Winter Rain, part 1
She watches me from across the table, her eyes pained, tired. They weren’t always so. When we first met, her eyes were full of joy and light.
I fidget with the handle of my cup and look past her—past, where it’s safe. I can’t meet her gaze any more. There’s too much there, now—too much I can’t bear.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I just . . . don’t think we should do this any more.”
The painting behind her is ugly. Whorls of green and grey, an undertone of blue. Somebody’s idea of modern abstract. Somebody with no taste.
The colours blur at the edges and I look down. Not to her.
I know I could save it. Even now. Nothing has changed permanently. Not yet.
But it’s about to.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asks. Her voice isn’t steady.
I study the shine on the handle of my cup and shake my head.
It’s better this way. Better she hates me and moves on. Better that than . . . .
She pushes her chair back suddenly and stands, knocking the table in the process. Her empty cup bounces once, clatters onto its side, and rolls toward the edge. She starts to grab for it, then pulls her hand back, her fingers curling into a fist. I cringe as the cup crashes to the floor. She takes a step toward the door.
“I hope you find some happiness,” she says softly, then walks away.
I listen to her footsteps receding. The noise from the street gets briefly louder, then quiet again, and I know she’s gone.
My vision blurs, and this time, there’s nothing I can do.
I like the mood of this — it’s very awkward and and intriguing — I really feel the narrators guilt. And the part with the painting — noticing inconsequential details like that when he’s trying to avoid the conversation at hand — is a nice touch.
Rather fittingly, I’m listening to Trouble by Coldplay right now.
Couple small thiings (I would have noticed these last night if I wasn’t beat)
When we first met, her eyes were so full of joy and light.
The “so” sticks out as unnecessary.
I can’t meet her gaze any more.
Pretty sure anymore should be one word.
Agreed on the “so” — it’s been bugging me, too. As for the other, either usage is valid. Thanks for the feedback.
I like the strong rhythm in the narration. Although I’d tone it down a little, I like the sense of jagged distress. I loved the visual details: the abstract painting which seems to embody the narrator’s state of mind and situation. Undertones of blue. I’m worried for him. (presuming it’s a guy narrating). I liked the gleam on the cup handle. The narrator seems to be fairly decent and fairly mature and I’m interested to see what happens to him.
Hi Sara, Tiergan (as you’ll find out he’s named) is male. I don’t know how much of either “decent” or “mature” he’ll live up to in the coming pages, but I’ll leave that up to you to decide.
It’s great to hear from you again! Thanks for reading.
I’m beginning your online novel, Chris. Looking forward to seeing where things go from here . . .
Nice new graphic on the header. Did you find an illustrator?
Yep — credit’s in the “This Entry” sidebar.
hey chris,
thanks so much for supporting NOISE. your site looks interesting, will definitely be back after the shoot, if we ever manage to come out alive! how did you find us? best wishes.
Wow. You have my attention. There’s something very hypnotic about your writing style when the part came to an end I had to blink a few times to pull out. I’ll definitely read on
Hi Sandra, Cool.
I hope you enjoy it! Let me know, either way. Thanks!
That is a great opening. There is just one wrong word in there and it’s ‘cringe.’ It just doesn’t fit. I don’t mind the ’so’ so much
As you must be used to now—everyone’s opinion being different—I disagree with Sara above. Only tone down rhythm if it’s so strong as to be distracting or if it’s at complete odds with the story. A sing-song rhythm when you’re aiming for sophistication might be an example, but even there it might lend a compelling counterpoint.
My own rule (which is nothing to go by since I hold no hope of achieving the kind of success I long for) is to dispense with any rhythm I’ve contrived. If I’ve worked on it, most likely it’s unnatural. Then, too, I’ve written in the voice of a few characters who indulged their rhythmic tendencies shamelessly. They needed to be toned down, but then they knew that.
If you’re writing in a child’s voice, go light on rhythm, however. It’s so natural to those younger than ten that your dialogue runs the risk of sounding too real—as if you tape recorded a nursery schooler.
Hi Kathleen,
Good to hear from you.
I don’t actually write with an intentional rhythm, although that doesn’t necessarily mean there isn’t one there. Not so much with Winter Rain (which is meant to be a bit hard and raw in style), but with most of my writing, I like the words to “flow” — which has at least something to do with the way things sound to me when I’m reading them out loud. So, I may well unintentionally be putting rhythm into it.
In this case, though, Winter Rain is pretty much a first draft. I mean, some stuff gets rewritten before I post it, but never after. My goal with this one is to tell an interesting story, driven by characters and informed by a complex setting. It’s most important for me to keep moving forward with it, because if I stop to edit it, past history tells me I’m likely to lose myself in a vicious cycle of rewriting, instead of actually finishing the story.
That all is not to say there will be a second draft — I’m not sure there will be. This is my webcomic, after all — when it’s done . . . I’m not sure I’ll be able to nor have the interest to make it something different than it is.
But Winter Rain has been a great experience for me. I learn something almost every time I sit down to write, and it’s nearly a year in and I’m still enjoying telling the story. I’m not looking for it to end any time soon.
Thanks for commenting!
Chris.
I enjoyed this opening. Very awkward scene. I love the shifts in thought in this bit: