PINEAPPLE GROVE1
There is a place in Delray Beach, Florida called Pineapple Grove. It is situated off Atlantic Avenue, the little city’s main drag, so to speak. Of course, there is nothing “draggy” about Atlantic Avenue. In fact, if anything can be construed as draggy it would be Atlantic Avenue’s counterpart in Palm Beach, the posh, somewhat ostentatious, Worth Avenue. Come to think of it, however, sterile might better describe Worth. 2
Before I go on to Pineapple Grove, I should like you to indulge me a few more observations about “downtown” Palm Beach and its rather antiseptic streets. On the days I recall strolling through, there were few others on the streets, little traffic, and most of the shops were, oddly, closed. My chief recollection is an overabundance of Rolls Royce and Bentley automobiles in a variety of colors, to the extent that they faded into the horizon and became, not only unnoticeable but bordering on the vulgar. The ones I do remember were mocha, tan, deep chocolate, green and convertible. The local police patrol cars were inordinate in number and toward the bottom of the avenue was the only shop I ever seemed to compulsively visit. It was a citrus shop specializing in Lemons, Oranges and Limes. Occasionally a shelf sported a red pepper jelly which was, instead of the promised “hot,” sickeningly sweet. South of all this on AIA was Atlantic. And you made a right.3
The beautiful ride down on AIA was made interesting by the ocean on the left, the lovely, although well hidden mansions and estates on both the left and the right, and the scent of old money and history embracing all of it. There are Palm Beach post cards you can buy at flea markets, antique shops and post card shows which picture this community, its hotels and tree lined roads as it was back in the forties, thirties, twenties and before. Much of it is still very recognizable. In a way, little has changed. One woman wrote, back in 1914, on a Saturday morning in February, “We are surely having summer weather, although a little cool here. Trusting you are well.” The card, signed N.W.D., is addressed to Mrs. R. Davis in what looks to be Assonet, Mass.4
Another, my favorite, read: “My Dear Blanche, We are having a glorious time, but I wish I were back in Havana. It is so unique there. Do not sail til the 17th in N.Y. Love to you, Mabelle." It was sent to 1752 Beacon Street, Brookline, Mass., February 14, 1920. The two cards show “Lake Front Avenue, Palm Beach, Florida,” and “The Australian Walk, Palm Beach, Florida,” respectively. The women pictured on one of the cards are wearing large floppy hats and ankle length dresses. One of the women carries a parasol. The other woman wears a jacket. A man in the picture wears a suit and a derby. I wonder what became of N.W.D. and Mabelle and if she got to Havana. 5
So, today, as you drive slowly and carefully down AIA you seem to sense the same trees in the deep green canopy, similar mild warmth, the possibility of the man in the derby, and a certain quiet that punctuated the simple conversation of the two strolling women on the Australian walk. It is all very recognizable. And then there is Atlantic Avenue. At the corner, a noisy, Italian eatery, Boston’s overcrowded restaurant and bar, and a clothing store selling unlimited numbers of T-shirts, the last two or three year’s issue of current, oversized post cards and beach accessories. 6
Atlantic Avenue is divided into sections. It’s quiet at the top, before the bridge and alongside the new, somewhat reserved Marriot. (It’s orange and looks like old Florida.) Also before the intracoastal waterway is an ice cream store where you can get a small cone of chocolate, or peanut-butter vanilla for just a little over four dollars…not including what you put in the tip cup. If you have anything left you can buy a sea shell or a souvenir next door.7
The Blue Anchor Pub rests on the corner just over the bridge. It would be a welcoming establishment for the thirsty or the hungry but for the enigmatic fact that the chef, supposedly Irish or English, still insists on infusing his Shepherd’s Pie potatoes with garlic, and in the evenings an acid rock band puts forth the loudest, most intolerable noise, making conversation, ordering, hearing and swallowing, formidable and near impossible feats of will and effort. 8
What follows is another somewhat quiet stretch of street with a gallery here and a sidewalk café there, like a piedmont stretching gradually before the vast range of mountain to come. It was livelier before development changes in the landscape, and activity seemed to gravitate farther west. 9
The old Colony Hotel pretty much marks the center of the Avenue and sits, beige and off-red, in the center of the city’s history. The hotel recalls another day and boasts a porch facing the avenue, furnished in Florida rattan and revelers who appear to be from somewhere else. Many grasp drinks and some sing.10
Past the Colony, on either side of Atlantic, are sidewalk cafes. Nearly every one of the avenue’s many restaurants has placed table and chairs on the sidewalks to accommodate diners who prefer dining with a close-up view of the street and its pedestrians, as their luncheon and dinner selections remain on display, longer than usual it seems, for the passers-by to inspect with their casual, unobtrusive, sometimes not so unobtrusive, glances. 11
And across the street, there are more galleries, gift shops, strange African and New World Order/Astrology shops and another ice-cream/sweets shop with patrons lined up outside, waiting to pay prices similar to the four dollar price farther east. 12
Then, approaching the northeast corner there is Louie Louie Two…or Too, depending how you read it. Around the corner from it is Pineapple Grove.13
I live in a high-rise about a mile down on AIA. When I first moved into the building I very nearly always bumped into a jolly fellow whenever, it appeared, I ventured into the elevator. His name was Scott, an Englishman of some means, very effusive, social and good natured and he seemed to be enjoying life, taking full advantage of the building, the area, the weather, the beach and the pool. I, somewhat more modestly, was just enjoying the elevator ride up to the eighth floor, which I didn’t mind doing alone.14
I grew up in an elevator building in Manhattan. The building had six floors. We lived on what I imagined to be a respectably high, fourth floor. On occasions I rode to the fifth floor, which I understood was even higher, and which seemed brighter, sunnier and more airy, and even on rare days up to the sixth floor, which was considerably higher, in fact, an apex…the highest! It was on one afternoon, as a child, that I could have sworn I saw a red marking, through the see-through gate on the concrete wall before a designated floor, indicating a seventh floor. This took place when the building still used a manually run service elevator complete with gates, a governor and heavy sliding doors operated by handles. For years I secreted the thought that somewhere, beyond the zenith of the sixth floor, there was a seventh. I could still imagine seeing that red number seven painted on the outside wall, but never found the floor.15
In the Florida place there was a seventh floor beyond the sunny sixth…and I lived above that one…on the eighth. Strange how some of the really insignificant measures in life sometimes take on exaggerated proportions. But I enjoyed living not on a lower floor, above my old fourth, beyond the sixth, and certainly beyond the seventh floor. And my jolly neighbor Scott seemed to enjoy the eighth floor as well (although I am sure, for different reasons.) Surely he seemed to traverse the hallways enough. I got to enjoy meeting him pretty nearly each of my trips up or down.16
On the first Christmas eve my wife and I spent in the building Scott must have sensed my wife’s feelings of misplacement. It just wasn’t a northeast Christmas. He rang our bell and invited us for Christmas dinner. We ate, we drank. The night was warm, happy, interesting and Christmassy! 17
A short time later four of us ate at Louie, Louie Two…or Too, (depending on how you take it!) It was before the city started building Pineapple Grove and we didn’t even walk in that direction but we passed it. We ambled west of Louie and where the Grove would later be, but there was less development in that direction (than there would later come to be.) Somehow the evening fizzled, and we wound up browsing in a drug store before the night was over. Scott said he hadn’t been feeling well. He was quiet.18
Scott died shortly thereafter. I hadn’t known him for that long a time but felt I had lost an old, old friend. The elevator trips were hardly the same. I actually found myself waiting for him to show up and had a shade of surprise when his shout to “hold it” didn’t intrusively come from around the bend. I really thought it would. It didn’t.19
Some few years later the city of Delray started construction on Pineapple Grove. They erected a vaulted archway with an illuminated pineapple and the words Pineapple Grove in lights. The first few establishments began conducting business although the rest of the strip was dark, quiet, bare. The House of Siam? 20
I drove a ways down and didn’t find much. There was nothing to find. Always dark. Always untraveled. Always a little bleak.21
It was some time later that a friend in the building directed me to a mystery bookshop I had not known of. Turns out it was on Pineapple Grove; all the way in. I found it. It was the only shop open on that strip. 22
Each year, the Grove grows. The shops increase in number; the restaurants increase, bringing more and more amblers and pedestrians meandering and exploring. Still, though, it is a quiet place, not quite, I suspect, coming up to expectations.23
But whenever my wife and I finish a carafe of Chianti and a pasta dinner at Louie, Louie Two (or Too) I only want to pass under the arch and stroll down Pineapple Grove. 24
“Why," she asks? "There’s really nothing down there!”25
But when I look north, down the long, long, dark street, past the House of Siam, Kyoto and Palm Beach Photo, Bond Street, NE First Street and the Paradise Salon Spa Café, I see something she doesn’t see. No one seems to see it. I have driven down this street, into what presents itself to me as a road into the night, into the dark North where the Florida visitors came from, into yesterday, and even beyond that. The road flows past the Jamaican Restaurant, the Mystery Book Store, what is slated to be the Café Verdi Amici, past The Beached Boat and the City Walk Apartments…and far, far, past Louie Louie Two. It reaches back into the twenties and thirties when this place didn’t exist for me but it was still warm, still different, waiting…to be here now. I look north, into the black, and I see ladies on the Australian Walk and a man with a derby following. I see old, old friends. I see Cannery Row, “New Apartments Going Up.” I see “End NE 4th.” 26
Author notes
This is a tale of life and death...time and space...dreams and reality...eternity and infinity! In fact...it's a Ghost Story!
