Two pairs of eyes locked, knowing it'd be the last time they'd look at each other. They must not close their eyes, they each thought, but they could not keep them open.
When we were 22 and partying our insecurities to the back of our minds, I remember her laughing hysterically one time as everyone started dancing in the middle of the room with great fervor and sexuality. Later that year, I saw her on my way to Cameron's party; she was smoking a cigarette in a wheelchair in front of Planned Parenthood.
Those are the most packed sentences I have ever seen. I don't know if I would get drawn in or turned off. Personally, I'd suggest major paring down, but then I'm a minimalist.
(The first and last sentences of a 100-word story I wrote): The river is cold and clear today, just like it was that other day. The day I watched you slip into the silence underneath.
I really like this. You can see the beautiful view, you can feel the cold, you can almost hear the little slosh of water as "you" went under. And all the while maintaining this serene tone like a landscape photo of water, but with a hidden story only the narrator knows. Lovely.
After one a final embrace, they drifted away. When morning came, winter had buried his body under the miles she had covered.
The lines in his face were deep and weary, his fists tensed up then relaxed and he fell asleep in the chair. The kid tried but failed to wake him up on the morning of their trip.
I like this. There is a second sentence here, but it is entirely silent. She would always stay at home, frantically drawing day and night, dreaming of making wonders to impress the world, paintings and poems and stories that would finally help her connect and be accepted. She would always stay at home - so everyone she knew, she drove them away instead. Story of my life (a bit exaggerated) And another, unrelated: A rose bloomed through her head and the world was painted red. Red her hair were flowing wild, and red she saw her peeking child.
Upon further review, I would write it, "I thought they said the red wire. Next time I'd listen better."
She loved, but no matter how deeply, they never loved her back. One sided love had become the story of her life.
She grabbed my finger so tightly, making me feel happier than I've ever felt. Then, she let go wasting the last of her strength, suddenly, my baby was gone.
Poignant. I'm left wondering if it was a newborn baby or the last gesture of a dying adult. If it was a baby I'd suggest making it more clesr, something like, "She grabbed my finger with her tiny hand, making me happier than I've ever felt." Just a suggestion.
Joe went to have a double hernia operation done. They mistakenly did a double leg amputation instead.
Paraphrased from my WIP: Tears streamed down my face and I basked in the beauty of the creature. Its eyes, black unlike its soul, shot through my heart as my bullet shot through it.
Unknowingly this would be the last time she would cuddle her child, the last time she would tuck her in. Her child had grown and was now rejecting the notion that she needed to be cuddled and and tucked in every night.
I did not talk to my dearest cousin for last 30 years for no apparent reason. Month ago she died in accident.
"Dad, will you look after Mommy for me when I'm gone?" Stephen looked at his son one more time, his glazed eyes, his shaved hair, his hospital tag, everything about this was cruel and unfair.
I looked at my icecream then looked at my nephew and neices both excited at the prospect of sharing my icecream. It was hard to watch them cry while I'll ate it in front of them, but it was worth it.
