Password Protected

Our year in Tulsa, Oklahoma was my senior year of high school. We'd moved there to be near the Southwestern Regional Medical Center for my brother's treatments, and Mama decided I could try taking classes online instead of joining a new school. She never figured out that Thomas and I would chat with each other over the internet during the hours I was supposed to be studying in the public library, and he was supposed to be resting. I wasn't highly motivated to complete my studies.

One night Thomas and I were watching an episode of Glee. It was in its first season that summer, and I was debating whether or not I liked it so I pressured him into watching it with me to get his opinion. Halfway through the second song, he lost interest. “Did you finish that essay yet?” he asked.

“What essay?”

“Your history essay. Isn't it due tomorrow?”

I shrugged and turned the volume up, but he became angry as suddenly as the summer showers we used to have in Florida. “Julia, why haven't you been doing your homework? Mom's worried that you're not going to graduate.”

“Look, you get to take time off while you're getting better so don't even try to lecture me about my schoolwork, kid.” My sharp words glanced off of him like the nerf darts he used to shoot at me when we played cops and robbers.

“I wish I could keep up. I'm going to be at least a year behind, Jules. At least.”

I'd rolled my eyes. “Exactly, so it's not very fair of me to continue without you, right?”

He punched me in the arm. “It's not very fair of you to use me as an excuse for your laziness.”

“It's not very fair that you're sick.” I hate to admit it now, but I full-on pouted, arms crossed, chin tucked in an effort to hide my tears from him. I'd sworn to myself that I was going to be tough for him, but as usual my kid brother had to teach me what it meant to be strong. It started when we were in elementary school and he broke his arm. I'd been the one crying, and he'd calmly sought our mom.

He'd never known how to react when I got upset, so he laughed it off. “Sick of musicals. How many more episodes are you going to make me watch?”

“All of them.” In the end, he'd finished the season with me and I'd finished high school. I'm not sure he really paid any attention to the actual show, since he usually had his laptop open on his knees. I wondered on occasion if social networking was not somewhat to blame for Thomas's failure to make new friends in Tulsa. He was in constant contact with everyone from home, so he never bothered to branch out. Then again, he didn't have much opportunity in between chemo sessions for football games and parties. Some days he was too exhausted even to type his own password in. I started answering emails and Facebook messages for him after the second month of treatments, carefully recording his dictations, even mimicking the smiley faces he liked to use.

I would scroll through the newsfeed and read statuses to him. “Do you know this woman? She said, 'Finally got that long-awaited raise!' with three exclamation points. 'Celebratory glass of wine with the hubby!' ” I turned the screen for Thomas to see from where he was propped in the recliner.

“Not sure who she is. Can you like the status anyway?”

The next was similarly ecstatic. It read, “Diploma? Check.” 37 people had already liked it, so we had to be original. I typed, “Congrats! Got a job yet?” I already knew he did because his status a few weeks before had announced it, but part of our Facebook policy was to never admit to knowing any information unless there was proof we'd read it in the form of a “like” or a comment. It was the same principle my brother had employed when he pretended not to have eavesdropped on my phone conversations unless he had something to add to the discussion. This invasion of my privacy used to be my greatest sorrow in middle school.

Thomas lost interest so I scrolled through the updates on my own, pausing to look at a picture of a hand. Or rather, I was looking at the diamond decorating the fourth finger. The photo was captioned “He proposed!” The first comment underneath was “And she said yes!” Others had posted things like “Omigawd, look at that rock!”, “So cute!”, “So when's the big date, gorgeous?” and “Y'all are precious!” There were seventy-five similar responses beneath these. I quit reading.

A red flag appeared at the top of the page to notify me that my brother's best friend from middle school, Alex, had added four new photos to his album Family. For old times' sake, I rifled through them and discovered that he was now an uncle. Apparently, he'd also broken his leg falling off of a ladder the past weekend while hanging Christmas lights. His wall was decorated with well wishes and encouragement, seasoned with jokes about his mishap. I added a generic, “Man, that sucks. Maybe Santa can bring you a better sense of balance.” It seemed like something Thomas would say.

My dad came in while I was responding to some messages from Thomas's high school friends. My brother had chosen not to broadcast his disease to them, so they thought the reason we'd moved was for my dad's job. Which I guess wasn't a lie as much as it was an exaggeration. Dad's a piano tuner, so he can find work almost anywhere. It took a long time for people to learn your name, though, and in the meantime the only parttime work he could find was as a bus driver for the local school district. That year was when he first started balding. Thomas liked to joke that Dad was just trying to make him feel better about the effects of his chemo treatment on his own hair.

“What are you kids up to? Oh, he's asleep.”

“Yup.”

He leaned over the back of the coach to see my computer screen. I automatically tilted it to obscure it from his view, not because I had anything to hide but because his curiousity about my activities irritated me. “My Face?”

“It's Facebook, Dad.”

He laughed. “I can't keep all those websites straight.”

“If you get an account like Thomas keeps telling you to, you might could build up your clientel a little bit. Network, you know?”

“Maybe I'm old-fashioned but I don't know about advertising your life on the internet like that. Seems tacky. A bit like proposing on the big screen at a baseball game, right?” He winked at me. It was something Mama had never let him live down.

