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Literature Text
I don't sit here late at night to escape a fire, unless you can consider the constant arguments such. And I guess that would make sense. Like a fire, the arguments dance, blazing hot then dying to embers only to be resurrected by the breeze of a careless word.
The metal is cold now because it's winter, but in the summer the black metal soaks up the heat of the long days and deposits it into my forearms, leaving angry red marks. Sometimes there is condensation that makes my back, which I press to the railing, feel even more muggy and clingy-damp.
Sometimes I watch the stars from here, because I always come to the fire escape at night. It seems like darkness brings out the need to light the flame of argument.
It's a good view, near the top of a tall building, so that the stars aren't muted by city lights. But, mostly, I don't watch the stars. Mostly I look into the other apartments. That makes me sound sick-ish I guess, but I'm not hoping to get an eyeful of naked apartment dweller. What fascinates me are the families.
They sit down to dinner together, they smile and, while I can't hear what they are saying I see their lips move, and I provide dialog. I'm ashamed to say that the dialog I provide would be a great episode of "Leave it to Beaver."
I make the father ask "How was your day, dear?" and the mother's response is always positive, something like, "Just wonderful. Billy brought home another "A" and Sally is going to the dance with that nice Joe Smith down the street."
Unrealistic to say the least, but maybe, by supplying the words, I am giving these families a chance at something I crave every night. A kind word, a tension free evening. Light, laughter, love. I always wonder if others look in at me and supply the words for our arguments. Maybe turning them into something less painful or something silly to be forgotten in the morning. Not leaving them as something that will merely stoke the next fire until it becomes a blaze so big that it consumes us.
The metal is cold now because it's winter, but in the summer the black metal soaks up the heat of the long days and deposits it into my forearms, leaving angry red marks. Sometimes there is condensation that makes my back, which I press to the railing, feel even more muggy and clingy-damp.
Sometimes I watch the stars from here, because I always come to the fire escape at night. It seems like darkness brings out the need to light the flame of argument.
It's a good view, near the top of a tall building, so that the stars aren't muted by city lights. But, mostly, I don't watch the stars. Mostly I look into the other apartments. That makes me sound sick-ish I guess, but I'm not hoping to get an eyeful of naked apartment dweller. What fascinates me are the families.
They sit down to dinner together, they smile and, while I can't hear what they are saying I see their lips move, and I provide dialog. I'm ashamed to say that the dialog I provide would be a great episode of "Leave it to Beaver."
I make the father ask "How was your day, dear?" and the mother's response is always positive, something like, "Just wonderful. Billy brought home another "A" and Sally is going to the dance with that nice Joe Smith down the street."
Unrealistic to say the least, but maybe, by supplying the words, I am giving these families a chance at something I crave every night. A kind word, a tension free evening. Light, laughter, love. I always wonder if others look in at me and supply the words for our arguments. Maybe turning them into something less painful or something silly to be forgotten in the morning. Not leaving them as something that will merely stoke the next fire until it becomes a blaze so big that it consumes us.
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This is something I wrote sometime last year for a Facebook writers group prompt.
I would like to know what people think about it.
Does the imagery of arguments as fire make sense or is it too cliche?
What do you feel/think when you read it?
Is there any thing you would change/add/remove?
Are there any grammatical errors?
I would like to know what people think about it.
Does the imagery of arguments as fire make sense or is it too cliche?
What do you feel/think when you read it?
Is there any thing you would change/add/remove?
Are there any grammatical errors?
© 2011 - 2024 Chimera64
Comments14
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I like this a lot, it's powerful for such a short piece. I think you made use of the length very well, starting and ending at exactly the right place. 
To answer your questions:
– It makes sense, and I don't think it's cliché – I mean, fire is used so often that it could be cliché, but I think you've gone a good way with it. I thought mostly of fire in the first paragraph, and then later the imagery seemed to change... more like light and sparks, fire as a growing thing rather than an angry thing ("Light, laughter, love") but with the fire image ever-present throughout, kind of like it was on two different layers – the conflict of the argument the narrator's left behind and the light and warmth s/he perceives in the other families. So yeah, it works really well.
