Alchemy

[Davey Rootbeer]

He stood there, on the bed opposite the chair, facing me.

The breeze blew in from the half-open window. It had rained a bit earlier, and the cool midnight air rose quickly to the second floor of the dormatory.

She was sitting on the chair opposite, rocking back and forth as if in a trance. she was fully aware of what was going on, though. i could feel it.

and Ann was just laughing, sitting on the bed next to him, squirming like a fish out of water.

Laughing at absolutely nothing.


Our breaths collectively stank of cannibis and Sparks. We had been standing outside, not 20 feet from the building in the middle of the parking lot, passing the joint around in a circle. He always brought some with him when he visited. Despite being at least 10 years older than the rest of us, he visited quite often. Jay and him were both DJ's at the club. he was teaching Jay how to mix, and Jay was teaching him to dance.

He believed in extrasencialism, visible waves of energy coming into and out of bodies, to determine thoughts, feelings, and "vibes". that kind of bullshit. He'd always try to do a "calming release" on the girls whenever we've had a job. it was always the girls, not the guys, who he said were the most tense.

I've been there before, watching him work.

First, he'd tell them that they were stressed massaged them gently about the shoulders. They would usually be already drunk or on shrooms, weed, or whatever the new thing was that they were passing around at that club in newburgh. So, they'd let him do it. Putty in his hands, as he reached lower, feeling their breasts and caressing the little areas in between, through and out, with the girls completely entranced by it all.

Magic fingers, this guy had.

he told them that they were recieving his energy, his life force, and gently rubbed their nipples until you could see them through their already-skimpy outfits.

I never said anything from my couch. They were just nameless raver girls. Not real people, but random faces who just happened to show up at a party. I'd probably never see them again in my life, they didn't exist as people for me.

I never found out of he really believed in all that shit, or he was just using it as an excuse to cop a feel.


Ann leaned over and quieted down on the bed. she was rather heavyset, but at the same time, exuded an aura of happy-go-lucky. The wanna-be raver. She followed Jay and Him everywhere they went, to raves, nightclubs, bars, where she would come home with countless stories about being hit on by 40+ year old men.

No wonder, i often thought to myself. those were the type of people that frequented those kids of places. old guys who hung around unsuspecting college kids, probably married with children in school, an aging, sagging wife, looking for a pretty young thing to dip their parchment to see if they "Still got it".

It wasn't like that with him, though. He was addicted to it.

I knew his girlfriend quite well. whe was in the group during my frewshman year, as a senior. Used to weigh 300+ pounds, had a history of epilepsy, and brain and neurological problems. Story goes, He met her and they fell in love, and became enamorados. She's graduated by now. Can't drive yet though, with the epilepsy stuff, it's unlikely she'll qualify for a liscence. It'dss along, twisting mountain road to get to her house, in the middle of the woods on the mountains. Her family's greek. they have a very nice place, living with her mother and father, at the age of 25.


He also lives with his father. I think He's probably in his mid-30's by now.

But the story isn't always what's going on. When he came down to visit us, at her alma mater (without bringing her along, of course), he'd do the same damn things every time. Go to parties, get girls drunk, and "teach them magic" in ways that would lead to sexual activity later on.

She knew about this.

She knew the whole time, and never said a word. Even when she came down here to visit with him, he showed indications of his desire, by offering massages and "chi transplacements". Right in front of her, too.

It was torture for her.


But she wasn't here right now. Only Ann was, laying next to him, dead asleep on the bed, while he massaged her gently. And She, my girlfriend, sitting on the chair, waiting for something to happen.

He spoke.

"I hope you don't mind oif i take my clothes off. It helps me concentrate better and get my energy flowing."

I looked at Her. Unwavering, she denied any shock, and cheerfully agreed.

she stared back at me, her humongous brown eyes slightly dialated, glowing like marbles under the florescent lights. They were empty, blank. I couldn't read them at all, i had never seen them that cold before.

I'm a horrible boyfriend. I cancelled dates. I avoided seeing her by locking myself in my room with schoolwork all day, and i lied to her on a million occasions about why i refused to be with her. "I'm not feeling well." "I have schoolwork tonight." "I didn't recieve your message, because i was out tonight. I would have loved to have met up with you, but i was already out by the time you called." "I couldn't hear the door, because i was napping."

