Thanks for the review, your comments make a lot of sense and help me to see my work more objectively. Sometimes I get caught up thinking I need all these extra words to tell the story when less would actually work better.
Short Story / The Greenhouse
The entire house held a fragrant surprise for her when she returned home from the lab one evening. Walking through the doorway she immediately knew that Jonah had been out in the garden cutting flowers. She could smell the earth in the house and the receptors in her nose recognized the scents of azalea and begonia, and this was half the pleasing allure, she knew—the familiarity.
She dropped her keys and her purse on the small glass table in the alcove, next to a fresh white orchid, its leaves opened up suggestively. Her husband, busy listening to a 19th century symphony that was playing on small chrome Bose speakers, didn’t hear her come in. The music was hitting a giant crescendo where all the instruments were leaning in at once to add their voice to the urgency and the pounding. It wasn’t the type of classical music you listen to while reading a book but the kind you play in the opening scenes of a war epic.
He was in the kitchen, washing carrots at the sink, the speakers suspended underneath the cabinets next to him. She snuck up behind him and put her hands over his eyes.
“Guess who?”
He stopped cutting the carrots and stood there dumbly. She couldn’t see, but a giant smile was plastered across his face.
“Gimme some hints,” he asked as he sniffed her perfume. “You sure smell pretty whomever you are.”
“Flattery gets you everywhere with me.”
“You sound tawdry, I think I like you.”
She giggled. “Another hint: I met my husband in my high school science club.”
“He sounds like a loser.”
“Got that right.”
The music stopped and the DJ got on the air with important water restriction announcements. It was then that the smile disappeared and Jonah reached to turn down the radio.
“Jolene?”
She dropped her hands and turned him around by the shoulders, stared towards the back of his eyes. “Why did you do it?”
He looked at the carrots sitting in a bowl of water and wanted to weep. All day long he had wanted to cry as he methodically tore the life from his beloved garden. He assumed that his tears must have dried up, because not even a spigot-drip came through his ducts. We must have restricted that as well, he thought self-loathingly upon his tears-that-would-not-be.
He wanted to tell her everything that he felt that day, but the only thing that came out was these feeble words. “I couldn’t stand to see them dying out there.”
Surprisingly, people became used to the water restrictions, and the absence of gardens and lawns and flowers, and seemed to forget how it used to be. People would stick old T.V antennae in vases and put drawings of plants in their windows. People would do all sorts of crazy things to replicate nature. Higher end stores would have flowery scents in the air conditioning to lure sophisticated shoppers. Where parks once held large grass fields for soccer games or Frisbee throwing, now they were skate parks and soundstages, as movie making is the nation’s second favorite pastime, behind basketball – the only major sport to survive the water restrictions.
The years went by. They never had a child, although they had a thorough discussion on the subject. They did what all good scientists do: made a list of pros and cons, created pie charts, made long-term calculations, interviewed parents their own age, and conducted various other tests to determine the proper course of action. In the end, for the good of the planet, they decided not to bring it one more mouth to feed, one more thing to cause it harm.
Population control was not yet government policy at the time, but being on the scientific advisory board, Jonah knew it was being discussed. Furthermore, he was a proponent of the measure. How would it have looked if just before the bill passed his wife became pregnant?
Once the law went into effect there was a lot of scrutiny on them. A lot of people out there did want kids, and didn’t care about the effect their kid will have on the planet; for, as they thought, what good is a planet without kids, and they lashed their anger out at Jonah and blamed him for their current state of affairs. It didn’t help that the government made him the face of population control.
In the early days Jonah and Jolene rarely left their house in the city for fear of attack, death threats were common and the situation was tense. To escape, they moved out to a rural area, once rolling green hills, the area now resembled the Badlands in South Dakota, out there things settled down.
He loved Jolene terribly, but, like every law-abiding American that wasn’t selected by random lottery, could never give her a child because, even though the government gave him permission, he didn’t think it would look right to the public.
To make up for it, Jonah built and nursed and hid a scandalous secret.
