I am currently working on twelve short stories. I have suceeded in writing two (note: not finished)...but two down seems close to the end, right? Anyway, I have been too shy to put them in the public space as I have the idea that my intent with them isn't well-formed yet. However, one of the stories - The Morning After is on DADA bloGazine now and it would be just fine to get feedback on it. It's still in the early stage, so there's hope.
Here's a snippet:
My God: these hushed words escaped Yellow Abraka’s lips as he opened his eyes and realised he was not on his own bed. He continued to lie on his side, facing the sliding window with drawn curtains folded up at the two extremes. The window was opened to a moon which appeared to have watched them throughout the night. Now, the sun peered in, so the room was lit with an uncommon brightness, so that glistened window panes left transparent splinters on his skin.
He waited, watched for a sign to make him stand up from thebed and sneak out of the room. There was no clue to what that sign would be, as the humming beside him, came in measured cadences and disrupted any plans hemight have considered acting upon.
The body beside his, which Yellow did not wish to face,turned to a side, sighed deeply and threw a hand over him, landing on his groin. A throbbing rose in his head and swept down to his feet. He tightened his buttocks; rigid then soft, then he bit his lower lips, practicing silence.Under him, the sheet was rumpled and a part of him lay on the bare mattress, causing him some discomfort, but that was nothing, for he presumed himself numb.
He waited, watched for a sign to make him stand up from thebed and sneak out of the room. There was no clue to what that sign would be, as the humming beside him, came in measured cadences and disrupted any plans hemight have considered acting upon.
The body beside his, which Yellow did not wish to face,turned to a side, sighed deeply and threw a hand over him, landing on his groin. A throbbing rose in his head and swept down to his feet. He tightened his buttocks; rigid then soft, then he bit his lower lips, practicing silence.Under him, the sheet was rumpled and a part of him lay on the bare mattress, causing him some discomfort, but that was nothing, for he presumed himself numb.
Please read the rest HERE
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Dear Jumoke,
ReplyDeleteNice work. Didn't know whether to comment here or comment on DADA site.
I like your story. The name "Yellow Abraka" sounds like an antithesis of someone truly from Abraka - dark-complexioned. LOL. Don't know if this was intentional. It came short of a comedy.
As usual, your lyricism wasn't lost on this fine piece of story-telling. The depth! Lovely.
I do, however, had problems with some parts stretched too long. I might be wrong but I sincerely bumped through the visitation scenes - to the priest and the blessed Sacrament.
I have a couple of stories on my blog http://reprefix.blogspot.com. Please stop by. There is rice-and-stew-very-plenty. LOL.
Looking forward to more of your works.
Cheers.
Thanks Sochi. Kind of you to stop by and leave pleasant words on my story. Thanks for your observation, but interestingly, the scene you mentioned is one paragraph.
ReplyDeleteI'll read your Short story and give a reply.