literature

one girl for sundays.

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ruffienne's avatar
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Literature Text

When Lea first reached my door, I thought she was a child in an older body; she looked lost and hesitant, ashamed or scared to ask for help, and when I opened the door with a smile, offering, she didn’t take it. Another thought, no candy from strangers, whisked through my head. I tried to usher her in but she waited, looking at the doorstep. She stepped in only after she made a decision to trust herself, with her long skirt strewing about her ankles.

Weeks passed, and every Sunday afternoon Lea came; her entrance never wavering, but the molting of her clothing growing more comfortable. She relaxed onto my canvas; the loops of her hips and the edges of her elbows, the roundness in her cheeks and the lines around her lips translated purely to my brush. Something about her, the soft lights and her skin, let me think that each quick render would be my masterpiece, the one that would leave me empty and famous. I exulted in this girl and her prettiness and this Sunday and my art, all of it, until she steps off of her pedestal, into her loose skirt.

“Wait! I’m not done,” I suddenly plead and she doesn’t listen. Lea dons her jacket and sandals, then smiles, like she never would naked. She slips out of the door like always, more relaxed than she is in my studio, the blinds drawn and the lights soft. I wonder what is it about the world that leaves her freer? I go back to the studio and manage not to strip my paintings to their blank beginnings.

The next Sunday, I open the front door with a type of hopelessness that is really not hopeless at all. My heart only shuts off when I see a note on the doormat, big square letters reading, “but you never will be.”

I pick it up and nail it to my studio door, and let the door be for a while. She is correct: there are other models, and more watercolors, and different canvases that I will never finish with. There are no more Sundays.
edit 5/17/08:: Tense clarification, reworking of a few paragraphs.

This has been in the works for too long. Can't decide how I feel about the way it turned out.
Inspired by [link] - thanks to *derekjones, =charbage, and ^oilsoaked.
Critique, please. <3
© 2008 - 2024 ruffienne
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SRSmith's avatar
You've captured a great deal in such a compact space, which is precisely the goal of this exercise. The story may be an part of a larger tale, but it stands entirely on its own, with the lead-in and outcome implied, and not overstated.

Wonderful work.

I do have a few thoughts:

'When Lea first reached my door, I thought...' It doesn't seem right to have a thought when she reaches the door, but rather when you encounter her at the door. '... thought she was a child in an older body;'. This is your hook line, and I think it wants to not have any questions asked of it, and that it wants to be complete, without the semi-colon. 'Upon finding Lea at my door, I thought her merely a child in the body of someone older.' You're having the thought when you find her at the door, not when she arrives at the door, as there's no certainty that you're at the door waiting at that point. The waiting would come later. 'She looked lost, hesitant, as though she were ashamed or scared but unable or unwilling to ask for help.' You're still planting the hook, so it needs to be silky smooth. '... and when I opened the door with a smile.' - the door's already opened, as you've already made observations, so perhaps 'I held back the door with a smile, but she merely waited. Take no candy from a stranger whisked quickly through my head. I tried to usher her in but still she waited, finally stepping through the doorway only after she was certain she could trust herself, her long skirt strewing about her ankles.'

In the second; '... but the molting of her clothing growing more...' - her clothing isn't molting, she's shedding her clothing. Something like 'her entrance never wavering, and the comfort with which she shed her clothing growing with each visit.' The middle is perfect, and the last line - 'I exulted in this girl... until she steps off her pedestal...'- exulted - past tense, steps off - present tense, with no explicit shift in tense in the sentence. 'I exulted in this girl..., until each time when she stepped off her pedestal and slipped back into her loose skirt.' Introducing action into the description of the events makes the text more engaging, and eliminating the tense mismatch eliminates a point where the reader may face an awkward pause.

'Wait! I'm not done,"... - here there's a sudden hard switch to the present tense, even though in the last paragraph you switch again to the next Sunday, which is the new present tense. You should stick to the past tense here, as you want to finish in the present tense and can't have two points of present tense that are a week apart. 'Wait! I'm not done," I plead on that Sunday, and she doesn't listen.' Later, 'more relaxed than she is in my studio' - maybe 'more relaxed than she ever was in my studio', again we're in the past tense still here.

'A week has passed, and on this Sunday, when I open the front door with...' We set the timing relative to the last paragraph, and switch to the present tense. 'with a type of hopelessness that is not really hopeless' - I'm not sure what this means, or what the feeling is that it's trying to convey. I'm not going to try to put words to it, as it's a feeling you need to define for yourself and put into words, but it's a stumbling block.

'My heart only shuts off' - show, don't tell - 'I see a note on the doormat. In letters big and square it reads, "you will never be". I would drop 'but' as the shortened phrase has more possibility for interpretation.

The final paragraph is perfect. I wouldn't change a thing.

I'd love to read this again if you decide to continue editing. Please note me if you do so.

Again, wonderful work.