The truth of the matter is, I form the opposite mold to whatever my compadre is: If that person is shy and distant, than i am the outgoing and clingy one in the relationship. If that person is needy and high-maintaince, i make myself scarce and become cold and unapproachable. And She wasn't really all that clingy, but in my mind, i had built her to be that way.

we continued to stare at eachother, unblinking, as he got up and walked around the room a bit.

"you know, it's so cool that you guys are open minded about this,. normally, people are so afraid of this, just the nude human body, baring itself. i can sense some really good aura coming from you guys."

She was 19; i was 20. Ann was 23, i think.

"Would any of you care to join me?"

Her condition remained unchanged. I couln't tell, for anything, what was going on behind those huge eyes of hers.

And then she took off her shirt and bra, and sat down next to where he had been sitting.

Ann had fallen off the bed, onto a pile of coats, without a sound, after He had gotten up.

He sat back down next to Her.

I could read his eyes, though. heat-seaking missles in his pupils, aimed directly at the globes which swung down in front of her.

He put his hands on her back, and rubbed it gently.

She continued to stare at me. A chess match in my head raged on.

"Would you like to join us?", His voice broke the silence.

I got up, grabbed my coat, and headed back to my room. Full Metal Alchemist was on, and i was not going to miss it for the world.

[Davey Rootbeer]

(First edited version)


He stood there, on the bed opposite the chair, facing me.

The breeze blew in from the half-open window, chilling me slightly. It had rained a bit earlier, and the cool midnight air rose quickly to the second floor of the dormitory buildings.

She was sitting on the chair opposite, rocking back and forth as if in a trance. She was fully aware of what was going on, though. I could feel it.

And Ann was just laughing, sitting on the bed next to him, squirming like a fish out of water, laughing at absolutely nothing as he delicately ran his fingers up and down her spine.


Our breaths collectively stank of cannabis and vodka. 15 minutes ago, we had been standing outside, not 20 feet from the building in the middle of the parking lot, passing the joint around in a circle. He always brought some with him when he visited. Despite being at least 10 years older than the rest of us, He visited quite often: Jay and Him were both DJ's at the club. He was teaching Jay how to mix, and Jay was teaching Him to dance.

He believed in extrasencilism, visible waves of energy coming into and out of bodies, to determine thoughts, feelings, and "vibes". An inner life stream, connecting the flow of thoughts, and a methodology of manipulating the aura of others. That kind of bullshit. He'd always try to do a “cleansing release” on the girls’ “aura” whenever we've had a job. It was always the girls we were with, not the guys, that He said were the most tense.

I've been there before, watching Him work.

First, He'd tell them that they were stressed, and massaged them gently about the shoulders, muttering to them made-up words, which changed everywhere we went. . They would usually be already drunk or high at that point. And He’d already be beyond gone, with whatever the new thing was that they were passing around at that club in Newburgh. So, they'd let Him do it.

They were putty in His hands, as He reached lower, feeling their breasts and caressing the little areas in between, through and out, with the girls completely entranced by it all, giggling, laughing, mentally blank.

And the look on His face was a stonewall of seriousness.

He told them that they were receiving His energy, His life force, and gently rubbed their breasts until you could see nipples harden through their already-skimpy outfits, which at that point had been jettisoned to allow for “a better flow of energy.”

Magic fingers, this guy had.



I never said anything from my couch. Besides, they were just nameless raver girls. Not real people, but random faces that just happened to show up at a party. I'd probably never see them again in my life anyway. And that justified it all for me.

They believed it because they wanted to.

I never found out if He really believed in all that shit, or if He was just using it as an excuse to get laid. The tone in His voice when He talked about it was so serious; He even had me, with all my cold-hearted logical voice of reason, floored for a few minutes.


Ann leaned over and quieted down on the bed. She always exuded an aura of happy-go-lucky: The wanna-be candykid. She followed Jay and Him everywhere they went, to raves, nightclubs, bars, and house parties, where she would come home with countless stories about being hit on by 40+ year old men.

No wonder, I often thought to myself. Those were the type of people that frequented those kids of places. Old guys who hung around unsuspecting college kids. They were probably married, with children in school, had an aging, sagging wife, and were looking for a pretty young thing to dip their parchment in to see if they "Still got it".

It wasn't like that with Him, though. He couldn’t just go home and resume his life. He was always on the scene, and there was always a blur between where one party ended, and the next began.

