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    I usually write tiny, tiny "stories" in a kind of stage direction format when I'm bored... It's probably not your cup of tea, but I would like to know what you think.

    _____

    A smartly dressed subordinate pours gracefully a measure of whiskey into a finely crafted glass. A set of long fingers clasps the fragile container and puts it to the lips of an eternally bored individual - the proprietor of those long smooth fingers.

    "You've been neglecting your duties, sir," says the subordinate, steadily, seemingly not expecting any kind of indignant response.

    "When you have reached my age, you gain a certain prerogative," returns the other individual, careless.

    "Very well, sir. Your towel and soap are ready for your evening bath. Good night." The younger of the two bows slightly and leaves with a perfect set of steps - a metronome with legs.

    The remaining man, nestled snugly in his tan chair, looks around him, casually. He remarks the various objets d'art placed haphazardly upon his dark wooden desk; he notes the smooth, purple, velvet curtains drawn across the width of the large window of his spacious study; he looks listlessly at the intricately designed carpet beneath him, the hanging paintings of artists he didn't care to remember the names of, the clock made for him by his 12-year-old nephew, half-buried under classified papers; he smells the thick, stale presence of cigar and whiskey fumes, the faint odour of congealed sweat from his chair; he stays his breath and listens, listens closely to his familiar and ever-present sound of nothing - then he simply stares, mouth gaping, breath unsteady, eyes quivering at all of what he had just seen, smelt and heard but never truly noticed.

    He snaps out of his daze and resolutely lifts himself from the cold warmth of his seat, rushes, half-tripping over detritus strewn on the floor of his dimly lit space, to the smooth stone corner-sink and splashes the contents of his finely crafted whiskey glass into the wet basin. Panting, he strides over to the long window of his study, throws open the gaudy curtain, grabs roughly the handle of the window, and yanks the contraption open as formed rust scrapes and shatters off of the hinges due to the unfamiliar motion. Breathing in the breezy, quiet evening, he shakes his head softly and says to himself:

    "Idiot! Idiot! What the hell have you been doing!?"
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    I like it. A sort of epiphany?
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    (Original post by Dunc1)
    I like it. A sort of epiphany?
    To be honest, your guess is as good as mine. I don't have specific back-stories to these characters, if you can call them that. If I ever write anything longer than the story I've just written, the characters become too real and understandable, and then the mystery is ruined.

    Really, I just enjoy writing about the detail of the room and the person's actions.
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    I think the story gets in the way of the adjectives and adverbs.
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    (Original post by Coeusful)
    I usually write tiny, tiny "stories" in a kind of stage direction format when I'm bored... It's probably not your cup of tea, but I would like to know what you think.

    _____

    A smartly dressed subordinate pours gracefully a measure of whiskey into a finely crafted glass. A set of long fingers clasps the fragile container awful, just awful and puts it to the lips of an eternally bored individual - the proprietor of those long smooth who cares if his fingers are smooth. Its not like hes going to pop the glass or something if his fingers are hairy fingers.

    "You've been neglecting your duties, sir," says the subordinate, steadily, seemingly not expecting any kind of indignant response.

    "When you have reached my age, you gain a certain prerogative," returns the other individual, careless. WTF does this mean?

    "Very well, sir. Your towel and soap are ready for your evening bath. Good night." The younger of the two bows slightly and leaves with a perfect set of steps - a metronome with legs. somehow doesnt fit...did he walk with his legs fully straight?

    The remaining man, nestled snugly in his tan chair, looks around him, casually. He remarks the various objets typo... d'art c'mon, you've got to be kidding me???placed haphazardly upon his dark wooden desk; he notes the smooth, purple, velvet curtains drawn across the width of the large window of his spacious study; he looks listlessly at the intricately designed carpet beneath him, the hanging paintings of artists he didn't care to remember the names of, the clock made for him by his 12-year-old nephew, half-buried under classified papers; he smells the thick, stale presence of cigar and whiskey fumes, the faint odour of congealed sweat from his chair; he stays his breath and listens, listens closely to his familiar and ever-present sound of nothing - then he simply stares, mouth gaping, breath unsteady, eyes quivering at all of what he had just seen, smelt and heard but never truly noticed. Very good

    He snaps out of his daze He wasnt in a daze at this point was he? and resolutely lifts himself from the cold warmth of his seat, rushes, half-tripping over detritus strewn on the floor of his dimly lit space, to the smooth thank God, youve used the word smooth correctly stone corner-sink and splashes the contents of his finely crafted whiskey glass into the wet basin. Panting very good, gives the impression hes unfit. Excellent!, he strides over to the long please stop using the words long and smooth window of his study, throws open the gaudy curtain, grabs roughly the handle of the window, and yanks the contraption hardly a contraption is it? open as formed rust scrapes and shatters off of the hinges due to the unfamiliar very good. Could do a better word than unfamiliar though motion. Breathing in the breezy, quiet evening, he shakes his head softly and says to himself:

