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#1 I wrote this for FFI Writer Contest but I gave up the particiption and kept writting the story! This is just the begining... comments or mistakes correction are welcome!Lost snow There she was, seated near the window, with her eyes gazing outside, watching the white snow falling from the grey sky. The trees were covered with the same veil as her. Catherine was her name, and she was a lost virgin, a pure girl who didn’t know what to do, where to go. The dark room with the old furniture contrasted with the pale colour of her face. Her lips, peach and thin, all her being seemed like a rose shining and blooming. If you are wondering what she was doing there, I’ll give you a clue: five months ago someone left and hasn’t returned… She’s an angel in disguise, waiting for her God to arrive and hold her and tell her everything is fine. However don’t think she is in love… no… she waits night and day for someone special… You wonder where he is. He is lost somewhere in the cold Russia; he left to be something big and will return being what? A cold ghost, a soul who wanders through the mist… I wish I could see that ghost… or not? Maybe the misses would turn into obsession and the window would be frozen. Where is he leading now? What is he doing now? She was there, waiting and he? He was sleeping under the warm sheets, while she was inside the warm house, but in mind so cold. They used to live alone, by themselves, after all Catherine was already twenty and Jonathan twenty-one. The old memories… When she wanted to find a job and every time people asked her what her parent’s job was, she had to answer ‘none’! A woman gave her a job in a library and there she felt less lonely because there were always people going away and entering. Sometimes she stopped and stared at people face and gestures, she knew what each person read, their tastes, what they’d rent for the weekend… Évora was such a nice place! So peaceful and quiet, so warm in summer and cold in this season. Sometimes when she was tired she could go for a long walk through the thin old streets and visit the roman temple. I may have not told you yet but our Catherine has a secret passion for art. Don’t think, although after the description I made of her, that she is just a poor girl in this lost world! She’s not! She is a strong woman who is waiting for better days! She has ideas, good ideas, and brilliant ideas! She fights… Who would stand three years living alone at a foreign country? Only a survivor! She’s special, she has something! Not many people know what, but they feel it… oh yes they do! She comes inside a room and it shines like the sun, the stars! It was weekend, a Saturday, she lay on the bed for a while and stared at the ceiling. How happy they were in Britain. All of that was gone… her house in Leeds, it was so beautiful, lack and white, it looked so small at that time, so busy with people going away or coming in! Her parents worked both in a museum, they moved to Portugal because of her. That was also a reason why she felt guilty. They had a good life before and now… they had nothing left… Nothing! It was all her fault! The degree in languages was almost finished but there were so many unemployed. When would Jonathan return? When would they play around again and a smile would lie on her lips? He stopped writing her. In the last letter he sent, he told her life was getting hard and he had to find another job. She sent him money, not much, but enough for him to survive a few days. That time waiting was killing her day by day. Last edited by Polaris; 02-05-2007 at 03:44 PM. Reason: It's not a [P] but a Story |
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| | First of all, I would suggest writing at least some action to start a story. Descriptions are good, but two paragraphs in which nothing happens are a bit much. Also, I think it would be better to introduce background as it becomes relevant, instead of throwing it all out at the beginning. Finally, it would be better if you put more emotion from the character into the story. There seems to be some, but not much, mostly descriptions. Keep trying - I generally have to do each paragraph about ten times or more before I become satisfied with it. |
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