Winter Rain, part 1

She watches me from across the table, her eyes pained, tired. They weren’t always so. When we first met, her eyes were full of joy and light.

I fidget with the handle of my cup and look past her—past, where it’s safe. I can’t meet her gaze any more. There’s too much there, now—too much I can’t bear.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I just . . . don’t think we should do this any more.”

The painting behind her is ugly. Whorls of green and grey, an undertone of blue. Somebody’s idea of modern abstract. Somebody with no taste.

The colours blur at the edges and I look down. Not to her.

I know I could save it. Even now. Nothing has changed permanently. Not yet.

But it’s about to.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asks. Her voice isn’t steady.

I study the shine on the handle of my cup and shake my head.

It’s better this way. Better she hates me and moves on. Better that than . . . .

She pushes her chair back suddenly and stands, knocking the table in the process. Her empty cup bounces once, clatters onto its side, and rolls toward the edge. She starts to grab for it, then pulls her hand back, her fingers curling into a fist. I cringe as the cup crashes to the floor. She takes a step toward the door.

“I hope you find some happiness,” she says softly, then walks away.

I listen to her footsteps receding. The noise from the street gets briefly louder, then quiet again, and I know she’s gone.

My vision blurs, and this time, there’s nothing I can do.

15 Responses to “Winter Rain, part 1”

  1. Ian says:

    That is a great opening. There is just one wrong word in there and it’s ‘cringe.’ It just doesn’t fit. I don’t mind the ‘so’ so much ;)

  2. As you must be used to now—everyone’s opinion being different—I disagree with Sara above. Only tone down rhythm if it’s so strong as to be distracting or if it’s at complete odds with the story. A sing-song rhythm when you’re aiming for sophistication might be an example, but even there it might lend a compelling counterpoint.
    My own rule (which is nothing to go by since I hold no hope of achieving the kind of success I long for) is to dispense with any rhythm I’ve contrived. If I’ve worked on it, most likely it’s unnatural. Then, too, I’ve written in the voice of a few characters who indulged their rhythmic tendencies shamelessly. They needed to be toned down, but then they knew that.
    If you’re writing in a child’s voice, go light on rhythm, however. It’s so natural to those younger than ten that your dialogue runs the risk of sounding too real—as if you tape recorded a nursery schooler.

  3. Hi Kathleen,

    Good to hear from you.  :-)  I don’t actually write with an intentional rhythm, although that doesn’t necessarily mean there isn’t one there.  Not so much with Winter Rain (which is meant to be a bit hard and raw in style), but with most of my writing, I like the words to “flow” — which has at least something to do with the way things sound to me when I’m reading them out loud.  So, I may well unintentionally be putting rhythm into it.

    In this case, though, Winter Rain is pretty much a first draft.  I mean, some stuff gets rewritten before I post it, but never after.  My goal with this one is to tell an interesting story, driven by characters and informed by a complex setting.  It’s most important for me to keep moving forward with it, because if I stop to edit it, past history tells me I’m likely to lose myself in a vicious cycle of rewriting, instead of actually finishing the story.

    That all is not to say there will be a second draft — I’m not sure there will be.  This is my webcomic, after all — when it’s done . . . I’m not sure I’ll be able to nor have the interest to make it something different than it is.  :-)

    But Winter Rain has been a great experience for me.  I learn something almost every time I sit down to write, and it’s nearly a year in and I’m still enjoying telling the story.  I’m not looking for it to end any time soon. 

    Thanks for commenting!

    Chris.

  4. I enjoyed this opening. Very awkward scene. I love the shifts in thought in this bit:

    “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just . . . don’t think we should do this any more.”

    The painting behind her is ugly. Whorls of green and grey, an undertone of blue. Somebody’s idea of modern abstract. Somebody with no taste.

  5. Daniel Bensen says:

    Dan from Kingdoms of Evil here. Your review lead me here to Winter Rain, and I like it so far. Good atmosphere and humor. I especially like: “Somebody’s idea of modern abstract. Somebody with no taste.”
    Somebody’s idea of modern abstract. Somebody with no taste.Somebody’s idea of modern abstract. Somebody with no taste.
    Somebody’s idea of modern abstract. Somebody with no taste.
    Somebody’s idea of modern abstract. Somebody with no taste.

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