when time allows. Thank you very much. Sandi
Short Story / A Man and his Island
A Man and his Island
According to the Coroner, my uncle was dead for five or six -days before I found him. Concerned neighbors had noticed that the Sunday paper still lay on his porch and had called and asked me to check on him. I found him reared back in his ratty old easy chair; his face was as white as the snow that continued to fall outside. His television had blasted the sports channel, and the refrigerator still hummed monotonously in the background. Life continued without him, seemingly indifferent to the fact that he was, no more. Never again would someone expect him to answer his doorbell, nor would the handful of family members ring him up on the phone out of a sense of tenuous duty.
So, this was it. A man can go just like that with nary a mark of him left, not even a trace of his shoe tracks in the snow. Here was his home modest and simple; a row of maple trees lined his slanted drive. Their limbs now encrusted with snow that winked and twinkled like tiny jewels, underneath a glaring winter sun. His fancy little sports car was still parked in the garage. An overturned bucket lay half buried in the snow next to a rusty gas can. The porch swing still hung from the rafters, its seat filled with snow. Every now and again the wind bluster, causing it rock eerily back and forth. All these things had belonged to him—the architecture of his life. I thought about death and pondered its meaning. Perhaps death did not come in the form of a dark hooded shroud, hovering and expectant. Maybe death comes in various forms like the cat that sneaks silently into the crib of a sleeping child and steals its breath amidst a thick curtain of darkness Death could even come in the form of a virgin snow that swirls silently through the darkness.
I had never really connected with him, yet his death had left me feeling hollow inside. My memories of my uncle were like a collage, recalled in bits and pieces: him standing on the lawn watering the grass, sitting idly in front of the television, or stepping down from the attic where he spent the better part of his last years. I remember his tight, thin smile that looked as if someone had drawn it on his face with a black magic marker, and his hands—so thin and shriveled. Our conversations had been dutiful and casual the kind of conversation two strangers might have at the market place.
He had left my aunt for a while, a few years back he had packed up what would fit in a small duffel bag and took off in his little sports car. Our family didn’t talk much about why he’d left, but I’d always imagined he’d went off in search of something. When he finally came back to my aunt because he had run out of finances, he had paced restlessly across the floors like a caged animal. Sometimes I would see him sitting on the porch gazing thoughtfully out into the distance; as if he saw something no one else could see. My eyes followed the same direction as his but all I saw was the rooftops of the neighboring houses. Whatever he saw was in his own private spectrum of vision.
To say I knew him well would have been an exaggeration; a more appropriate description might be to say I knew of him. I could recognize him in a crowd. My uncle was like the door in a story that you did not open, or the moon that a child cries for.
I pondered the last days of his life and wondered if he had had any forewarning. I thought about the time that he had left my aunt and wondered where he had gone and what he had found. Had he called out for anyone before his last breath left him? They say when a man dies his whole life flashes before his eyes. I suddenly pictured a thick book falling silently, in slow motion while the cold blustery wind skims through its pages revealing the story of a sixty- year- old man who built a large fortress around himself, and lived out his life within the narrowed halls of his own thinking. Perhaps he realized this before the cold hand of death tapped him on the shoulder. Maybe he had even tried to reach out but found the walls to be too thick.
When I think of my uncle, I think of a fine blowing snow that swirls and spirals into an infinitive dark abyss.
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tkarma reviewed Version 2 -
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Hi
This is a moving account concerning the death of a loved one with some nice imagery, but it didn’t hold my attention. A short story is very difficult to craft. The writer has to combine many elements in a short piece without the luxury the novelist has to meander here and there. The story caught my attention at first, but I felt there needed to be some type of tension building in the middle that would lead the reader to the conclusion, which would be the death.
I jotted some words that I thought were unnecessary and weakened some of the sentences.
had-this was used a few times and was not in keeping with the point of view
seemingly-unnecessary adverb
it rock -I think you left out a word here-always proofread!
like the cat that sneaks silently-I liked this simile
were-again, wrong tense
an infinitive dark abyss.-I didn’t get the word ‘infinitive’. Infinite maybe? It could just be me.
