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La muerte de un Pulgarcito v2
Munacra
Registered User
Registered User
I've been writing this for a couple of days. First draft is done. I think I rushed the ending a bit.
Julia and Elena made love in complete misery, their legs wrapped around their melancholia and with kisses that promised abandon. They finished quickly. Afterward, they laid back to back and far apart, each on their own corner of the bed. It is over? Julia said. Yes. Said Elena. Don’t you love me? No. I don’t. Julia began to cry. But why? she asked. Let’s just go to sleep, ok? Elena said as she put her underwear back on. The space between them became a chasm. Why not? Why don’t you love me anymore? Sssh. Hush. I’m getting a headache. Please say something. I don’t know what to say. While Elena snored and Julia muffled her crying by biting into her pillow, outside, under the avocado tree, a little man no taller than a mouse, handsome and blue eyed, dressed like a prince, with white pants and a blue shirt and a red cape, faced the cat. The Little Prince drew his ivory sword and bent his knees slightly, standing on his toes. The cat licked her paw. * Julia’s latest painting was about a nude Indian girl with long braids who washed her face in mud. It was propped near the doorway for now, and like the other paintings she started and never finished, it would go on the wall by mid afternoon. The apartment smelled of charcoals, oils, and the coffee Elena made every morning before she went to work. On the windowsill, next to the dining table, lied the cold and mangled body of the little prince. His left arm was missing and his clothes were torn to shreds. Elena and Julia loomed over the little body while the cat slept on her bed. Why didn’t Cat eat all of it? Julia said. Her face was tired and her eyes red. I don’t know. What are we going to do with it? said Elena. I don’t know either. Julia stared at Elena, at her black hair, at her pretty nose and the soft curves of her lips. I’m late for work. said Elena. Put him in the freezer so it doesn’t smell, and when I get back, we’ll figure something out. I don’t want to touch it. said Julia Fine. I’ll do it. Elena picked up the corpse with her bare hands and put him inside a Ziploc bag. When are you coming back? Julia asked. Late. There’s an office party. Elena, I love you. Please talk to me right now. I already told you everything. I don’t have anything to say anymore. Just tell me you don’t love me. I don’t love you. Yes you do. Elena threw the little prince in the freezer and slammed the door as she went out. * Julia washed behind her ears and scrubbed her neck. The water was warm and the soap smelled of chamomile. Elena wouldn’t leave her head. Lately, Elena’s hands felt like claws and her words like pincers. Julia turned off the water and dried herself with a towel. She stepped in front of the mirror, grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer, and cut her hair. Long curly black strands fell at her feet and wrapped around her ankles before dissipating in the air. * With gloves on her hands, Julia sat at the dining table, and inspected the little prince. He carried with him: a bag containing golden coins and a silver locket hanging from his neck, which inside, had a single lock of his beloved’s hair. He also had a porcelain scabbard with a lion’s crest on the side, and a red flute inside a thin wooden box. Julia picked up the little ivory sword, which had failed to save the prince, and pricked him with it. He was so small and pretty, and now, he was dead and cold. When Julia and Elena started dating, six months ago, it had snowed for the first time in many years. The two met at the park and played for hours making snow castles. Julia remembered how they caught snowflakes in a cup and pretended they tasted like cranberry vodka. Their first kiss was delicious. After that day, everything had moved so fast. They rented the house, subscribed to the newspaper, and a little later, they got Cat from the animal shelter. Cat was their baby. And now, that it was all over, Julia couldn’t leave the little prince alone. She poked him again, and again, and again. * Elena carried a rose on her hand and condoms in her purse. She fumbled for her keys, and after a few attempts, opened the door. She could still feel the margaritas on her tongue, like lemonade, and Justin’s kisses on her lips, like satin. * They couldn’t sleep that night. They lay in bed fully clothed, back to back, and far apart. Is he the reason why we broke up? No. I just met him tonight. It’s nothing. But he gave you a rose. That’s your favorite flower. I don’t appreciate you giving me shit about this. I’m sorry. Stop apologizing. Ok. Just hush. Please. . . . . . . What are we going to do about the little man? You haven’t thrown him away yet? * The house smelled like old cheese and paint thinner. Julia washed dishes and scrubbed the floors and then she threw the trash and cleaned the windows. Then Julia fed Cat and played with her for a little bit. The little dead prince lay on the dining table, rotting. Julia grabbed a glass from the pantry and filled it to the brim with water from the tap. It was cold and clear, and tasted like nothing. Elena came out of the bedroom, with two suitcases, and a plastic bag with dirty laundry. Julia dropped her glass and it broke into countless pieces. I’m leaving. said Elena. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. How long? About a month. Why? I’m tired of you taking me for granted. Fuck, we barely talk, and really, we don’t have much in common anymore. It’s fucking dull and boring and all we do is baby talk. There’s just no conversation. But you were always busy or sleepy. And when we did try, all you did was baby talk. I wanted to talk about other things instead of saying I love you over and over again. Well, why? If you knew me, you’d know I need that kind of stuff. But you just said you were tired of it. I don’t have to justify myself to you. Bye. Wait. What? What’s the real reason? I’ve been who you want me to be, instead of who I am. This is me, ok. I cuss and I drink and I’m loud. This is Elena. I haven’t felt like myself for a long time. And I want someone that pays more attention to me than a shitty painting. I am tired of feeling alone. What’s his name? Justin. Elena walked toward the door, glass crunching at her feet, and left the house. The only thing that remained of her was an old stuffed bear with an aviator cap and a leather jacket, hidden in an old box in the closet. * Julia buried the little prince in a flower pot on the windowsill. The unfinished paintings on the walls were gone, and the furniture was different. The painting of the young Indian girl had sold at a local art gallery for good money. Cat purred and scratched a pillow. Next to the doorway, was a portrait of the little prince, young and handsome, with sword by his side. The portrait would go on the wall by mid afternoon. [/CODE] Hope I didn't break the story as I dug it up. I don't have the right tools right now.[CODE]Julia and Elena made love in complete misery, their legs wrapped around their melancholia and with kisses that promised abandon. They finished quickly. Afterward, they laid back to back and far apart, each on their own corner of the bed.