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

~~~

Thomas made Mama tell me when he decided to stop receiving treatments. She tried to explain that he wasn't improving, and the treatments just made him feel worse. He'd talked about it with my parents, with the doctors, with everyone but me. He wanted to have as normal a life as possible.

What about as long of a life as possible? That was the question I kept repeating to myself as I furiously fled the house, as I sped down the highway in my dad's jeep, as I sat in the parking lot of a long-abandoned gas station and sobbed against the steering wheel, as I pulled back into the garage late that night. Only Mama was still awake, and she met me at the door to wrap her arms around me.

“Oh, Jules.”

“He can't give up.”

“He's not, sweetheart. He's teaching us what it means to be strong.”

Thomas and I only talked about it once. I was half-heartedly working through some homework when he called my name. I expected him to ask me to check his Facebook, because it had been at least a week since we'd responded to his friends, but instead he said, “Can you read to me?”

“Sure.” My eyes flitted to the book in his hands. It was a leather-bound Bible that I didn't even know we owned. “You want me to read that?”

He lifted an eyebrow at me like he always did when he was amused at my reactions. “I have to believe in something, don't I?” I didn't return his smile.

“Where should I start?”

“I think there's a Thomas in there somewhere. Start with him.” I ended up having to google it because I had no idea there was a story about doubting Thomas, and if I had known I wouldn't have been able to find it. We'd been to Mass on and off as kids but neither of us had paid attention, and we never had First Communion or Confirmation. My parents had outgrown their religious phase by then.

I finished reading and found my brother watching me. “Aren't you scared?” I regretted the words before I'd even finished asking them. I thought he would laugh the question away but he thought about it, gazing at the ceiling.

“Yeah. Sometimes. Mostly I try not to think about it. It doesn't seem possible, that this could end. You know?”

I knew.

~~

Even a week after his funeral, it didn't seem possible. That there could be an end to my brother. His room looked exactly like it did while he was still living in it, his bed still unmade. I sat on the floor and leaned against it, closing my eyes and focusing on the smell of his pillow. Sweat and his shampoo.

As the light outside faded and the room grew darker, I noticed a pulsing green light on his desk. We'd never bothered to turn his laptop off. I crawled through the dark to see what he had left unfinished, but there were no windows open. The emptiness was too much, so I opened an internet browser and found myself staring at the Facebook login page.

What could it hurt?

I typed his password in. He had three unanswered messages from friends back home ignorant of his death. Reading through the cheerful messages I felt oddly comforted. They asked mundane things, like “Have you seen that new movie yet?” or “How's school going, man?”

I began to sort through his newsfeed, to check up on the people we used to stalk together. There was a status update about the foreclosure of someone's home. I found a note written by a friend who'd married young addressed to her ex-husband, posted for public viewing as though it were a work of art in a museum. Yet another announced that they had just been diagnosed with cancer, and invoked prayer from their friends. The day Thomas was diagnosed with leukemia was the second worst day of my life. I didn't take the time to read everything on the woman's wall. It would be too familiar.

Somewhere around two a.m. I stumbled upon the introduction to a very long suicide note someone I barely knew had posted. They'd actually created an event for anyone who wanted to witness the planned overdosage. It was to take place next week. On the one hand, I was horrified by the mental state of this stranger. The rejections he'd faced, the fear of failure that plagued him after he lost his job for the second time, the prospect of years alone. On the other hand, I felt mildly irritated that he'd passed his burden on to me. It seemed selfish, to impose your problems like that. Don't people have enough to worry about?

I declined the invitation, but read through some of the responses others had plastered onto the event wall. “Chin up. Tomorrow will be better.” “Don't give up on life! It's a precious gift. Don't waste it.” Some had posted Bible verses, others had shared core tenets from other religions. “Desire is what causes pain. If you can rid yourself of desire, you won't feel that pain anymore. Then you will reach the supreme state of being: nothingness.”

If I were planning on killing myself, these posts wouldn't have changed my mind. I think I might have chosen to move the date a few days earlier to give people less time to type useless Hallmark movie lines on my wall. But there were other comments, too. Things like “It's about time” and “Got any extra meds for me?” Someone had even offered to video the death and upload it later for those who couldn't make it.

There is such a thing as going too far. I closed the entire window and shoved back from the desk, plunged into darkness again. Goosebumps spread up my arms like a coffee stain infecting fabric. This person might be dead in a few days and there was little I could do to stop him. He might kill himself, and I'd know about it beforehand. By typing a few characters into a text box, I could interact with someone miles away and influence a life or death decision. Would I be responsible?

What was wrong with them, encouraging someone to kill themselves? Who thought it was even a little bit okay to film the event? And what kind of moron thought the cheerful tone of their brief post could preserve someone's life? Nothing I had done, none of the effort my parents made, none of the doctors and the latest technology had been enough to save my brother's life. How foolish to think that a semi-colon and a right parenthesis could inspire hope.

Words, words, words. He would get them as a reward for his end. Words graffitied on his wall, plastered like paper maché. Thin and fragile, glued on by sticky chubby fingers. More words than Thomas's obituary in the newspaper was worth. Four hundred and fifty characters. That was all that summed up his life, his death. Not fair. I wanted to scream it.

And no one reads newspapers anyway, these days. That was why his friends kept writing to him, oblivious. It was Thomas who had taught me the possibility of the internet, of constructing truth. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. False beliefs are true in their consequences. He fabricated an alternate life in which he wasn't sick. He'd protected his friends from the truth. He'd taught me what it meant to be strong: to create your own reality.

As I calmed down, I woke Thomas's laptop up again and reopened the message from his friend, Alex. I'd been my brother's secretary of sorts all this time. Couldn’t I continue my job? No, I should. It was my duty. So I began typing a response. It was the only way I knew to repay my brother for the possibilities he'd taught me. I could prolong his existence by creating a new reality in which he'd lived the life that was taken from him, in which he grew up and finished high school and started dating. I could do what the Southwestern Regional Medical Center couldn't do, what all the dreamers who chased after the fountain of youth had never figured out. I could make my brother immortal.

A Foot Taller and a Year Older

The mall was almost empty that Thursday night when the two girls made their third shopping trip of the week. Kate pretended to sort through dresses while her younger sister Marissa complained about the selection. This dress looked like someone vomited Mardi Gras on your shoulders, while these cottage-cheese sleeves belonged in a horror movie wedding. Though Kate murmured her agreement, her mind was on the unanswered text message nesting inside her purse that she'd been too afraid to read. It was from Sean.

“Well, are you ready?” Marissa stood on her toes, craning to reach her sister's eye-level.

“You haven't found a dress yet.” Kate had been ready to leave for the last forty-five minutes, though. Her feet were aching and the dresses were starting to blur together in her memory.

“It's okay. It took you a while to find your prom dress last year, right?” Kate nodded, though she had grossly exaggerated her own experiences. You could call it the fourth store if you counted the first two that she had merely driven past. Marissa rubbed the hem of a silky sleeve in between her fingers and said, “They look so pretty on the models. Even on the hangars.”

“And we'll find one that looks even better on you. But we can go now if you want.”

“You aren't buying your dress tonight?” Kate had put a dress on hold earlier, sleek and purple with a haltar top. It had been one of Marissa's finds, but she'd been unable to find that style in her size so she'd insisted that Kate try it on.

“We'll get it later. Don't you want to buy our dresses at the same time?”

“Like we got our ears pierced at the same time?” It was one of their favorite jokes now. It had been Marissa's idea to surprise their mom that past summer, but she'd made Kate go first. Kate had cried, and so Marissa had cried too and refused to get her ears pierced after all. The embarrassed teenaged girls ducked out of the store, already laughing at their own melodrama before they'd even reached the parking lot. When their mother came home from work that evening, the tiny silver nobs in her oldest daughter's ears made her furious.

“Mama, relax. It's just earrings. It's not like I got a tattoo or something,” Kate had said.

“But without my permission? What kind of example does that set for your younger sister?” It was one of the worst, and only, arguments Kate had had with their mother. Marissa had pouted for days, and apoligized for causing the entire ordeal, but she never confessed to their mom that she'd been involved.

As Marissa drove them home, still insistent on taking advantage of her three-month-old license, Kate finally pulled out her phone to read the text message. She'd already guessed what it would be, though. Got an answer yet?

“Who's that from?” Marissa jerked her chin towards the phone.

“Mark wants to know if I'll be at rehearsal tomorrow.” She casually shielded the screen from her sister’s gaze.

“Why do you have to be there? I thought you were an extra or something.”

“I'm the neighbor. Remember? My name's Sarah.”

“I just can't believe you have rehearsals on Fridays. You theater kids are hardcore.”

“What, SGA doesn't meet on Fridays?”

“There'd be a revolution if we tried to cut into the weekend. I think Andrew would resign as student body president.”

“Cute Andrew? We wouldn’t want that.” Kate glanced at her sister from the corner of her eye to see if she’d caught the jab.

“Yeah, yeah. Text Mark back already.”

Her reply was succinct. Not yet.

~~~

When the final bell rang on Friday, Kate walked dutifully to the auditorium where rehearsal was normally held. Marissa would pick her up in an hour. She’d taken the truck to go shopping by herself while Kate was in rehearsal. Maybe she'd have more luck when she wasn't comparing herself to her sister. There were a few dresses she might have bought if she hadn’t made Kate try them on as well. Like the red dress. Marissa had been excited about it until she saw it on her taller sister, and changed her mind.

She was surprised to find the house lights on as she walked onto the stage. The single figure seated in the front row raised his head and pulled off his headphones as her footsteps echoed through the empty space. “What are you doing here?” Sean said.

“Waiting for Marissa to pick me up. What are you doing here?”

“I thought I'd go over some lines. I know them, you know, but the dress rehearsal is next week and…” She sat down on the front of the stage, letting her feet swing, waiting for him to finish. “I don't know, I guess I want to be sure.” She nodded, studying the lights above her head. Last year's seniors had organized many a fundraiser to be able to purchase them, but that was during Marissa's guitar phase and Kate had to drive her to her lessons instead of attending the theater club's meetings. It was another of Marissa's spontaneous decisions with a shelf life of no more than four months.

Sean set his script aside and leaned forward. “So...how long are you going to make me wait?” Kate wouldn’t look at him.

“I don't know.”

“I can't wait forever.”

“I know.”

“But you don't know.”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?” Kate shrugged, sliding off the stage onto the floor. Hands jambed in the pockets of her sweatshirt, she passed him and headed down the side aisle to the back of the auditorium. Jogging to catch up with her, he said, “I mean, I really enjoyed going with you last year.”

“Me, too.” They’d made fun of the prom king and queen, made up ridiculous dances and pretended to sing along with the songs they didn’t know. When prom was over, they hung out with some of the other theater kids at Mark’s house playing Mario Kart until one in the morning. Kate's mom had been irritated that she'd stayed out even that late.

“And if you'd like to go with someone else, that's fine. I just need to know.” She shook her head. “So would you go with me if Marissa already had a date?” She didn't stop walking but her shoulders stiffened. “That's it, then. That's why you won't give me an answer.”

She pivoted to face him, and said, “My math teacher called me Marissa again.”

He groaned. “It's not going to work. You can't change the subject.”

“I'm a year older, a foot taller, and I have red hair.”

“He teaches both of you at different times. It was just a mistake.”

“Freshman year, no one knew my name.”

“I knew you.”

“Only because we were lab partners. Then Marissa gets here and people think they know who I am. All they really know about me is that we're related.”

“You guys eat lunch together every day. I think I'd figure it out, too.”

“I don't look a thing like her.”

 

“Actually, you have the same chin.”

Sean, her best friend, who'd encouraged her to join the drama club despite her stage fright, the only reason she’d passed biology freshman year, the kid who would get the teacher’s attention when they didn’t hear her whispered question, was arguing with her. Why didn't he get it? “If we're so similar, take her to prom, then. You won't be able to tell the difference.”

Knowing Sean's stubborn streak, she should have expected him to follow her to the truck later when Marissa pulled into the parking lot. Marching right up to the driver's side, he rapped on the window until Marissa rolled it down. “Wanna go to prom with me?” he said, the tips of his fingers tucked in the pockets of his skinny jeans because they were too small to fit his whole hand.

“Sure, why not?” His only answer was a sharp nod before he turned and walked back into the building. He didn't even look past Marissa to where Kate was buckling herself in and pretending not to listen. As they were pulling out of the parking lot, Marissa turned wide eyes on her sister. “What was that all about?”

“Don't know. Did you find a dress yet?”

“Not yet. Are you ready to go buy yours?”

“Not yet.”

~~~

When Marissa rapped on her door on Sunday, Kate was laying on her stomach, feet crossed in the air, her laptop swimming in a sea of paper before her. “What are you working on?”

“A history essay.”

“Oh, I thought you'd be memorizing lines or something. That play is soon, right?”

 “Next week. I'd be in trouble if my lines weren't memorized yet.” Marissa nodded and muttered a vague response. “You're still coming on opening night, right?”

“Sure. Listen, there's something I need to ask you. Sean's your best friend, right?”

Kate sat up, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. “I mean, yeah, but I'm totally cool with you guys--”

“No, it's not that. I mean, I have a problem.” After a moment's hesitation, Kate gathered all of her papers and dumped them on the floor, clearing a space for her sister. Once Marissa had settled onto the bed, feet tucked beneath her, she announced, “So this morning, Andrew called.”

“Cute Andrew?”

“Yeah, Cute Andrew. And he asked me to go to prom with him.”

“But you're already going with Sean.”

“Yes, but well...I sort've told Andrew I could go with him.”

“Marissa!”

“I know. I don't know what to do.”

“Tell him you're already going with someone else.”

“But I told him I'd go, and I really want to. I just didn't think he'd ever...that there was even...I mean, I don't know how many chances I'll get...Will you talk to Sean for me?”

Kate blinked hard, analyzing her sister's eyes for some proof, even a half hint, that she was joking. “No way. This is your problem. You made the mess. You can fix it.”

“Please? You're my older sister. You're supposed to help me get out of crap that I get myself into.”

“Yeah, well, as the responsible one, I'm holding you responsible for your own mistakes. Now, I've got work to do, okay? Go sort out your own life.”

Marissa's angry footsteps could be heard all the way down the hall until she slammed the door to her room. Flinging herself onto her back, Kate released a groan of frustration. Maybe she would boycott prom. She had enough to worry about, with schoolwork and college preparation and the show opening next week. It wasn't fair of the future to encroach on the present, wedging itself between them. She almost stood to chase after her and offer to help with damage control. But Marissa wouldn't always have her to rely on. She pulled out her phone to call Sean, then realized that wasn't any better. Biting her lip, she glared at the papers stacked on top of her laptop, a mountain of deadlines.

She started setting her workspace back up. In a few minutes, Marissa's anger would have evaporated and then she'd seek Kate out as she always did and they'd talk through things more reasonably. In the meantime, Kate had enough to worry about.

~~~

That Wednesday was the final opportunity to prepare before opening night. They would perform Thursday, Friday, and twice on Saturday, but this was dress rehearsal. The last chance to get it right before the real thing.

She was in costume waiting backstage for her first scene, wearing a floral print dress, an apron, and a pair of sensible black pumps. Empty frames balanced on her nose and her hair, twisted into a strict bun, was dusted with baby powder. 

Sitting on a chair that was needed for the second act, she mentally rehearsed her first line, absorbing her new identity. She would knock on the door, it would be opened, and she would be asked, “May I help you?” Then she would answer, “Good evening. I'm your neighbor, Sarah. I saw your flyer and...I found your cat.”

Sean found her in the half light among the waiting props and scenery, mouthing her lines to her hands where they were folded in her lap in an effort to hide their shaking. She could have been praying. He hesitated a moment before whispering, “Hey. Nervous?”

“Don't say that word.”

“Sorry.” The actors on stage were in the middle of the break-up scene and their voices rose with the tension. “Are you mad at me?”

When she lifted her head, the scent of baby powder reached him. “No, why would I be?”

He leaned against a dresser. “I told your sister I couldn't go with her after all. I explained everything. She understood.” So Marissa had escaped consequences again. Kate felt a wrinkle of anxiety smooth itself out of her forehead, even as a twinge of annoyance clinched in her jaw. “Look, I was being stupid. I’m sorry I overreacted. Let's just go and have fun, okay? Still friends?”

Her hesitation was almost long enough to worry him. “Marissa's going with Andrew now.”

It took him a moment to process the unexpected answer. “The kid who's been tutoring her in math? Hmm. Wait, so if Marissa has a date...?”

The stage manager appeared at her elbow and handed her an empty cardboard box, which she was to treat as though it contained the carcass of a dead cat. “You're on in five,” he whispered.

She stumbled to the edge of the shadows and waited for her cue before she walked into the blinding lights on the stage, rapped on the door growing upright out of the floor like a solitary tree. She had already caught a glimpse of the actor on the other side, but she had to pretend she hadn't seen anything.

The door opened. “Hello. May I help you?”

Kate took a breath to deliver her line. I'm your neighbor, Sarah. But she couldn't convince herself. She wasn't buying it.

“Hi, yes. I'm Sa--Kate. I'm Kate, Marissa's sist--older sister. I'm the tall one, the redhead. I wake her up every morning and fix her coffee and her breakfast and make sure she leaves for school on time. I don't...usually do stuff like this, talk in front of people, but she always does and I just wanted to be seen for me, for once. I work hard and people say I have a future ahead of me, but I have no idea what that future might be. All I know is I'm going to buy a prom dress.” The actor's eyebrows cinched together, uncertainty leaking into his eyes. Silence expanded throughout the room like an airbag that deployed unnecessarily, and instead of saving anyone's life, only managed to bruise their face. Someone had to fix this. The show must go on. A ghostly backstage whisper said, “What?”

“And here's your cat.” She shoved the empty box at the boy, and strode off.

Backstage was always much darker when she had come directly out of the spotlight. The momentary blindness was more frightening than being centerstage. Disoriented, she stumbled into the secrecy of the shadows and someone nearby whispered, “You'll get it next time, Skate.”

“Sean?”

“Yeah?”

“Prom?”

“Definitely.”

And on opening night, she delivered her lines perfectly. The only hiccough in her performance was that she forgot the box, and had to ask the neighbor to wait while she brought the cat.

Marissa was there, as promised, after the curtain closed and bows had been taken. She skipped up to her sister with a bouquet of flowers. Her broad smile faded as the two stood without words. “Well...I guess, should I compliment you or something? Tell you what a great performance it was? I don't know what you say in theater. You broke a leg?”

Kate bit her lip to hide her smile. “You say break a leg before a performance, to wish people good luck. It's a little late for that.”

“Oh. Well, then, what should I say?”

“You don't have to say anything. I'm just glad you came.”

“Mom said she's coming tomorrow. Hey, did Sean talk to you yet?” Kate nodded. “Look, I get that you were trying to be nice or whatever, and you wanted to make sure I had someone to go to prom with, but you don't have to baby me so much.”

