THIS IS AN OLD STORY AND NOT EDITED1
Bolting straight up in her feathered bed, Shea slowly released her breath as the baby next door settled back down to sleep. She shook her head slowly as she wished the walls between her shabby studio apartment and the Martin's next door weren’t as thin as rice paper on a Japanese fan. Shea sighed deeply.2
Filling in for a nightstand was an old milk crate she’d been carrying around since she dropped out of college five years ago. On top sat a new Sony digital alarm clock. Her last one hit the wall above Lane’s head as he walked out on her again. Her clock displayed two a.m.3
Laying her head down on the pillow she closed her eyes and felt her heart race. If the baby hadn’t woken her, her nightmare would have. Balling the bed sheets in her fist Shea resisted the urge to scream. Shea heaved her pudgy frame out of the sweat soaked sheets, tied her white robe around her nude body, and waddled into the tiny kitchen. The hardwood floor felt cold under her soft soles. 4
As the bitter aroma of coffee filtered into the air, her thoughts wandered back to her nightmare. Shea trembled at the images still lingering in her head. Dark images filled the television screen in her brain. The feeling of drowning was strong. Like someone was holding her down. Her limbs felt heavy as she poured her coffee. It felt as is her legs were wooden pegs, not willing to bend.5
With the lights still off Shea padded to the card table under the grimy window beside the kitchen bar. Without being aware of it she separated a thin part of her red hair and twirled it around her index and ring fingers. Coffee in hand, she sat gazing out through the water spotted window, focused only on one thought. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. After every nightmare there was a strange feeling that someone was watching her. Staring at her through the water spotted windows.6
Shea let her eyes wander over the darkened building across the street and the shadowy sidewalks below her window. The only light was from the full moon shining through the milky clouds in the starless sky. Any one of those windows could hide the person watching her.7
Shea let her fingers drop from her shoulder length hair and took a sip of her lukewarm coffee. Pushing a few papers aside she sat her cup down, then headed towards the bathroom on the far side of the studio. Near the bed she stopped to look at her mattress. Without warning she quickly reached out and ripped the stained sheets off the bed for the fourth time this week. Wadding them up into a misshaped ball, Shea threw them into the corner with the others and headed once again to the bathroom.8
Patches of blue showed through the chipped white paint of the door. Shutting it behind Shea heaved a sigh of relief. It was the only door in the apartment and it had a good lock on it. At peace, she leaned over the stained porcelain sink and pulled the light above the medicine cabinet.9
The light was blinding as she squinted against the glare. Her eyes quickly adjusted and she glanced at her image in the mirror. Her bangs, still sweaty from the nightmare, were bluntly cut above her light eyebrows. Dull sapphire eyes stared out at her with fine traces of purple bags underlining them. A shutter passed through her as she studied the freckles, dusting her high cheekbones. Her narrow nose and swollen lips followed.10
At last she turned from the sink and twisted the faucet on in the shower. The pipes shrieked and shuttered as the water came streaming down from the showerhead onto the floor of the tub. Shea stripped off her tattered terrycloth robe and stepped over the tub’s edge into the steamy water. Shea faced the running water and closed her eyes letting the soothing water run over her face, feeling it trickle between her breasts. Shea laid her head against the off-white tiled wall, her shoulders slumped and she began to relax.11
Lathering the sweet smelling soap she began to wash her arms and shoulders. As she slipped the suds down her stomach the door burst open. A powerful gust of wind blew her shower curtain back. Shea let out an ear-piercing scream, scorching her delicate throat, of overwhelming terror. She had forgotten to lock the door.12
Standing in the doorway was a figure of a man in a dark overcoat.13
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He stood biting his lower lip and gazing across the street into her apartment. His hands nervously fingered his charcoal overcoat. His t-shirt below, was stained with sweat rings under the arms and around the neck so that it no longer looked white. His blonde hair hung around his shoulders in twine-like strands, greasy from many nights and days of nervous pacing. Deep purple pockets hung below his lusterless chocolate eyes from nights of sleeplessness. Faint stubble of hair surrounded his jaw and neck. A thin trickle of blood zigzagged from his lip through the stubble of golden hair. He brought a lit Camel cigarette up to his mouth and took a long, slow drag, never once taking his eyes off the opposite apartment. Bringing his hand away from his mouth, he lifted a smear of crimson with the Camel.15
No light shown from her room but he could image what she was doing. He had seen her walk across the room from her bed to the kitchen. She was probably making coffee. He knew she liked coffee. There were lots of things he knew about her. A faint smile played across his thin lips when he thought about all the things he had learned.16