It is over? Julia said.
Yes. Said Elena.
Don’t you love me?
No. I don’t.
Julia began to cry. But why? she asked.
Let’s just go to sleep, ok? Elena said as she put her underwear back on. The space between them became a chasm.
Why not? Why don’t you love me anymore?
Sssh. Hush. I’m getting a headache.
Please say something.
I don’t know what to say.
While Elena snored and Julia muffled her crying by biting into her pillow, outside, under the avocado tree, a little man no taller than a mouse, handsome and blue eyed, dressed like a prince, with white pants and a blue shirt and a red cape, faced the cat. The Little Prince drew his ivory sword and bent his knees slightly, standing on his toes. The cat licked her paw.
*
Julia’s latest painting was about a nude Indian girl with long braids who washed her face in mud. It was propped near the doorway for now, and like the other paintings she started and never finished, it would go on the wall by mid afternoon. The apartment smelled of charcoals, oils, and the coffee Elena made every morning before she went to work.
On the windowsill, next to the dining table, lied the cold and mangled body of the little prince. His left arm was missing and his clothes were torn to shreds.
Elena and Julia loomed over the little body while the cat slept on her bed.
Why didn’t Cat eat all of it? Julia said. Her face was tired and her eyes red.
I don’t know. What are we going to do with it? said Elena.
I don’t know either.
Julia stared at Elena, at her black hair, at her pretty nose and the soft curves of her lips.
I’m late for work. said Elena. Put him in the freezer so it doesn’t smell, and when I get back, we’ll figure something out.
I don’t want to touch it. said Julia
Fine. I’ll do it.
Elena picked up the corpse with her bare hands and put him inside a Ziploc bag.
When are you coming back? Julia asked.
Late. There’s an office party.
Elena, I love you. Please talk to me right now.
I already told you everything. I don’t have anything to say anymore.
Just tell me you don’t love me.
I don’t love you.
Yes you do.
Elena threw the little prince in the freezer and slammed the door as she went out.
*
Julia washed behind her ears and scrubbed her neck. The water was warm and the soap smelled of chamomile. Elena wouldn’t leave her head. Lately, Elena’s hands felt like claws and her words like pincers. Julia turned off the water and dried herself with a towel. She stepped in front of the mirror, grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer, and cut her hair. Long curly black strands fell at her feet and wrapped around her ankles before dissipating in the air.
*
With gloves on her hands, Julia sat at the dining table, and inspected the little prince. He carried with him: a bag containing golden coins and a silver locket hanging from his neck, which inside, had a single lock of his beloved’s hair. He also had a porcelain scabbard with a lion’s crest on the side, and a red flute inside a thin wooden box. Julia picked up the little ivory sword, which had failed to save the prince, and pricked him with it. He was so small and pretty, and now, he was dead and cold.
When Julia and Elena started dating, six months ago, it had snowed for the first time in many years. The two met at the park and played for hours making snow castles. Julia remembered how they caught snowflakes in a cup and pretended they tasted like cranberry vodka. Their first kiss was delicious.
After that day, everything had moved so fast. They rented the house, subscribed to the newspaper, and a little later, they got Cat from the animal shelter. Cat was their baby.
And now, that it was all over, Julia couldn’t leave the little prince alone. She poked him again, and again, and again.
*
Elena carried a rose on her hand and condoms in her purse. She fumbled for her keys, and after a few attempts, opened the door. She could still feel the margaritas on her tongue, like lemonade, and Justin’s kisses on her lips, like satin.
*
They couldn’t sleep that night. They lay in bed fully clothed, back to back, and far apart.
Is he the reason why we broke up?
No. I just met him tonight. It’s nothing.
But he gave you a rose. That’s your favorite flower.
I don’t appreciate you giving me shit about this.
I’m sorry.
Stop apologizing.
Ok.
Just hush. Please.
. . .
. . .
What are we going to do about the little man?
You haven’t thrown him away yet?
*
The house smelled like old cheese and paint thinner. Julia washed dishes and scrubbed the floors and then she threw the trash and cleaned the windows. Then Julia fed Cat and played with her for a little bit. The little dead prince lay on the dining table, rotting. Julia grabbed a glass from the pantry and filled it to the brim with water from the tap. It was cold and clear, and tasted like nothing.
Elena came out of the bedroom, with two suitcases, and a plastic bag with dirty laundry. Julia dropped her glass and it broke into countless pieces.
I’m leaving. said Elena. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.
How long?
About a month.
Why?
I’m tired of you taking me for granted. Fuck, we barely talk, and really, we don’t have much in common anymore. It’s fucking dull and boring and all we do is baby talk. There’s just no conversation.
But you were always busy or sleepy. And when we did try, all you did was baby talk. I wanted to talk about other things instead of saying I love you over and over again.
Well, why? If you knew me, you’d know I need that kind of stuff.
But you just said you were tired of it.
I don’t have to justify myself to you. Bye.
Wait.
What?
What’s the real reason?
I’ve been who you want me to be, instead of who I am. This is me, ok. I cuss and I drink and I’m loud. This is Elena. I haven’t felt like myself for a long time. And I want someone that pays more attention to me than a shitty painting. I am tired of feeling alone.
What’s his name?
Justin.
Elena walked toward the door, glass crunching at her feet, and left the house. The only thing that remained of her was an old stuffed bear with an aviator cap and a leather jacket, hidden in an old box in the closet.