“But you are a baby.”

Marissa rolled her eyes. “No...I'm at least a toddler.”

Kate thought that was debatable, but instead of arguing she said, “So more prom dress shopping tomorrow? I'm ready to buy mine now.”

“Awesome, yeah! So are you ready to go home?”

Kate looked around the quickly thinning crowd. The majority of those left were encircling the stars of the show, congratulating them on their success, quoting their favorite lines. The cast had discussed going for a late-night ice cream run after the performance to celebrate. They would probably be out late, and tomorrow was still a school day. Her mom wouldn’t like it, but she thought just this once she could afford to relax.

“No, not yet.”

Response to Shelby's "A Flicker in the Night"

Hey, Shelby. Yours is my last blog post for this class. Sad day.

So, this was a short story detailing the going-to-bed ritual of a young girl and her mother. And at the end, that ritual is broken.

So there were a lot of things that were really working about this story. To start with, the description in the third paragraph on pg. 1 was great and engaged a lot of the senses. I also loved the comparison on pg. 1 of her eyelids "sliding slowly over my eyes like raindrops down a window". Also, the details about the squeaky floorboard and the perfume made the story feel really authentic, so good job with that!

As far as suggestions go, there were a few minor word omissions such as "night" on the end of the opening sentence and " it" on the end of the first sentence on pg. 2 (I marked both of these for you). Also, there was an extra comma between dim and TV on page 1 in the third paragraph. I wonder why the mother's dialogue is in italics. I'm not sure that is necessary. I already get the sense that she is whispering just from the context and the italics distract me a little. Finally, the ending is a little bit confusing to me...I don't understand the significance to the little girl not waking up when her mother came in. Is she just growing up and growing out of the rituals of her youth? Or is there something darker that I'm not getting?

Thanks for writing!!!

CK

Response to Robert's "Jenson's Day"

Dear Robert,

This is a story following a man named Jenson through his day.

Some things that really worked are the comparison of the girl to a cat, and the characterization of Jenson through his interactions with her. Also the details about the boss on pg. 2 were great. They told the readers so much through such little detail. Also, it amuses me how the characters don't seem to get each other that much. Jenson makes the joke that his boss doesn't get, his boss seems to think the people on the TV are real, Jenson's job description doesn't match his actual job, the woman with the crazy cat hair is commenting on Snookie's hair when maybe she should be commenting on her outfit, Jenson refers to the woman who is maybe his girlfriend as "the cat". The characters seem to miss the obvious and to have difficulty relating. The humor in this is highly amusing.

As far as suggestions go, I guess I'm not sure what the actual story is. Does anything change? Is the point that nothing changes and the days pass meaninglessly? If that's the point, maybe it would be good to have the character meditate on that a little bit. If the point is the inability of the characters to relate to each other, I would create greater conflict or somehow draw more attention to that. I think it would help to tie in the scenes with the boss and the scenes with the girl by having some similar issue of misunderstanding that allows the reader to feel that this piece is one whole unit.

Good job, Robert! You packed a lot into a short space.

Sincerely,

CK

Response to Patrick's "From Me for You"

Hey there, Patrick. Hope you're doing well!

So this was a story about a family dealing with the recent loss of someone during the holidays (particularly Thanksgiving), and how the main character Isaiah was dealing with the loss and how he related to his cousin. The story is mainly about how the holidays can't be the same and even going through the motions to try to recreate past family gatherings isn't good enough. Also, the main character struggles a little bit because he almost feels like he doesn't have a real right to mourn Albert, at least not like his cousin does.

As far as things that worked really well in this story, the description of the food was great. It was a very unusual Thanksgiving dinner, at least from what I'm used to, and I really appreciated that about this story. The detail about the Christmas presents already in place was also really effective, and the tweaked versions of what the tag said on pg. 4 were great. The description of the homemade wedding cake on pg. 2 was also really good. The image of the cousin in her wedding dress eating the Thanksgiving meal was very strong, and creepy actually. Which if that was what you were going for, it was great! In either case, I could picture it very clearly so good job painting that picture.

As far as suggestions go, there were a couple minor typos that I marked for you in my copy of the story. There were also a couple of places I got confused. Namely, "silent as tears trickled down her motionless" on pg. 3. Is there a word missing there? Maybe "her motionless face"? And on that page, the narrator calls Debbie is aunt but I thought she was his cousin. On pg. 4 I also got confused about the crying part in the middle of the page. Does he mean that he wants to cry, but not for Albert? He wants to cry for Debbie? And also, if Albert died that morning, would they really still go on with things? I can see continuing with celebrations if they'd had his funeral the day before or something, but that morning?? I have trouble believing that.

Finally, I guess I'm not totally sure what the change is at the end. The change seems to be in Debbie, going from crying alone to eating in her wedding dress alone. What is the change in the narrator? I guess I would like to see more action on his part. Does he go change all the Christmas present tags to just say Debbie? Does he yell at his family for going about the day normally instead of mourning Albert?

Thanks for writing!

CK

Resposne to Molly's "Blood"

Dear Molly,

This is a story about a girl in a psychiatric hospital. It deals with the idea that sometimes craziness is projected onto people because others don't know how to deal with their behavior, so they just treat them as insane. As the story progresses, we learn a little more about Scarlett's past, such as her father's violent death, and the reason why she's in the psychiatric ward after all.

Some of my favorite things about your story are the details about the people! Like the mom's ankle weights and how her skin is dry from so many showers. I also love the narrator's voice, and the repetition of the "think: whatever" or "try: whatever". That works for me.

So, some suggestions: I would like to know more about the main character. We get a lot of her ideas of other people, and we hear stories of things that she has witnessed, and later on we find out that she paints. I just wish we knew more about her as a person instead of just her reactions to outer events earlier on. I want to see her in action a little bit more. Also, I'm not sure that I completely understand the mother's character. Is it supposed to be ironic that her mother obviously has problems and yet checks her daughter into a psychiatric hospital because she doesn't know how to handle her and doesn't want to? Why does the mother do what she does? Why did the Dad stay with her? Did he have any issues that like as well? He almost seems too perfect right now.

Kay, that's all I've got.

Thanks for writing!

Sincerely,

CK

Response to Alyson's "Swiss Cheese"

Hey, Alyson. (I always want to spell your name with two l's...)

So this story was about an intern at a hospital having to trying to save the life of a patient who doesn't want to live. Brett finds out that this man was a murderer, and really has no regrets. He just wants to end his own life instead of facing capital punishment. In the end, she gives the man the information he needs to end his life for real this time. In a way, she is assisting a suicide.

There were some things that worked really well in this story. You had some great descriptions of things that made me cringe inside. For example, the comparison of caffeine to a snake on pg. 2 was great. The dialogue snippets on pg. 3 describing the medical condition of the man really got to me. And the whole flashback to the mom's death was really effective, too, I thought. I also liked the bit about the "chute", and how that came back. That was a good image.

As far as suggestions go, the bananas may have been a bit too much for me. Maybe since the "chute" image was repeated and the swiss cheese image, the bananas were over the top. Also, if you're going to keep them, then please make it clearer in the very first paragraph what's going on because I got so confused on the first page. Also, I'm a little bit confused about Brett's motivations at the end of the story. Is she helping the man commit suicide because in a way she's responsible for his death and so she's exacting revenge sort've kind've? Or has she forgiven her mother's attacker, and so has sympathy on this deranged creature with no remorse for his wrongdoings? I guess I don't understand why she decides to point out that he could easily end his own life then.

Kay, that's all. Thanks for writing!

Response to Emily's "The Marriage of Ruth and Isaac"

Side note: I feel like there's a lot of you in this. I'm not sure, but I'm gathering the sense that you like gardening (or the idea of gardening) since it has appeared in both of your stories. Anyway, I like how much heart goes into your writing.

So, let's start. This story is about a mother coming to terms with her daughter's wedding, which is a little premature in her eyes. She views herself as a rational person and thinks her daughter's immense faith in God to provide is maybe a little bit naive. In the end, though, she realizes that she could potentially ruin her daughter's big day with her own worries, and so tries to put her daughter's happiness above her own doubts.