I’ve never been to His house. Heard He lives with his father though, in a small house up in Catskills.

I knew His girlfriend quite well. Steff was in the group during my freshman year, as a senior. Used to weigh 300+ pounds, had a history of epilepsy, and brain and neurological problems. Story goes, He met her and loved her for who she was. She fell in love with Him, and they started dating. She graduated last year. Still living with her mother and father, at the age of 25. It's a long, twisting mountain road to get to her house, in the middle of the woods on the Catskills. All His mixing equipment is there, a whole room for it. Thousands of dollars worth, turntables, amps, wave detectors, speakers and a bunch of other technological junk that normal people would look twice at when shopping at the Sharper Image, and then move on the electric pencil sharpeners. She can't drive yet though, or possibly ever, with the epilepsy stuff. He drives her everywhere she wants to go.



When He came down to visit us, at her alma mater, He'd do the same damn things every time. Go to parties; get girls drunk, and "teach them magic".

She knew about this.

She knew the whole time, and never said a word. Even when she came down here to visit with him, He showed indications of his uncontainable desire, by offering massages and "chi transplacements" to all the girls in the group we were with. Right in front of her, too.

It was torture for her, I know it.

Never said a word. I could see it all right there in her face.


But she wasn't here right now. Only Ann was, lying next to Him, giggling in a half-state of consciousness on the bed, while He massaged her gently. And Her, my girlfriend, sitting on the chair, waiting for something to happen.

He spoke.

"I hope you don't mind if I take my clothes off. It helps me concentrate better and get my energy flowing."

I looked at Her. Unwavering, She denied any shock, and cheerfully agreed to His request.

She stared back at me, Her humongous brown eyes slightly dilated, glowing like marbles under the florescent lights. They were empty, blank. Glassy. I couldn't read them at all, couldn’t read Her at all. I had never seen Her eyes that cold before.

I'm a horrible boyfriend. I cancelled dates. I avoided seeing Her by locking myself in my room with schoolwork all day, and I lied to Her on a million occasions about why I refused to be with Her. "I'm not feeling well." "I have schoolwork tonight." "I didn't receive your message, because I was out tonight. I would have loved to have met up with you, but I was already out by the time you called." "I couldn't hear the door, because I was napping."

The truth of the matter is, I form the opposite mold to whatever my close relation is: If that person is shy and distant, than I am the outgoing and clingy one in the relationship. If that person is needy and high-maintenance, I make myself scarce and become cold and unapproachable. And She wasn't really all that clingy in retrospect, but in my mind, I had built her to be that way.

She and I continued to stare at each other, unblinking, as He got up and walked around the room a bit. We looked at Him, trying not to stare at anything.

"You know, it's so cool that you guys are open minded about this. Normally, people are so afraid of this, just the nude human body, baring itself. I can sense some really good aura coming from you guys."

"Would any of you care to join me?"

Her expression remained unchanged. I couldn’t tell, for anything, what was going on behind those huge eyes of Hers. She glanced over at me again, with a complete deadpan, and reached into Her hair, taking out a rubber band, sending Her long black hair cascading down Her back.

And then She took off Her shirt and bra.

And sat down next to where He had been sitting.

Ann had fallen off the bed, onto a pile of coats, without a sound, after He had gotten up.

He sat back down next to Her.

Even if I couldn’t read Her tonight, I could read His eyes. Heat-seeking missiles in His pupils, locking on target, aiming directly at the globes that swung down in front of Her, as She looked straight ahead at the wall behind me.

He put his hands on Her back, and rubbed it gently.

She continued to stare at me. A chess match in my head raged on.

His voice broke the silence.

"Would you like to join us?"

I got up, grabbed my coat, and headed back to my room. Full Metal Alchemist was coming on in five minutes, and I would not miss it for the world.

[Davey Rootbeer]

(second edited version)


The breeze blew in from the half-open window, chilling me slightly. It had rained a bit earlier, and the cool midnight air rose quickly to the second floor of the dormitory buildings.

He stood there, on the bed opposite the chair, facing me.

She was sitting on the chair opposite, rocking back and forth in a trance. She was fully aware of what was going on, though. I could feel it.

And Ann was just laughing, sitting on the bed next to him, a squirming fish out of water, giggling as he delicately ran his fingers up and down her spine.