*
Julia buried the little prince in a flower pot on the windowsill. The unfinished paintings on the walls were gone, and the furniture was different. The painting of the young Indian girl had sold at a local art gallery for good money. Cat purred and scratched a pillow. Next to the doorway, was a portrait of the little prince, young and handsome, with sword by his side.
The portrait would go on the wall by mid afternoon.
[/CODE]
Hope I didn't break the story as I dug it up. I don't have the right tools right now.
Julia and Elena made love in complete misery, their legs wrapped around their melancholia and with kisses that promised abandon. They finished quickly. Afterward, they laid back to back and far apart, each on their own corner of the bed. It is over? Julia said. Yes. Said Elena. Don’t you love me? No. I don’t. Julia began to cry. But why? she asked. Let’s just go to sleep, ok? Elena said as she put her underwear back on. The space between them became a chasm. Why not? Why don’t you love me anymore? Sssh. Hush. I’m getting a headache. Please say something. I don’t know what to say. While Elena snored and Julia muffled her crying by biting into her pillow, outside, under the avocado tree, a little man no taller than a mouse, handsome and blue eyed, dressed like a prince, with white pants and a blue shirt and a red cape, faced the cat. The Little Prince drew his ivory sword and bent his knees slightly, standing on his toes. The cat licked her paw. * Julia’s latest painting was about a nude Indian girl with long braids who washed her face in mud. It was propped near the doorway for now, and like the other paintings she started and never finished, it would go on the wall by mid afternoon. The apartment smelled of charcoals, oils, and the coffee Elena made every morning before she went to work. On the windowsill, next to the dining table, lied the cold and mangled body of the little prince. His left arm was missing and his clothes were torn to shreds. Elena and Julia loomed over the little body while the cat slept on her bed. Why didn’t Cat eat all of it? Julia said. Her face was tired and her eyes red. I don’t know. What are we going to do with it? said Elena. I don’t know either. Julia stared at Elena, at her black hair, at her pretty nose and the soft curves of her lips. I’m late for work. said Elena. Put him in the freezer so it doesn’t smell, and when I get back, we’ll figure something out. I don’t want to touch it. said Julia Fine. I’ll do it. Elena picked up the corpse with her bare hands and put him inside a Ziploc bag. When are you coming back? Julia asked. Late. There’s an office party. Elena, I love you. Please talk to me right now. I already told you everything. I don’t have anything to say anymore. Just tell me you don’t love me. I don’t love you. Yes you do. Elena threw the little prince in the freezer and slammed the door as she went out. * Julia washed behind her ears and scrubbed her neck. The water was warm and the soap smelled of chamomile. Elena wouldn’t leave her head. Lately, Elena’s hands felt like claws and her words like pincers. Julia turned off the water and dried herself with a towel. She stepped in front of the mirror, grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer, and cut her hair. Long curly black strands fell at her feet and wrapped around her ankles before dissipating in the air. * With gloves on her hands, Julia sat at the dining table, and inspected the little prince. He carried with him: a bag containing golden coins and a silver locket hanging from his neck, which inside, had a single lock of his beloved’s hair. He also had a porcelain scabbard with a lion’s crest on the side, and a red flute inside a thin wooden box. Julia picked up the little ivory sword, which had failed to save the prince, and pricked him with it. He was so small and pretty, and now, he was dead and cold. When Julia and Elena started dating, six months ago, it had snowed for the first time in many years. The two met at the park and played for hours making snow castles. Julia remembered how they caught snowflakes in a cup and pretended they tasted like cranberry vodka. Their first kiss was delicious. After that day, everything had moved so fast. They rented the house, subscribed to the newspaper, and a little later, they got Cat from the animal shelter. Cat was their baby. And now, that it was all over, Julia couldn’t leave the little prince alone. She poked him again, and again, and again. * Elena carried a rose on her hand and condoms in her purse. She fumbled for her keys, and after a few attempts, opened the door. She could still feel the margaritas on her tongue, like lemonade, and Justin’s kisses on her lips, like satin. * They couldn’t sleep that night. They lay in bed fully clothed, back to back, and far apart. Is he the reason why we broke up? No. I just met him tonight. It’s nothing. But he gave you a rose. That’s your favorite flower. I don’t appreciate you giving me shit about this. I’m sorry. Stop apologizing. Ok. Just hush. Please. . . . . . . What are we going to do about the little man? You haven’t thrown him away yet? * The house smelled like old cheese and paint thinner. Julia washed dishes and scrubbed the floors and then she threw the trash and cleaned the windows. Then Julia fed Cat and played with her for a little bit. The little dead prince lay on the dining table, rotting. Julia grabbed a glass from the pantry and filled it to the brim with water from the tap. It was cold and clear, and tasted like nothing. Elena came out of the bedroom, with two suitcases, and a plastic bag with dirty laundry. Julia dropped her glass and it broke into countless pieces. I’m leaving. said Elena. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. How long? About a month. Why? I’m tired of you taking me for granted. Fuck, we barely talk, and really, we don’t have much in common anymore. It’s fucking dull and boring and all we do is baby talk. There’s just no conversation. But you were always busy or sleepy. And when we did try, all you did was baby talk. I wanted to talk about other things instead of saying I love you over and over again. Well, why? If you knew me, you’d know I need that kind of stuff. But you just said you were tired of it. I don’t have to justify myself to you. Bye. Wait. What? What’s the real reason? I’ve been who you want me to be, instead of who I am. This is me, ok. I cuss and I drink and I’m loud. This is Elena. I haven’t felt like myself for a long time. And I want someone that pays more attention to me than a shitty painting. I am tired of feeling alone. What’s his name? Justin. Elena walked toward the door, glass crunching at her feet, and left the house. The only thing that remained of her was an old stuffed bear with an aviator cap and a leather jacket, hidden in an old box in the closet. * Julia buried the little prince in a flower pot on the windowsill. The unfinished paintings on the walls were gone, and the furniture was different. The painting of the young Indian girl had sold at a local art gallery for good money. Cat purred and scratched a pillow. Next to the doorway, was a portrait of the little prince, young and handsome, with sword by his side. The portrait would go on the wall by mid afternoon. [/CODE] Hope I didn't break the story as I dug it up. I don't have the right tools right now.[CODE]Julia and Elena made love in complete misery, their legs wrapped around their melancholia and with kisses that promised abandon. They finished quickly. Afterward, they laid back to back and far apart, each on their own corner of the bed.
