Writer's Advice and Feedback Group discussion

I remember when you walked through that door, camera strung around your neck. You fumbled through a greeting, knocked over that old lamp in the hallway. You looked ready to cry, apologized so much I thought I'd never hear the end of it.

Then you took a picture of what was left of the lamp with that camera of your, waved it through the air like fluttering wings, but didn't show me. Two days later, a package arrived on my doorstep. Your package. Light reflecting of porcelain and crystal and half-a-century-old memories.

It's still hanging up in the hall, that picture. I carved your name into the frame.



When we met again, smoke curling around our heads, a woman in dark clothes growling dark songs that filled the bar. You read poetry like a fog creeping up on me, soft, somber, all-encompassing. Words fell from your honeyed lips, and I swear, I could taste them. See them. Touch them like butterflies landing on my finger tips. And through the smoke and lights and people snapping praise with piano-player fingers, you found me. And you smiled.



You were my first.



You didn't wax poetic about girls in their short skirts, or sunsets and birds singing hallelujah. You monologue about me. About us. About sitting on the hood of my car, catching stars as they flew above our heads.

If I could write like you do, I would write about us. I'd write about you, even though words wouldn't do you any justice.



Isn't it ironic, the symmetry? If your parents had found out about us, they'd take you far away. If my parents had found out, they'd go far away.

Good thing they don't know.



You were everything to me.



When you started seeing things, I was scared. When I came home and you'd writen on every wall, I wanted to leave. I wanted to curl up an never wake up.

When the doctor explained it to me, I honestly wished it were me instead. Because I could live with the hallucinations, and the screaming, all the voices, anything, as long as I had you.

Where did your camera ever wind up?



Why did you leave?



I miss you. It's like a pit in my stomach, a crater punched in my chest, right through my lungs, I need you.

But you're gone.




Is heaven beautiful?




Can I come with you? I'll let you take any picture you want, I'll listen to all your poetry, I'll write some for you, I'll do anything.

I just want you back.



Highschool seems like it happened forever ago.

I wouldn't change anything.



Do you still catch fireflies? Do you still call them stars?



Do you still love me?



I'm sorry. See you soon.

You've done it again. My heart dropped at the line "Is heaven beautiful?"
Please do more, I want more and more and more. I love your writing style and how you connect the characters. I loved the devotion between the characters and the sudden change in the atmosphere and tempo.
Love love love!
And I am in no way imagining the first part is me... no way.... ahaha:) x

Oh my gosh, that was so beautifully sad. I loved every word of it. I loved how the last line was short and sweet and summed it up. Great job.

Thank you, both. Feedback keeps me going, so thank you for feeding my slowly growing writers ego!

Congrats on winning the contest Robin :D

Oh, yay! Thanks, Ali.