/lit/ - Literature

1. I can't remember what time would it be. I just knew it was time for a snack and it was Thursday. That means my 24/7 has a Hot doggie combo and it was almost time for souper. My tummy was making the rumblies and I couldn't do anything but walk with my old hoodie to the now enlightened store. Jimmie was outside with a fairy lass and I didn't even step in to say hi. I paid with cash and the clerk just commented "it's a cold night isn't it?"

>>3281568
where are you from 'mate' ?

It was the second day in the country but already the fifth visit to the family mart that existed across from the cheap hotel I found. It was well-lit and open all hours, and much more convenient than any "convenience" store I had been familiar with in the past. I could easily get my fill of hot or cold kohi drinks, or steamed buns filled with pork or custard or I'm not sure what, but I knew it wouldn't last; it wasn't sustainable for my future.

I was in a 7/11. It looked like a fucking 7/11. It smelled like a fucking 7/11 and I had one dollar, enough for a big gulp.

>>3281568
7/10 no feel
>>3281605
8/10 dat kohi drink
>>3281622
7/11

Isaiah walked to the corner store, the previous hour's events rattled through his head. this was the first time isaiah'd been out of the apartment since morning; it was dusk. Two teenagers, at least they looked like teenagers to him, they could be in their twenties, sat on the bench outside. Isaiah wondered why they had gotten off their scooters at this place. Did one run out of gas? Were they fighting? Were they making up? He wished he could make up with nikki, bu that was out of the question; after what he said.

The door opened with a pull even though the door said push. Inside the familier corner store was empty except for marcel, the french ex-pat, manning the counter. "Hey," Isaiah said casually. Marcel barley looked up over his copy of last month's Rolling Stone. the place smelled of industrial cleaners mixed together in some toxic mess that surely was slowly killing them all. Maybe one of those people outside puked in here earlier, isaiah thought. walking towards the back of the store where the beer was, Isaiah heard, metallically, "take one, buy one, get one." The cheerful, robotic voice made him cringe. He hadn't grown up with the robotic advertisements and wasn't used to their shrill voices. Marcel belched loudly enough, purposefully, for isaiah to let him know he was still there. Even then he had grown up in the neighborhood, isaiah knew marcel trusted no one. You could've lived here your entire life and the frechman woud still peer over his magazine or paper to give you the 'i'm watching you, you little yellow bastard, eye.'

>>3281637
8.5/10
>you get the bonus for that toxic mess killing them all.

>>3281543

It was probably the fortieth shop I had been in, of this type - a small corner mart owned by a single enterprising individual. It was just like the others, in many regards - the same slightly uncomfortable fluorescent lighting, the same rows of throw away snacks that left a taste on your tongue for days, the same uncertainty as to whether the rotisserie hotdogs were worth the intestinal ramifications. It was similar in another important aspect, though. Just like all the others, it inevitably took on the qualities of its owner. The peeling yellow wallpaper mirrored the wrinkle ridden man behind the register. The thirty cent bobble-heads at the counter betrayed a life spent too cheaply. Most of all, though, was the quiet glow through the windows, casting an ethereal light on the still streets around, revealing an inner perseverance - a solemn drive to continue even when left alone to the darkness.

>>3281650
9.2/10
a creepy 7/11 I believe.

We sat there in silence for some time before realizing that the store's lights were coming back on behind us. We had been arguing long enough that the same tired bastard who had closed the store had gone home, slept, and come back again to rattle a few of the empty bread carts around behind the glass. The sky was lighter. The smell of exhaust was gone and soon Nori would be gone too.

>3281543 (OP)
3. I feel like an environment only matters in relationship to the characters that are experiencing it, so I try to give them the final say on the description. It doesn't make a lot of sense to me to include things they wouldn't care about personally. I have no idea if that makes sense.

"Hey now, welcome to the only convenience store in all of Japan! Congratulations! HEY, HEY! No need to look out the widows! I see you misunderstood! You see, this connivance store is the only convenience store that has five corners. Five corners for convenience! No other store has five corners for convenience, not even those in Okinawa. I want you to check that corner there, right there. In that corner, I am able to stack slabs of candy bars, candy bars that no other store owner would be able to stack. That candy is ordinary candy, there is no doubt about it. It is fatty, sugary, and moderately harmful. Your heart will hate you for eating them, moderately. Your blood pressure will raise, sort of. Your brain will rot, within reason. Your-- oh. It has gotten late. Yes, well, go to that corner. Grab a candy bar. It's one me. Go ahead and look out the windows now. No other store around, right? Right? Yeah, no other store around... well that is how it is, being the only convenience store with five corners... Seven o'clock. You kids should go, I gotta close up the store. Enjoy the candy. Sparingly."

No, I have no idea why I wrote that. Did not read OP until half way through so I just kept goign.

>>3281637

>Isaiah
Stopped reading there. Names are important.