It is over? Julia said.
Yes. Said Elena.
Don’t you love me?
No. I don’t.
Julia began to cry. But why? she asked.
Let’s just go to sleep, ok? Elena said as she put her underwear back on. The space between them became a chasm.
Why not? Why don’t you love me anymore?
Sssh. Hush. I’m getting a headache.
Please say something.
I don’t know what to say.
While Elena snored and Julia muffled her crying by biting into her pillow, outside, under the avocado tree, a little man no taller than a mouse, handsome and blue eyed, dressed like a prince, with white pants and a blue shirt and a red cape, faced the cat. The Little Prince drew his ivory sword and bent his knees slightly, standing on his toes. The cat licked her paw.
*
Julia’s latest painting was about a nude Indian girl with long braids who washed her face in mud. It was propped near the doorway for now, and like the other paintings she started and never finished, it would go on the wall by mid afternoon. The apartment smelled of charcoals, oils, and the coffee Elena made every morning before she went to work.
On the windowsill, next to the dining table, lied the cold and mangled body of the little prince. His left arm was missing and his clothes were torn to shreds.
Elena and Julia loomed over the little body while the cat slept on her bed.
Why didn’t Cat eat all of it? Julia said. Her face was tired and her eyes red.
I don’t know. What are we going to do with it? said Elena.
I don’t know either.
Julia stared at Elena, at her black hair, at her pretty nose and the soft curves of her lips.
I’m late for work. said Elena. Put him in the freezer so it doesn’t smell, and when I get back, we’ll figure something out.
I don’t want to touch it. said Julia
Fine. I’ll do it.
Elena picked up the corpse with her bare hands and put him inside a Ziploc bag.
When are you coming back? Julia asked.
Late. There’s an office party.
Elena, I love you. Please talk to me right now.
I already told you everything. I don’t have anything to say anymore.
Just tell me you don’t love me.
I don’t love you.
Yes you do.
Elena threw the little prince in the freezer and slammed the door as she went out.
*
Julia washed behind her ears and scrubbed her neck. The water was warm and the soap smelled of chamomile. Elena wouldn’t leave her head. Lately, Elena’s hands felt like claws and her words like pincers. Julia turned off the water and dried herself with a towel. She stepped in front of the mirror, grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer, and cut her hair. Long curly black strands fell at her feet and wrapped around her ankles before dissipating in the air.
*
With gloves on her hands, Julia sat at the dining table, and inspected the little prince. He carried with him: a bag containing golden coins and a silver locket hanging from his neck, which inside, had a single lock of his beloved’s hair. He also had a porcelain scabbard with a lion’s crest on the side, and a red flute inside a thin wooden box. Julia picked up the little ivory sword, which had failed to save the prince, and pricked him with it. He was so small and pretty, and now, he was dead and cold.
When Julia and Elena started dating, six months ago, it had snowed for the first time in many years. The two met at the park and played for hours making snow castles. Julia remembered how they caught snowflakes in a cup and pretended they tasted like cranberry vodka. Their first kiss was delicious.
After that day, everything had moved so fast. They rented the house, subscribed to the newspaper, and a little later, they got Cat from the animal shelter. Cat was their baby.
And now, that it was all over, Julia couldn’t leave the little prince alone. She poked him again, and again, and again.
*
Elena carried a rose on her hand and condoms in her purse. She fumbled for her keys, and after a few attempts, opened the door. She could still feel the margaritas on her tongue, like lemonade, and Justin’s kisses on her lips, like satin.
*
They couldn’t sleep that night. They lay in bed fully clothed, back to back, and far apart.
Is he the reason why we broke up?
No. I just met him tonight. It’s nothing.
But he gave you a rose. That’s your favorite flower.
I don’t appreciate you giving me shit about this.
I’m sorry.
Stop apologizing.
Ok.
Just hush. Please.
. . .
. . .
What are we going to do about the little man?
You haven’t thrown him away yet?
*
The house smelled like old cheese and paint thinner. Julia washed dishes and scrubbed the floors and then she threw the trash and cleaned the windows. Then Julia fed Cat and played with her for a little bit. The little dead prince lay on the dining table, rotting. Julia grabbed a glass from the pantry and filled it to the brim with water from the tap. It was cold and clear, and tasted like nothing.
Elena came out of the bedroom, with two suitcases, and a plastic bag with dirty laundry. Julia dropped her glass and it broke into countless pieces.
I’m leaving. said Elena. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.
How long?
About a month.
Why?
I’m tired of you taking me for granted. Fuck, we barely talk, and really, we don’t have much in common anymore. It’s fucking dull and boring and all we do is baby talk. There’s just no conversation.
But you were always busy or sleepy. And when we did try, all you did was baby talk. I wanted to talk about other things instead of saying I love you over and over again.
Well, why? If you knew me, you’d know I need that kind of stuff.
But you just said you were tired of it.
I don’t have to justify myself to you. Bye.
Wait.
What?
What’s the real reason?
I’ve been who you want me to be, instead of who I am. This is me, ok. I cuss and I drink and I’m loud. This is Elena. I haven’t felt like myself for a long time. And I want someone that pays more attention to me than a shitty painting. I am tired of feeling alone.
What’s his name?
Justin.
Elena walked toward the door, glass crunching at her feet, and left the house. The only thing that remained of her was an old stuffed bear with an aviator cap and a leather jacket, hidden in an old box in the closet.
