I walked outside. A lot of stories talk about enchanting nights, starlit with the moon calmly gazing down upon the earth. I see balls of gas burning billions of miles away, and felt small. I grabbed my cigarettes out of my car and walked down the street. I go by my old high school a lot. I know a lot of people there, and enjoy the nostalgia. Recently, someone had tagged the stop signs in the area. They say “can’t” above the STOP, then “hip hop”. It’s in that annoying graffiti handwriting that is as annoying to read as the feeling that you can’t mimic its form. The stop sign at the end of my street, although nowhere near my high school, was lacking this decoration. For some reason, even though I hated the signs around the school, and their useless message, I felt like tagging this one myself. I don’t know why. I thought about smoking on the corner by the stop sign, but its nudity irritated me; and considering the late hour, the street seemed a more suitable place. Walking passed a covered manhole, I heard rushing water. _____________________________________________
This is the beginning of a story I am working on. It is sort of a rambling fiction. I just read Perks of being a Wallflower, and am in that sort of mode. Any and all feedback is much appreciated.
[This message has been edited by Agaranthakil (edited February 19, 2004).]
Posted by Phanto (Member # 1619) on :
The joke about Can't STOP hip hop really cracked me up.
And the start, despite a tense issue in the third sentence (and feel small, not felt), was good.
However, the other parts of this seemed contrived, overdone. It’s in that annoying graffiti handwriting that is as annoying to read as the feeling that you can’t mimic its form.
That sentence is hard to understand.
So is, For some reason, even though I hated the signs around the school, and their useless message, I felt like tagging this one myself.
I get the idea in there, that he is in a nostalgic mood; he wants to be young, but the sentence drags. Maybe, As I looked at it, I felt the urge to tag this one myself.
I thought about smoking on the corner by the stop sign, but its nudity irritated me
Calling it nude disoriented me, and wasn't a ready metaphor.