Our breaths stank of cannabis and vodka. Not 15 minutes ago, we had been standing outside, less than 20 feet from the building in the middle of the parking lot, passing the joint around in a circle. He always brought some with him when he visited. Despite being at least 10 years older than the rest of us, He visited quite often: Jay and Him were both DJ's at the club. He was teaching Jay how to mix, and Jay was teaching Him to dance.

He believed in extrasencilism, visible waves of energy coming into and out of bodies, to determine thoughts, feelings, and "vibes". An inner life stream, connecting the flow of thoughts, and a methodology of manipulating the aura of others. That kind of bullshit. He'd always try to do a “cleansing release” on the girls’ “aura” whenever we've had a job. It was always the girls we were with, not the guys, that He said were the most tense.

I've been there before, watching Him work.

First, He'd tell them that they were stressed, and massaged them gently about the shoulders, muttering to them made-up words, which changed everywhere we went. They would usually be already drunk or high at that point. And He’d already be beyond gone, with whatever the new thing was that they were passing around at that club in Newburgh. So, they'd let Him do it.

They were putty in His hands, as He reached lower, feeling their breasts and caressing the little areas in between, through and out, with the girls completely entranced by it all, giggling, laughing, mentally blank.

He told them that they were receiving His energy, His life force, and gently rubbed their breasts until you could see nipples harden through their already-skimpy outfits. At that point, their sweaters and shirts had been jettisoned to allow for “a better flow of energy.”

And the look on His face was a stone wall of seriousness the entire time.

Magic fingers, this guy had.



I never said anything from my couch. Besides, they were just nameless raver girls. Not real people, but random faces that just happened to show up at a party. I'd probably never see them again in my life anyway. And that justified it all for me.

They believed it because they wanted to.

I never found out if He really believed in all that shit, or if He was just using it as an excuse to get laid. The tone in His voice when He talked about it was so serious; He even had me, with my cold-hearted logical voice of reason, floored for a few minutes.


Ann leaned over and quieted down on the bed. She always exuded an aura of happy-go-lucky: The wanna-be candykid. She followed Jay and Him everywhere they went, to raves, nightclubs, bars, and house parties, where she would come home with countless stories about being hit on by 40+ year old men.

No wonder, I often thought to myself. Those were the type of people that frequented those kids of places. Old guys who hung around unsuspecting college kids. They were probably married, with children in school, had an aging, sagging wife, and were looking for a pretty young thing to dip their parchment in to see if they "Still got it".

It wasn't like that with Him, though. He couldn’t just go home and resume his life. He was always on the scene, and there was a blur between where one party ended, and the next began.

I knew His girlfriend quite well. Steff was in the group during my freshman year, as a senior. Used to weigh 300+ pounds, had a history of epilepsy, and brain and neurological problems. Story goes, He met her and loved her for who she was. She fell in love with Him, and they started dating. She graduated last year. Still living with her mother and father, at the age of 25. It's a long, twisting mountain road to get to her house, in the middle of the woods on the Catskills. All His mixing equipment is there, a whole room for it. Thousands of dollars worth, turntables, amps, wave detectors, speakers and a bunch of other technological junk that normal people would look twice at when shopping at the Sharper Image, and then move on the electric pencil sharpeners. She can't drive yet though, or possibly ever, with the epilepsy stuff. He drives her everywhere she wants to go.

When He comes down to visit us, at her alma mater, he does the same damn things every time. Goes to parties; gets girls drunk, and "teaches them magic".

She knows about this.

She knew the whole time, and never said a word. Even when she came down here to visit with him, He showed indications of his uncontainable desire, by offering massages and "chi transplacements" to all the girls in the group we were with. Right in front of her, too.

It was torture for her, I know it.

She never said a word to me. I could see it all right there in her face.

But she wasn't here right now. Only Ann was, lying next to Him, giggling in a half-state of consciousness on the bed, while He massaged her gently. And Her, my girlfriend, sitting on the chair, waiting for something to happen.

He spoke.

"I hope you don't mind if I take my clothes off. It helps me concentrate better and get my energy flowing."

I looked at Her. Unwavering, She denied any shock, and cheerfully agreed to His request.

She stared back at me, Her humongous brown eyes slightly dilated, glowing like marbles under the florescent lights. They were empty, blank. Glassy. I couldn't read them at all, couldn’t read Her at all. I had never seen Her eyes that cold before.