*
Julia buried the little prince in a flower pot on the windowsill. The unfinished paintings on the walls were gone, and the furniture was different. The painting of the young Indian girl had sold at a local art gallery for good money. Cat purred and scratched a pillow. Next to the doorway, was a portrait of the little prince, young and handsome, with sword by his side.
The portrait would go on the wall by mid afternoon.
[/CODE]
Hope I didn't break the story as I dug it up. I don't have the right tools right now.
Munacra on
Posts
I think it should be "lay". Also, the description of the little man's state makes it hard to believe that his possessions would have remained on his person. You might instead describe his broken neck which is probably how Cat would have killed him.
The first comma doesn't feel right.
There's nothing I would change about the plot or pacing. It was solid story.
Why did you leave out quotation marks? I think it served to make the story feel a little more longing, like the characters didn't want to end their sentences. This made it a little tricky to tell how the dialogue was going, though, since it was paired with a lack of "he said, she said." It was sometimes tough to tell who was speaking, particularly in the final conversation.
For this bit, I would drop "right now" and "anymore." I think those lines would have a more impact if the characters didn't state that, yes, they were talking about the present.
I agree with Grid's recommendation's, too. Other than that, I didn't catch any technical mistakes or stylistic things that rubbed me the wrong way. It was a good story.
I'm not sure what the overall goal of this piece is. It's lesbian breakup fiction with a magic realism element that doesn't seem to add much beyond keeping it from selling in a large literary magazine. I get that the dead prince symbolizes the relationship on some level, and that putting him on the wall where the unfinished things go is a sign of moving on or giving up, but I don't get enough explanation to really feel that on anything beyond an obscure abstract level, and again, what's the point of this being a prince? This could have been a pretty dead mouse or squirrel or something and still carried the same symbolism.
You say that she doesn't finish anything, but I don't understand why unfinished things go on the walls. It strikes me as a false note -- all the semi-pro artists I know keep their unfinished stuff elsewhere. They don't put it up on the wall, and I don't know what I'm meant to get out of it. I'm not even sure if the old stuff was finished or sold, given that the Indian woman piece appears to have sold... at which point I don't have enough evidence from the story to say whether all the pieces were unfinished except that one, or if instead we've been lied to and all the pieces were actually finished.
The simplicity of the voice works well, and once you hone out the elements that are vague in bad ways instead of thought-provoking ways, and figure out what the hell the prince is supposed to be doing, I think you should send it somewhere.
Julia cared little about the little man because she sees herself as a realist. What good is a little prince, not made for this world?
Likewise their relationship did not have a place in this world. It lacked the scope necessary to survive. Elena was in love with the aesthetics of the relationship, the empty words, the empty sex, though I get the feeling she would soon come to be relieved that it was over. Just as she was able to bury the little prince, she was able to bury Julia.
Perhaps the paintings were never finished as a work of art never seems finished to the artist. Elena approached everything as a work in progress, Julia wanted something more concrete. The two women have philosophical differences, and despite all the aesthetics, the facade, it would be very difficult to make something work with that philosophical conflict.
Julia was attracted to Elena's artisticness, but in the end she wanted something more real. Less like the little prince and more like... well who knows how this Justin thing is going to work out.
Elena is the artist who bears her soul and sees things differently than most. She sees the use in useless things. She is not invulnerable but she is willing to get hurt as she works toward perfection. She will never achieve it and she will die disappointed.
Julia is the critic, who does not create, but is forever seeking perfection. Her quest is a grail quest. She will never be happy.
I've been reading Blood Meridian and thought I'd try it out the technique and see what effect it had on the story. I like your interpretation of what it made you feel. I agree that I need to further refine the dialogue for clarity.
The title is super cliche, so I wrote it in Spanish to make it interesting and literary. This is not a perfect story, far from it, but I feel it has a lot of room for improvement.
I really like Muncies interpretation of the little prince and the story.
Here's some questions. Did the prince come out of left field? does it work in the story? What do you think he means?
EDIT: Also, just give it an English title, you pretentious ass.
These are former lovers going through the motions and Julia is crushed by this, but it’s not coming across in the dialogue, here or throughout the piece. Neither of these women have a distinct voice. I don't feel them at all.
Also, don’t TELL me the space between them became a chasm, SHOW it to me. Show it to me in their mannerisms and speech. Show me these are real human beings with hurts and passions and pains. This sentence falls all over itself. When I have to pause to decode how a sentence is supposed to read, you’ve taken me out of the story.
Otherwise, I like the writing as far as the prose goes. It’s sparse without being plain. Good sense of what details to include. Your descriptions of mundane tasks give the sense of two distant women living in their own worlds. They live in the same house but are worlds apart. That all works. You capture the mood there.
It’s their interactions that throw me. Neither has a distinctive voice. These are two separate women, right? Because the dialogue is all a samey, lifeless blur. No passion and no emotion. It’s hard for me to give much thought to the prince when you haven’t even gotten me to know and care about these characters.
Who or what is the prince?
Doesn’t matter until I know who and what Julia and Elena are. This exchange is clunky and awkward.
If your whole piece was an exercise in stylistic experimentation, no sweat, but the dialogue feels at odds with the more natural feel of the rest of the piece.
This story is an interesting mix of relationship tale and magical realism. I like the elements you put in play and the basic idea, baffling though it may be, is solid. You've given yourself room to play with symbolism and to have elements of the story comment on one another.
But you've got to make me believe in these characters.
Yes. And yes.
I think you can drop 'misery' from the first sentence. It's pretty obvious the sex making isn't happy.
I don't understand the purpose of the little prince, but that could just be me. There are a few places where you could get rid of a word or two, but I won't nitpick. This was too good for that.
