What follows is a snipet from a short story I am working on, "Welcome to Vegas." Let me know what you think....
* * * * * * *
Now look at me.
I had a future on Tuesday.
It's Friday and I'm a joke.
Now I have darkness and refuse.
Rotting garbage, that smell, that’s how I know I'm in trouble.
When you're in trouble you can smell it.
The smell of Carter's Heineken foul breath.
When I was a kid the acid smell, dreck of my father's tobacco spittle stuck to my face.
I know my life has taken a turn for the worse, the stench.
But the smell is a distraction, making the cold not so cold.
I can only feel one thing at a time, so the smell of the garbage battles back the cascade of my newest failure.
The cold, the hunger and the loss, they’re all tucked in, somewhere behind the stink.
4 comments:
Emotional hiccups is my 1st impression. I could feel his angst, his revulsion, but my brain told me he had hiccups. As I was reading, the voice in my head had hiccups; not quite drunk hiccups but stilted just the same...
How utterly bleak, Raymond. Great job!!
I can almost smell it Raymond, but I'm not saying your writing stinks. Keep it up! JB
Hey Raymond,
Too much backstory. Not enough motivation.
Andy
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