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Short Story / Sought
“Junk… trash… bill… trash…” Sitting at her rather large and ugly computer desk, Jo leafed through her daily mail, tossing each envelope into one of two piles: the first for bills, the second for trash. This mundane task claimed a very small portion of her mind – the rest was reviewing key moments from her day at work. “… bill… birthday card, uh, trash…” The seventh letter froze in her hand. Her attention was suddenly and wholly consumed by the address in the upper left hand corner. Her eyes bored twin holes through the austere white paper in the milliseconds before her fingers tore into it.
It was a short letter – stiff, formal, and as unforgivingly black-and-white as its blockish type. A disgusted sneer twisted Jo’s tanned face – her rich hazel eyes narrower even than her pursed lips – as she reread the three paragraphs.
“No, sir, I won’t put up with that today,” she muttered, stooping and opening the bottom drawer in her file cabinet. “You can flex your overdeveloped legal muscles in someone else’s face – someone else’s life – but not mine. Not today.”
She gave the offensive paper a parting glare and stuffed it in the file labeled “Important” – the dusty one laying facedown in the back of the drawer. She hated that file. Didn’t so much as touch it unless she had to. It represented work – issues to be addressed and tasks to be tackled. No, that was only half true. It really represented her whole, screwed up life. Everyone wanted something from her. Everyone wanted answers to questions that she had inherited; questions that had no answers. Everyone wanted to know why and how her mother had done what she had; why the lady that Jo had never really known had decided to loose her mind and turn fistfulls of classified information over to small time gangs. Everyone wanted Jo to fix it. But she could only do so much.
Jo suddenly drew back from her keyboard as though just discovering that the grey keys were really the teeth of a thought-eating monster, intent on making her fingertips feed it her entire life story: she realized that this was no longer about the “Important” file. It wasn’t even about her life. Somewhere in the past several minutes it had become all about her. Just that: her. Herself. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less. But Jo wasn’t a topic that Jo was particularly comfortable with at the moment.
She shook her head. No. No, I won’t do it. Be quiet, I won’t listen. But the voices inside her hardly cared what she wanted. “You fool!” they screamed; they reverberated from eardrum to eardrum. “Thought you could hide from yourself! Mask yourself in public – you thought you could! All seriousness and smiles!”
No! I won’t listen to you! Shut up and leave me in peace! I’m fine the way I am! She gritted her teeth and tried to act normal.
The voices were undaunted. “Thought you could hide from yourself! Hide behind your past! Little abused kid! Victim! Tried to hide behind your scars! You’ve overcome it all – you’ve gone far enough – good enough. Ha!” Shrieking peals of laughter rolled and roiled; daggers piercing her unprotected flesh.
No no no no no! Face contorted and burning with tears, she covered her ears and wanted to scream. Drown out the voices. Because she knew what was next.
“You thought you could hide from us!”
At this she lost her sensibilities completely. Maybe she froze; maybe she fainted; maybe she fell to the floor, a pitiful, writhing mass: she would never know. All that she did know – all that mattered – was the agony; the tiny, screeching voices.
“Thought we wouldn’t find you! Push us into a little corner; lock us away with bars and keys and forgetting. Thought we’d give up! Never escape! Remain forever trapped – you’d never have to face us. Ha!”
Then all was silent. The voices echoed and faded. They had done their job.
She blinked her eyes open – they felt salty and red – and pushed herself off the floor. Trembling and breathless – but alive – she stood. Pulled at the air like a babe tasting the atmosphere for the first time. She was empty: no energy, no emotions; nothing left between her mind and her soul. All had been stripped away – nothing left but herself and her tender, bleeding heart. And so she turned and faced it. Faced her soul for the first time in years. It simply said hello. She didn’t have anything to say. She was empty. But only for a moment.
Then there was light. Then there was life. A new Presence that she’d never felt before. A strange fullness. A new Voice.
“Will you answer Me if I speak to you?” it asked, very quietly. “Will you come to Me?”
She could not stand. Not in front of this Presence. So she collapsed again, but this time to her knees. Her head hung to her chest. You don’t want me, Lord! I am dirty! I am empty! I am broken! she whispered.
“Are you dirty? I died to make you clean. Are you empty? I will fill you. Are you broken? Then I will heal you; I will fix you. I do want you, my child. I love you dearly.”
Tears followed the burning paths that already streaked her cheeks, but these tears were not bitter as the others had been; these soothed and washed the burning away.
“Will you come with Me?” the Voice asked; gently, caressing her pain away. “Will you come with Me, beloved? I have a gift for you. Will you take My hand? Will you let Me show it to you?”
Shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs, she tentatively stretched out her trembling hand. Will You love me?
A wave – a tsunami of beauty and sorrow and, yes, love – washed over her, removing all doubt. “Jo, I always have.”
A smile broke through her tearstained face. A giggle interrupted her sobs. She pressed her hand into the comforting palm that was offered to her. Oh, Father! He smiled back.
With no thought for decorum; no consideration of the propriety of running to meet the Creator of the universe, she leapt into His arms; laughingly, joyfully embraced Him. Walking side-by-side, hand-in-hand, together they faced the future. And all was as it should be.
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Good description over all. A few changes may help, describing what was in the letter to help readers see what was affecting her. The sentence ” But Jo wasn’t a topic that Jo was particularyly comfortable with at the moment” could read, “Memories or thoughts from her past began to seep into her present thoughts”. Give the reader a more broad view of what is happening. good luck :)
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Excellent work, well done. The style is very engaging and it is very readable. I really liked up until the voices in her head which seemed far too obvious, far too forced. The encounter with God is fine, simple and nieve but that’s not a problem I just feel that the suffering is too short before the vision, it’s way too rushed. Also the negative voices in her head are very cliché and not very believable. I think you should take your time with this piece and allow the character time to have such a transformation to give it more power and effect.
Some little details:
hazel eyes narrower (narrowed)
She gave the offensive paper (offending?)
had decided to loose her mind (lose?)
Otherwise great work well worth a thorough revision.
As to the title I’d suggest “return to sender”. Bosco
You’re the first person I’ve given a ten to.
A possible title could be: Saved.
But that might give too much away…
Anyway, I really liked this story, it was well-written, very well-written.
What’s here is pretty good. There are some slight grammatical oddities, but I won’t waste papers detailing any of them (I can do so in (free) comments if you really want, but you’d probably spot them if you redrafted) as my main point is more of a fundamental thing.
It doesn’t feel properly rounded, because this feels a lot like the end of the story, not the beginning, and since it’s in short stories it should be more rounded.
The reason it’s not rounded is you tell us the key motivation, rather than showing us. Telling is more acceptable in short stories, but for the ending you’ve got, I think you need much more of a clear and strong motivation.
You could show it to us through flashbakc quite easily—instead of your character just quickly thinking the thing about their mother, you could have them recall it, at which you would switch into a new section about the events of the past.
Hope that’s of some use—as I say, I thought it was well written, generally, just lacks that full rounding.
This could be a great piece; you definitely love playing with language. Wow, I like the detail you put into this story, but at times it seems a bit overwhelming. You tend to go overboard just a tad on things that could probably be better said and imagined with cleaner language. For example, in your first paragraph all you need to say is “her eyes bore through the austere white paper before her fingers tore into it.” Try to say more with less words, cleaning up the unnecessary adjectives and fancy words will help your reader understand more of what’s going on rather than focusing on the sound of the words. It’s a valiant effort, though.
It’s a good story, but the ending seems so rushed, like you just wanted to get the story over with, and I don’t understand what it has to do with the letter from the beginning. If it’s not important to the story, then leave it out and create something that does add to the plot.
I think if you worked on this and expanded it a bit more, you could make something great out of this. It definitely has the potential.
Yeah I am not sure where it changed from The Robert Hanssen story to lord of the rings to the Passion of the Christ but it wasn’t a bad story. I think you might want to talk about Jo’s mother a little more because that sounded real interesting and I was a little disapointed when there was no more said about it.
Well, it was good, but a little vague. She was at a desk and opened a letter that disturbed her… reasons unknown … She alluded to things and people in her life or maybe her past … it wasn’t clear … and she became overwhelmed with emotion then began to hear voices accusing her of something … unclear … and then she was in the floor … I think … She was suddenly in the presence of God. He was comforting her and then she died … maybe … or maybe she was already dead?
I mean your work no offense. Your writing is excellent … Your story is very vague and confusing.
This was an interesting read. I don’ normally read religious writing, not being religious myself, but I thought that the writing style employed here was definitely worth pausing to take another look. (Am I correct in cataloguing this a religious piece? Forgive the error if I am not!) There were only 2 sentence that I thought you might want to take another look at. In the sentence “It was a short letter – stiff, formal, and as unforgivingly black-and-white as its blockish type.” I thought you might want to add the word “suggested” onto the end of it. I think it improves the flow. You might want to consider re writing a portion of this sentence, “her rich hazel eyes narrower even than her pursed lips,” to eliminate the word “narrower,” which reads awkwardly. Instead, you might want to use the wording “more narrow,” which I believe improve the way the sentence flows. I would like to know more about her mother and what she did. Is her mother still alive? Is she languishing in prison? What kind of “classified information” did her mother give to gangs, and how did she have access to that information? I know it says that she didn’t really know her mother, but I think she may have had access to a few of these minor details. Overall, a very intriguing read. Please keep up the excellent writing. Thank you!
Her eyes bored twin holes – This is very cliche
that she had inherited – you don’t need ‘that’ in this sentence.
loose her mind – lose her mind
But Jo wasn’t a topic that Jo was particularly comfortable with at the moment. – this is really good.
It simply said hello. – This seems a little juvenile for what you’re trying to portray. Maybe say something like, ‘A small, solemn voice greeted her.’
Otherwise, this is good work. The ending is very uplifting. The only complaint I have is that it doesn’t seem like it takes very much to push Jo over the edge. The reasons for her breakdown are not properly explored: there is the issue with her mother and the abuse – that comes through, but why now, why all of a sudden? She’s looking through her mail, gets a letter that seems to be fairly commonplace – you imply that this happens all the time – and suddenly she’s lost it? Maybe you could explain this more.
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