The story itself largely remained the same, as well as stylistic technique. Thanks to Zsetrek most of all for discussing the inner workings of the story, and to squee for being squee.
I couldn't see how to make their interactions any more believable. I could use some help on that.
e - How's this instead of quotation marks?
Julia and Elena made love in complete misery, their legs wrapped around their melancholia and with kisses that promised abandon. They finished quickly. Afterward, they laid back to back and far apart, each on their own corner of the bed. Is it really over? said Julia. Her voice soft and hoarse and cashmere. Yes. said Elena. Don’t you love me? No. I don’t. Julia began to cry. But why? she asked. Let’s just go to sleep, ok? Elena said as she put her underwear back on. The space between them became a chasm. Why not? Why don’t you love me anymore? Sssh. Hush. I’m getting a headache. Please say something. There’s nothing else to say. While Elena snored and Julia muffled her crying by biting into her pillow, outside, under the avocado tree, a little man no taller than a mouse - handsome and blue eyed, dressed like a prince, with white pants and a blue shirt and a red cape - faced the cat. The Little Prince drew his ivory sword and bent his knees slightly, standing on his toes. The cat licked her paw. * Julia’s latest painting was of a nude Indian girl with long braids who washed her face in mud. It was propped near the doorway for now, and like the other paintings she started and never finished, it would go on the wall by mid afternoon. The apartment smelled of charcoals, oils, and the coffee Elena made every morning before she went to work. On the windowsill, next to the dining table, lay the cold and mangled corpse of the little prince. His neck was broken and his clothes were torn to shreds. Elena and Julia loomed over the little body while the cat slept on her bed. Why didn’t Kat eat all of it? Julia said. Her eyes were tired and red. I don’t know. What are we going to do with it? said Elena. I don’t know either. Julia stared at Elena, at her black hair, at her pretty nose and the soft curves of her lips. At her crooked hair and the birthmark on her cheek. I’m just going to throw it away. said Elena Wait. Don’t. said Julia I’m late for work. What do you want to do with it? Elena stood up and grabbed her keys. I don’t want to touch it. said Julia Fine. I’ll do it. said Elena. Elena picked up the corpse with her bare hands and put him inside a Ziploc bag. When are you coming back? Julia asked. Late. There’s an office party. Elena, I love you. Please talk to me. I don’t know what to say. Just tell me you don’t love me. I don’t love you. Yes you do. Elena slammed the door as she went out. Her shoes clacked all the way to the elevator. When Julia couldn’t bear thinking anymore, she picked up the Ziploc bag with the little prince in it and put it in the freezer. * Julia washed behind her ears and scrubbed her neck. The water was warm and the soap smelled of chamomile. Lately, Elena’s hands felt like claws and her words like pincers. Julia turned off the water and dried herself with a towel. She stepped in front of the mirror, grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer, and cut her hair. Long curly black strands fell at her feet and wrapped around her ankles before dissipating in the air. * With gloves on her hands, Julia sat at the dining table, and inspected the little prince. He carried with him: a bag containing golden coins and a silver locket hanging from his neck, which inside, had a single lock of a woman’s hair. He also had a porcelain scabbard with a lion’s crest on the side, and a red flute inside a thin wooden box. Julia picked up the little ivory sword, which had failed to save the prince, and pricked him with it. He was so small and pretty, and now, he was dead and cold. When Julia and Elena started dating, six months ago, it had snowed for the first time in many years. The two met at the park and played for hours making snow castles. Julia remembered how they caught snowflakes in a cup and pretended they tasted like cranberry vodka. Their first kiss was delicious. After that day, everything had moved so fast. They rented an apartment, subscribed to the newspaper, and a little later, they got Kat from the animal shelter. Kat was their baby. And now that it was all over, Julia couldn’t leave the little prince alone. She poked him again, and again, and again. * Elena carried a rose on her hand and condoms in her purse. She fumbled for her keys, and after a few attempts, opened the door. She could still feel the margaritas on her tongue, like satin, and Justin’s kisses on her lips, like sugar. * They couldn’t sleep that night and lay in bed fully clothed, back to back, and far apart. Is he the reason why we broke up? No. I just met him tonight. It’s nothing. But he gave you a rose. That’s your favorite flower. I don’t appreciate you giving me shit about this. I’m sorry. Stop apologizing. Ok. Just hush. Please. . . . . . . What are we going to do about the little man? You haven’t thrown him away yet? * The apartment smelled like old cheese and paint thinner. Julia washed dishes and scrubbed the floors and then she threw the trash out and cleaned the windows. Then Julia fed Kat and played with her for a while. The little dead prince lay on the dining table, rotting. Julia grabbed a glass from the pantry and filled it to the brim with water from the tap. It was cold and clear, and tasted like nothing. Elena came out of the bedroom, with two suitcases and a plastic bag with dirty laundry. Julia dropped her glass and it broke into countless pieces. I’m leaving. said Elena. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. How long? said Julia. About a month. Why? I’m tired of you taking me for granted. Fuck, we barely talk anymore, and really, we don’t have much in common. It’s fucking dull and boring and all we do is baby talk. There’s just no conversation. But you were always busy or sleepy. And when we did try, all you did was baby talk. I wanted to talk about other things instead of saying I love you over -and over again. Well, why? If you knew me, you’d know I need that kind of stuff. But you just said you were tired of it. I don’t have to justify myself to you. Bye. Wait. What? What’s the real reason? I’ve been who you want me to be, instead of who I am. I haven’t felt like myself for a long time and I want someone that pays more attention to me than a shitty painting. I am tired of feeling alone. What’s his name? Justin. Elena walked toward the door, glass crunching at her feet, and left the apartment. The only thing that remained of her was an old stuffed bear with an aviator cap and a leather jacket hidden in an old box in the closet. * Julia buried the little prince in a flower pot on the windowsill. The unfinished paintings on the walls were gone, and the furniture was new. The painting of the young Indian girl had sold at a local art gallery for good money. Kat purred and scratched a pillow. Next to the doorway was a portrait of the little prince, young and handsome, with sword by his side. The portrait would go on the wall by mid afternoon. [/CODE][CODE]
Julia and Elena made love in complete misery, their legs wrapped around their melancholia and with kisses that promised abandon. They finished quickly. Afterward, they laid back to back and far apart, each on their own corner of the bed.