The government says Jonah has saved over ten million children with his measures. Others say you can’t save a life that hasn’t been born. Jonah always argues that you could save it a heaping load of misery. The public looks back on Jonah’s legacy with mixed-feelings. Some say that it’s not his fault that the sky doesn’t rain. Others say who is he to play God with our children and our plants and animals? Jonah would agree with both of them.
Life’s cruel sense of timing often ruins a couple’s long woven plans. In this case, Jolene fell to cancer shortly after they set out on their “golden years”. They had planned to make a movie about their life, to tell their story for eternity. They had kept out of the public eye and were just beginning to venture out again. Anonymity brings freedom. They were planning on taking an “old fashion” roadtrip. Before she passed, on her deathbed, she whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry about the movie.”
He held her hand and kissed her forehead and told her, “what movie?”
Jonah was alone.
Without Jolene, his secret was no longer worth protecting.
He decided to show his neighbor, a fellow government worker. Sam worked in the department of population relocation and by mere proximity of their houses, was the only person Jonah could think to show. One day, when the air quality was safe enough for the hike, he led the heavy-set, jocular man to the greenhouse he kept deeply hidden on his property, down in a canyon that wasn’t visible from the road.
It was a muggy, swampy day—one all too common these years of drought and despair. The light came through the plexi-glass roof all sepia-colored and muddied. Jonah’s neighbor fell to the floor with flowing emotion when he saw the plants and flowers growing inside the plastic walls.
Jonah helped him off the ground. The man then waddled through the greenhouse, touching everything.
“It’s been so long,” he moaned while reaching up and palming a lemon.
“Remember, we used to put them in our ice tea?” Jonah asked him.
“Yes,” Sam said with a tear in his eye.
Jonah was in a rigid stupor; spoke dreamily. “My wife, she always made a point to tend to our finely manicured things.”
“What?”
His eyes filmed over with nostalgic gossamer. “My wife loved plants, loved fresh flowers. I kept them for her. She said their beauty wasn’t their flower, but because they were temporal and fleeting, and they die just like… it was the least I could have done, considering. Go ahead.”
“What?” Sam repeated, bewildered.
“Take one home with you,” Jonah told him, pointing to the lemon his neighbor was turning in his hand. .
He looked at Jonah with a mixture of shock, reverence, and eternal gratefulness. It took him a minute to overcome it and to pluck the lemon from the tree.
“Bless you,” he bade Jonah.
It was an inside joke of theirs to reply, please don’t. Jonah said it and, because they reminded him of Jolene’s dark sense of humor, the words felt like jagged glass coming out of his mouth.
Sam, still overwhelmed by the sights and smells of a bygone era, took some time gathering the joke in, but once he had it cornered he exploded in hysterics and fireworks and slapped Jonah on the shoulder. It seemed that he had been storing laughter in for years now and it was bursting out all at once. His face was swollen red and tears were pouring down his cheeks leaving a clean streak through the ruddy soot and dirt, his jowls wagged as he hooted, “God sure don’t give a shit about us anymore.”
Jonah now regretted sharing the secret of his greenhouse with him.
“Hey, can I show my wife?” He asked Jonah excitedly, “she would die.”
He wondered how far he would now go to protect it again.
“NO. This is serious, do you know how bad it would look!” Jonah yelled at the man.
“She won’t tell anyone. Hell, your secret is safe with me! If it’s any consolation, Peggy and I have a vacation home on a nice coastal plain down south that hasn’t been flooded out yet, everyone’s gone, though… we kicked em’ out, of course,” his neighbor chuckled.
Jonah didn’t know what to say, didn’t think that a reply was necessary, couldn’t imagine how to even begin to fashion one. He knew corruption was common, rampant even -- a dirty pantry attracts mice -- but never considered his greenhouse to be a part of it.
“Bring her by tomorrow,” he sighed and mumbled.
“Thank you, and hey! If you ever want to use our beach house… heck, there’s dozens of them you could use!”
“Thanks,” Jonah told him reluctantly and then bid his neighbor farewell.
The man started to go but stopped and turned around. “You know, it’s funny, remember that old saying: stop and smell the roses sometime? Nowadays people would pay good money just to smell your roses. You ever thought of that? We should talk business some time.”