That's all! (lol)
A contest entry
- Something Sort Of Supernatural by gezza.
380 points, ended July 29, 5 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Ghost Stories by Rosemary.
250 points, ended October 24, 18 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Give me your best. by Sammeh Cat X.
160 points, ended November 29, 54 entries
• next story in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest - Dreams and Visions by angellove.
425 points, ends December 9, 13 entries
• next story in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Did You Get Spooked?
Comments
1 - 84 of 84
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ZOIKS! I can see why this won so many trophies. Well written and very intense!
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wow
I think that each and everyone of your stories read like a peice of real life; this is great! It has everything to keep a reader interested. Of course this is the same for everything you have written.
. Rewarded 4
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There are just some stories on here that have it all. And thsi is one of them. Wording, description, flow, this story is great. And the picture helps alot to!
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I didn't get spooked. I see the kind of ghostly quality it has but I love the beauty and reminisce of it. The slightly exotic taste of life in Pineapple Grove. What a delightful peek into the past, and the past of the past! I love the tone and the feeling of it.
I think I actually caught you on a type-o! (Now, you know I'm teasing, and I do NOT read your stories on the look out for something to "catch".)
“Why, she asks? There’s really nothing down there!”25
Shouldn't it read: "Why?" she asks. "There's really nothing down there!" ?
I'm privileged to have read another delightfully real and magical story of yours.
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Nice...
but a little slow. Parts of it read like a travel map, the lists of locations while good for seeting a scene do seem to drag on a little, and I lost track of it half way through, thus loosing the sense of the place you probably wanted the reader to get. Still very nice though
. Rewarded 6
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I love the descripitions of the places mentioned, and how you transition from the past to the present time. Although it was kind of slow getting into it, it did provide me a good read. This story is nice and I decided to take a break from studying to do some lighter reading instead of reading my biology book.
I liked this piece it was interesting and something different then what I'm used to reading.
Mira =)
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You describe thing very good. Your a great writer. Good job and good luck in my contest.
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What I got from this story is that time never slows down, never stops, and just keeps changing. It was a bit slow for my liking, but the descriptions and language were very nice.
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It was a nice deja vue
Yes I remembered the story and enjoyed it again. Good luck with the contest. -
thanks for telling me about this story! I really enjoyed it. It was an amazing story. As you know, I live in Florida, but I've never been to this place before, though it sounds a bit like my town! Ha ha. Anyway, awesome job!
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I did really like this story, and your descriptions are definately very detailed! While this is always a good thing, you have to break some of the descriptions up with a little more action. The parts that did have action seemed rushed, such as the entire section around 'Scott'.
I also really couldn't see many spelling or grammer mistakes, so well done! And I thought that this was a very effective and emotionally, thoughtfully written story.
One tiny point, I don't really see how this fits into my contest, so I may have to remove it......if you can explain to me how it does fit, then of course I shall leave it in.
Well done!
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A good job. I thoroughly enjoyed your descriptions! The way you gave me Pineapple Grove...what it meant to you, what it looked like, was really great.
I wouldn't consider it a ghost story, not really. Other than the idea of time passing, people dying, others moving on. This piece made me cry!
Thank you for entering this piece into my contest. I wish you all the best in your future writerly endeavors.
