“Uh, Miss,” the ranger questioned hesitantly, “Are you sure you’re alright? Do you need anything?”1
When she did not deign to reply, he sat beside her on the rock overlooking the lake, the forest, the sky, heartbreakingly blue.2
“I remember the first time I climbed this mountain,” she sighed into her knees, pulled tightly to her chest. “Two years ago.”3
He sat there, her silent confidant, a friend, an ally, a stranger.4
“They hated it, and I loved it. There’s something about the air here,” she murmured, gazing lovingly at her utopia, uncorrupted by man, “that…I don’t know. I can breathe here, not like in the city, with the cars, the buildings, the constant motion, the struggle to accomplish task after task… all leading to what? …Money? … Is that success?” 5
“Happiness?” he offered, captivated by and somewhat frightened of her spirit, her eccentric, and yet utterly sensible thoughts, spoken aloud in a rush of ardent frustration.6
“Right,” she grumbled, and he, glad to be acknowledged, found himself smiling at her sarcastic dismissal of his input. “Do you really think that money buys happiness? The media seems to think so, smothering themselves in makeup, drowning any intelligence they may possess in mindless banter.” She paused, aggravated by the thought of those content to lead mediocre, conventional, utterly pointless lives. Shaking her head, as if to rid herself of bitterness, she continued in a more subdued, rational tone. “But I guess it doesn’t matter what I think. I’m only sixteen.” Even as she articulated the words, she didn’t really believe them, as doing so, accepting that she was inconsequential, obsolete, would destroy her. 7
“Sorry,” she mumbled, suddenly acutely aware of herself, of her companion in confusion, the boy beside her. “It’s just all so superficial. Drives me a little crazy sometimes.” She looked up, uncertain, expecting to see her listener with an eyebrow raised in skepticism, or awkwardly positioned in a desperate attempt to flee. Instead, her eyes found the licorice-haired boy gazing pensively towards the clouds, contemplating her words, lips curving slowly into a smile upon realization that she and he were similar in their perceptions of the world. 8
“I know what you mean,” he informed her, still staring up, into an indecipherable future. 9
“Thank you.”10
They lapsed into companionable silence, each enjoying the sense, however ephemeral, that he was in the company of someone who cared enough to think, to philosophize, to question.11
Author notes
"There are good things and there are bad things, and occasionally there are immensely good things, or in that regard, occasionally unbelievable calamities visit upon us. Human memory is a miraculous thing, a pleasant thing and a terrible thing. For some reason, the worse things are the memories that get left behind."
~from 「魔之一週間」 (One Week of Evil Spirits) by Isshi, vocalist of Japanese band Kagrra; English translation by varpunen laulaa.
A contest entry
- Story Contest #5 (Quote Prompt) by VelvetWings.
600 points, ended August 31, 10 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Hello, and thank you for the contest entry.
I also read it as though the characters were older than they were, but at the same time it seems natural for young people to think so deeply and question the world around them.
The dialogue flowed naturally and it was easy to imagine the two unnamed characters lost in thought, sitting together like that.
But one error, in the sixth paragraph: "gazing lovingly as her utopia" should be gazing 'at' instead of 'as' but no worries as it's a simple typo.
Other than that, excellent job with the write and good luck in the contest!
~VelvetWings -
I like it but...
I got confused when you called the ranger a boy. I had to go back to make sure he was a ranger. The I thought perhaps you were a very old writer and thought a twenty year old guy could be called a boy. Just change it to guy or young adult when you decide to do a book of short fiction. great writing!
beginning: 2, language: 1, plot: 1, ending: 1, dialog: 1, characters: 1.
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Wow...
I understand the girl, I truthly do because that's exactly how I feel, how I see the word... searching for someone that tries to think, to see, to philosophize as you say... and it's hard. I'm also 16... sometimes I feel I don't fit, but well, it doesn't matter, I can always find interesting things in society.
I liked it, it is nice but maybe can be a little bit more descriptive... well, not exactly descriptive bacause you describe pretty well, but comparative, using more methaphores, that way it can get better, I am not saying it's bad, all the way around, it's fantastic, but I'm just giving some advices to make it better and smooth it a little bit.
I am glad to see someone else that is able to see...
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I really like your descriptiveness and use of words in this-- "heartbreakingly blue", "ardent frustration", "licorice-haired boy" and so on. It gives this well-written piece a much more rounded edge and serves to strengthen the imagery used.
I was actually surprised when the girl revealed that she was only sixteen because from the previous part of the dialogue she seemed a little older than that!
Great piece; their meeting makes a thought-provoking and interesting story. Good luck with the contest!
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