Is it really over? said Julia. Her voice soft and hoarse and cashmere.
Yes. said Elena.
Don’t you love me?
No. I don’t.
Julia began to cry. But why? she asked.
Let’s just go to sleep, ok? Elena said as she put her underwear back on. The space between them became a chasm.
Why not? Why don’t you love me anymore?
Sssh. Hush. I’m getting a headache.
Please say something.
There’s nothing else to say.
While Elena snored and Julia muffled her crying by biting into her pillow, outside, under the avocado tree, a little man no taller than a mouse - handsome and blue eyed, dressed like a prince, with white pants and a blue shirt and a red cape - faced the cat. The Little Prince drew his ivory sword and bent his knees slightly, standing on his toes. The cat licked her paw.
*
Julia’s latest painting was of a nude Indian girl with long braids who washed her face in mud. It was propped near the doorway for now, and like the other paintings she started and never finished, it would go on the wall by mid afternoon. The apartment smelled of charcoals, oils, and the coffee Elena made every morning before she went to work.
On the windowsill, next to the dining table, lay the cold and mangled corpse of the little prince. His neck was broken and his clothes were torn to shreds.
Elena and Julia loomed over the little body while the cat slept on her bed.
Why didn’t Kat eat all of it? Julia said. Her eyes were tired and red.
I don’t know. What are we going to do with it? said Elena.
I don’t know either.
Julia stared at Elena, at her black hair, at her pretty nose and the soft curves of her lips. At her crooked hair and the birthmark on her cheek.
I’m just going to throw it away. said Elena
Wait. Don’t. said Julia
I’m late for work. What do you want to do with it?
Elena stood up and grabbed her keys.
I don’t want to touch it. said Julia
Fine. I’ll do it. said Elena.
Elena picked up the corpse with her bare hands and put him inside a Ziploc bag.
When are you coming back? Julia asked.
Late. There’s an office party.
Elena, I love you. Please talk to me.
I don’t know what to say.
Just tell me you don’t love me.
I don’t love you.
Yes you do.
Elena slammed the door as she went out. Her shoes clacked all the way to the elevator. When Julia couldn’t bear thinking anymore, she picked up the Ziploc bag with the little prince in it and put it in the freezer.
*
Julia washed behind her ears and scrubbed her neck. The water was warm and the soap smelled of chamomile. Lately, Elena’s hands felt like claws and her words like pincers. Julia turned off the water and dried herself with a towel. She stepped in front of the mirror, grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer, and cut her hair. Long curly black strands fell at her feet and wrapped around her ankles before dissipating in the air.
*
With gloves on her hands, Julia sat at the dining table, and inspected the little prince. He carried with him: a bag containing golden coins and a silver locket hanging from his neck, which inside, had a single lock of a woman’s hair. He also had a porcelain scabbard with a lion’s crest on the side, and a red flute inside a thin wooden box. Julia picked up the little ivory sword, which had failed to save the prince, and pricked him with it. He was so small and pretty, and now, he was dead and cold.
When Julia and Elena started dating, six months ago, it had snowed for the first time in many years. The two met at the park and played for hours making snow castles. Julia remembered how they caught snowflakes in a cup and pretended they tasted like cranberry vodka. Their first kiss was delicious.
After that day, everything had moved so fast. They rented an apartment, subscribed to the newspaper, and a little later, they got Kat from the animal shelter. Kat was their baby.
And now that it was all over, Julia couldn’t leave the little prince alone. She poked him again, and again, and again.
*
Elena carried a rose on her hand and condoms in her purse. She fumbled for her keys, and after a few attempts, opened the door. She could still feel the margaritas on her tongue, like satin, and Justin’s kisses on her lips, like sugar.
*
They couldn’t sleep that night and lay in bed fully clothed, back to back, and far apart.
Is he the reason why we broke up?
No. I just met him tonight. It’s nothing.
But he gave you a rose. That’s your favorite flower.
I don’t appreciate you giving me shit about this.
I’m sorry.
Stop apologizing.
Ok.
Just hush. Please.
. . .
. . .
What are we going to do about the little man?
You haven’t thrown him away yet?
*
The apartment smelled like old cheese and paint thinner. Julia washed dishes and scrubbed the floors and then she threw the trash out and cleaned the windows. Then Julia fed Kat and played with her for a while. The little dead prince lay on the dining table, rotting. Julia grabbed a glass from the pantry and filled it to the brim with water from the tap. It was cold and clear, and tasted like nothing.
Elena came out of the bedroom, with two suitcases and a plastic bag with dirty laundry. Julia dropped her glass and it broke into countless pieces.
I’m leaving. said Elena. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.
How long? said Julia.
About a month.
Why?
I’m tired of you taking me for granted. Fuck, we barely talk anymore, and really, we don’t have much in common. It’s fucking dull and boring and all we do is baby talk. There’s just no conversation.
But you were always busy or sleepy. And when we did try, all you did was baby talk. I wanted to talk about other things instead of saying I love you over -and over again.
Well, why? If you knew me, you’d know I need that kind of stuff.
But you just said you were tired of it.
I don’t have to justify myself to you. Bye.
Wait.
What?
What’s the real reason?
I’ve been who you want me to be, instead of who I am. I haven’t felt like myself for a long time and I want someone that pays more attention to me than a shitty painting. I am tired of feeling alone.
What’s his name?
Justin.