Again, thanks.
Lady Editor
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Good Story. It kinda drags a bit maybe a little more adventure
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I didn't get spooked at all, considering I clicked on this from the featured section and not a supernatural contest. I didn't find anything spooky in it, actually. Unless the passage of time is scary. Which it's not.
I really loved the elevator talk. The parts of the old elevators that I have never ridden in, the fact that you lived on the 8th floor now which is infinitely better than even the mysterious and never-found seventh floor of your childhood building. That was awesome.
And I got all sad when Scott died.
Ebullient people, for good or ill, are not easily forgotten.
I liked how you spent most of the story patiently laying the groundwork for what Pineapple Grove meant to you. At first I was confused, but then it started falling in place. I especially loved the description "Still, though, it is a quiet place, not quite, I suspect, coming up to expectations", I swear it popped into full three-dee existence in my head. After all the lead-up, that line cast the spell that created Pineapple Grove for real.
Simply awesome.
. Rewarded 8
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AMAZING! but of course a immature 14 year old like me coyuldnt concentrate oin it well enough..
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MEMORIES
About 15 years ago I drove up and down AIA and didn't find it very exciting. However, you have brought it alive here. I have reviewed the area from your point of view, and you brought back memories I had of driving all over Florida State.
Anaya
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A Sophisticated Spook
Well Gary, you were, of course, right in your prediction. However I did not just like this story, I loved it! When some people attempt to include detail to the extent that you did, it often times comes across forced or choppy. But your wonderfully indepth detail was at once expressive and realistic while contributing to the fantastically nostalgic style that you once again expressed as a true master. You managed to blend the colourful imagery of the past with a truley realistic portayal of present day life in a small town. Really your attention to detail makes this story just stunning. The postcards you describe seem to make those long dead characters just come alive. You've captured the tone of the 20s and 30s so perfectly that you can see these people, sitting at their writting desks, writting a postcard to a friend. Another increbibly entertaining read. I can't wait for more, so off I go right now to read another!!
Ever impressed,
Rita-Dawn -
I'd say, this wasn't so much a "spooky" ghost story as much as it was peaceful. As with the other work I commented on, you have once again shown a deep, thorough style of describing your setting. when you write, you don't settle with telling the reader what is happening. you reach out from the page, grab them forcibly about the neck, and drag them kicking and screaming throughout the entire story. Once again, i was mesmerized by the simple, yet elegant style you conveyed this piece.
as for the story itself, i was intrigued by how you took such an easy to overlook detail, the postcards, and successfully made that the focal point of the story without hardly even mentioning it more than twice, when you introduced it and at the ending. you truly present a challenge to even the most studious of readers, forcing them to pay attention to every detail so that they may truly understand what the subject of the story is. in the end, i didn't get the sense of being "spooked", as seems to have been your intention. however, i did get the sense that the speaker knew of the presence of the ghosts of the past, in fact he could actually see them, and their presence was such that they put him at ease with his surroundings, gave him a sense of familiarity or belonging. I think that on some level it could be said that these people he could see, the women walking and the man in the derby hat, were people he had known in a past life, or that he was the man in the derby hat himself in his previous life.
on the surface, like the other work, this story may seem bland and dull. however, the questions and speculations derived from a deeper study make this story, on the whole, profound. you wished to transcend life and death, dreams and reality, eternity and infinity. you call it "a ghost story. that's all." but to me, this is much, much more. once more, brilliant work. well done.
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sorry but it really didn't catch my attention at all. I do have to say though the discriptions were wonderful and very vivd...
chey-bear -
Gary, I don't believe I need to elaborate on what I have said in an earlier (non-contest) critique. It is a wonderfully nostalgic work.
From the viewpoint of the contest criteria, I truly believe that you qualify for being "somewhat supernatural" - although in the most subtle of ways - which in a sense is another qualification.
Having said this, your 'artistic' qualification is not quite in line with what I was looking for, but this can be "forgiven".
Thanks for allowing me the opportunity to read it again!
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My Oh my you are very, very good at nostalgia pieces, and with added simile and allusion. Very nice indeed. I enjoyed this, even though I have never been there, but you have a knack of describing your memories and easing into other readers' psyches and have them accept them as natural, their own moments of nostalgia.
