Hey guys, you may remember my short story, from the year before last called Come With Me that I wrote for University. If not click the link if you would like to read it.
I’ve started to work my way through it and rewrite it as an exercise to get my creative juices flowing once again and here is an excerpt of a re-written scene:
It’s 15:36PM when the school kids come past the following day, I didn’t hear them yesterday. They obviously went past during my little breakdown. I keep out of sight this time, slowly peeking through a gap in my curtain. Stevey Pritchett is nowhere to be seen today, possibly- no, probably, in detention.
It’s 15:48PM when the last kid trails by in no apparent rush to get home. I’m about to let go of the curtain and shut out the outside world for good when something happens.
A blonde haired girl comes into view, slowly, but with a strange grace to her movement. As if she isn’t walking but flowing along. She’s tall and slender and her limbs look slightly longer than should be natural, but it didn’t make her look strange. In fact, I couldn’t imagine her looking any other way.
She stops outside the garden, brushes some snow off the wall and then sits down, flattening her skirt under her. She looks towards the ground and her shoulders start bobbing up and down. It takes me a few minutes to realise what I’m seeing but eventually it clicks that she’s crying.
I stand there frozen, not knowing what to do. By this point I’ve abandoned my silent watching and I’m fully under the curtain in plain sight, watching her. I’m watching her cry and I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what to do.
I’m frozen here, and I don’t know what to do.
The crunch of tyres on snow makes her look up and she shoots to her feet but it’s just a random car that keeps going past and then out of sight. She rubs her face with both her hands, slender fingers rubbing tears away.
And I’m just watching her not knowing what to do when she lowers her hands and looks around, eventually looking up, right at me.
We make eye contact.
My stomach flips.
She hurries off.
It’s 16:17PM and she’s gone.
I’m enjoying working through it and rewriting it. I plan to do it with some more of my short stories too. Go back to them with a fresh eye and a few years between them and try to raise their standard.
Serpent Sand is another personal favourite of my short stories which I will focus on re-writing next.