Elena walked toward the door, glass crunching at her feet, and left the apartment. The only thing that remained of her was an old stuffed bear with an aviator cap and a leather jacket hidden in an old box in the closet.
*
Julia buried the little prince in a flower pot on the windowsill. The unfinished paintings on the walls were gone, and the furniture was new. The painting of the young Indian girl had sold at a local art gallery for good money. Kat purred and scratched a pillow. Next to the doorway was a portrait of the little prince, young and handsome, with sword by his side. The portrait would go on the wall by mid afternoon.
[/CODE]
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edit:Spacing fixed that said thing for me.
I get the vague sensation of a minimalist piano piece when reading this, btw.
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Apart from both having a fairly similar voice, they're being really direct. This is one example. I think very few people have relationships - especially collapsing ones - where the communication is not only so honest but so straight to the point. Instead of asking "is he the reason why we broke up?" she might ask something like "so who is this guy?" or "so do you like him?" - questions with the same motivation, but ones that need a lot less guts to ask.
"That's your favorite flower" is silly. I'm pretty sure they both know that, why would they need to establish it again? You need to find another way to imply it - if it isn't implied already, anyway.
Likewise "I don't appreciate you giving me shit about this" is a really awkward way of announcing her emotions to the reader. I don't think the very deliberate tone of both the characters' speech works well with this sudden expletive. Actually, I think that's what bothers me about the dialogue: everything they say is so controlled and deliberate that it loses all emotion. They're like actors who already know what the others' response needs to be, so they just say something that will elicit that response.
What the dialogue needs is the same subtlety as the other motifs in this story. Loosen up the style a bit when you're writing the dialogue. I can see what you're going for, and it does work on occasion, but I don't think it works here.
The only other thing I would suggest with regards to dialogue, is maybe changing one of their names? When I first read this a while ago, I was really confused since their names are quite similar. El-e-na, Ju-li-a. Same syllables, an l in the middle, an a to end it. It jumbled me up a lot. It was a bit easier the second time round, but it might be worth considering.
This is a cliche.
I think that makes this part flow a lot better. It needs to be really clear, since it's so important. You might even think about moving the description of the little man to another, separate sentence.
I think that's all I had! This is a really charming story, with some really beautiful writing in it. But for it to realise its potential and its emotional impact the characters need to be stronger, so the dialogue needs to be stronger.
> It is over? Julia said.
> Yes. Said Elena.
> Don’t you love me?
> No. I don’t.
corny
>outside, under the avocado tree, a little man no taller than a mouse, handsome and blue eyed, dressed like a prince, with white pants and a blue shirt and a red cape, faced the cat. The Little Prince drew his ivory sword and bent his knees slightly, standing on his toes. The cat licked her paw.
awesome!
Overall I really agree with what Concept said about the characters being wooden and just expositing details about their relationship without a lot of personal details. I'm not sure the dialogue is unrealistic---it reminds me of something in the book Time's Arrow, where the narrator points out that a certain kind of lovers' quarrel plays the same way forwards and backwards, because the lovers just say things without really responding to each other. It's hard for me to become invested in the characters by reading about that kind of quarrel. The little man was awesome and refreshing when he appeared, but after he showed up the women continued to drive the tone of the story, so I didn't end up liking it much more overall. I might have liked it better if the story became about the little man, with the couple breaking up playing a secondary role (but perhaps with the sense that the little man was nonetheless a symbol for the couple, and not the other way around).
I don't understand this. How do you promise abandon? Threaten abandon would make sense to me.
"each" is singular and "their" is plural. it should be "each on her own corner of the bed"
I think the dialogue is bad. No one talks like this. Please make them sound like people.
I hate that this is the one detail you choose to give us here. It sets the story up as a cheap lesbo sex romp (which it isn't). It also confirms to me that these characters are flat stand ins in what is otherwise a very good story. Please distinguish the characters from one another and give them some life.
What concept said.
I love this sentence.
I don't like that you hit us over the head and name "The Little Prince" right after that previous (and very obvious) description. Please refrain from saying "the little prince" until the next section. I would take out all of the bold and just end this first part on "The cat licked her paw". It would make a nice contrast to the previous (much longer) sentence.
Wonderful.
This sentence is awkwardly structured. Please change it to "... silver locket hanging from his neck, which had a lock of woman's hair inside."
"He was once so small and pretty..." ?
"... pays more attention to me than to a shitty painting." Without the extra "to" it seems like it is the shitty painting that is or is not paying attention.
I really like the little prince symbol. It's terribly obvious, but sweet and effective at the same time. The person who compared this to a minimalist piano piece is dead on. Unfortunately the story really falls flat for me with the dialogue and the characters. They lack subtlety; they come off as wooden and forgettable.
Suggestion: Maybe ONE character being so blunt and cold -- maybe Elena -- and the other more emotional and rambling. Elena gets right to the point because she just doesn't care anymore, she's going through the motions and doesn't care that Julia knows. Julia, on the other hand, is still invested in this relationship. She cares. When she talks it's raw emotion spilling out. She's baring her heart.
But when people bare their heart, it's rarely done in a matter of fact way. It zigs and zags and pleads and runs in circles.
So try leaving Elena untouched, but put yourself into Julia's head and really let her loose. I think it will bring some needed contrast between these two characters.
I do want to throw a vote in for sticking with the "no quotation marks" thing. That, I think, is an effective stylistic decision here. Keep it.
We turned into human beings, and she was beautiful and tall. She was Morgana, Arthur's sister, and magician. And if I kissed her on the lips, I would be trapped forever.
We made love. I never kissed her. When she took off her pants, I asked her if what they hid counted as lips.
I'm a terrible person.
In all honesty, though, I can understand why you'd want to not go there right now. That shit ain't easy, and it's pretty obvious there is some pain to convey in the story.
When you're ready to go there, I expect it will be pretty powerful. Please repost when you do.