I gripped the edge of the wooden bench. I was starting to get nervous, being out after the sun set in the bad end of town. The lights from the convenience store behind us cast a distorted, monstrous shadow in the cracking pavement that turned him into a hulking monster and me into a sickly bunch of sticks. The wind kicked up a little, sending pieces of litter dancing into the giant grates in the gutter. I folded my arms and wished that he'd brought a jacket to offer me. Knowing me, I'd probably turn it down anyway and ruin the moment for both of us. I focused on not biting my nails and listened for anyone coming down the road, but mostly it was just crickets and the European folk tunes from inside the store. Whenever it was a bike or a car, it wasn't who we were waiting for anyway. We must have sat in silence there for a couple hours before he spoke up.

Will rate in separate posts.

I usually start by either picking the right album to listen to for the environment (which in turn helps me sort out what the place should 'feel' like in the end) and determining what should happen at the place to bring the attention of the reader where I want it. For this, I decided to listen to Burial's EP, Kindred, and write a scene where nothing happens whatsoever.

>>3281720
I like the tone of this one. I feel like I should be reading it in some sort of exotic accent, but since I don't know which one, I don't know if I'm getting the right vibe out of it.

>>3281718
You're a cynical bastard, aren't you? At any rate, you write like one. The clipped descriptions make me think you've been reading someone like Hemingway lately.

>>3281650
Well, you seem as angry as the last guy I rated, at least. I like the way you gave yourself a 'reason' of sorts to describe everything, and you get kudos for being able to use the word 'ethereal' without messing up the flow of the paragraph. I'm also left wondering about the world around the shop, which really impresses me while at the same time pissing me off because there is no world outside the shop. I'll agree with >>3281678 on the rating, keep writing for god's sake.

I sit upon the floor as an octopus. My tentacles pick up the subtlest variety in texture on the course “polished” tiles that adorn the pool room. I have been living here for three weeks now, and have grown accustomed to scent of salt and brine that seems to fill the air. Due to my new stature as an octopus the few furnishings look gigantic and all the more garish. Pink things and blue things look a little different as an octopus, the colors that they have sort of changed into are easily more annoying than they once were.

My former girlfriend is across the room sprawled out. I would be the one on top of her right now if she hadn’t caught me fucking her pet; I’d also still be male. I blink as I come to terms with the fact that I’ll likely never see another room again as I slink off into the pool to avoid the sights and sounds of the two new lovers experimenting without me. Luckily I’ll still have her pet all to myself when she’s at work.

As I advanced upon the scarcely lit convenience store, I began to faintly smell the meats of the deli at the back of the shop. The white noise that always accompanies the night surrounded me. Cars could be heard from distant highways, and the sounds of a hollow breeze swept through the air. It was a cold night, but not so cold that one could not walk comfortably. As I entered the shop, the small woman behind the counter gave me a faint smile, and I headed to the back of the store to the section I knew so well. After being reacquainted to the warmth, the cold bottle of soda seemed more frigid than usual. I swiftly paid for my drink and bade the woman farewell, eager to return to the awaiting night.

>>3281779
I didn't realize I was coming across as cynical. I do have depression, so that might be part of it.

>>3281650
While the beginning was lacking heart, I think t really picked up in the second half

>>3281806
It's different, I'll give you that from the start. I'm not sure if this is still the setting in OP's pic, though, which I assume is what we were supposed to do.

>>3281825
All your sentences are the same length, which is exactly the same problem I always have. You also use more adverbs than is to my taste, but you framed it around the actions of the narrator as well as you probably could have.

This quick stop smells like piss, at least that’s the most pungent and pervading of all the smells that waft through the depressing air of the place. Textbook young couple sits outside and discuss things I probably could never see myself caring about, but since I can make out what they are saying over the dull static of the one halfway working television I listen in anyway. I overhear them talking about the lack of Choco Tacos just as I come to the same realization. This place sucks. Turning to the half asleep shopkeeper I ask if there will be any in the near future.

There will not. My feet start sticking to the floor as I leave, almost as if the building is angry at me for not buying anything. I moonwalk past the couple into the night.

>>3281833
>I do have depression

Aww, are you gonna cwy?

My toes curl nervously as I stand outside the front door of the corner store, shivering slightly. Although all my limbs are numb, the gnawing in my stomach is much more overwhelming than any meager discomfort of the biting cold. My hair is still wet from the shower I took not an hour ago;the drops of water that drip down catches the florescent light that radiates from the suddenly daunting store. Now the sky is a muted navy, and the sounds of traffic have dwindled to a few scarce honks and distant revving.

The bright neon greens and reds look odd, painting the dull concrete with an up-chuck of color. Normally I wouldn't hesitate to walk right into the store, but today I'm not wearing any shoes. The blueness in my toes says this loud and clear.