I have a few especially pedantic editing suggestions, although I will admit I have suggested some of my own bias here and there. On a general level, I think this work has several instances of overly long sentences, and despite the fluidity of them, I think they can be broken up.
Here are my editorial suggestions:
para 3 - not sure there is a need for a comma in sentence 1. Similarly, you don't need the first comma in sentence 2. Pedantic here - a citrus shop with almost every citrus fruit mentioned in the same sentence - perhaps a tautology.
para 4 - second comma in first sentence not needed. "One woman wrote, back in 1914, on a Saturday morning..." - the I don't think the second comma is needed.
para 5 - first sentence - in my view when there is an emphatic aside, a dash is better than a comma. So I would write: "Another - my favorite - read:" - this could be my style imposing on yours.
para 6 - "the possibility of the man in the derby" - I read this comfortably, but should you add to the qualification of "possibility" - perhaps "the possibility of appearance of the man in the derby" or the like. Maybe the last sentence is a bit too long.
para 8 - wow, a very long, zig-zaggy sentence at the end. I have discussed this before - often it can be effective, especially in humourous asides - but here I think it was excessive. Also, "supposedly Irish or English" could be separated by dashes instead of commas - my bias, mind you.
para 11 - ditto on long sentence here.
para 12 - first sentence, first comma not needed.
para 13 - a thought - The last sentence that is central to identifying the location of Pinaeapple Grove could possibly be a new paragraph. I know it is contiguous with the previous sentence, but I think it might benefit from being outstanding by being a new paragraph.
para 15 - just an observation - "elevator building" sounds quirky - intentional, or could it be better described? Not sure. "On ocassions.." sentence - a little long.
para 16 - just an observation - second time you used the word "inordinate' - not a sin, mind you, but since it is a sparsely used word, you might want to consider using an alternative.
para 20 - "The first few establishments began conducting business" - are you happy with the word "establishments"? - also, as a variation, "began to conduct...". Just an idea, as the sentence didn't ring right - sorry for the lack of clear impression.
para 23 - first comma first sentence not needed. Second sentence - "increase" used twice - suggest "multiply" for the second instance.
para 25 - "she asks" is unintentionally imbedded in your quotation.
para 26 - you use "long, long" twice in the same paragraph - I like it, but I think it shouldn't be presented twice.
Well done. I enjoyed your short immensely.. Rewarded 8
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I really enjoyed reading this even though there was no plot to it
It is deep and very unique.
Sorry about not leaving a comment before, i had to go quick.
. Rewarded 4
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You have a real flare for the language and natural use of extensive vocabulary. I enjoyed reading this a lot, even though there is no real adventure. I don't think I've ever read anything similar. Very inspiring. Thank you!
. Rewarded 4
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What a great idea!
The writing is really good and you have an astounding command of language as well as an extensive range of vocabulary.
The descriptions of this place in Florida really brought me there, I could imagine myself walking through those streets.
These kind of stories aren't always my cup of tea, but this was really good. A real mind boggling sort of theme.
However, have you ever read the book Pineapple Place? It's just very similar, with the past existing with the future.
Great job!
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I love your descriptions, they really paint pictures in the reader's mind. I enjoyed reading this, though it wasn't the type of story you'd expect for a ghost story. It did have an eerie feel to it and had a sort of spooky quality to it. All in all, well done on this. I hope to read some more of your work!
~Trillian~
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And again, I start reading it, then get several paragraphs down and realize I've been going about it all wrong. I go back and read again, this time really reading, and not rushing. The prose style of this piece is stately and slow, careful. It's a different read.
Lovely trip through town and time; I enjoyed this. I'm glad you invited me to read the story. Thank you for that. A ghost story indeed! -
You are good! This classic nastalgic appeal and true enjoyablity. I loved it.
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do remember I'm a stylistic curmudgeon, and although I live in York, I'm Scottish. Thatbeing so, I am parsimonious, and find extravagance of detail a bit distracting; the shorthand is GET TO THE BLOODY POINT! (Sorry, not sleeping too well and suffering toothache in the brain
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Let's see.... in paragraph three, no comma after "became"... Why are Lemons, Oranges and Limes capitalized? Is that a cigarrette brand or something? Oooh, red pepper jelly, I love that with some almond biscuits.
I really enjoy the line "the possibility of the man in the derby." That is quite lovely!