I'm a horrible boyfriend. I cancelled dates. I avoided seeing Her by locking myself in my room with schoolwork all day, and I lied to Her on a million occasions about why I refused to be with Her. "I'm not feeling well." "I have schoolwork tonight." "I didn't receive your message, because I was out tonight. I would have loved to have met up with you, but I was already out by the time you called." "I couldn't hear the door, because I was napping."

The truth of the matter is, I form the opposite mold to whatever my close relation is: If that person is shy and distant, then I am the outgoing and clingy one in the relationship. If that person is needy and high-maintenance, I make myself scarce and become cold and unapproachable. And She wasn't really all that clingy in retrospect, but in my mind, I had built her to be that way.

She and I continued to stare at each other, unblinking, as He got up and walked around the room a bit. We looked at Him, trying not to stare at anything.

"You know, it's so cool that you guys are open minded about this. Normally, people are so afraid of this, just the nude human body, baring itself. I can sense some really good aura coming from you guys."

"Would either of you care to join me?"

Her expression remained unchanged. I couldn’t tell, for anything, what was going on behind those huge eyes of Hers. She glanced over at me again, with a complete deadpan, and reached into Her hair, taking out a rubber band, sending Her long black hair cascading down Her back.

And then She took off Her shirt and bra.

And sat down next to where He had been sitting.

Ann had fallen off the bed, onto a pile of coats, without a sound, after He had gotten up.

He sat back down next to Her.

Even if I couldn’t read Her tonight, I could read His eyes. Heat-seeking missiles in His pupils, locking on target, aiming directly at the globes that swung down in front of Her, as She looked straight ahead at the wall behind me, not looking at me, but beyond me, through me.

He put his hands on Her back, and rubbed it gently.

She continued to stare through me. A chess match in my head raged on.

His voice broke the silence.

"Would you like to join us?"

I got up, grabbed my coat, and headed back to my room. Full Metal Alchemist was coming on in five minutes, and I would not miss it for the world.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You guys TOTALLY suck ass at critiquing so far. Give me something! Anything!

[Takker]

very cool. I'm surprised no one wrote anything yet. I was a bit confused about why the narrator and his girlfriend were sitting there. just killing time? odd place to do it. and why was his girlfriend so quiet and dead. was she mad at the narrator? besides that, I think it was excellent.

[KLEIN]

Is it real? It sounds real.

I have all the FMA there is on my computer. It's all good.

[Davey Rootbeer]

very cool. I'm surprised no one wrote anything yet. I was a bit confused about why the narrator and his girlfriend were sitting there. just killing time? odd place to do it. and why was his girlfriend so quiet and dead. was she mad at the narrator? besides that, I think it was excellent.


she was pissed at m---I mean the narrator, because he never displayed any affection in the relationship, because of the opposites thing mentioned before. Perhaps i should have set the scene better, it took place in Ann's room, which is why she was there at all. and all the characters were stoned and pretty drunk, too, so they were prety much just sitting around, hanging out, talking about stuff...the typical thing on a sunday night.

did anyone pick up in the carverisms? the minimilistic style i tried to go for? the reason i chose "alchemy" as a title?

[Invader Jenny]

Davey, why are you not a famous novelist right now? Because you sure sound like one. If I were a publisher, I would give you a million $ grant right now to write a book. Baby, you is gold. Solid gold. And I want to have your precious metal babies.

[Vile]

Aww. Again, beautiful. I love your style, very flowing and fresh.

Depressing as all get out, though.

[KLEIN]

she was pissed at m---I mean the narrator, because he never displayed any affection in the relationship, because of the opposites thing mentioned before. Perhaps i should have set the scene better, it took place in Ann's room, which is why she was there at all. and all the characters were stoned and pretty drunk, too, so they were prety much just sitting around, hanging out, talking about stuff...the typical thing on a sunday night.

did anyone pick up in the carverisms? the minimilistic style i tried to go for? the reason i chose "alchemy" as a title?


What? Sophistication?

I don't know. I don't think so.