Awesome things: like I said earlier, there's a lot of heart to your story. The details like the bit about Ruth as a flower girl was adorable, and the conflict in the narrator about the wedding makes your character real and someone we can relate to. Especially on pg. 2, you did a really good job of revealing the inner conflict and having the narrator sort of try to justify herself. But it's obvious that she feels guilty for being so hesitant about this wedding. I also liked the incorporation of the hymn on pg. 4. It created the scene a little bit and incorporated some of the religious tension between the mother and daughter, who appear to be of the same religion but the daughter has stronger faith.

As far as suggestions go, I wish there was a bit more at the end of the main character being there in some way for her daughter. I sense the desire in her heart to give her daughter the perfect wedding day, free of mom's negativity, that she deserves. I just wish we saw that a little more. And I wish we saw the mom get out her checkbook and actually pay for the flowers. I want to see the mom do just one thing without commenting on price or something.  Maybe on pg. 3 all she could see was dollar signs, but when he told her the price she grinned and wrote him a check, careful not to let her daughter see any frown lines on her face. As much as the narrator tells me that she cares about her daughter, I want to see it in action in the present in a very solid way. I think that would make me feel much better about the ending.

Thanks for writing!

Response to Paul's "Support Group"

Hi, Paul. Your story made me uncomfortable...

It was a story about a man who is addicted to masturbation, and so attends a support group of people who have been sexually abused. I get the irony. Very nice. I was wondering what kind of support group he was in the whole time, and when I found out...it made sense, especially knowing who wrote it. This is definitely your brand of humor.

So some awesome things about your story. First of all, the entire thing is one big monologue. It's a character piece, like a Robert Browning poem. Sort've. Anyway, I like the experimental form. I also like the humor in the story, like the examples of stupid Jules has done. I also like how you characterized him through the judgments he passes on the other people in the group. He assumes everyone is psycho. On pg. 4 he says "I'm just like everyone else here" after acting kind of cray. He talks about there being a "lot of cuckoos" at meetings like this, and says "I hope you will allow me to laugh at you, too, when you talk about the dumb stuff you do" (pg. 5). I also really like how you conveyed the conversational tone of the narrator. He pauses, interrupts his own thoughts, doesn't finish sentences. It makes it feel very authentic.

So, suggestions. There's one thing that confused me (and maybe it's just because I'm kind of sheltered, I don't know) but on pg. 6 I have no idea what transcripts are, and what kind of shows were being referenced. Also, I'm not sure about the ending. Jules becomes more confident, and gives a little speech about how this will be mutually beneficial, but then he's like "just kidding, I have to go." The humor is great, but I guess I don't understand how I am supposed to feel about the character at the end of the story. There is a lot of humor in this story, but I feel like I'm missing the real point. The humor in the ending sort of distracts me from any substantial change that may have taken place in Jules.

Response to Kevin's "Where to Start?"

Hey, Kevin.

So this story is about a very sheltered boy who realizes that his parents have denied him the means to reach his potential, so he finally takes action and sets out to find independence and freedom.

There was a lot that I really enjoyed about this story. On pg.1, the dad waits until the commercial to answer his son. That is such a human, authentic detail and I really love it. I also really liked the dinosaur wallpaper and how the narrator connects with it. That was a really neat comparison and I found it really believable. I also appreciated the details like the exact year and make of the car, and the story about how the grandfather one it in a game of Texas Hold'Em. Nice.

As far as suggestions go, I found it a little bit hard to believe that the grandfather's Last Will and Testament would just be chilling in the basement. Wouldn't they have had to fish that out for legal purposes? And would the parents really have custody of it after the fact? I don't know, it just seems like if they have it, they'd keep it somewhere super safe. Like, in a safe. So did the parents lie to the kid about the car? Was it really sold to someone else? Did the grandfather choose to sell it, or did they choose to sell it? I also wish we'd been given a little bit more backstory, particularly about why the kid is so sheltered. What's up with his parents? And honestly, the "prince/throne/kingdom" analogy confused me. For a little bit, I actually thought I was reading a story about a sheltered prince...

Also, I think I just want a little more. Maybe some greater interactions with is parents, conflicts where he wants to do something and they prevent him from doing it, etc. I think that would do a lot to deepen the story and make the stakes greater. Also, I think it would be interesting if the grandfather had a conflict with the parents about their control over the kid. Just an idea.

CK

Response to Janelle's "Safe"

This story is about a paranoid young girl actually finding cause for her paranoia when a man (who we later find out is her father) breaks into her house and attempts to rape her.

This story was really creepy. I was reading it later at night in the library, and even though I was in a well-lit space and surrounded by well-meaning strangers, I started looking over my shoulder and jumping at loud noises. The fear of the narrator translated well from the page. The scene that starts on the bottom of pg. two and continues into pg. 3 is where that started for me. It's a very familiar scenario where something spooks the dog, which spooks me. The image of Twinkly sitting up straight and growling on pg. 3 was also really effective. Basically, I like how you used the dog's body language to convey a lot of the tension and fear building up. I also loved the dog's name, Twinkle. There were a couple details you threw in that I liked, such as Chicken Soup for the Soul and Criminal Minds which were really telling, too.

I would like the know a little bit more about where the character is. Mostly, doesn't she have neighbors? Or does she live way out by herself? And if so, why? Also, I thought the narrator said that the dog didn't bark at her dad, so why does she bark at him in now? Also, why is the dad's mask familiar? His face would be familiar, but would his mask really be? I want to know more about the main character, such as how old she is, and I would like to see a little bit more foreshadowing to warn me that the father is so messed up that he's capable of raping his daughter. Also, how did he get in? If Twinkle goes missing around 10:30 or 11, why is it that the dad doesn't come in until 1:00 am? I guess there were a lot of things that distracted me from the point of the story because I couldn't make sense of them. I didn't understand why the narrator fell asleep on pg. 6. Did she pass out? Did she get drugged or something? What happened?

My biggest suggestion is to go back through and smooth out some of the details to make sure your readers can always understand what's going on and why things can make sense the way they are. Kay, that's all. This story was really good! Thanks for writing!

Response to "Once in a Lifetime"

This story is about a young girl's memories of a particular family, and how her own family reacted to the way they had changed in the seven years since they had seen them. The narrator seems to be critiquing the parents' judgment of the family. I think the point is that the narrator and her family were critical of this other family without fully understanding what they were going through, and they made assumptions about the choices they made.

One thing about this story that really caught my attention was that it is addressed to Kaushik, opening with "I had seen you before". The narrator doesn't seem aware of readers other than Kaushik, then. However, the story remains very intimate and personal, like reading a letter that was addressed to Kaushik but never meant to be sent. I liked that a lot.

The story seems to take a long time to arrive at its point. The first three pages recount the going-away party for this family, and then it dwells on the preparation for their return for a while. They finally arrive on the pg. 491, nine pages into the story. The story dwells a lot on Indian culture, which is very important to the story obviously, but some of the details having to do with that confused me. For instance, on pg. 484 I am not sure why the narrator is fretting about the seal of the textile company showing. Also, there is a lot of time spent on the coat that Hema inherited from Kaushik and how it caused her to hate him. I don't really understand why this is so important. I also don't understand why the information about Kevin McGrath disappearing on pg. 494 is there. I guess, these things distracted me because I thought they were going to be more significant than they were.

The ending was particularly effective, and it made certain things earlier in the story take on a new meaning. For instance, the title "once in a lifetime" and the appearance of this phrase on pg. 492 becomes much more powerful. Also, the Johnnie Walker and the cigarettes become more significant because they are no longer just symbols of American culture or indulgence. They become coping mechanisms. The parents guess that Dr. Choudhuri is indulging his wife as consolation for the move, but really it's because she is dying. Also, the scene where Parul buys bras becomes more significant since it is breast cancer that she is dying of. Anyway, all of these things were very artfully included in the story and became much more significant at its conclusion, which I really liked.

Response to Shelby's "The Bleeps and Blips of Life"

Why, hello there, Shelby.