Self consciously I eye the “NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO SERVICE” sign hung on the door, which is blocking the view of the manager doting on the cigarettes lining the counter. The couple sitting on the bench beside me shoot me curious looks, which presses me to start and fling the door open. The handle of the door is so cold that if I were to lick it, I'd surely be stuck to it forever.

Inside I'm greeted with a blast of heat from the furnace, and the gagging smell of abused disinfectant. I scurry behind a shelf containing some over-processed treats, making an attempt to not show the clerk my bare feet. With great agility, I dodge and weave from shelf to shelf, avoiding the clerk's line of sight. He's ignoring me and reading a maxim magazine, but you can never be too careful. After I discover the hiding spot of my precious medication, I slink up to the counter, making sure to approach it at an angle so the balding man doesn't see my bare feet. Shakily I pass him the blue box, and he merely grunts as he swipes it across the scanner. I fumble with my money, desperately trying to keep my cool as I sort out the bills. The moment he drops my change in my hand, I tear out of the store like a bat out of hell.

>>3281906
sure. what length and quality would you like? I can give you anything from "touching holiday card commercial" to "profound and staggering loss finally breaking the levee after years of numbness". I've recently added "helplessness in the face of the shooting deaths of elementary school children" to the list, if you like.

I'm not above profiting from this either. Paypal and all major credit cards are accepted. First choking shudder is free.

>>3282004
And you were surprised I thought you were cynical?

>>3282005
okay, well... maybe not so much anymore. but in the short thing I wrote first, I didn't think it was so obvious.

>>3282006
Maybe I have a knack for that kind of thing. I kinda took it from the fact that you wrote in the perspective of one of the kids out front and, instead of doing some kind of sexual-tension relationship thing like most people, you made them argue for a couple hours on end.

The lonely white flakes of snow fell circles from the soldier's shoulders; they marched onward, drawn irresponsibly into obscurity. After some time, the mightiest of these soldiers came to stop at the gates of the town of Jerusilum, he drops to his knees and kisses the ground, his love flying out of his head in great streams towards the sky. His kisses form kisses to kissing which kisses him one of great trancendence. At that moment, he exists enternally and externally. Hark and drop to the knees in hope, hope fear insperation anticipation rushes through the battalion and is lifted from them. One by one and all at once, they are birthed each with greater care than all others births. Raise their challace from the earth, and overbrimming with the love of life, they cast to way from familiar ports to the grandure of a brave new world. All of them where raise by the divine hand of providence to heaven, and they then where more mortal and earthly bound than they had ever been before.


Can I am James Joyce now?

>>3282014
Here, I joyced that for you

The lonely white flakes of snow fell circles from the soldier's shoulders they marched onward drawn irresponsibly into obscurity after some time the mightiest of these soldiers came to stop at the gates of the town of Jerusilum he drops to his knees and kisses the ground his love flying out of his head in great streams towards the sky his kisses form kisses to kissing which kisses him one of great trancendence at that moment he exists enternally and externally Hark and drop to the knees in hope hope fear insperation anticipation rushes through the battalion and is lifted from them one by one and all at once they are birthed each with greater care than all others births raise their challace from the earth and overbrimming with the love of life they cast to way from familiar ports to the grandure of a brave new world all of them where raise by the divine hand of providence to heaven and they then where more mortal and earthly bound than they had ever been before the

>>3282022

The I(one)ly white flakes of snowfell circles from the soldier's shoulders marching them t(onward) down mcfillegree nannies: Fartfucking III. Yeah, b(itch) my nuts so fine they cunt Eve'n split. Dubling your ass closer ere and I'll get your brown button puft-ed.

Imagine a convenience store by the street at night and you know what I'm looking at. Add to that a couple kids loitering on the bench, light from the inside cast upon their feet, and the blue night trying to enshroud them before the gears of adulthood find them and suck them in. I could hold it up, walk in that door and walk out with two six packs in my sweaty hands, a cigarette clenched between my lips and a stack of yen in my pocket. I could, but the stars tell me there are other nights for that. Now I should let the kids be undiscovered for just a trifle longer.

>>3282047
7/10, would be higher if you had ended with an article

A city hospital.

Snow covers the garden. Tinsel and fairy lights festoon the hospital sign.

A couple walk out of the front entrance.

Oh boy, another anime dweeborama, thanks for the birthday present Sis! Where do they start their journey this time? At the corner store? Okay, it's no stand-alone complex but it's not fucking planet Namek either (shounen bullshit can chow on my gonads), bonus points for slice of life (/a/ said its best to watch what I don't know). Some 7-11 derivative, with either an e or i katakana symbol (similar incline on the top stroke to the store's roof, down and out from the top's center) taking up 11's spot on the store sign. Frame of reference's an illusory long shot, with the billow-haired doofus crew visible chillin' on one of the benches along the outside of the store window by a bike rack. Drainage grates press the lane where the two roads intersect, square grillz chomping through the concrete dam holding in each asphalt flow. A couple of bloated candy bar machines line the outer wall to the right side of the view, giant-sized versions of the products their insides display-

you know what, fuck it, I'm gonna return this bullshit and pick up Serial Experiments Lain so I can get my fill (jizz) of psychologically tortured little girls. Merry fucking Christmas Sis I hope you enjoyed the roach swarm I left in your ass!