“I’m retired.”
Sam’s bulbous face was flushed with greed; his eyes were as big as ostrich’s eggs. “I think you’re sitting on a goldmine, Jonah. Really!”
“Okay, Sam. Okay.”
Jonah watched Sam clamber out of the canyon into the harsh, toxic sun, his large black silhouette eclipsing the dirty light. Once his shadow diminished into a blip, Jonah urgently set out ripping the plants from of the soil and chopping down the trees.
It was hard work and it took him all night, but by the time the sun rose all-drugged and acid-washed in the bleached, feral sky his garden was destroyed and his greenhouse stood empty.
This time he hadn’t felt like crying.
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scottsta reviewed Version 1 -
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9/10. this was just one of the lines i admire
It seemed that he had been storing laughter in for years now and it was bursting out all at once.
The problem with nines is there’s nothing to say but great job. i didn’t know the genre for a minute but then thought – wow i used to like this stuff. do you want to tell the reader in the comment section? or put some date at the top?
getting to JONAH WAS ALONE. was a bit of a turn for me. so the beginning is a flashback but the transition was abrupt (for me) AND I WAS LIKING THAT PORTION SO MUCH I WANTED TO STAY IN THAT WORLD.
I don’t know. i’m going to read what other reviewers are saying. i liked it a lot. your phrasing ROCKS.
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LIFEAFTERDYING reviewed Version 1 -
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Good description of what the future could bring. I like the love story and the sacrifice the couple made as far as not having children also. Pointing out the greed of the neighbor shows a good example of how one might act in a desperate situation. Sad the wife had to die though! Good work!
divya reviewed Version 1 -
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I like where this is going and what it stands for. I guess the one area I would revise would be the transitions. I would like to more about the water restrictions from the radio so I have a sense of the effect it might have in the future. Also the paragraphs that start “Surprisingly, people became used to the water restrictions,” and “The years went by.”, I feel need more subtlety and artistry in showing the passing of time and indicating what the water restrictions were and how they hampered daily life. I think the subject of population control needs similar attention. Try to be less direct about it and show how it affects people and why, than just stating that they were restrictions. I like the greenhouse idea and the treasured plants. These are clearly the gems, but try to polish the periphery. This is good already but certainly has potential to be better.
AnnaElizabeth reviewed Version 1 -
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You had me going within the first few paragraphs. The beginning is the most important, and you nailed it! I love how quirky your descriptions are, and your unique characters. This is a really intersting and unique idea to write about and I thoughoughly enjoyed reading it. Good job, and keep up the good work!
VoidSucker reviewed Version 1 -
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This story is a bit bizarre!
It starts off with Jolene coming home and then flicks from her point of view to Jonah’s (without warning) and then scurries off under its own steam into some story about population control and water control and plants!
Your focus here should be on what the story is about, so if it’s about Jonah and his plants then to start off in the head of Jolene is not a good idea – stick to one person’s viewpoint per scene.
Your writing is fine, although you need to consider these points:
1. try to start any story with something to excite the reader
Some woman coming home to a house smelling of flowers is not very exciting
2. Try to self-edit
This is a difficult skill to master, but basically it means look at your own work objectively and try to edit out all the waffle and the redundant words so that what is left is crisp and to the point.
As an example, here’s my edit of your first paragraph:
‘When Jolene returned home the entire house smelled of azalea and begonia.’
Now, you might hate this but hopefully you can see that my edits have reduced your redundant words (great!) but without reducing much of the meaning (great x 2!).
The opening line still is not very exciting but it’s shorter than before.
3. watch your point of view
Every scene is viewed through the eyes of one person, so if we see the world through the eyes of Jonah we only knows (and sees and hears etc) what he knows. Therefore, we can’t have sentences like this:
‘She couldn’t see, but a giant smile was plastered across his face.’
If she can’t see, she can’t know he is smiling – she can only guess.
Overall, this is okay (and is written well enough) but it lacks excitement for a short story, so I think you need to consider this.
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