Shea was his favorite subject at this juncture in his life. The last one hadn’t taken very long to dispense of and had not been satisfying enough. But this time he would take his time. He knew where she ate when she went out. When her boyfriend stayed over and when they had fights. A surprising twist of fate had played in his favor. Her boyfriend hadn’t been around for quite awhile. That meant one less thing to take care of.17
A dim light from the back of the apartment shown through the sole window. Many nights he sat in this building, watching her room. Standing in the same place watching her windows, waiting for the right time to make his move. The same events had happened four times this week. The time was soon. Cigarette butts littered the floor all around him, like birdseed scattered around a feeder.18
The light was from the bathroom. She spent a lot of time in that room. He thought she was vain. He hated vain women. His mother had been vain and showed him no love. He hated vain women. He knew what to do with vain.19
He could see his mother laying there on the ruby red couch with the piece of paper in her hands, laughing at his picture. Her beautiful auburn hair was pinned up in a bun out of her heart-shaped face. Her chestnut eyes were cold as she stared at his painting. Lines had formed at the corners of her thin mouth from years of frowning. The emerald green pantsuit she wore hung loosely off her slender body, as her shoulders hook from laughter. Her long arms and hands gracefully held the painting like a piece of rotten meat. She held a crystal goblet containing whatever liquor she could find that day, in her other hand.20
He had spent half the day on the picture just for her. He had asked her to hang it up for everyone to see. She had laughed and said it was hideous. He was so proud of it. She had laughed even harder and replied that she would do no such thing. She would never hang something so ugly near her. He had cried and she had laughed. He never forgave her and he was only seven years old, just as she had never forgiven him for causing his father to leave.21
The front door opened and caught him by surprise. He watched with suspicion as the strange visitor strolled over to the bathroom door like a pro with the lights off. The visitor was a man and he stood outside the door listening. Suddenly he threw open the door. 22
The man standing near the window breath grew rapid and his eyes narrowed. His breath steamed up the window in front of him. He raised his hand to wipe the stream away and realized his cigarette had burned itself out. Reaching into the darkness he fumbled with the pack and lit another. Things were going to get sticky.23
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Author notes
This is the first part of the White Letter's. I have part over it already up and it's in this one also. I don't know if that made sense or not. But hey brains been miss firing all day. Let me know what you think.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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Most of the stuff that needs to be reworked has been covered so I won't go through them again.
Normally, I comment on the word usage and flow. My spags are helter-skelter and I use them the way that I see fit.
I enjoyed the beginning of the story and wasn't confused about what was going on, except that bleeding thing on the watcher's face.
I am wondering about the title: White Letter. You probably like the title and have your reason for it. (I would have used: The Watcher) But, it's your story, of course.
P23: The first two sentences read awkward, did you leave something out?
P22: Pushed opened the door (might read smoother)
The mother reads a bit cliche, but still real enough to make the story of the guy, understandable and his feelings valid.
P19: Could be shortened, we get the idea he doesn't like vain women.
Overall a good start. The woman seems to be too much of a sad dack and her shabby apartment just a mite too shabby, if you know what I mean. I do hope that she develops into the kind of character that we can root for, and maybe she will.
Thanks for sharing this story and I do want to read more about Shea in the future.
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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All in all, very good. I like the way it started. It really draws you in with a mystery. It's always good to start a story with the reader asking 'what is he/she doing?', and you executed that well. I thought that the guy watching her was the one breaking in. You may want to change the colour of the overcoat.
One of the most prevalent things was the use of the same word at the beginning of each sentence. An example would be the first three sentences in para 15: he, his and his are the first words of each sentence. You want to break this up a bit. Maybe make those three sentences read:
He stood biting his lower lip and gazing across the street into her apartment. Nervously, his hands fingered (Maybe something like: a button on, right there would make more sense) his charcoal overcoat. The t-shirt below,(No need for a comma here) was stained with sweat rings under the arms and around the neck so that it no longer looked white. 15
That's just something I've had to learn for testing, and I also found it true in professional authors too.
In Para 3: Sat on top (of it) was... Also, maybe say something like, there was still a hole in the wall, or something like that. It would explain a lot about her character as to what she did about it. IE, is she a slob, very busy, doesn't care, etc, etc...
Para 4: If this is a shabby apartment, why does she have hard wood floors? It would make more sense to say linoleum or something very cheap and tacky.