The evening sky had approached slowly that summers dusk.Greying blue subsided along the distant horizon giving away to a bland sapphire dotted with dark clot like clouds and young clusters of stars.The trees and power lines were black vistas against whatever remnant light that still dwindled. Stagnant breeze whispered along the dead highway bringing forth the smell of hot bitumen and human rankness. A lone figure, a female hidden beneath a shroud of frumpy duds mulled about the darkness like a creep. Across from her hummed the neon lights that framed a 24/7, she observed the monotone outline of two youths slumped on a bench outside the joint. Other than those bodies it appeared stark BUT THEN A ZOMBIE POPPED OUT WANANA.

Mohammed. A middle aged, asthmatic, out-of-shape suicide bomber. In 12 minutes he'll storm into a home depo with a 20 pound charge of C4 and other high explosives. Standing near the front of the till, next to a large titted mother with a 7 year old brat, he'll kneel onto the flossed tile flooring, and pray; startling a 72 year old with her toyboy. The toyboy will scram and throw the old lady towards the suicide bomber, as he flees. She'll just stare. Thickets of redding brambles seeding from her yellowed skin, seasoning the merry hall with a good will as the whites of her eyes fade.

And as the asthmatic man-with-a-plan prays, he'll realize: the worst of this store is the layout. It's terrible. Shelves stacked to a mid-height leave no room for the larger customers, especially those whom find themselves above a specific weight; most likely ranging from obese to childhood trauma. Mohammed knows this. He knows this because he once worked in this store. At the corner of the checkout, is the cleaner. An immigrant from Argentina. He's about 56 now, two daughters, greasy black hair, and a uniform blue overall; a badge of the diminishing labour-force. The two used to be friends.

11 now.

>>3282128

I enjoy the night more then most. This night was special. It was the anniversary of my fathers death... a calm night. The kind of night when you it seemed you can walk endlessly with the crisp, fresh air driving you on and on. It's nights like this I go for my walks. Since my fathers passing I've acquired this need for solitude. Solitude that I can only find while in a place like on this road... My road. It stretches for miles. No street lights to expose me. No real traffic to distract me. I'm typically alone here, save the occasional neighbor near the market. These walks have helped me a lot. They're almost surreal at times. Ever changing, one night I can be completely alone, as if the whole world was empty. While, other times I am accompanied by the slow, easy chirping of the crickets along the roadside. Some nights I can relax sniffing the renewed aroma from the nearby mountainside, while others I'm intrigued by the weather-beaten scent of the road itself. I have always described my walks as meditative and I feel fortunate to have them. Although, in the country you have to be selective of when you go out... When you have no street lamps to guide you it can get extremely dark, very quick. Leaving you more alone then you thought possible. It's funny how its at those times you pick up on the sounds of bushes rustling and the distant howls, praying for a car to come passing by. At least then you can catch a glimpse with the passing headlights. If I let it get to me, my mind starts to wander. I will start to feel the presence of past regrets and my dads death will haunt me. It's then I'm glad my road houses that market. Open and bright, it's a welcoming beacon for when I misstep. Convenient that I can stop and eat, in the company of the only light for 10 miles in both directions. It's this dual nature of my walk I think I enjoy the most. I reminds you of what you have and yet what little you can control.

>>3282217

idk how good that is. I tired lol. I dont do much writing (or any as a matter of fact) but Ive always wanted to start. What I did to start describing that environment is observe what I felt the illustrator was trying to depict and attempt to put myself in an environment that I personally have experienced. Please rate, Im curious as to what you all think. I feel I may have rambled a bit haha.

Also, my father did pass away and I do go for walks so I was tapping into honest feelings there.

>>3282128
If you took out all the adjectives and adverbs, it would be so much better... and about half as long.

>>3282217
>then instead of than
stopped reading and tossed in the "reject" pile

>>3282001

Ill give you a 5/10. IDK if it's just a difference in styles or if I just didnt get where you were going but I wouldve written it more like this:

My toes curl nervously as I stand, slightly shivering, outside the front door of the corner store. Although all my limbs are numb, the gnawing in my stomach is much more overwhelming than any meager discomfort of the biting cold. My hair, still wet from the shower I took only an hour ago, drips water catching the florescent light that radiates from the suddenly daunting store. The sky, now muting to a dull shade of navy blue; sounds of traffic dwindling to a distant ruing(?), spaced by a scarce few honks in the night.