[Takker]

she was pissed at m---I mean the narrator, because he never displayed any affection in the relationship, because of the opposites thing mentioned before. Perhaps i should have set the scene better, it took place in Ann's room, which is why she was there at all. and all the characters were stoned and pretty drunk, too, so they were prety much just sitting around, hanging out, talking about stuff...the typical thing on a sunday night.

did anyone pick up in the carverisms? the minimilistic style i tried to go for? the reason i chose "alchemy" as a title?
ahhh, that makes sense and I didn't really connect the alchemy thing with the writing style, but I could tell that the style you used was very sharp and to the point. I guess now that you mentioned it, I do see the significance of the title. nice one.

[Davey Rootbeer]

aaaaay. at least you guys are trying, which is a lot more than i can say for some other forums i've been to. Bonus points for ALL of you, and thank you very much for reading.


I could like...explain why i did everything like it was, but.....it'd fill my heart with glee to see someone do it before me.

c'mon, we've got some english majors on this board. Give it a whack!

[MST3Kakalina]

well, i'm the worst fake-English major ever. and i've never read a Carver story in my life. so 'scuse while i read up a bit and then get to your story.

[MST3Kakalina]

The breeze blew in from the half-open window, chilling me slightly. It had rained a bit earlier, and the cool midnight air rose quickly to the second floor of the dormitory buildings.

He stood there, on the bed opposite the chair, facing me.

She was sitting on the chair opposite, rocking back and forth in a trance. She was fully aware of what was going on, though. I could feel it.

And Ann was just laughing, sitting on the bed next to him, <s>a squirming fish out of water,</s> giggling as he delicately ran his fingers up and down her spine.

fish out of water implies not belonging. Ann seems really comfortable with everyone here, no matter if they like her or not.


Our breath<s>s</s> stank of cannabis and vodka. Not 15 minutes ago, we had been standing outside, less than 20 feet from the building in the middle of the parking lot, passing the joint around in a circle. He always brought some with him when he visited. Despite being at least 10 years older than the rest of us, He visited quite often: Jay and Him were both DJ's at the club. He was teaching Jay how to mix, and Jay was teaching Him to dance.

i don't know how necessary the bit is about Jay. it establishes why this 30 something is hanging out with college students, but Jay doesn't ever come back into the story, except in references to other times He goes out. he's not there at the moment, or if he is, you never mention him. either put him in the present situation, so there's a reason to mention him and a body of expressions/movements/other "realtime" stuff to attach to him, or just cut him out.

He believed in extrasencilism, visible waves of energy coming into and out of bodies, to determine thoughts, feelings, and "vibes". An inner life stream, connecting the flow of thoughts, and a methodology of manipulating the aura of others. That kind of bullshit. He'd always try to do a “cleansing release” on the girls’ “aura” whenever we've had a job. It was always the girls we were with, not the guys, that He said were the most tense.

I've been there before, watching Him work.

First, He'd tell them that they were stressed, <s>and</s> massag<s>ed</s>ing them gently about the shoulders, <s>muttering to them made-up words, which changed everywhere we went</s>. They would usually be already drunk or high at that point<s>. And He’d already be beyond gone,</s> with whatever the new thing was that they were passing around at that club in Newburgh. So, they'd let Him do it.

They were putty in His hands<s>,</s> as He reached lower, feeling their breasts and caressing the little areas in between, through and out, with the girls completely entranced by it all, giggling, laughing, mentally blank.

He told them that they were receiving His energy, His life force, and gently rubbed their breasts until you could see nipples harden through their already-skimpy outfits.<s> At that point, their sweaters and shirts had been jettisoned to allow for “a better flow of energy.”

And the look on His face was a stone wall of seriousness the entire time. </s>

Magic fingers, this guy had.

pretty much just editing out wordiness. the last one is a little difficult, logically, since how can hard nipples show through skimpy outfits that they aren't wearing? if you want to keep the shedding of clothes in, use the past imperfect to make it clear that by that point, the shirts would typically come off, not that they already would be off.



I never said anything from my couch. Besides, they were just nameless raver girls. Not real people, but random faces that just happened to show up at a party. I'd probably never see them again in my life anyway. <s>And that justified it all for me. </s>

They believed it because they wanted to.

I never found out if He really believed in all that shit, or if He was just using it as an excuse to get laid. The tone in His voice when He talked about it was so serious; He even had me, with my cold-hearted logical voice of reason, floored for a few minutes.