I did like this bit. I didn't mind that there wasn't a plot; sometimes I like to just read and envision a new place. Thank you for bringing Pineapple Grove to Storywrite.
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this is good. I could really see the street and the town and the people baecause you painted a really strong image into my head with your descriptions. I really like this story because it is so much like real life... Good job on this and keep it up!
. Rewarded 4
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Every freaking time, GA! Every time. Just when I think you couldn't keep dragging me on some adventure or another you do! I SHOULD be sleeping. But I see that gold old GA (which I bet stands for Grand Artist) has up a new one on the Features. Should I clock it.. nah. Go to bed Lis I tell myself.
Only now I bet I dream of Flordia. Fantastic spill as always, mon ami!
. Rewarded 8
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Commentary Critique
Other from the minute errors, I liked the airy feel this story gave off.
Before I go on to Pineapple Grove, I should like you to indulge me a few more observations about “downtown” Palm Beach and its rather antiseptic streets. On the days I recall strolling through, there were few others on the streets, little traffic, and most of the shops were, oddly… closed. My chief recollection is an overabundance of Rolls Royce and Bentley automobiles in a variety of colors, to the extent that they faded into the horizon and became, not only unnoticeable but bordering on the vulgar. The ones I do remember were mocha, tan, deep chocolate, green and convertible. The local police patrol cars were inordinate in number and toward the bottom of the avenue was the only shop I ever seemed to compulsively visit. It was a citrus shop specializing in Lemons, Oranges and Limes. Occasionally a shelf sported a red pepper jelly which was, instead of the promised “hot,” sickeningly sweet. South of all this on AIA was Atlantic. And you made a right.3
The beautiful ride down on AIA was made interesting by the ocean on the left, the lovely, although well hidden mansions and estates on both the left and the right, and scent of old money and history embracing all of it. There are Palm Beach post cards you can buy at flea markets, antique shops and post card shows which picture this community, its hotels and tree lined roads as it was back in the forties, thirties, twenties and before. Much of it is still very recognizable. In a way, little has changed. One woman wrote, back in 1914, on a Saturday morning in February, “We are surely having summer weather, although a little cool here. Trusting you is well.” The card, signed N.W.D., is addressed to Mrs. R. Davis in what looks to be Assonet, Mass.4
Another, my favorite, read: “My Dear Blanche, We are having a glorious time, but I wish I were back in Havana. It is so unique there. Do not sail ‘til the 17th in N.Y. Love to you, Mabelle." It was sent to 1752 Beacon Street, Brookline, Mass., February 14, 1920. The two cards show “Lake Front Avenue, Palm Beach, Florida,” and “The Australian Walk, Palm Beach, Florida,” respectively. The women pictured on one of the cards are wearing large floppy hats and ankle length dresses. One of the women carries a parasol. The other woman wears a jacket. A man in the picture wears a suit and a derby. I wonder what became of N.W.D. and Mabelle and if she got to Havana. 5
So, today, as you drive slowly and carefully down AIA you seem to sense the same trees in the deep green canopy, similar mild warmth, the possibility of the man in the derby, and a certain quiet that punctuated the simple conversation of the two strolling women on the Australian walk. It is all very recognizable. And then there is Atlantic Avenue. At the corner, a noisy, Italian eatery, Boston’s overcrowded restaurant and bar, and a clothing store selling unlimited numbers of T-shirts, the last two or three year’s issue of current, oversized post cards and beach accessories. 6
Atlantic Avenue is divided into sections. It’s quiet at the top, before the bridge and alongside the new, somewhat reserved Marriot. (It’s orange and looks like old Florida.) Also before the intercostals waterway is an ice cream store where you can get a small cone of chocolate, or peanut-butter vanilla for just a little over four dollars…not including what you put in the tip cup. If you have anything left you can buy a sea shell or a souvenir next door.7
Then, approaching the northeast corner there is Louie Louie Two…or Too, depending how you read it. Around the corner from it, is Pineapple Grove.13
In the Florida place, there was a seventh floor beyond the sunny sixth and I lived above that one…on the eighth. Strange how some of the really insignificant measures in life sometimes take on inordinate proportions, but I enjoyed living not on a lower floor, above my old fourth, beyond the sixth, and certainly beyond the seventh floor. And my jolly neighbor Scott seemed to enjoy the eighth floor as well (although I am sure, for different reasons.) Certainly he seemed to traverse the hallways enough. I got to enjoy meeting him pretty nearly each of my trips up or down.16
On the first Christmas Eve, my wife and I spent in the building. Scott must have sensed my wife’s feelings of misplacement. It just wasn’t a northeast Christmas. He rang our bell and invited us for Christmas dinner. We ate, we drank. The night was warm, happy, interesting and Christmassy! 17
Some few years later the city of Delray started construction on Pineapple Grove. They erected a vaulted archway with an illuminated pineapple and the words Pineapple Grove in lights. The first few establishments began conducting business although the rest of the strip was dark, quiet, and bare… The House of Siam? 20
I drove a ways down and didn’t find much. There was nothing to find. Always dark, un-traveled, and always a little bleak.21
“Why?” she asks. “There’s really nothing down there!”25 (lines and/or paragraphs have been corrected for possible suggestions in fixing the errors). Rewarded 8
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I thoroughly enjoyed . . .