Para 5: Maybe make it bitter sweet smell of coffee. It seems as though Shea likes it, so she would think it smells sweet in a way. Just a weird psychological thing. It would make sense to combine the following sentences like so: The feeling of drowning was strong; like someone was holding her down. It makes the para plow easier.
Para 8: Near the end: Wadding them up into a misshaped ball, Shea threw them into the corner with the others and headed once again to the bathroom. What others? Other sheets? When you read it over, you gather that, but you want to avoid having to make someone read over something again. It breaks the readers consideration and mood.
Para 9: Shutting it behind Shea heaved a sigh of relief. Would make more sense as: Shutting it, Shea heaved a sigh of relief.
Para 11: The last three sentences all begin with the same first word, Shea. It's best to change it as stated above.
Para 12: Lathering the sweet smelling soap(,) she began... Also: ...suds down her stomach(,) the door burst open.
Para 16: ...but he could image(imagine) what she was doing.
Para 17: A surprising twist of fate(, one that) had played in his favor.
Para 19: Again, a repeat with the same word at the start of each sentence, he/his.
Para 20: You have two pairs of her, one at the beginning and one at the end. Also, ...as her shoulders (s)hook from laughter.
Para 21: This whole para goes between sentences starting with he/she.
Para 22: ...the bathroom door(,) like a pro(,) with the lights off.
Para 23: A two sentence thing starting with he again.
Wow, I think that's the most in depth review I have ever given on Storywrite. Sorry if I seem a bit callus, I'm like that when I'm sick. But I do think it's a good story and am looking forward to more.
Lithron
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Haha... I think...
Disjointed may well be my new favorite word for the day... This makes me giggle. -
First off, let me apologize if this seems a bit disjointed... I'm very tired.
Great hook, it immediately makes the character relateable, very much so to parents, I'm assuming, but also to anyone who has lived in a house with a young child or infant.
Good, relateable description, with the sweat soaked sheets, and her feelings of frustration and fear. We've all woken up terrified before, and well know the feelings upon waking, the wanting to scream, anger at ones self for being frightened by simple imaginings.
In between four and five, I feel that maybe you could have something detailing her walking into the kitchen and starting the coffee? Seems a little disjointed, jumpy just to go from getting up to coffee filling the air.
Are the feelings described in five real feelings, or is she detailing her nightmare? More clarification would be a good thing here.
Between five and six, still a bit of disjoint... Your paragraphs seem to have time gaps between them, and while the details in them are fantastic, they have little or no detail really tying them (other than the plot) together in a progressive manner.
When did she get the coffee? When did she pour it? It takes a while to make and pour coffee, let it cool off... Noticing a little bit ahead here, it says her coffee is lukewarm.. She JUST made it, no? Again, feeling some disjointedness.
Obviously, from much of what you described, she lives in squalor... where did she get the money for a new alarm? Just a little thought there.
Shutter should be spelled shudder. Good facial descriptions... Why is she shuddering looking in the mirror? This doesn't make sense, unless she hates her looks, or perhaps is thinking of how she looks in the nightmares, beat up or something of that sort? Further detail as to why she's shuddering would be a welcome edit.
Tattered terrycloth robe might have been better to include up where she put it on. Good visual, of a woman defeated, sitting in her tub, attempting to pull herself together...
A little disappointed with the ending. She thought of the good lock earlier, and forgot to lock it? Ehhh, not seeing that. Also, its VERY cliched, whereas, overall, your story was fairly original, though something thats kind of been seen before, though usually in screenplays and movies, rather than stories... *at least, in my experience* The ending reminded me of psycho, what with the shower curtain, and the door bursting open, while she'd thought she'd been being watched... It's really almost painful...
I did like this, and am curious to see what her nightmares are, what's been troubling her so..
Good read, thank you.
beginning: 4, language: 3, plot: 3, ending: 2, characters: 3.
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Interesting beginning to the story.
I'm wondering what kind of nightmare she's having that keeps repeating and has her so worried.
The man watching from across the street appears to have done this before and studies his victims.
So who is the second man he sees walk into her apartment and open her bathroom door?
I sense a murder mystery in the making here.
Good descriptions throughout.
Small stuff:
Steve has covered most of what I saw. A couple other things I noticed,
p6. After every nightmare there was a strange feeling that someone was watching her. Staring at her through the water spotted windows. -- I would make this a single sentence with a comma, since the second one isn't a complete sentence by itself.
