/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.445940]

Going to post a small story I just finished. Any criticism (grammatical, creative, or otherwise) would be greatly appreciated.

[Anonymous No.445947]

tl;dr

[Anonymous No.445950]

The children flocked to the small, fenced plastic playground and Claire back to his apartment room. His wife Bailey Tucker, was sitting inside on their couch eating grapes and plucking small balls of fuzz off the old couch. She said nothing to him as he entered and placed his briefcase on the recliner beside her. They had been subconsciously ignoring each other in hopes that the other might speak, losing the game that they had formulated through years of mental warfare. But neither of them spoke and so he went to the refrigerator for a bottle of root beer and after drinking half the bottle in one long drink, went to take a shower.
Coming out and drying himself Claire saw that his wife was gone, which didn’t surprise him. She usually waited for him to come home from work and then left as soon as he was distracted. She only waited because she needed someone home to watch her small Pomeranian Bubba. This time was the same and as he turned on the oven for his dinner he saw the small dog staring at him as it sat in the doorway of a back bedroom. He found the black dog’s food and poured the portion into it’s bowl. While it ate he filled the water dish. Then he finished his own drink and placed a pre-packaged meal into the oven.

[Anonymous No.445946]

Stepping off the bus Claire Tucker was faced with a large puddle. The person before him had stepped over it with ease. Tucker had a little more trouble and the bus almost drove off with him still aboard. He made his way across the street as the back of the bus, and the cars following it, moved down the narrow road towards a stop light. Walking past the small corner market and across the traffic towards his apartment building he realized that it was three o’ clock because of all the children that fluttered by him towards their own homes. It was a moderately poor neighborhood and most of the children were hispanic. They sang “clean up, clean up, everybody time to clean up” as they skipped with leisure, sometimes brushing up against Claire and then, after eye contact, continuing their journey.

[Anonymous No.445955]

>Stepping off the bus Claire Tucker was faced with a large puddle
awkward phrasing and poor word choice. come back when you have an opening sentence that will actually make readers want to continue

[Anonymous No.445957]

When the meal was ready he took it to the ratty couch and turned on the programming screen. He turned to his own station and, eating his pre-portioned meal, watched news coverage of himself getting off of the bus. He could’ve switched the screen to the “present” display and watched himself shovel his next bite. But he had tried that before and it was dreadfully dull.
Instead he switched to Bailey’s station and watched her enter a club that he knew well. It was called the “Head Honcho” and it was located less than 5 miles away from their place. The dog jumped onto the couch and made a series of circles before settling next to his thigh. Claire turned off the programming screen. What would eventually come, he had seen many times before and it no longer shocked, or even interested him.
When he awoke in the morning at seven a.m. sharp, which his job required, his wife was back. She must have been quiet during the night, or maybe he had heard her come in but had registered that her presence made little impact. He had made a pot of coffee and was drinking the first cup when she walked into the living room. ‘The smell must have woken her up because surely she wouldn’t have come out for my presence alone’ Tucker thought. She had a black eye, Claire was again unsurprised.
“I didn’t hear you come in last night.” Claire had said, finishing off the coffee and picking up his briefcase.

[Anonymous No.445958]

Didn't you post this shit a while ago?

[Anonymous No.445963]

“You were asleep. Bubba was barking so I thought I may have woken you, but apparently you are a heavy sleeper.” His wife said.
“At least the dog was here to welcome you.” he had said as he swung his coat over his wrist. “I’ll be off, see you tonight.”
Then it was back to the bus for Claire, and on to his job. It was a personalized location bus so when they stopped at the Label Trade building, all the passengers shuffled out. These were Claire’s coworkers but he had never seen any of them before. That didn’t surprise him considering how large the building was. He knew as well as anyone that each Trade building was dedicated to all the commerce of one subject taking place in one locations. It was the same in such fields as the Advertising, Television, and Written Word Trades. With customers on the bottom floor buying products and ideas that were being formulated on the various floors above them. Claire Tucker worked with labels and so this was his building.
The group slowly lost followers to different departments as it moved and upon entering the lobby, Claire was virtually the only one left. He took the elevator alone to flight 2/8/91. Second floor, eighth division, ninety first department, which was an area dedicated to the exchange of previous year labels for current ones. There he searched and eventually found his office where he immediately began again on the previous day’s unfinished project. That was the printing of new expiration dates on this year’s batch of female birth control labels.

[Anonymous No.445965]

>>445958

yes. But I finished it. So if you thought the other stuff was in any way good. I'd like to hear your thoughts on the rest.

[Anonymous No.445966]

>>445958
This. I've seen this before... What the hell?

[Anonymous No.445970]

Coming home that day there was no longer a puddle. Which forced Claire to think about the fact that he hadn’t realized any real reason for the puddle’s existence in the first place. He couldn’t remember it having rained in the past week, or month for that matter. It was a Saturday and so there were no longer any children to accompany him on his way home either. But there would be his wife, and the pet. However, when he stepped into their small kitchen he saw that his wife was in fact gone, and as far as he could see she had taken Bubba along.
Claire set his briefcase down and turned on his wife’s programming channel. On the screen his wife stood next to a bar bathed in red fluorescent light. The dog was evidently gone and at her hip a large mexican man took it’s place. Claire lacked the courage to engage the device’s sound and so he watched the couple talk for several minutes before shutting off the power. These days Claire was hardly ever curious or interested in anything. He knew that he didn’t care for his wife the way husbands were supposed to, but as he poured himself a glass of milk he realized that he cared for the dog, which he thought might be enough.