my visit to this story. I liked it very much and I'll tell you why. You took me, the reader by the hand on a leisurely stroll, pointing out places that were especial interest, you imbued them with life, enhancing them with the 'character' sketches linked to the postcards. Poignant. You gradually led me to Pineapple Grove and showed the gloomy stillness beyond the bright familiar haunts of your daily life. The contrast was quite marked, the atmosphere changed, did it chill a little? I can see you standing in bright, cheerful light, gazing into the black of time past. You can go again, I'll stay in the light that's pooling on the sidewalk and wait for you to come back. Will you?
. Rewarded 8
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wow I like this
good job, very deep. I like his connection with the past...like the reminiscent spot. I like the describing words you use...like the street flowing. I also like how its set in Florida...cause I have a connection with FL. My dad lives there. It was a good read, and intriguing. You had me captivated. (=. Rewarded 6
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Thoughtful story
I thought your story was one of history, yours and others who came before you. I liked the details of the city. It kind of reminded me of Daytona Beach when it isn't being used for spring break or bike week.
. Rewarded 4
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I really enjoyed it, it made me feel like i wanted to be there, to see the sea, the shops.
And for me it reminded me of my childhood and to think of what my hometown would look like now.
. Rewarded 4
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This story captivated me. A ghost story indeed! Ghost's of the past haunt the streets that were, and now are. This reminded me of watching the community where I was raised. The faces, buildings,and even roads took on a whole new meaning. I knew of it's past through the friends who were old and I knew of the present then and now.
Thank you for sharing.
. Rewarded 6
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This story is grammatically well written, I'll say that. Although, admittedly, it feels and sounds oddly familiar. I may have read it before or read a story remarkably similiar. At any rate, the only major issue I noticed was the switch between first and second-person narrative about halfway through the story. Use of the passive voice always deducts from a good story, I feel, and such is the case in this story. (I'm assumign that it was the passive voice rather than a point-of-view change).
But, other than that, this was a very good story. Thanks for sharing and keep writing.
. Rewarded 8
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Active...passive...drives me nuts!
I assure you this is MY story...and I have never quite read anything like it!! Please let me know who may have plagerized this! (lol!)
So far as a change in point of view...I, similarly disagree and have NO IDEA what you refer to. If you could please point this out I would be most grateful. In fact, I challenge you to do so. I think you are very much mistaken. There is but one point of view here...ONE voice...You misread something...somewhere!
Passive, schmasive! This makes little sense to me...more and more (or less and less) each time I hear it! This is just so much baloney. Please!
GA
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Very nice.
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Very "Nice"
There are perhaps three words to be avoided in the English language: "Good"..."Thing" and "Nice"
Thanks for the incisive comment.
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Huh, an interesting read. Very unique. I liked it, it was just different than what I'm used to. Good job!
. Rewarded 4
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Huh?
Huh: Very communicative...very incisive. Also: "I liked it." Why? it was" different." From what? From what you are "used to." And what is that? But, I see it was the old "good job!" Ah, well...why look a gift horse in the face?
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good job
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Good job? Really?!
That's as informative and elucidating to me as who Edward Cullen is. Enigmatic conundrum.
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Plenty of unnecessary flair, "I should like you to indulge me a few more observations..." That's what I mean by passive voice. What would be wrong with, "Indulge me a few more observations..."? Way too much foreplay in your sentences. It comes off a little pretentious when you could grab the readers instead of inviting them into your prose.