This story is about two sister's reuniting when their father is in a hospital dying of cancer. Although they have little in common and their relationship isn't all that great, they have to reach an agreement about whether or not they should take their father off of life support. In the end, they decide to let him go.

So let's begin with what I love about this story. I liked how the narrator's thoughts on pg. 2 contradicted the harshness of her words. She thinks "At least she'd come". This makes her much easier to relate to as readers, and detracts from her bitter tone. Also, it's a very human thing to think one thing and say another. So this makes her more three dimensional and realistic. I liked the comparison of Karen to a teenaged boy asking a girl out on pg. 6, and I also really appreciated the image of Karen's words yanking Anna by the hair on pg. 4. The violence of that statement surprised me, but I liked it a lot. Also, the detail about the scar on his wrist and how she picks up his hand again on the last page was just great. It really gave a lot of heart to the story, and struck me on an emotional level.

I have a couple suggestions for ways to improve your story even more. For one thing, I wish the readers got to see some negative aspects to the dad and some positive aspects about the mom. Right now, the parental characters seem very cut and dry. Maybe add in something about the mother maybe attending a speech competition once and trying to discuss it with her daughter, but she just didn't understand. Maybe she gave her what she thought were compliments. And explore the father character a little bit more, too. What was his relationship like with Karen? What did he first say when he realized his wife was cheating on him? How did he express his anger and hurt?

Also, I think the girls should discuss it a little bit more before deciding to take their father off of life support. Does Karen have any second thoughts about it? Let her show emotion towards the father too, because right now most of the hurt that she is expressing is at her sister instead of at her father's illness.

It was really good. Thanks for sharing!

CK

Response to Matt's "Series of Omissions"

First of all Matt, I want to extract a promise from you that I'll see your name in print under the title of a novel or collection of short stories some day. Because your stuff is great. Secondly, you made me cry in the middle of class when I was supposed to be listening to a lecture. I was reading your story instead. My friend leaned over and said, "Oh no, what's wrong? Are you okay?" And I told her, "I'm fine, it's just this story..." So I made her read it, too, and then we were both sitting there teary-eyed.

So, this story is about the death of Norman O'Connor and the mess he left behind. It depicts his relationship with his family mostly, and explores both the great qualities of the man and heartfelt moments as well as his faults and mistakes. It discusses how his family will remember him and how he wasn't perfect.

Things I loved: the details you give are so powerful and effective. The rented suits of the sons on pg. 2, the way you casually mentioned Norman being diagnosed on the same page, the degree in Music of the daughter (same pg.): these are the things that make it seem so authentic. Also, you made Norman so three-dimensional. You include a great balance of good and bad aspects of his character. He's not a perfect character, his life is not romanticized because of his death. But you acknowledge the tender moments, too, when he shows that he really loves his family. Anyway, that also made it feel very real. It was something I could relate to. So good job. And the potted cactus on pg. 3. That whole paragraph, really, was super effective.

As far as improvements go, there were a couple very minor issues you will want to edit. For example, Norman has two sons in the first paragraph and a single son in the second. The beginning of the second paragraph felt a little repetitive since you had just listed "wife, daughter, sons" for us before. Maybe you should save that information for the second paragraph, and instead describe the place where he died in your first sentence. In his home, in the hospital, in his sleep, etc. Or maybe his age. On pg. 2 there were a couple minor typos (2nd paragraph, second line, "just like the one she'd had" you left out "she'd", and second to last line on that page "her time he with", omit 'he'). And finally on the last page I felt like it should be "when their parents aren't looking", in the present tense instead of the past, but that one I'm not sure about. We'll talk about it in class, I'm sure.

Also, I didn't understand the title, and it gives me the vague suspicion that I'm missing some entirely different aspect of your story that is important. Am I?

That's all. :)

Response to Cole's "Status Quo"

Cole-

This story is about a very analytical character who is always observing rather than forming friendships with people, and how he falls into a bit of a rougher crowd and begins doing drugs. The ending is rather ominous, because the narrator is finally a lot calmer and has been accepted. However, he's still trying to "camouflage my naivete", so the readers are unsure if the acceptance he feels is authentic. Also, the narrator himself is uncomfortable at first. On pg. 7, his head is spinning and his heartbeat is rapid.

As far as things I really liked about this story, there were some really clever comparisons. I appreciated the image of the buzzing hive of bees, and how it was brought back by the "buzz buzz" again and again. It gave the story a lot of unity and continuity, and made the shift at the end especially clear. I liked Philip's voice, especially when he is introduced on pg. 3. Also, the diction on p. 5 was especially effective in bringing out the analytical role of the narrator. The phrases "take a sample" and "natural habitat" turned him into a researcher. I would like to see a little bit more of that diction throughout the piece, especially in the beginning when he is wearing blue or wearing winter clothes. Finally, I love the Jane Goodall reference, too.

As far as suggestions go, I would like to see more of Dave. At this point, I'm not entirely sure what to think of him. He's the narrator's best friend but obviously they aren't very close. It's not clear to me, though, if Dave really doesn't care about Jake that much or if he's just afraid how that would label him socially. Maybe make that a little more clear. Also, on pg. 3 "the kid who sat in front of me and was always getting in trouble", is that Philip? If it is, make it really clear when he turns around and talks to Jake that it's the same guy Jake was just thinking about, because I thought of it as a different guy at first. Or make it clear that this memory and the present are taking place in the same classroom, because I just assumed it was a different classroom and therefore a different kid. Also, it might would be a little bit more helpful if we knew a bit more about the narrator and why he has such a hard time relating to people. What is his family like? Does he have siblings? Why do his parents let him wear outrageous clothes to school? Are they just not there?

Thanks for writing! I really enjoyed it.

-CK

Response to David Foster Wallace's "Incarnations of Burned Children"

This story is about the panic two parents experience when a pot of boiling hot water falls on their toddler. It mainly focuses on "the Daddy" and his reaction. He immediately assumes the position of the calm father who takes action instead of freaking out, but unfortunately he doesn't realize that the diaper is retaining the water and continuing to burn their son even after the parents have doused him in cool water and wrapped him in a towel. It deals with the guilt that the father feels for not realizing this, the blame he places on the mother for allowing this to happen, and the guilt he feels for wanting a cigarette in the middle of the chaos.

So, one really cool thing about this piece is that it's basically all one giant paragraph. And normally block text can be really intimidating. But because the story was only four pages long, and because it's crazy long sentences keep things moving instead of slowing them down, it doesn't feel that long at all. The block text seems necessary, because paragraphs would interrupt the flow and this story is about one event that happened in a flurry of action and panic. I also think it's interesting how the parents are referred to as the Mommy and the Daddy, because their characters for the purpose of this story are focused on their role as parents. It focuses the story.

I find the ending kind of confusing and ambiguous. The play on the word "tenanted" is interesting, because the father was fixing the tenant's door when the event happened. But it's confusing in terms of the child. Does untenanted mean his body is uninhabited? And if so, what does that mean? That this tragedy forever scarred the child mentally? Everything else about the story was very clear and less symbolic, and the shift at the end confuses me and makes me feel like I'm missing something essential to understanding the story. "Whatever was lost never thenceforth mattered". What does that mean? I get that time is passing and the child is growing up, but what is David Foster Wallace saying about how the kid turned out?

Response to Patrick's "Baking Cookies"

Hi there, Patrick.

This is a story about a young boy who is being sexually abused by his mother and doesn't realize it. He loves his mother, and believes that her actions are normal. In the end, he is taken away from her and put into the care of his grandmother.

So there were some really cool things about this story that I want to highlight. First of all, I love the repetition of the idea of words having more than one meaning. Bringing the "confectioner's vs. powdered sugar" back at the very end as Matt tries to figure out if abuse and love can mean the same thing was super effective. There were also some moments where the voice was very strong, such as on pg 5 when Matt explains "We poop from butts. We shouldn't be touching the place poop comes from". It really emphasized how young the narrator was, and how little he understood. I also really loved how he calls the woman "Ms. Lady" on pg. 7.