I hope this doesn’t feel harsh. It is meant to be a constructive critique and I hope it helps in some way. Keep at it, because like I said, it’s tough to write a short story.
Peace
Tina
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alecthegreat reviewed Version 2 -
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In general, this is really well written with a lot of beautifully detailed descriptions! You never mention the aunt dying, but I assume she did since he was dead a few days—you might want to mention her death.
There are a lot of passive sentences in this story that could be changed to just past tense, and it would greatly help the pacing and readability of this story (all those sentences that use “had”—most of them could simply drop the had).
A few minor things:
“sky that spitted white furries” – Spitted refers to a spit (used to cook meat). Do you mean spat?
”..he was, no more.” – no need for a comma.
“Here was his home modest and simple” – “home, ...” Without at least a comma, this is awkward.
”...causing it rock eerily” – ”..it to rock..”
”..of darkness Death could..” – ”..darkness. Death..” Should be 2 separate sentences.
catluckey reviewed Version 2 -
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You have a fantastic hook for the beginning.
...dead for five or six -days(days) before… (delete dash)
Every now and again the wind bluster(blustered)...
...that spitted white furries of snow.. (delete a period)
...family members ring him up on the phone out of a sense of tenuous duty. I enjoyed this phrasing, especially using the word “tenuous.”
Their limbs now encrusted with snow that winked and twinkled like tiny jewels… This is so beautiful. Now when I see a scene like this, your phrasing will come to mind. Perfect imagery and word usage of how I always thought of beautiful winter scenes after a blizzard.
—the architecture of his life. A poetic phrase. Love it.
Our conversations had been dutiful and casual,(comma) the kind…
He had left my aunt for a while, a few years back when(insert) he had… (Or make 2 separate sent. by putting period in place of comma.)
...same direction as his,(comma) but all I saw was the rooftops…
You’ve written a really wonderful pensive piece. But a story has a beginning, middle, and end. There is conflict and resolution, whether good or bad. I noticed, in my small opinion, that there isn’t any resolution or conflict.
This is more like a small (but exretemely beautiful) profile on the uncle from the narrator’s point of view. A restrospection. Still this is a wonderful read; it kept my attention.
I’ve scored you higher in the ranking of the “Short Story-Overall” because of your astute writing.
Try using talent and/or clarity rankings to get a better feel for your story.
Nani reviewed Version 2 -
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I have a few issues with the story: first, that it contains many punctuation errors (e.g., “-six days” doesn’t need a dash, no period at the end of sentences, etc.). Just a nit, but it’s distracting.
Second, it is sprinkled with phrases that seem rather overwrought, such as “Never again would someone expect him to answer his doorbell…” or the various death metaphors.
Whatever happened to the aunt? Why do only concerned neighbors notice his absence? I thought he moved back in with the aunt, but you never say what happened to her after he moved back in.
I do like your descriptions of the “architecture of his life”—the snowy front yard with maples lining the drive, the sports car, the overturned bucket. You painted a very evocative picture of the house as it sat in silence around him.
gnoscobrown reviewed Version 2 -
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The figurative images, like the softly falling book of the uncle’s life, are articulate and accurate. The true images helped make the uncle seem real; corporeal. I would have liked more of these latter descriptions and, perhaps, less of the past perfect tense.
ModernCassandra reviewed Version 2 -
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“Coroner” – no caps
Remove “According to a neighbor,” redundant.
“reared back…” – Feels like there could be a better synonym for this… perhaps “Stretched out” or “Reclined in?”
“He was, no more” – no comma
“Never again COULD” instead of WOULD… someone might expect him to answer, but he’s not going to :)
“Tenuous” – do you mean Tedious?
“A man COULD go” – tense agreement
“His home was” – keeps the feel of the story in the past, not as if there’s a tour going on. This sentance might also do better in a different area of the story? Maybe you could set up the story with the narrator as a character, happening upon his/her uncle’s house and beginning to think about the circumstances surrounding his death.
“Thier limbs were” – removes sentance fragment.
“Filled with snow” – more descriptive synonym here?
“It would rock back and forth, eerily buffeted by the wind.” – stronger.
I’d like to see the death metaphors stick with the scene – maybe something like”death came as the bony cat, lurking around the corner of the garage.” This idea is beautiful, however you choose to express it. LOVE “death as virgin snow” similie.
Move the author’s feelings about his/her uncle to the beginning of the story – start with the facts about the death, then the feelings on the uncle, then the musings on death as a whole, taking an isolated incident and reminding the reader about how this affects them as well.
‘Saw something.” – End sentance here, next two sentances explain that there wasn’t anything there.
“In the story you did not open.” Lovely phrase, end sentance here. Maybe, “And now I was left wondering what was behind it, locked forever.” Extend this simile, it is powerful and fresh.
Overall, nice start – this story should be trimmed of some redundancy and cluttered similies, and then lengthened with some more plot – perhaps this could be a part of a larger story where the narrator experiences something that is related to the death of the uncle? Keep with it, it will turn out nicely I’nm sure. Thanks!
walkliter reviewed Version 2 -
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I like the way you compare his death with his life: a series of isolated events, of random possessions. All that remains of the dead are the memories of the living. Your use of imagery is very good and I got a thorough feel for this man through a well chosen economy of words. I felt like you captured the universal theme of isolation/lonliness associated with death, and how we all tend to internalize the death of anyone we actually knew. We find ourselves more likely to wonder just exaxtly how dying feels in these instances.
rck419 reviewed Version 2 -
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Good opening. Your description of life after he dies is a good one. Your details were clear and got the point across. I didn’t see, at least when I read it, any errors in grammar.
“Maybe he had even tried to reach out but found the walls to be too thick.”
-great way to convey that thought.
Nice short piece.
R.
Matthewtuckey reviewed Version 2 -
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“Furries”- MS Word doesn’t recognise this. Do you mean flurries or fury?
“was no more”- no comma needed.
I like the imagery with the sleeping cat.
MS Word spell checker will pick up on a few punctuation marks.
“When he finally came back”- This sentence is very wordy. You might want to split this into two sentences.
“Door in a story”- the reader wouldn’t open the door. A character in a book might. This could do with phrasing better.
“Moon that a child cries for”- This is just weird. I have no idea what this means.
Other that the above criticisms, this is a well-written account that evokes the senses.
Underscore79 reviewed Version 2 -
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How can “nary a mark of him” be left when you are describing the very remnants of his existence--house, sports car, the “architecture of his life,” etc. That line doesn’t make sense given the rest of the prose. The metaphor of the cat in a crib makes very little sense as well, and does nothing to further the idea of death and it’s meaning either. In fact, I find that many of your visuals don’t evoke what you are probably aiming at. For instance, the uncle’s tight thin smile that looked like it was drawn by a black magic marker. Black magic markers--at least in my mind--tend to make thick lines with a somewhat blurry appearance to them from the way the ink absorbs into the paper around the mark (i.e. the very opposite of thin & tight. Wouldn’t something along the lines of a pencil--faint, etched, etc be more evocative? I don’t know. Maybe something to think about?
To be honest, I am not quite sure what you were aiming for with this story? I gather that you wanted to touch upon the disconnectedness between the uncle and the narrator, but what’s the larger meaning? Is it simply meant to be an examination of narrator’s own mortality through experience with the uncle? Meditation of how someone becomes so disconnected? What about the narrator—does he assume no fault for his own failure to reach out and try to connect with the uncle when he was living?
All in all, the story has a good start, but it lacks a clear focus and sort of meanders, making it seem unfinished.
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