Now, I used the names Derek and the name of EP as place holders until I can get something to replace them. This is NOT a fanfic. I would just love to know what you all think about my writing style and if it's any good. It will be much appreciated. Now here's the excerpt:
I stepped down from the plane. Even in my oversized jeans and sweatshirt, I could tell the air was frigid. The people who had gotten off before me were now searching for their friends and family amidst a sea of parked cars with their heaters turned all the way up; rarely anyone had bothered to step outside, and those who had braved the cold for their loved ones had quickly retreated into the safety of the terminal. I hauled my carry-on luggage (the only luggage I had brought with me from California) over my left shoulder and started to follow the others into the parking lot.
â Grace! Gracie!â I heard a voice behind me shout.
I stopped and could feel my muscles relaxing instantly. When I turned around, I was already smiling full force. There, right in front of me, shivering and rubbing his hands together to keep them from becoming frozen, was a boy I hadnâ t seen in three years. The other passengers in the parking lot turned around to stare at me, probably wondering why someone would go through all that trouble to just to meet up with me as soon as I landed. But they didnâ t know Derek.
â Oh my God! Derek!â I screamed, dropping my luggage on the asphalt and making a bee-line for him. He didnâ t back up as I collided with his chest, but slid his freezing arms around me and gave me the best hug I had ever had, in three years anyways.
â California not good enough for you, Gracie?â he laughed, as I reluctantly let go of his torso.
â Too good, actually,â I replied, hoping I didnâ t sound too bitter.
I was glad to be back home, back to Derek and everyone who cared about me, but I had come home a failure. Despite my best efforts, I hadnâ t been able to make it on my ownâ waiting tables in Sacramento had been the best I could do with my high school diploma. My super high GPA didnâ t make a difference in the real world, apparently, though I had been so sure it would.
â I shouldâ ve gone to college,â I sighed, picking up my luggage again with a heave. Derek made to take it from me, and I was so exhausted that I actually let him.
Palo Alto Online: Short Story Contest 1997::
"We all know enough to get us by. He can fry up some corn mush." "The Cooking Lesson" shows mastery over the form of the short story itself: a vivid
http://www.paloaltoonline.com/short_story/short_story_12/adult3.phpHOME |
â Gracie, youâ re home now,â Derek said, pulling me into him with a one-armed embrace. â Starting over time, right? Donâ t worry. Youâ ve got everything.â
â Ha. Except a life,â I muttered, trying to sound like I was just joking. I didnâ t want to ruin this reunion with bitterness, but Derek was the only person who I knew wouldnâ t judge me.
He just smiled and punched me lightly on the arm. â You wouldnâ t ever go get a life on me, would you? Losers forever, remember?â
â Yeah, Mr. Rockstar, Iâ m the one whoâ s going to leave you in the dust while I go travel the world,â I said with sarcasm in my voice. Smiling, I pulled his bandâ s EP from my bag, reaching around him to do so.
â You bought it?â
â No, I had my accomplices tie up the guy at the counter while I made a run for it. Of course I bought it.â
Pure Imagination | The New York Observer::
Jun 3, 2008 Can you please tell us the name of some of them so we can figure out the a novel (or short story) ready or perhaps even just an excerpt?
http://www.observer.com/2008/pure-imagination-which-boy-alabama-talks-about-new-york-times-book-review-and-future-fictionHOME |
â Gracie, you bought it!â he half-shouted.
He was smiling so wide that I didnâ t have the heart to tell him he was making a scene. â What did you think?â
â It sucked like a homo,â I replied, my poker face perfectly in position.
Derek stared.
â God, Derek, donâ t look like that; I was kidding. It was brilliant! I almost cried, to be honest with you.â I turned the EP over and pointed to One Man Drinking Games. â Beautiful.â
He jumped slightly and clapped me on the back. â I am so glad youâ re home. No one here bothered to even buy that.â
â No one? Are you serious?â I asked, astonished. â Not even Jude?â
â Nope.â
â Why not?â
â Things arenâ t the same anymore, Grace,â he said. â Peopleâ Ś changed.â
I looked at him. â What do you mean?â
He didnâ t answer my question. Instead, he stalled by hoisting my bag more firmly over his shoulder. "We should go. I left my car running.â
I didnâ t press him but followed wordlessly to his car, a beaten old Beemer heâ d had since he was fifteen. I smiled remembering how weâ d been so thrilled with ourselves for starting to drive it one year shy of license age. When I got inside, it still smelled like cinnamon chewing gum and smoke (from Derekâ s best friend and bandmate, Alex, who went through a pack of cigarettes a day and brought the smell with him wherever he went).The nostalgia in that car could have stopped my heart had I still been in California. But now that I was back home for good, it felt comforting.
i love it. absolutely love it. will you send me more when you come up with it? im intruiged =)
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