...watching her, staring at her through...
p10. A shutter passed through her as she studied the freckles, dusting her high cheekbones. Her narrow nose and swollen lips followed. -- shutter - shudder -- The second sentence doesn't make sense as written. Followed what?
p19. So does he he really hate vain women?
Also: 'He knew what to do with vain.' Vain is an adjective, not a noun. Vanity would be the correct noun to use here, plus it cuts down on the repetition of using vain so often in the paragraph
p20. The emerald green pantsuit she wore hung loosely off her slender body, as her shoulders hook from laughter. -- hook - hooked since the whole paragraph is in past tense
p21. The first few sentences don't give an even thought flow. They need some rewording. Steve gave an example of something that might work better.
p23. Same as p21. Could use some rewording of first sentences.
I'm curious to see how this scenario continues in the next chapter. Good start.
Greg
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Hey Brooke,
Good start here. Flows fairly well with a nice bit of suspense. Very good description of my old apartment. Rattling pipes, thin walls. If that cold floor squeaks when she walks on it, the image is perfect.
I did notice a few things you might want to look at.
Para5-line7 'it felt as (if) her legs...
Para9-line2 shutting it behind (her) Shea
same para-line4 at peace, she leaned over the stained porcelain sink and pulled the light above the medicine cabinet. This needs something. Maybe-pulled the cord for the light
Para10-line1 the light was blinding (and) she squinted against the glare
same para-line8-9 A shutter? ran through her. Think maybe you were going for shudder, but it's unclear why her freckles would make her shudder or shutter. The next line seems like it should be incorporated into the prior sentence, because it doesn't make much sense all by itself-her narrow nose and swollen lips followed.
Para11 You have five sentences here and have used 'water' four times. That's a lot of water.
Para12-line5 (JMHO) I would move 'scorching her delicate throat to the end of the sentence. Where it is now it breaks the flow of the sentence.
Para20-line8 her shoulders (s)hook
same para-line9 Hands should be singular. She has a glass in the other.
Para21 This para seemed jumbled (JMHO)I would start this with- He was only seven years old and had spent half the day on the picture, just for her. The boy was so proud and had asked her to hang it for everyone see. She had told him it was hideous and she would never hang something so ugly near her. He had never forgiven her for laughing at his tears and she had never forgiven him for causing his father to leave.
Para23 This para could use a bit of work too. Maybe something like- the observers breath grew rapid and steamed the window in front of him. He raised his hand to wipe the moisture away and realized his cigarette had burned itself out. He fumbled with the pack in the darkness and lit another one, thinking, 'Things were going to get sticky.'
That's it
Steve
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Full of suspense and leaves me wanting more. I get that he's definitely up to no good and I'm trying to figure out who the victim is, how he chooses them and why he is there.
I found the last three paragraphs a little confusing, but maybe this is just one of my dense days.
I do have a lot of those. Are there two men in her apartment watching her, or is one expected and the other one watching her?
I also don't understand why the man's mouth is bleeding. Do we have the start of a Vampire story? I really don't think so, because of the way you described his beginning and his mother.
I guess I'll just have to read a bit farther to answer my own questions.
As allways, your writing is fantastic and I love your descriptions.
Trish
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I guess I need to give a clear distinction between the flashback and the 'real' world. I'll think on it.
I don't remember why his mouth is bleeding either. I'll have to go back and see or forward, but you are right he's not a vampire
Wyatt is in the apartment and the other one is watching from across the street.
Thanks for reading and for liking. I will warn you I haven't finished this one.
Brooke
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Sure just leave me hanging!! This is a great beginniong. You have built up the suspense then left me hanging.
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Thanks for reading and I'm glad you thought it was a good beginning. I think I need to reread this and see what needs to be added and subtracted
Thanks again for reading.
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Great!
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Hey this is such a good beginning to a story and you write so WELL! lol I like your work and Hopefully I get time to read more today......hehe good work. I'll try to post something today much most likely not going to I only have like one free hour today......*grrrrrrr* But I'll start on the second part of the White Letter Once again great job
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Thanks
There's something wrong with the delivery notice on this site. I didn't even know that you had looked at this. Thanks for reading.
~Syren~
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Awesome story! I want to read more! i saw a few misspelled words, like tow instead of two. but other than that, amazing work!
~Aurora -
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Did I?
Did I reply to you on this? I'm sorry if I haven't. I didn't even know that anyone had read this. Thanks
~Syren~
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