• Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.

The White Room

Go to CruxDreams.com
pkindenhaag said:
I have this terrible/beautiful feeling that i am writing for a tiny but perfect minority here,,, I think, weirdly, that makes me quite happy...
Click to expand...
With only a dozen or so vignettes and over 1300 views you are writing for a good number of people. I'm sorry I haven't commented before but sometimes Real Life gets in the way. Do not be discouraged PK...

Tree
 
That you're an exceptionally talented writer.
It's nice to get views and likes, nicer still to get positive feedback,
even constructive criticism.
But if I feel content with something I've written,
if I can say confidently to myself,
"eul, that's not bad!",
and I've posted it on the Forums to share with people here
who I know are likely to appreciate it,
whether a lot of people find it
or (at first, at any rate) only a few -
I'm happy.
And you can certainly say to yourself,
"pk, that's not bad - it's bloody good!"​
 
He’ll come. I know he will. She told me he will keep his promise to me. She said she wouldn’t come, but I think she will. She’ll come too and sit with me on the bench seat in the car and she’ll put her hand on my leg and she’ll look into my eyes and she’ll whisper something to me. I think that’s what she’ll do. I’ll be glad she’s there with me in the car as we drive along the ocean highway and send the dust spiraling into the sky as we turn down into the valley that he’s told me about. She’ll be there close to me and I’ll feel her breathing and I’ll look at the white cotton of her blouse as it rises over her breasts and I’ll look at the shining red of her lips and the deep green of her eyes and those tiny freckles that dot her nose and cheek bones. And perhaps I’ll touch her too. And then we’ll be there at the old farmstead with the broken wooden posts and the barn with half a roof and the shadows of torn tin corrugations that sit a stained red corpse on the sandy ground.
 
Eulalia said:
That you're an exceptionally talented writer.
It's nice to get views and likes, nicer still to get positive feedback,
even constructive criticism.
But if I feel content with something I've written,
if I can say confidently to myself,
"eul, that's not bad!",
and I've posted it on the Forums to share with people here
who I know are likely to appreciate it,
whether a lot of people find it
or (at first, at any rate) only a few -
I'm happy.
And you can certainly say to yourself,
"pk, that's not bad - it's bloody good!"​
Click to expand...

Agree wholeheartedly with what Eul just said here!!!!! :)
 
Eulalia said:
That you're an exceptionally talented writer.
It's nice to get views and likes, nicer still to get positive feedback,
even constructive criticism.
But if I feel content with something I've written,
if I can say confidently to myself,
"eul, that's not bad!",
and I've posted it on the Forums to share with people here
who I know are likely to appreciate it,
whether a lot of people find it
or (at first, at any rate) only a few -
I'm happy.
And you can certainly say to yourself,
"pk, that's not bad - it's bloody good!"​
Click to expand...
Everything you say is true.
 
pkindenhaag said:
He’ll come. I know he will. She told me he will keep his promise to me. She said she wouldn’t come, but I think she will. She’ll come too and sit with me on the bench seat in the car and she’ll put her hand on my leg and she’ll look into my eyes and she’ll whisper something to me. I think that’s what she’ll do. I’ll be glad she’s there with me in the car as we drive along the ocean highway and send the dust spiraling into the sky as we turn down into the valley that he’s told me about. She’ll be there close to me and I’ll feel her breathing and I’ll look at the white cotton of her blouse as it rises over her breasts and I’ll look at the shining red of her lips and the deep green of her eyes and those tiny freckles that dot her nose and cheek bones. And perhaps I’ll touch her too. And then we’ll be there at the old farmstead with the broken wooden posts and the barn with half a roof and the shadows of torn tin corrugations that sit a stained red corpse on the sandy ground.
Click to expand...

as always .... a masterpiece of thick description ... the prose just comes alive for me!
 
I look at the marks on my wrist. On my left wrist, the one that is cut by the shade from the window. I look at my wrist and wonder how it will be. I look at my arm that lies gently on the white cotton sheet and I wonder how it will be. I close my eyes again and I think of an old movie that I remember from a long time ago and how she stood in the bathroom and slowly combed her hair that was black and how she smiled at him, not knowing that ten years later he’d be there on the lock gate in Paris with the girl with the wild hair and that he’d say the same words and that the lifebelt would sink into the water. I think of the clanking train as it passes over the Seine and disappears into the tunnel in Passy. And I look at my feet and remember my ballet classes and I look again at my wrist.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom