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Short Story / A cupboard of dreams
1
The bar is pleasant, the low lighting gentle on the eyes, a steady beat from the disco bar next door makes its presence felt without upsetting the regulars.
Approaching the bar I stand over your shoulder, you feel my presence, instinctively checking your dress, you flick your hair over your collar.
Our eyes meet in the whisky mirror as if by accident, they lock in combat for a heartbeat longer than normal. Acknowledging this stolen moment we both smile as we look away, the kind of smile that reaches your toes but doesn’t move your mouth.
The barman asks for my order, leaning over for him to hear I smell your perfume, the words trip over my tongue before I manage to force them out. Once placed I immediately feel relieved, the spotlight moved to some other lucky punter. The confidence of anonymity builds enough to risk sneaking another glance in the mirror of dreams. All I see are the glowing crystals of your smiling eyes looking innocently back.
My order is delivered to the drip tray at your right shoulder and my payment is processed. To warn you of my impending visitation to your personal space I lightly touch your left shoulder and feel your warm, soft, delicate skin beneath your silky dress. You move almost subconsciously into my temporary embrace, the apple of your hair hits my nostrils and I suddenly want to stay forever. Instead I leave you alone in our space struggling to control my arm as I maneuver the drinks intact.
Sensing my job is done you turn to see me off. I in turn seek the reward of a last look, and perhaps the last smile you will ever make just for me.
Your date returns as I vacate the area, the jealous question on his lips will never be asked.
2
Returning from this initial encounter I disbursed the drinks to my friends and reclaimed my chair. Saddened by the lack of a view of the bar I tried to return my attention to the current topic until I discovered a reflected pathway via a long wall mirror. Despite the poor lighting and multiple images I could plainly picture your face in the whiskey mirror where we first met.
As our group talked I watched you, your body language was settled and comfortable as only that of a long term partner could be; were you married ? I didn’t see but you knew somewhere, someone was watching you. I watched your casual glances around the bar, nothing dramatic so as to distract your partner but nonetheless you were intrigued and wanted the answer.
Normally a shy person I couldn’t take my eyes off your image in the mirror; was I remembering those eyes or were they truly penetrating the depths of the optical magic. Begging for one genuine look made just for me, as time passed my hopes slowly diminished. My head started the process letting down my heart as to what was never to be.
Just as all hope was gone there you were, plain as day staring as straight back as two mirrors could allow; your partner had once again left you momentarily alone and stranded. The thoughts that passed in those exclusive seconds, when you were mine and I was yours, were preciously recorded and archived as the memory of the day. Even if I could have known what lay ahead this would be kept forever.
3
We spent the next thirty minutes off and on checking each other out, shyness lost in the first few minutes as we became confident that it wasn’t just one way perving. I would dare you to look mid-way through a deep and meaningful conversation with your partner and, as though being signaled, you would oblige. Then it was your turn, just as I thought I’d been found out my end and try to concentrate on the local conversation, your eyes would penetrate the atmosphere like cats eyes on a deserted highway until I could bear it no more, everytime our eyes met sparks flew inside my head.
There was something mysterious and sexy in the way you looked, not just the usual good looking girl but more, a deeper more sensual experience; the difference a real lamb’s wool rug brings to a roaring log fire.
After looking away for a moment, my gaze returned and you were gone, instantly my heart responded, pierced deep by a thin knife, my breathing felt pressured and heavy. My shoulders almost collapsed, the ability to smile suddenly foreign to my mouth. I could console myself with one lasting memory, a warmness in my groin, which would take a few hours to subside.
I took a drink, settled back into my chair mellow and distracted and started to convince my heart life goes on. Suddenly without warning you were there, not in the mirrors but in person standing at our table. Having a mouth full of drink I swallowed it quickly to ensure I didn’t spit it out and directed an automatic smile on my face your way. You were of course smart enough to address the lady of the table and advised her the barman thought I’d left my keys on the bar.
I followed you back to the place we first met, your partner was gone yet again, at the bar you turned, took my eyes with yours and showed me the corridor into the hotel and whispered. ‘5 minutes’
Before turning to walk back to my friends I removed my keys from my jeans, at the table I slipped them safely in my jacket with a minimum of fuss. Without sitting I made my excuses for a trip to the toilet and headed off nervous yet excited by the prospects of your adventure.
I followed you down the hallway, you led me through a door into a small room. You turned and hesitated unsure at the moment that counted, I took your cheeks in my hands, thumbs under your eyes and bent down and kissed you forever on your lips.
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Riddler reviewed Version 1 -
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This literary piece is almost lyrical in its use of language, particularly in the first part. I rarely see second person POV such as you use here. I have a slight problem with the switch from present to past tense. If anything, I would expect part one to be past tense and the remainder to be present.
You use a fair number of compound sentences with two or more independent clauses. In these, your use of semicolons is inconsistent. Generally, you need to use a semicolon to separate independent clauses.
Also, you need to review your comma usage, especially with introductory clauses. For example: Normally a shy person I couldn’t take my eyes… requires a comma after person. There are other examples.
Midway is one word, cat’s eyes should be possessive, and every time is two words.
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cdnsurfer reviewed Version 1 -
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As for the story, it was heartfelt and filled with interesting, quirky thoughts and images. The third scene didn’t strike me as realistic, but that’s neither here nor there.
The problem overall with this piece as it stands right now is the passive voice. You’ve got to work each sentence into a more active voice to make the action zip along. Passive voice affects the pacing, and moves us from the action. We want to be there with you in the bar. You’re almost there. Look at how often you use the passive “to be” verb, particularly in your case “was”. The problem with the “to be” verb according to Swain is it stops all action and the reader must wait until you move the story along again. The problem with the “to be” verb according to Burroway is it invites generalization and distance. The problem with the passive voice according to King is the action happens to your subject, and the subject should always be doing the action.
Thanks for sharing this interesting piece. We’ve all been there. It reminds be of a Jim Cuddy song “The moment comes/Somebody jumps/Somebody waits too long.” Anyways, good luck with it.
Zach reviewed Version 1 -
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Lovely. Absolutely lovely. Nothing bad to say at all.
FiveHourPilgrim reviewed Version 1 -
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This I liked, there was enough intrigue to hold me, enough sexual tension to keep me reading. To write short pieces takes skill, and I think you have it.
Dannyboi27 reviewed Version 1 -
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I saw a lot of commas and semi-colons where they shouldn’t have been.
The “apple” of your hair? Surely apple-scent would be better?
I didn’t like the use of the word “perving”, or the “warmness in my groin”, as it didn’t match the tone of the rest of the writing.
The piece started really, really well. I had an exact vision of the bar in my minds eye; the whiskey mirror, the dull thud of the disco from nearby, ect.
Overall, i think this piece has potential. I would be interested to read its second draft.
nelson1 reviewed Version 1 -
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I think this is a decent story of two people meeting in a flirtacious sense, though i think the language is often forced or robotic, like a list of every single thing that happened.
Some of the things i felt were awkward or off in someway are as follows:
were you married? i didn’t see but you knew someone somewhere was watching you
I think there should be a full stop after married, and if you did’nt see how would you know that she felt some-one was watching her.
Normally a shy person i could,nt help
should there not be a comma after person.
Plain as day staring as straight back as two mirrors.
I don’t know why this part of the sentence seems off, i’m struggling to understand what you are trying to say or describe with this.
and advise her the barman thought.
should this not be that the barman thought.
I did like the eyes meeting in the whiskey mirror.
abair reviewed Version 1 -
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As a story of romance or lustful fantasy this falls pretty short. His character is full bodied and well developed but I’m not sure you have developed the character you meant to. Her character is flat and her behavior doesn’t make sense. For the most part the writing is tight and engaging but I am confused because your reviewer notes led me to expect a mutually pationate encounter with a bittersweet end and instead I got the opening scene to Without a Trace or one of the CSI shows. Here is some of the dialogue from my mind as I was reading this:
A bar next to a bar? Is this a club street of something?
Bar again?
This guy sounds like a stalker.
Ahh, thier eyes met in the whiskey mirror- how romantic.
Combat?
“Stolen moment”? Why is it taboo for thier smiles to have met?
“The kind of smile…” That’s a great line! Is this the kind of guy who would use that line to pick her up or is he the kind of guy who feels that way?
Either way this guy is so a stalker!
What spotlight? Maybe it’s figurative.
What’s a punter?
Growing crystals?
Impending visitation… Yep he’s a slalker or at least an unwanted cad. This guy is starting to freak me out.
I bet she’s relieved that her date is back if she’s even noticed him at all.
Anyway, I can feel the his obsession building but I see know evidence that she cares so her return to the bar seems disonnected and I don’t follow the lines about the keys. Is this guy psychotic? His thoughts are certainly disjointed and he doesn’t seem to be in touch with reality.
dc0r reviewed Version 1 -
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I gave this an 8. I’m not a fan of first person perspective writing but I can appreciate a well constructed piece when I see one. The mechanics and grammar are good, nothing jumps out at me here. Good detail and sense of imagery. Keep up the good work!
odessa33 reviewed Version 1 -
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Uh do I know you?
This sounds oddly familiar.
It’s pretty hot, just one thing I would replace cheeks with face.
other then that it’s good, left me wanting more! ha! ha! no pun intended.
athousandfaces reviewed Version 1 -
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I like your tone. It sounds like you*ve been there and your trying to remember something important.
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