As far as suggestions go, I got a little confused about a few things. For instance, the mother's pills are mentioned once of twice but what pills is she taking exactly? Also, we know that the father was abusive to the mother. At the end, when Matt requests to go live with his grandmother, I wish I knew more about her as a person. I am left feeling incredibly suspicious about her since both of Matt's parents have been abusive. I would like to be given a little more closure at the end. There were also a couple places where the voice seemed to belong to a much older child. For example, on pg. 7 Matt asks "There's an incorrect way to touch someone?" I feel like he should ask what "inappropriately" means first, and have to be told "wrong".

That's all. Hope that helps some! Good work.

CK

Response to Robert's "A Different Place"

Dear Robert,

This is a story about a family dealing with the aftermath of a car crash that injured many of them and resulted in the death of a family friend. The focus is on the guilt the father feels because he was the one driving the car, and the conflict within the narrator as he watches his dad's helplessness.

So, some awesome things about your story. You have some very authentic details, such as about New Years' karaoke on pg. 2. I also really liked the quote on pg. 3 that "hanging up the phone meant not having any answers." It's like resigning yourself to uncertainty. Anyway, that line was very effective. The description of the Costan Rican hospital was also very effective, although I would avoid words like "primitive" (3). It might be considered offensive.

So moving on to suggestions: while I like the details you give about Derick, I would like more so that there is a greater emotional impact in the reader when he actually passes away. I also wish that we were given more background information about the father. For example, if we were supplied with some of the memories of when he had to be strong, maybe we would see a greater contrast between his current state of helplessness and his past strong self. Finally, the ending feels very unfinished to me. Are we supposed to feel that the narrator is somehow also assuming blame for the accident because if he had asked them to come home early, they may not have had the accident? If this is your intention, make it incredibly clear that the narrator is thinking how things might have been different if they had behaved differently. I am also wondering why the narrator is not on the trip with their family. And finally, why does the father refer to his wife as Miss Stephanie? Wouldn't he just call her by her name? And why does he call Derick Mr. Derick on pg. 2?

Thanks for writing! Keep it up.

CK

Response to Molly's "Chase"

Dear Molly,

This story is about a girl who is bitter after getting herpes from her ex-boyfriend, and it contrasts how each has reacted to the disease.

There was so much about this story that was super effective. I love how you used the image of the zombie from the tattoo place and brought it back at the end. It made it super powerful. Also, the detail about the dying snake and how that was tied in at the end was awesome. It gave a lot of character to Chase and to Caroline. She's the kind of girl who would like a pet snake, and he's the kind of guy who will buy the cheapest one available. There were also a couple descriptions that really hit home, such as calling the twins Teletubbies on pg. 2, the red heart shapes on Chases's neck as described on pg. 1, and the "swallows of trans fat" on pg. 4. All of these were awesome.

As far as suggestions go, there were a couple of sentences or phrases at seemed unnecessarily ambiguous to me. For example, "new blonde waitress" on pg. 1 means that she is newly a waitress or newly blond? Also, on pg. 2 I wasn't sure who said "he's a girlfriend guy". And what does that mean? Did you mean a good boyfriend guy? Also on pg. 2, does the phrase "I like boring you" mean she likes making him bored or likes him better when he is boring? Finally, the transition from the tattoo parlor back to the cheap burger joint on pg. 6 was a little too abrupt for me. It could easily be remedied by a literal space in the text, or some kind of verbal transition to bring us back to the present.

Thanks for writing!

Sincerely,

CK

Response to Alyson's Smith "Kids"

Hi, Alyson.

The story centers around Jenny, who doesn't fit in very well. She rejects the world of fashion that the girls around her are obsessed with. This story addresses the idea of young girls trying to be much older than they are. There is also a secondary theme addressing hypocrisy at the church camp

So there were lots of things about this story that worked really well. For instance, describing the smell of the lake as a mixture of 'dead fish, water, and gasoline' was very effective, if gross. I also really liked Connor's mutters about "being sorry and naked or nakedly sorry" on pg. 7. You also do a very good job of distinguishing between your narrator and these other girls. The second page is particularly telling.

As far as suggestions go, I feel like there are two many characters. Chandler and Jenna are obviously important, and Connor is essential to the plot. Right now, Jeremy and Miss Caroline don't seem to serve a large function as far as action goes. Their characters provide great social commentary, but maybe they should be incorporated into the plot just a little bit more. Also, Hannah and Lauren and Mary don't seem important at all, and they just distract from the substance of the story. I couldn't even remember who Morgan was by the time I got to page. I would suggest merging some of the extra girls and focusing on the girls who are important to the plot.

Also, it might would help to give a little bit of a greater sense of setting earlier on in your story. I wish I knew their ages on pg. 1, for example. Also, your narrator is so detached, at times to the point where I felt a little bit pushed away by her. The line "I was fascinated" on pg. 7 seemed especially calloused to me. Maybe if you included moments of vulnerability of the narrator, the detachment of the narrator wouldn't strike me as so harsh. For example, I feel like you could expand the scene with Jeremy on pg. 5 and add greater emotional stakes for the narrator.

Thanks for writing!

CK

Response to Emily's "With Sweat Stripes Across Our Bellies"

Dear Emily,

This story was about an adult woman dealing with her mother's decline in health as she grows older. It deals with the role reversal when the mom needs to be taken care of like a child.

There were a lot of wonderful details in this story that made it very authentic. For example, the image of the white doilies on pg. 1 and the brief information about the family lineage on pg. 2, as well as the specifics of stuffing the pig stomachs on pg. 4, made me feel that this story was very real and alive. I also really appreciated the inclusion of the slogan for Whery's on pg. 2, because the humor in the pun provided some necessary relief from the more serious subject matter of the piece.

I think it was very effective how you connected the memory of working in the garden with the mom during the summer to the final morning scene where the daughter is tending the garden while the mother is sitting in the lawn chair nearby. It gave a sense of unity to the piece that was very necessary.

As far as suggestions go, there were a few things that bothered me. For instance, if the mother is deaf, how is she talking? Is she not completely deaf? Or is she using sign language to communicate? Is the conversation a memory that happened before the mother completely lost her hearing? A sentence or two of exposition could quickly resolve this confusion and make things much clearer. I also was confused by the fact that the mother could no longer work by the time the narrator was five (this is on pg. 2). Why couldn't she work? Had she already started to lose her hearing?

One final concern is the return of the conversation about the pills. About the third time we came back to it, I became convinced that some grand disaster was about to take place with the medication, and when it didn't, the end felt very anticlimactic. Maybe if you just combined the second and third times this conversation appears, I wouldn't have begun to think that something horrific was about to happen. Also, the sentence "You can't take that medicine twice" on pg. 3 seemed particularly ominous to me. Maybe something less absolute would have a gentler effect. "You shouldn't take that medicine twice" or "You know the doctor said not to..." or "You don't need to...". It's just something to think about.

Thanks for writing!

Sincerely,

Christina

Response to Matt's "Fortune"

Hey, Matt.

So this story was about a man who isn't all that happy with his life getting robbed, and having to overcome his habit of not taking action in order to escape (at least, I think he escapes.) We don't know much about the narrator except that he is very attached to his dog, that someone who used to live with him left, that his job stresses him out, and that he cares about his niece.

I like how you incorporate somewhat scholarly diction into your piece, such as "sternum" and "concupiscence" on pg. 1 (I had to look that last one up), and "analgesic" on pg. 5 (I had to look that up, too). Even though these terms struck me as scholarly and I didn't know half of them, you balanced it with very conversational syntax. For example, on pg. 2 the sentence "There are two men and they are in balaclavas and they are in my living room and one of them is holding a gun" is constructed of very short clauses that are pasted together, calling the reader's attention to these details as the narrator becomes aware of them. Even the lack of contractions feels normal. I don't feel as though your narrator is talking down to me. I just feel like his day to day vocabulary is somewhat larger than mine. I really appreciate the voice you create.

There are also some awesome comparisons that you made. Likening the robber's eyes to the eyes of the dog struck me the most, actually (pg. 2), especially when the narrator wonders if the robber is also missing some important part of his head. I also appreciated the description of the robber acting as though "he wants me to have an excellent home invasion experience" (3). Also, the description of the second robber after he got shot as scratching at itch was very effective.