Use that sophisticated vocabulary/voice of yours to get at the heart of what you mean. You don't want us to "seem to sense." You want us to sense, right?
You have tremendous descriptive powers; use them to enhance your substance rather than lengthen (soften) your style, and I'd pay for your work. Don't politely prevaricate. Own it. You didn't "very nearly always bump into," you "often bumped into." Dig?
Make every word tell.
I just read Steinbeck's Cannery Row last month. He's guilty of overwriting, but his prose carries a measure of compensation for this indulgence (usually he loves his adverbs, not too much like you), as does Toni Morrison.. Rewarded 8
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Not the kind of story that I would normally read. When I read about ghosts it's normally in a Stephen King-esque setting.
But you - you write about ghosts and dreams and possibilities and life and death, and although a bit melancholy, it's by no means sad.
I enjoyed reading this - the bit about the postcards felt a bit out of place though. It's obviously important to the ending of the piece, but I'm not sure if it's in the wrong place or just needs a bit of editing.
I wasn't too sure about the constant Two/Too bit.....
I guess I'll have to read a few more of your stories.
Thanks for sharing,
GoNE
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Ohhh! Awesome! XD Yeah I like this. Especially the abudance of Rolls Royce and Bentley automobiles bit! and oh! the elevator bit! XD I don't know why but I just do. Scott on the other hand was very significant to me..in a...discreet kind of way. It fits the story. It would so weird if the persona becomes excessively absorbed in Scott's death. ^_^ Great read.
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good job well done
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MAY I ASK...
What good job means? What "well done" means? What did YOU get from the story? Anything? Did it move you in some way? Raise any questions? I would hope so...although, without your more specific comment, there is no way I can know. Take pity on a poor author.
I know it was a good job! I personally like the tale. But...how did it REALLY, SPECIFICALLY strike you?
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Captivating
Very Raymond Chandler. I dont know why but I enjoyed the streets, shops and athmosphere, which I must admit was quite chilling. I expected to find THAT dead body lying sprawled across a dimly lit doorway. Really good, I like your writing. Rewarded 4
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Spooky! And rightly so!
Chilling? Atmosphere? And looking for that "dead body" in the "dimly lit doorway?" Well, you know...you were right! It IS, after all, a Ghost story!
GA -
CHILLING"...without the DEAD BODY!
It is extremely rewarding when a reader "gets" the essense of, or behind, a story. The feeling that you were not exactly "sure why" you felt the chill you did was EXACTLY what I was going for (not that this intention was contrived in any way or a put-on.) There WERE reasons, and those reasons lie within the tale and the characters and events therein...but you were correct in your deep impression.The streets, the shops and the people are all tied...to time and space. That's enough for a "chill" right there! I like this story too...although I think many readers do not quite "get it" or, at least, "get" what you did!
Thanks for the Chandler comparison!
And, you see, one can evoke a chill...without a corpse!
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"The Seventh Floor" moving up, moving on. But staying on the sixth, realizing its beauty. As with the old friends.
I hope that's close to what the story's message is, because that's what I felt, lol.
Another wonderful story that takes you back to an earlier time. I'm too young to have been there, but I love the images you give with your stories.
I loved this story.
. Rewarded 8
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Pineapple...or Lemon?
I'm not sure what message YOU derived from this tale.... When you say "that's what I felt..." what WAS that? "As with the old friends?" What did this incomplete sentence mean? (You should try to be more EXPLICIT.)(I do!)The story has many symbols and secrets...but I'm not sure that was one of them! Still...I'm only the author!
But I'm glad you seemed to like it.
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"Before I go on to Pineapple Grove, I should like you to indulge me a few more observations about “downtown” Palm Beach and its rather antiseptic streets." Something about this sentence just isn't working for me... don't know what. Also, the tense changes hurt your story a little more than help it, unless you can make it seem more like a casual story at the very beginning. Good job! Very well done!
. Rewarded 8
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I Don't Know Either...
But then again, I wrote it! I wish you DID know...who can know if you don't? Perhaps the Shadow Knows! Have you been to downtown Palm? That might shed some light. (It worked for me!)
I am also in the dark in regard to what you mean by..."tense." And...how much more "casual" could my beginning have been? You puzzle me. Was it Tit for Tat?
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