Ann leaned over and quieted down on the bed. She always exuded an aura of happy-go-lucky: The wanna-be candykid. She followed Jay and Him everywhere they went, to raves, nightclubs, bars, and house parties, where she would come home with countless stories about being hit on by <s>40+</s> <b>forty-odd</b> year old men.

maybe this is because i stay in at nights and play D&D, but what the hell is a candykid? i don't know if "happy-go-lucky" is quite the right term. it seems out of place in the diction of the story.

small technical note: always write out numbers under 100.

No wonder, I often thought to myself. <s>Those</s> <b>They</b>/<b>Those men</b> were the type of people that frequented those kids of places. Old guys who hung around unsuspecting college kids. They were probably married, with children in school, had an aging, sagging wife, and were looking for a pretty young thing to dip their parchment in to see if they "still got it".

It wasn't like that with Him, though. He couldn’t just go home and resume his life. He was always on the scene, and there was a blur between where one party ended, and the next began.

<s>I knew His girlfriend quite well. Steff was in the group during my freshman year, as a senior. Used to weigh 300+ pounds, had a history of epilepsy, and brain and neurological problems. Story goes, He met her and loved her for who she was. She fell in love with Him, and they started dating. She graduated last year. Still living with her mother and father, at the age of 25. It's a long, twisting mountain road to get to her house, in the middle of the woods on the Catskills. All His mixing equipment is there, a whole room for it. Thousands of dollars worth, turntables, amps, wave detectors, speakers and a bunch of other technological junk that normal people would look twice at when shopping at the Sharper Image, and then move on the electric pencil sharpeners. She can't drive yet though, or possibly ever, with the epilepsy stuff. He drives her everywhere she wants to go.

When He comes down to visit us, at her alma mater, he does the same damn things every time. Goes to parties; gets girls drunk, and "teaches them magic".

She knows about this.

She knew the whole time, and never said a word. Even when she came down here to visit with him, He showed indications of his uncontainable desire, by offering massages and "chi transplacements" to all the girls in the group we were with. Right in front of her, too.

It was torture for her, I know it.

She never said a word to me. I could see it all right there in her face. </s>

i don't know if you need the bit about his girlfriend. yeah, he's a sleaze. it's pretty well-established. but if she, like Jay, isn't around at this particular moment in time, then why bring her in? that adds an unnecessary character to the collection.

<s>But she wasn't here right now. Only</s> Ann was lying next to Him, giggling in a half-state of consciousness on the bed, while He massaged her gently. And <s>Her</s> <b>She</b>, my girlfriend, sitting on the chair, waiting for something to happen.

there might be a Her/Him thing you're trying to do, but her isn't technically the right word to use. also, that sentence is a fragment. there's no verbs, it waters down to "my girlfriend." either put "sitting" or "waiting" in the past tense, otherwise they're not really verbs, they're just participles.

He spoke.

"I hope you don't mind if I take my clothes off. It helps me concentrate better and get my energy flowing."

I looked at Her. Unwavering, She denied any shock, and cheerfully agreed to His request.

She stared back at me, Her humongous brown eyes slightly dilated, glowing like marbles under the florescent lights. They were empty, blank. Glassy. I couldn't read them at all, couldn’t read Her at all. I had never seen Her eyes that cold before.

I'm a horrible boyfriend. I cancelled dates. I avoided seeing Her by locking myself in my room with schoolwork all day, and I lied to Her on a million occasions about why I refused to be with Her. "I'm not feeling well." "I have schoolwork tonight." "I didn't receive your message, because I was out tonight. I would have loved to have met up with you, but I was already out by the time you called." "I couldn't hear the door, because I was napping."

<s>The truth of the matter is, I form the opposite mold to whatever my close relation is: If that person is shy and distant, then I am the outgoing and clingy one in the relationship. If that person is needy and high-maintenance, I make myself scarce and become cold and unapproachable. And She wasn't really all that clingy in retrospect, but in my mind, I had built her to be that way. </s>

last paragraph is unnecessary, in my opinion. too autobiographical (or just autobiographical-sounding) and doesn't add a whole lot to the story.

She and I continued to stare at each other, unblinking, as He got up and walked around the room a bit. We looked at Him, trying not to stare at anything.

"You know, it's so cool that you guys are open minded about this. Normally, people are so afraid of this, just the nude human body, baring itself. I can sense some really good aura coming from you guys.

"Would either of you care to join me?"