I like how you incorporate the television in the background, too. I don't know if that grew out of our earlier exercise in this class or if you'd had this idea long before, but I especially find the woman's screams to be chilling.

As far as suggestions go, there are a couple typos that are easily fixed. They mostly appear on the second page and the fifth page. I marked them all in my copy, at least all the ones that I found. As far as the actual content of the story goes, I think the only thing I would like changed is maybe a bit more information about the narrator (Mike). Particularly, I want to know why someone important left him. It seems implied that Mike is overly passive (sitting on the cough eating Oreos, never got rid of the posters his niece gave him, can't seem to fight back until the very end). Was that part of the reason this important somebody left?

Kay, that's all I got. As always, good job! I like reading your stuff and I want to read the final product of this story once you get it all nice and polished.

Response to Shelby's "Behind the Line"

Hello, Shelby.

This piece is about a character named Isaac who is in the military, and in charge of sending missiles to take out enemy targets. He faces a dilemma, though, because his orders involve firing on a community, including a few houses, a mosque, and a school. As he cannot accept responsibility for the death of children, he chooses to disobey direct orders instead.

I really liked the amount of research it seems you did to make this piece believable. For instance, all the acronyms like FCE, BDU's on pg. 3, FO's, and CP on pg. 7 convinced me that you were knowledgeable about your subject. I don't know much about the military at all, but from reading this it seems as though you know enough to make a fairly believable story. At least, you had me convinced. I also really liked the character of Maguire, the new private who had yet to get past the challenge and fear of it all. The information about Isaac's wife also adds dimension to his character and makes him really human.

I have a couple suggestions. I feel like you can make the climax a lot bigger. Emphasize the stakes that Isaac is taking to disobey a direct order. Maybe have him visualize standing on trial, and then visualize the school being bombed, and have to make a decision with very clear consequences staring him in the face. I would like to be made more aware of the stakes. Also, maybe you should introduce the theme of facing moral dilemmas earlier on. Maybe Maguire has had a hard time adjusting, and Isaac remembers when it wasn't so easy to fire remotely on enemy targets. Or maybe he's had a couple nightmares about the people he's killed, way back in the day before he learned the rule 'kill or be killed'. It might help your readers to figure out earlier on why this story is important, why it needs to be told.

Thanks for writing!

Response to Robert's "Curtis and DeAngelo"

Dear Robert,

This story is about two guys, Curtis and Deangelo, who are gambling together in Las Vegas. I think they're brothers, because they refer to the same man as "dad" on pg. 4. They are dealing with the consequences of a car crash last summer that has seriously injured their dad and killed a man named Bishop.

The voice of this piece was great! There were quite a few moments that really struck me, such as on pg. 2 "that's the kind of thing that stings your gut. Pulls on your chest hair like duck tape". Also, on pg. 6, the description that "the hospital always smelled like a numb wash cloth stuck in your mouth".

The transition was a little confusing to me, from the original table where Curtis was gambling to the point where Curtis had received a phone call, Deangelo has lost his jacket, and they start hashing out back story to do with an "accident last summer". I thought Temptation Temple was going to be important, and then it was skipped right over. Maybe make the transition a little bit longer. And on pg. 4, Deangelo says something about "before we got arrested tonight", which I wasn't even aware had happened. Also the turn around from being in the hospital with Curtis's dad to the next morning when he says he didn't make it is just so fast! It confused me, and I had to go back and check that I'd read everything right. One minute, he was going to be all right with a potential full recovery, and then he was gone.

Basically, that's my biggest suggestion. Make everything clearer. I'm still not sure what the relationship between Curtis and Deangelo is (are they brothers? cousins? just friends?). I'm not sure exactly what happened in the accident, only that someone named Bishop was close to the family died and now Dad is in surgery. And I'm not sure why it is important that Deangelo lost his jacket to the Brazilian girl.

I liked it. Good job!

Sincerely,

Christina

Response to Kevin Boy's "Brotherly Love"

To: Kevin
From: Christina

This story was about two grown brothers and their dedication to each other as well as to their past, which conflicts with present financial concerns and safety. The focus is on the relationship William has with his brother. He complains about Stephen to Stephen's children, saying that being like him isn't a compliment (pg. 2). The two brothers also argue a bit, but the heated debate is tempered with pool and whiskey. This makes it clear that although the brothers disagree, there is still a camaraderie that is deeper than their opinions. As the story unfolds, the readers are made aware of some serious sacrifices William makes for his family. He tries not to swear around his niece and nephew, he cooks dinner, he's part of the family. So the story focuses on the relationship between the two brothers, and the process of letting go of the past.

The thing I loved best about this piece was the characters! William is incredibly likable, the way he banters with his niece and calls her "Samuel" instead of "Samantha". I also really liked the detail about how he carries a cigarette around even though he doesn't smoke. I wish you had told us a little bit more about his friend, though, who smoked. Did he get lung cancer? How has smoking affected the friend's life?

As far as suggestions go, I have a few. There are a couple big typos, such as referring to Samantha as Sarah a couple times, on pg. 6 and pg.8. Also, you slipped into first person for one sentence on pg. 8. Also on pg. 8, the paragraph where you describe William's thoughts as he sees the burglar is a little bit confusing. Sometimes you use italics and sometimes you don't. I would say pick one method of presenting his thoughts and stick with it. Personally, I like first person in italics instead of putting tags like "he thought" and stuff, but it's up to you.

Another suggestion involves the description of the family shrine on pg. 3 I found this a little bit overwhelming, because you introduced the names of so many people that we as readers hadn't met. I do think it is important to show us the history that this house holds for the family, but maybe you could cut back on the amount of details that you give us. Maybe you could list the types of plaques on the wall without necessarily naming who they belong to. I think you could keep the detail about Williams degrees and Stephens high school diploma, because that shows the disparity between the two brothers' education.

Finally...I was a little confused about who Leslie was. I assume she was a Realtor? If you could throw in just a bit of narration to clarify that, I would be satisfied.

That's all! Hope that helps some. Good work!

Response to Janelle Green's "The Truth Behind the Window"

(Hi, Janelle!)

This story dealt with the theme of suburban hypocrisy. Christina (that's me!) watches her neighbors through her window and so is exposed to much of their lives that they didn't want others to see. The irony is that Christina's own life is less perfect. She is content to be aware of that hypocrisy of her neighbors, and not to do anything about it just as she doesn't do anything to salvage her own less-than-perfect marriage.

There were quite a few phrases in this piece that really captured images. For example, on the first page, the Larry's jacket is "beginning to swell with patches of dark gray" from the rain.  "His looks were all he had" on pg. 3 is another favorite phrase of mine. Also, the comparison of watching through the window to watching a silent movie was a very effective comparison (pg.1). Finally, the scenes that Christina witnesses from her window are hilarious! I love the description of Larry in the rain, not realizing his keys are on the ground not that far from him, and I love the scene with the spoiled little girl who doesn't want to have to pedal. The image of her dad running back to the house with her flailing in his arms to fetch a Band-Aid for her was perfect.

As far as suggestions go, I have a few concerns. It took me a little while to figure out how old Christina was intended to be. Mostly, the sentence "watching her neighbors was fun" made me wonder if she was younger. Consider using a more mature adjective there, or clarifying that Christina is a fully grown married woman a little earlier on in your story. I wasn't sure of her relative age until pg. 3. Also, I'm not sure that switching from present tense to past tense over and over again was necessary. I'm not sure if this was intended, or to what end it would have been intended. I marked all the sections where this occurred. I would suggest maintaining past tense for the duration of the story, because the immediacy of present tense isn't very necessary to the heart of the story and the switches are distracting. There are some grammatical discrepancies as well. I tried to mark them all in the text, but it was a little distracting at times. Finally, I wish there was more development during the actual story. Why is Christina married to Theo? And how does she actually change during the course of the story? She seems content at the end with only knowing the real truth about her neighbors and their lives, even if no one else knows it and it doesn't change anything, but that doesn't seem that different from the very beginning of the story.

Thanks for writing! It was fun to read.