[Anonymous No.445973]

The drink was left untouched as moments later Claire was running through the crowded street which led to Bailey’s club of choice. Once inside he scanned what looked to be the typical Saturday night crowd at the “Honcho” but found no trace of his wife. Claire felt panic and an indescribable grief that he was not accustomed to and understood that if he didn’t leave immediately he might break down completely in front of this large group of people. He imagined men and woman, much larger than him, stomping his small frame as he tried to explain his situation and the disappearance of his wife and her pet. The hallucination made him feel even more out of place and he quickly turned towards the exit in hopes that he could reach the street before his fears became reality.
The cold outside struck Claire like he couldn’t believe. He grasped for a memory of the last time that it had been this cold and was embarrassed by the fact that out of all the people on the street, he was the only one without a coat. ‘I must look quite the sight with tears in my eyes and such a flushed face; hands tucked under my armpits like some lost child’ Claire thought. He found himself thinking about the bus stop, and about the puddle, but the thought frightened him for a reason he couldn’t explain and so he set out to find the missing animal. He went through the many dark allies that made up the downtown area of the city frantically calling out the name “Bubba!” To the people around him he was an insane beggar who couldn’t afford a coat and didn’t realize that calling out for “spare change!” would have possibly been more effective. But to Claire, the present situation had taken on the feeling of life or death. If he didn’t find this dog his life would be over. He would have to disappear. He wouldn’t be able to go home, he would never see the Label Trade building again, or be able to face his wife over their morning cup of caffeine.

[Anonymous No.445981]

He found himself on a side street at the edge of town. Now miles away from his apartment the sound of people and of “Honcho’s” seemed to be drowned out by a fresh silence. This is where he found the animal laying disfigured in a small pool of blood. It had been brutalized in some awful and unique matter, and Claire looked around in a desperate expression for help before approaching the crumpled body closer. The smooth black fur of his wife’s pet was now matted with dark blood that made it’s body appear to be darker and shiny in some areas. Claire scooped the dog up, it’s body small enough to fit in the pale of his collected palms. A moment of clarity allowed him to realize that children had done this. He had heard stories of larger kids taking pleasure in the murdering of escaped pets, but only now did he realize that his own animal had been a victim of such things.
In helplessness Claire set the dog back down, seeing for the first time the drops of blood that had congealed on his hands and shirt. He rummaged in a nearby dumpster which had become rusted from the process of rain and drying, and continual wear, until he found a small paper bag. Going back to the spot where Bubba rested he placed it’s delicate and destroyed frame inside the bag and set out, farther away from the city with it’s confusing weather patterns and evil inhabitants, to a field where he could make a burial plot. ‘The place must be big enough for two’ he thought.

[Anonymous No.445984]

Bailey arrived at their small apartment complex later that night. She looked in the mirror and checked her black eye, which before tonight had begun to heal, but which had become fresh as a result of the companion she had chosen at “Honchos.” Turning off the bathroom light she decided to check the bedroom to make sure that she had not awoken Claire, who she knew must be sleeping at that time. But as she reached for the door she knew he would not be there, and never again would be.

[Anonymous No.445993]

The End. It's less than 2000 words and I'd appreciate the effort you take to read it. Thanks if you do, thanks anyways if you don't.

[Anonymous No.446040]

>>445955

I'm fine with the critique but could you read a bit more before you reduce it to shit?

[Anonymous No.446123]

>>445940

/lit/ doesn't read. Especially if you're not famous or well recognized.

[Anonymous No.446139]

'nuf said

[Anonymous No.446140]

>>446139

I'm not interested in that.

[Anonymous No.446154]

>>446140
ohhhh,

this could be interesting

[Anonymous No.446169]

It seems like a pretty good idea but the execution seems to fall short. The dialoge between Claire and Bailey doesn't quite seem right. Also why does Claire suddenly have such concern as to the dogs location? It seems like something is missing. Also Claire is a girls name

[Anonymous No.446174]

Ehhh, doesn't really flow. Almost minimalist, too. Then again, that could be your preference.

[Anonymous No.446211]

>>446140
Well, we'd prefer it if you were. I'd rather have one place for /lit/ fiction for you to critique or ignore, rather than wading through a bunch of shit story threads individually.

[Anonymous No.446215]

>>446169

I wanted Claire to care about the dog because it's basically the only thing he has left. What about the dialogue didn't you like?

[Anonymous No.446223]

>>446211

Well this is only one solitary post, not to be repeated in the future. Not like the front page of /lit/ contains a wealth of gold anyways.

[Anonymous No.446235]

>>446211
Have you seen the contents of /lit/ lately? This is one of the few actual /lit/-worthy threads all day.

[Anonymous No.446245]

>>446235

Thank you! Have you told me my story sucks yet? ha