I wasnt sure on your choice of word there "rewing" the closest thing I could come up with was ruing (which is defined as "Verb -
Bitterly regret (something) and wish it undone")

>>3282286

OK, anal retentive much? how about actully reading and developing an opinion past that of a bitter 6th grade teacher.

>>3282307

I mean I typo'd... seriously I know when to use then and than. I mistakenly placed an "e' there. Im drunk and it 7 a.m. where I am and I havent been to sleep yet. I would greatly appreciate an actual response.

I enjoy the night more than most. This night was special. It was the anniversary of my fathers death... a calm night. The kind of night when it seems you can walk endlessly with the crisp, fresh air driving you on and on. It's nights like this I go for my walks. Since my fathers passing I've acquired this need for solitude. Solitude that I can only find while in a place like on this road... My road. It stretches for miles. No street lights to expose me. No real traffic to distract me. I'm typically alone here, save the occasional neighbor near the market. These walks have helped me a lot. They're almost surreal at times. Ever changing, one night I can be completely alone, as if the whole world was empty. While, other times I am accompanied by the slow, easy chirping of the crickets along the roadside. Some nights I can relax sniffing the renewed aroma from the nearby mountainside, while others I'm intrigued by the weather-beaten scent of the road itself. I have always described my walks as meditative and I feel fortunate to have them. Although, in the country you have to be selective of when you go out... When you have no street lamps to guide you it can get extremely dark, very quick. Leaving you more alone then you thought possible. It's funny how its at those times you pick up on the sounds of bushes rustling and the distant howls, praying for a car to come passing by. At least then you can catch a glimpse with the passing headlights. If I let it get to me, my mind starts to wander. I will start to feel the presence of past regrets and my dads death will haunt me. It's then I'm glad my road houses that market. Open and bright, it's a welcoming beacon for when I misstep. Convenient that I can stop and eat, in the company of the only light for 10 miles in both directions. It's this dual nature of my walk I think I enjoy the most. I reminds you of what you have and yet what little you can control.

>>3282338

idk how good that is. I tired lol. I dont do much writing (or any as a matter of fact) but Ive always wanted to start. What I did to start describing that environment is observe what I felt the illustrator was trying to depict and attempt to put myself in an environment that I personally have experienced. Please rate, Im curious as to what you all think. Also, my father did pass away and I do go for walks so I was tapping into honest feelings there.

>>3282338

idk how good that is. I am tired lol. I dont do much writing (or any as a matter of fact) but Ive always wanted to start. What I did to start describing that environment is observe what I felt the illustrator was trying to depict and attempt to put myself in an environment that I personally have experienced. Please rate, Im curious as to what you all think. Also, my father did pass away and I do go for walks so I was tapping into honest feelings there.

>>3281543
i've always been smart. even since i was young i knew it. i used to say it out loud. 'i'm smart.' and i would listen. and the sound would return again and enter my ear and from that vessel i would hear twice and then i would ask aloud to my self (who i was) 'did you say that twice, honey?' and i didn't and i knew that it was a magical thing. ever long in my life i heard that same refrain, and it was not until i reached the ripe and unvirginised age of 12 that this fenomena was baptised with a name from the greek language out of myth which was polysyllabic as you like it was 'echo.'

>>3282347
I like this. even though it's not quite the exercise i thank you for sharing that. good form.

>>3281765

I loved the description of the shadows. Good job.

>>3282534
you complimenting your own story? that's damn pathetic.

>>3282537

No. I'm this guy actually (>>3281650)

I just appreciated his review and thought I'd say something of his, at least. I'm not too great at critiquing other work.

Why is it so that many prefer to start a description with either a measurement of time or an active verb?
Is it because the setting has an implication of time (outside at dark, people waiting), or what?

>>3282552

Might be because active verbs form more efficient and more powerful sentences than passive verbs...

>>3285298
Sentences that use active verbs form statistically shorter sentences than sentences that use passive verbs.

>>3285309
Yeah. I fail to see your point.

1. It was dark and foreboding, past the glass windows; the sun had dipped below the surrounding foliage of suburban housing in pastel colors. Inside the shop, there was light and therefore warmth, the soft buzz of florescent lighting permeating through my thoughts, comforting in it's own mind-numbing way. I wanted to stay here for the night, really, camp down among the brightly colored aisles and drink in the manufactured cheer of business, pretend I was a kid again; see the store as a collection of opportunities for candy or a drink or something sweet and small to taste, but I had to leave, I had to keep moving. I passed by the collection of fellow lonely figures outside the door, lounging on benches, thinking of their own personal problems as the light around them turned to dark. Fingering the soft, clingy plastic bag in my fist, I continued down the slowly darkening highway, counting telephone poles as I walked off into a silent world.

3. The general impression of feelings. Unless you're really good at describing imagery, the reader is likely to imagine a different setting than you are; so starting off with the supreme basics, the simple meaning of the environment, helps to keep the central theme of the story intact.