– I felt loneliness. I get the feeling the narrator is quite lonely (which is emphasised by the fact that s/he is the only character apart from the people s/he's observing, who are distant and remote) and possibly resentful, but more tired than anything – worn down by the constant arguments. It also has a feeling of wishful longing to it, especially near the end.
– This is just my opinion, but I think I would try to make the ending – where the narrator states that s/he longs for what these families appear to have – less obvious. This sentence: "Unrealistic to say the least, but maybe, by supplying the words, I am giving these families a chance at something I crave every night" maybe cut or change it? The idea is good, but maybe find a different way to phrase it so it's not... shoved on to the reader? I think it's fairly evident through the narrator's thoughts and actions that s/he wants what the other families appear to have, and it might be more powerful if it were more subtle.
I don't know. I love it when things are done in a more subtle way so this could just be my personal preferences talking, but I guess the mood of the rest of the piece feels like it's striking a nice balance between forthright and subtle, and it just tipped the balance a tad towards the obvious with that.
– No grammar errors that I could see, but there was a part that seemed a bit awkward: "Sometimes there is condensation that makes my back, which I press to the railing, feel even more muggy and clingy-damp." Just the way it makes us pause to consider the back being pressed to the railing seems a bit odd, like an afterthought. Like "Condensation makes my back – oh yeah it's pressed to the railing – feel damp". I don't know, but it might work a tad better if you wrote the sentence in a different way?
I think you've edited this since =SilverInkblot and ~Hi-I-Am-Rom critiqued it, right? The sentence length and flow seemed pretty perfect for me – didn't jolt me out of the flow at all. I dislike run-on sentences and big paragraphs, but I found this a smooth read – or at least, where it wasn't 100% smooth, it felt like it was meant to be, or added to the atmosphere.
Very evocative and quite haunting. I enjoyed it, thanks for sharing
To answer your questions:– It makes sense, and I don't think it's cliché – I mean, fire is used so often that it could be cliché, but I think you've gone a good way with it. I thought mostly of fire in the first paragraph, and then later the imagery seemed to change... more like light and sparks, fire as a growing thing rather than an angry thing ("Light, laughter, love") but with the fire image ever-present throughout, kind of like it was on two different layers – the conflict of the argument the narrator's left behind and the light and warmth s/he perceives in the other families. So yeah, it works really well.
– I felt loneliness. I get the feeling the narrator is quite lonely (which is emphasised by the fact that s/he is the only character apart from the people s/he's observing, who are distant and remote) and possibly resentful, but more tired than anything – worn down by the constant arguments. It also has a feeling of wishful longing to it, especially near the end.
– This is just my opinion, but I think I would try to make the ending – where the narrator states that s/he longs for what these families appear to have – less obvious. This sentence: "Unrealistic to say the least, but maybe, by supplying the words, I am giving these families a chance at something I crave every night" maybe cut or change it? The idea is good, but maybe find a different way to phrase it so it's not... shoved on to the reader? I think it's fairly evident through the narrator's thoughts and actions that s/he wants what the other families appear to have, and it might be more powerful if it were more subtle.
I don't know. I love it when things are done in a more subtle way so this could just be my personal preferences talking, but I guess the mood of the rest of the piece feels like it's striking a nice balance between forthright and subtle, and it just tipped the balance a tad towards the obvious with that.
– No grammar errors that I could see, but there was a part that seemed a bit awkward: "Sometimes there is condensation that makes my back, which I press to the railing, feel even more muggy and clingy-damp." Just the way it makes us pause to consider the back being pressed to the railing seems a bit odd, like an afterthought. Like "Condensation makes my back – oh yeah it's pressed to the railing – feel damp". I don't know, but it might work a tad better if you wrote the sentence in a different way?
I think you've edited this since =SilverInkblot and ~Hi-I-Am-Rom critiqued it, right? The sentence length and flow seemed pretty perfect for me – didn't jolt me out of the flow at all. I dislike run-on sentences and big paragraphs, but I found this a smooth read – or at least, where it wasn't 100% smooth, it felt like it was meant to be, or added to the atmosphere.
Very evocative and quite haunting. I enjoyed it, thanks for sharing