Her expression remained unchanged. I couldn’t tell, for anything, what was going on behind those huge eyes of Hers. She <s>glanced over at me again, with a complete deadpan, and</s> reached into Her hair, taking out a rubber band, sending Her long black hair cascading down Her back.

how can she glance at you again if you're both staring at each other? i don't like that sentence, i think there are too many <a href="http://owl.english.purdue.edu/handouts/grammar/g_verbals.html">participles</a>. but the point of the sentence is that she lets her hair down, and instead of the act of her hair falling being the action of the sentence, it's just her reaching into her hair. i would change it to this:

<i>Reaching into her hair, she took out the rubber band, sending Her long black hair cascading down Her back.</i>

you see the difference?

And then She took off Her shirt and bra.

And sat down next to where He had been sitting.

<b>Ann had fallen off the bed, onto a pile of coats, without a sound, after He had gotten up. </b>

He sat back down next to Her.

the bolded sentence is out of place to me, i'd like it better if it were put right when it happened in the story

Even if I couldn’t read Her tonight, I could read His eyes. Heat-seeking missiles in His pupils, locking on target, aiming directly at the globes that swung down in front of Her, as She looked straight ahead at the wall behind me, not looking at me, but beyond me, through me.

He put his hands on Her back, and rubbed it gently.

She continued to stare through me. A chess match in my head raged on.

His voice broke the silence.

"Would you like to join us?"

I got up, grabbed my coat, and headed back to my room. Full Metal Alchemist was coming on in five minutes, and I would not miss it for the world.

aside from those nit picky things, i can't think of anything to say overall. i kind of have a hard time passing value judgments on the overall plot of anything unless there's something really bothering me about it. i like your style, but i always feel sort of awkward commenting on my friends' fiction and poetry writing.

having only read one Raymond Carver story, i don't understand why you called it Alchemy. unless you were referring to the substance use of the characters before it began? that seems a stretch, though.

[Davey Rootbeer]

hmm. you have a lot of good points, i was really going for a minimalism, but i added most of the stuff (that doesn't quite fit) later, when i was trying to figure out a way to explain it.

I guess i'm still stuck in a balance somewhere between styles, being descriptive and leaving just enough for interpretation, and leaving it entirely open. I'll address your responces in order.


You caught me on the beginning, i shouldn't use fish out of whater. I had been meaning to apply that the alcohol had run out, and she was literally, a "fish out of water", had nothing more to drink, but i don't think that went through as well as i had planned.


I admit to bringing up bit characters that seem pointless only as a means for explaining stuff, which is something minimalists shouldn't do. like Jay: the only reason he's mentioned is because he provides a reason for "Him" to visit the college.

I put in the Steff part because it shows another axample of His "addiction", even in front of his girlfriend, and the silent pain it causes her. I guess it's pretty much irrelivant to the story though, and just works for providing background, which isn't important for a minimalistic story. ugh, i have to remind myself that.

I would leave in the part about the explanation of why the narrator acts the way he does in a relationship, though. It makes the ending a lot more clearer. perhaps i'll tone it down a bit, to a sentance or two.

and the rest is basic structure and order corrections, both of which are improvements.



I really wish someone'd do an analysis of the characters, tropes, techniques, and interpretations i used, but grammar and structure improvement is always a plus.


Thanks muchly! I'm going to re-write it in a day or so, give myself a bit of time to think about re-arraigning it.

[lepat silec]

We can post stories in this forum?

Holy shit. It's time for my writers craft to get in action.

[Polly Lithium]

Wow man.
You have MAD writing skillz, yo!

I don't think I can offer much in terms of constructive advice or literary criticism. Just, wow.

[Takker]

well, lemme try. granted, this might be a load of bullshit, but I shall try and analyze.

there's very strong themes of perversion and how easilly swayed the human mind is from that perversion. the loss of innocence and all that. I suppose you can relate his "magic fingers" to what he was actually doing with said fingers. perverse acts. so maybe what someone thinks is innocent and fun like magic, really has a dark undertone to it. yeah, that's mostly what I can get out of it. good enough for you Davey?

I'd write more and go into more detail, but I have "A Tale of Two Cities" essay to write.

[zaphod]

I liked it a lot; I especially enjoyed the minimalist style. I agree with most of MST3Kakalina's suggestions, though.