>>3285335
Not him, but...

>efficient

>>3285398

Exactly how does a shorter sentence make it less efficient?

>>3285438

Brevity =/= efficiency.

>>3285438

In now way am I stating its more efficient when it comes to sentence length. Its more efficient in the sense that it gives a better command of the subject. It provides better control over the flow in the structure of the body as a whole. You get out more feeling with less words even making it more efficient.

>>3285459
No*

>>3285438
Fuck efficiency. Forget that word, it doesn't mean anything here. There are several ways to approach it.

>>3285448
Using more words than necessary to get an arbitrary point across that's fairly simple to begin with, I mean really it's like you don't even read and I'm disappointed with your knowledge of sentence length = inefficiency

Efficiency completely depends on what is being said.

>>3285471

Agreed.

>>3285365

Where's 2? haha

>>3285522
I'm quite high.

also i don't think i can accurately rate others

>>3282284

I kind of get the feeling they weren't being serious

op's pic reminds me of this

I have three blankets on the lower half of my body, and they constrict my legs because oftheir weight. Those heavy, winter blankets that one drags out of a side closet around mid october because they can't afford the heat they'd like. I've noticed that my bed sheets are faintly striped, and the glow from the bedside lamp is the only way i could tell. the pattern of the walls and ceiling is something called popcorn, and light yellow like it. How awful. My breath is caught in my throat. there is a three year old music dock, stark black, and it provides the only sound in the room. Outside of the room, however, i can hear the hum of some essential appliance running its same sustaining note that shakes the brain. It shakes and breath catches in my throat and I forget to breathe. My mouth is sour. I have only eaten crackers today and that is why my mouth tastes like sleep even though I've been awake. i see pitch black, and a faint receding image of the room i am in through the sliding doors to my right. it is 4:36 am. I am not tired. My floor is big enough not to be considered littered with objects of life, but still, they exist. My stomach is as if its collapsed in on itself, even though it is just my posture sitting uprgith in this queen sized.


I fucking suck at writing, good god.


I start at the big picture stuff usually when describing an environment, but this exercise is in the small objects. I went somewhere in between for time's sake.

A faint luminous glow faded onto us as we sat, tired and restless pressed against the window.
The hum of the gas station comforted us into white noise.
The vibrant colors made ones eyes drag in the painful contrast with the recently set sky.
Light reflected in front of us and our mimicking shadows held the same manner.
I twisted my body to peer in.
Nameless brands, piled onto each other, hundreds of variety's and shapes.
A glossy floor reflected the terrain.
Flicking fluorescent tubes decorated the walls, the flicker in sync with the repetitive humming.
A shameful pop song blared from inside and the echo continued out.
"I'm going to go to the bathroom." I thought out loud, barley audible.
My lithe body heavily timbered to the door, sliding open in a violent motion.
Welcomed to an employee reading a colorful magazine I made my way to the back.
Eyes stinging and dazed by the inconsistent lighting, my body made its way near the buzzing and unmistakably blue freezers, packed with ice and sugary drinks.
I pushed the door open with my lazy forearm and the overwhelming smell startled me.
The tiled floors indents were all too unfriendly brown and the toilet had not been flushed, sporting a murky shitwater.
The bathroom palette was a yellowish brown color, striking and disgusting.
I decided to just wait for the bushes.

While riding my bike on a cool monday evening, I came across a small corner shop with a dim neon sign that read "Connie's Cornershop". Out of boredom and a little curiosity I put my bike up and wandered inside. The temperature had almost not changed at all. Suddenly a wheezy voice from behind the counter said "Sorry about it bein' cool in here, the heaters off" I just nodded and smiled, aimlessly going about the brightly lit store.

I know it's shit.

>>3281543
The metallic pinking of the fluorescent tubes and the faint hum of electricity perfumed the otherwise quiet night. It wasn't the natural sounds of the country, but the electric flora and fauna of the city have their own charm.

I shifted on the bench,one hand in my pocket running my fingers over the long slip of paper that was my destiny. Looking down at my shoes and slowly dragging them back and forth, relishing the sound and feel gravel made underfoot. She leaned over and put her head on my shoulder, and though my first instinct was to move away,my second instinct was to grab her and tell her everything. But neither happened, felt my body tense and then lean into hers.

cont.

>>3286935
I looked from my shoes to the luminous boxes that the windows of the convenience store cast onto the ground in front of us.Our shadows were together in those synthetic pools moonlight. A false window to a false world I could never reach? Could a false lust bring real love? I felt my stomach clench, but it was maybe this that gave me the strength to open my mouth.

"Do you love me?" I said slowly and deliberately to the concrete.

She didn't move or speak at first, just sat there. Each second in which she didn't answer feels not like eternity but pregnant, with both fair and foul possibility. The hum of electricity swelled, but so did the overwhelming silence. Both pressed against my ears.

And then she looks up at me, and I can see that awful artificial light turning her eyes into rheumy orbs. Eyes that told me the answer before she ever spoke.

"Nani ka?" she said looking up at me without any expectation.

I just shook my head and looked back down at the pavement. My arm slowly tracing its way up her back and pulling her closer. She wrapped her arms around my middle and pressed her face into my arm. I could feel her warm tears soaking into the sleeve of my shirt. She knew, but I could never tell her. And I knew, but would never know it from her lips.

As my own tears began run down my face in salt streams, the Sun, the assassin of our love, crept slowly higher over the horizon and closer to the point at which he could deliver the killing blow. Because she was one of the people of the Sun, and I was not. The Sun came to claim her.

The lights in the convenience store eventually went out.

>>3286922
It felt like a nice place. I don't normally see that in these shops, it was interesting.

>>3286922
I don't think it's shit, I just want to know where it's going.

>>3286974
I honestly had no idea, too many ideas and I had no idea how to articulate the ones I wanted to use so I posted it unfinished.

>>3282338
I would like some input here lol. My piece seems to have been skipped over.

>>3282338
I like it, but I feel like it's forced and derivative in some places where you're trying to get across the feeling of the character.

>I will start to feel the presence of past regrets and my dads death will haunt me

This sentence is a good example. It's weird sentence structure, as two separate sentences they are good. But put together like that it becomes more melodramatic and loses the potency that it would have separately. It sounds corny when put together like that.

But like I said, it's good you just have to choose a voice better and stick with that voice and phrasing throughout. I like the personalization of the road in reference to the characters isolation though

bampu

Lagoon in blue sings light across the mainway. Dasher's turning, patting Reilly cross the back. The two are hushed, in silence, whispering. In telltale of the day's lite hatched and crossing figures. Helmets polished, bikes are gassed, the porter called for closing half an hour ago. Mother didn't make it home, he's saying. Never called again. It's golden, says the other. Life you'd never have without her. Make you glad she's done and gone.

The night's new risers cross the way with vacant lights, pruning grass up from the corners of a stretch of gray. It's love might be there, swimming in a blue of dusky light. He'd never known her. Never said a word. She'd left him for another. Now the night comes. Blessed night in blue, the leavers come up dryly toward the bend.

He sees her then in rouge and chasing light, a dash of heaven. Sees her coming for to take him swaddled home in arms wide stretched the world round. He'd never known what might've been. He couldn't see it.

Reilly's bounding up his satchel to the bike, he clicks her over. Dasher tells him make for home.

The nightblue carries though to dark. The passers crawl right on and sluggard, light in fog made dancing, spooling in with spokes of rigid gates.

He kicks the dustup, keeling over, sick to stomach and the head. Boys chuck garbage out through windows in the store's behind.

Hops on wheels, blind to road, he's home before the morning. Never saw those arms again.

>>3282338

It's not too bad. Could do with some polishing, it reads as a little overdone here and there, but it's a fine start

Visiting from /sci/, here goes...

The fridges gave of a soft hum and the lights were uncomfortably bright. Takaki slid in behind Shin as she led the way out of the humidity. They knew quickest route to their destination - down the third aisle to the blue cooler with the loudest buzz. Their habitual stop.

I give up

>>3286935
>>3286947
someone wanna give me a critique

>>3288551
learn to write better.

>>3288964
lel wrekt

bump

>>3288551
what is the difference between saying something "slowly", saying something "deliberately" and saying something "slowly and deliberately"?

>>3289116
also perfume is not a verb

>>3288201

Wow. I love it.

>>3289116
when you say something deliberately you enunciate each syllable. When you say something slowly you draw each syllable out. When you say something slowly and deliberately, you draw out and enunciate each syllable.

not that other guy.

>>3289116
saying something slowly means just what it says, slowly.

deliberately mean with care and forethought.

You can do something slowly and not deliberately. And you can do something deliberately but not slowly.

>>3289118
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/perfume#Verb
the english language disagrees with you.

>>3281637
>Marcel barley looked up over his copy of last month's Rolling Stone.
>Marcel barley looked up
>Marcel barley looked
>barley

I tried writing something but then I realized there really isn't anything interesting about visiting a convenience store in the evening.

>>3289187
>>3289187

>I lack creativity

>>3289202
probably

>>3289187
thread full of stories says different

I don't write much so sorry if it's shit. Also I kind of disregarded the OP's guidelines.

I parked my bike and walked to the entrance of the convenience store. I tried occupying my thoughts in order to bring my focus away from the cold - it wasn't difficult of course, occupying my thoughts - intentionally or unintentionally - was how I spent most of my time. What was it I needed again? Just milk, I believe. Maybe I should become a vegan. I imagined some animal rights activist lecturing to me: "How could you be so deluded to think that merely abstaining from eating animal flesh really puts an end to the abuse of animals? Vegetarians' hands are hardly cleaner than meat-eaters." as they would say. I entered the automatic door to the convenience store. I thought about that documentary that my ex-girlfriend made me watch about animal abuse. I mean, it was awful, but at some level it didn't really register with me, it all seemed so alien, like some starving child or genocide that you hear about on TV that is so horrific that you can't really imagine it to be anything except fictional, some dramatic story made up by the newscasters, not some real thing that happens to real people. What was I here for again? Milk, that's right. Maybe I should have made a list, I always manage to forget these things. I looked at the cashier, slumped back in his chair and playing with an unlit cigarette. He certainly does not give a fuck, maybe I should be more like him. Bored, tacit and uncaring, living out some half-assed minimum wage job for the rest of my days. No, I probably couldn't live with myself like that. Milk, where do they keep the milk in this place?

>>3289364
pt 2

I walked around the store, a little less aimlessly this time. The place smelled of kitschy hot dogs and artificially-flavored ice-slurry drinks, whatever they are supposed to be called. They don't even try to disguise how blatantly artificial this whole store is. I guess that's a recurring theme here, not giving a single fuck about the whole process and atmosphere. It must be hell to work here, maybe not caring really is the only way to deal with it. I pick up a jug of milk. 2%. I thought about the smiling cartoon cow pictured on the outside of the bottle, and tried to rationalize my purchase in the context of my earlier thoughts about veganism. Some half-established notion in my head about health seemed to satisfy me. I walked up to the cashier and handed him a 5 dollar bill. He took it from me and scanned the milk. I smiled and said "Have a good day!" with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. "You too" he replied with considerably less effort. At least I remembered the milk.

paragraph breaks would ruin the stream-of-consciousness mood or something

>>3288201

Best ITT

>>3288201

That's the most unreadable piece of shit that I've ever read.

>>3290776

Ouch. My apologies.

He adjusted himself on the bench and began to swing his feet idly. They had been waiting for Zero to pick them up for almost an hour. They probably could have biked to his apartment by now, but none of them wanted to venture more than a couple of feet from the store. The city night, which stretched further than any of them could see, might as well have been deep space. Better to sit by the store, which hung suspended in the darkness like a dying star, where they could be comforted by the pretty lights, and each other's grinning faces. When Zero would come, they did not know, but until he did, they would stay here, isolated from the unknown universe, but not from each other.

>mfw I'm a massive faggot

I walk into some shithole.

My asshole rips out a fart.

It's very loud and stinks.

The end.

>>3290826

0/10, would not read
If you had a day job, now would be the time for me to say "don't give up your day job"

>>3290776

Would you mind elaborating?

>>3290868
Not the guy you're replying to but the use of present tense makes it waaaay clunky, especially since you're using such short sentences, dropping so many words and using no quotation marks. It's got good imagery and it's romantic but you really have to sit there and study it; the first time I read it I tried to skim and I had absolutely no clue what was going on, who the characters were, or what you were describing. My guess he said it's "unreadable" for that reason; a book written in this style would take ages to get through. But that's me, I prefer Orwell to Joyce

>>3290888

I don't mind that it's difficult to get through, I'm just bummed our friend thought it was a piece of shit for that reason.

It's meant to flow and be evocative. I did improvise the thing, so I can see why there might be a qualm, but the style's there and I think it plays into the vibe I'm aiming for

I probably don't have time to participate tonight, but thank you for doing this.

Dragging my feet around the corner, I see the familiar neon lights. The trees of the park have now been replaced by concrete riddled with steel. My coins are jingiling, I like the sound but I am also scared for what they might bring.

The shop stands alone in limbo between the railway and the city, caught on an island which was never meant to be more than just a pedestrian haven. Its dark but the shop is always open, I like that.

As I stumble closer to the shop I see a pair of eyes light up, hes sitting by the gutter filling himself. Another pair of eyes stare from the wall, he acts tough, but really he's leaning for support. Familiar expressions but strange faces. I carry my own expression as I remember the jingle within my pockets.

I make it to the blinding lights of the shop and breathe as if I have just surfaced for air. The aisles comfort me and I gleam across the shiny packages with a deft smile on my face. For a while I am content, refreshing my memory of the goods neatly arranged. My hunger breaks the trance and I quickly grab two loafs of bread, a hefty five dollars.

I lay my purchases on the counter, the man doesn't look at them though. He looks at me, searching and accusing. Five dollars he says, I nod and lay my many coins to cover the cost. As he dabs and picks at the coins I think about asking him how his day was. I hesitate but I say it anyway. It comes out slow and dim. The man doesn't look up and says fine. I have said this twice now and despite the comforting lights of the shop I feel unclean.

I walk out and lay myself infront of the shop windows, the eyes follow me and stare at my goods. I enjoy my bread and pretend the neon lights are warm.

>>3290945

>loafs