    "Idiot! Idiot! What the hell have you been doing!?"
    I've annotated it with my thoughts.
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    I've read it and while it's good, the so-called 'epiphany' seems out of place. It's hard to describe but the tone of the last two paragraphs does not fit the first bit at all.
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    (Original post by deltabomber)
    I've annotated it with my thoughts.
    A smartly dressed subordinate pours gracefully a measure of whiskey into a finely crafted glass. A set of long fingers clasps the fragile container awful, just awful [Why? The container is fragile, and it avoids repeating the word "glass".] and puts it to the lips of an eternally bored individual - the proprietor of those long smooth who cares if his fingers are smooth. Its not like hes going to pop the glass or something if his fingers are hairy fingers. [It's an embellishment; no, it's not crucial to call his fingers "smooth", but it gives more insight into the character: maybe he's quite a young person, perhaps he's overly fastidious, etc...]

    "You've been neglecting your duties, sir," says the subordinate, steadily, seemingly not expecting any kind of indignant response.

    "When you have reached my age, you gain a certain prerogative," returns the other individual, careless. WTF does this mean? ["Careless" towards the other person's concern for him. Without the word, the man's response could be seen as hostile and defensive.]

    "Very well, sir. Your towel and soap are ready for your evening bath. Good night." The younger of the two bows slightly and leaves with a perfect set of steps - a metronome with legs. somehow doesnt fit...did he walk with his legs fully straight? [I wasn't sure about this one, either. I was trying to provide some sort of loose imagery and emphasise just how measured the person's steps are - maybe he's been a servant all his life, maybe he's extremely well trained in this field of service?]

    The remaining man, nestled snugly in his tan chair, looks around him, casually. He remarks the various objets typo... [It's spelt correctly, actually] d'art c'mon, you've got to be kidding me??? [What's the problem? It's a French word used fairly commonly in English.] placed haphazardly upon his dark wooden desk; he notes the smooth, purple, velvet curtains drawn across the width of the large window of his spacious study; he looks listlessly at the intricately designed carpet beneath him, the hanging paintings of artists he didn't care to remember the names of, the clock made for him by his 12-year-old nephew, half-buried under classified papers; he smells the thick, stale presence of cigar and whiskey fumes, the faint odour of congealed sweat from his chair; he stays his breath and listens, listens closely to his familiar and ever-present sound of nothing - then he simply stares, mouth gaping, breath unsteady, eyes quivering at all of what he had just seen, smelt and heard but never truly noticed. Very good [Thanks! I liked that part, too. ]

    He snaps out of his daze He wasnt in a daze at this point was he? [I'd argue that he was. It's quite a large epiphany, after all.] and resolutely lifts himself from the cold warmth of his seat, rushes, half-tripping over detritus strewn on the floor of his dimly lit space, to the smooth thank God, youve used the word smooth correctly [Haha - harsh.] stone corner-sink and splashes the contents of his finely crafted whiskey glass into the wet basin. Panting very good, gives the impression hes unfit. Excellent!, he strides over to the long please stop using the words long and smooth [The "high" window? The "towering" window?] window of his study, throws open the gaudy curtain, grabs roughly the handle of the window, and yanks the contraption hardly a contraption is it? [I like to think calling it a contraption indicates he's having trouble opening it.] open as formed rust scrapes and shatters off of the hinges due to the unfamiliar very good. Could do a better word than unfamiliar though [Like?] motion. Breathing in the breezy, quiet evening, he shakes his head softly and says to himself:

    "Idiot! Idiot! What the hell have you been doing!?"



    Thanks for going through the trouble of providing input. I do appreciate it. Thanks!


    (Original post by Sadian)
    I've read it and while it's good, the so-called 'epiphany' seems out of place. It's hard to describe but the tone of the last two paragraphs does not fit the first bit at all.
    I totally agree with you there. That's the trouble with these thing I write: I start them having fun with the descriptions and characters, then, as I get bored, I rush an "ending" so as the complete the story somehow. So, yeah... It is completely out of place because it wasn't predetermined. Next time, I think I'll make a point of actually having a full beginning and ending in mind.

    Thanks!
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    If you really want an honest opinion, 'remarks' doesn't make sense within the context of your sentence: 'He remarks the various objets d'art placed haphazardly upon his dark wooden desk'.

    Also, the use of 'objets d'art' is a little gauche - a phrase that Alan Partridge might use in a misguided attempt at sophistication.
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    Sorry - that sounded really harsh.
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    Its quite good, though I think you try to use too much sophisticated language. This makes it hard to read and sometimes doesnt make sense. Puts the reader off
 
 
 
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