Two week notice
by
Walter Jones
(Age: 62)
copyright 11-05-2003
Age Rating: 10 to 127
In order to live one must try the limits of physical and mental being. Stopping every now and then to see just how far the bubble has been pushed.
The wind was crackling between the buildings giving the sound of a freight train leaving the station down town. Sun was setting over the dead end street leaving shadows of kids playing tag. This side of town the firehidrent worked as the wading pool. The kids here seemed to appreciate it more than those playing in the swimming pool up town. There was just something more urgent about them. The feel was that of having fun before they grew up tonight or tomorrow.
The laughter here was genuine, the bickering like training for war. The smell of suppers filled the air. It was a good smell, I felt warm and welcome here, and it was like home.
I melted into the buildings; the sidewalk led me to porches full of people taking in the air before the evening meal. I felt good.
It sounded like a car backfiring, and then, screaming, I turned in my tracks, car speeding at me, two kids lying on the ground bleeding, I pulled my service revolver and placed four rounds into the car.
A tree received the results of my work, stopping the vehicle. People pealing off porches, running to the kids on the sidewalk; still others to the kids in the car.
Sergeant says "desk duty; file your report."
I think, I am going to like my new job, driving truck; too bad I have to wait two weeks before I start.
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This is quite an interesting tale, Walter. How you managed to pack so much into such a short story is quite surprising, but it also shows the talent that you have. It seems like it should be a full-fledged story, but you managed to put so much into something so short and make it feel "complete". Like Frank said, the story is alive with textures and events and the energy of human interactions. Another good point about the story is how you describe everything in such detail and the word choice you use when you do so.
Frank covered the only two errors that I could find, so there is no point in me beating a dead horse. It also makes me feel bad that the officer was doing his job but was treated the way he was. The ability to evoke emotion from the reader is one of the signs of a skilled author. And you possess that ability in abundance. Good work, and I hope you write more amazing works like this one!
A lot of different emotions, textures, movements, and feelings all in a relatively short space, nut none really competing for attention. This is the kind of piece that inspires talking and thinking, about many things. Values, mostly. Some good, some bad, some even destroyed. It leaves the reader with a profound sense of loss and mis-direction, if nothing else. It's also a statement about the reality of two realities. Both real, and neither able to ever fuse with the other. The human warmth offered by a ghetto or project-type neighborhood, against those colder attitudes offered by more affluent sectors. I will not pick this apart grammatically; there is no need--that is, nothing more would be obtained. But I wouldn't be a good critic (and my "salty pen" is hungering for some blood) if I didn't mention two things:
"firehidrant is maybe spelled "fire hydrant."(line 5 down)
and "pealing" is maybe spelled "peeling."(up from the bottom a short way--the window image)
Why does it feel as if I've taken something away from your work, when I've offered even a gentle critique?
It's a good story, Walt. Does its job. Makes me sad and almost want to go with you "truckin" away from....
I love the way you describe the scene. I felt like I was watching an old movie, with a cop "walking the beat." I could almost hear the people talking on their porches and the children splashing by the fire hydrant. Great story telling!
Welcome !
