A wind blowing

[neonumb]

Please let me know what you think of this. I don't mind criticism, but would like it to be followed by advice as to how I can make this better.


It had been one of those days again. He went the roof of the building he lived in as he always did when he it had been a that kind of a day. The roof was high above most of the building in the city and he liked the feeling he got when he looked at the lights around the city. He was alone on the roof, he always was. There where some chairs and a table but they where never used, not that he had seen. He look at the chairs and felt sad, "a chair that was never used, was that a chair at all"? He shrugged and felt a bit stupid for feelings sad about a chair; a chair didn't have emotions after all. It was just one of the days. And one of those nights.
He went to the edge of the roof and looked down; it would be a long fall. "Perhaps it would be like flying" he thought as he stepped up on the railing that was around the roofs edges. It was quite wide and he felt fairly secure standing there. He swayed a little in the wind and felt his heart beat a little faster. If someone looked up and saw him they would probably think that he was going to jump. But he wasn't, never him. He didn't understand people who committed suicide that was the easy way out. "Then why are you up here then?" a voice in his head asked. He didn't like that voice; it always asked the questions he couldn't answer. "I'm up here to think" he tried telling the voice but he knew he didn't fool it. "You just wait for the wind to push you down so you can say you didn't jump, don't you?" he tried ignoring the voice but how do you ignore something inside you?
He looked around at the lights from windows in buildings around the city and tried to imagine how they lived. He almost thought he could see a family sitting in the sofa watching TV and he wanted to go sit down with them and feel ... secure? Loved? Wanted? He didn't know what he wanted. He never new what he wanted. He climbed down from the railing and went down to his apartment.
Outside he heard the wind picking up.

 

[Crystal]

welcome,

First, welcome, neonumb. and I should tell you that I can only say what came to me as I read it. Others might give you more effective advices.

. He look at the chairs and felt sad, "a chair that was never used, was that a chair at all"? He shrugged and felt a bit stupid for feelings sad about a chair; a chair didn't have emotions after all. It was just one of the days. And one of those nights....

If he felt sad for a chair, wouldn't he want to do something (sitting on it for a minute, for example) to make it a CHAIR? umm, was he judging himself as a bit stupid, or it was you, the writer?

He didn't understand people who committed suicide that was the easy way out. "Then why are you up here then?" a voice in his head asked. He didn't like that voice; it always asked the questions he couldn't answer. "I'm up here to think" he tried telling the voice but he knew he didn't fool it. "You just wait for the wind to push you down so you can say you didn't jump, don't you?" he tried ignoring the voice but how do you ignore something inside you?

The self-talk here was vivid and real, especially this one: "You just wait for the wind to push you down so you can say you didn't jump, don't you?"

Outside he heard the wind picking up.

How lonely he was?!

Best wishes,
crystal

 

[Cathy C]

Also welcome, neonumb! Always nice to see another writer come on board!

This is a nice, melancholy piece. Overall, I agree with watercrystal's comments. I'd add a few more:

He went the roof of the building he lived in as he always did when he it had been a that kind of a day.

Since he later goes downstairs to his apartment, the words "of the building he lived in" could probably be eliminated without affecting the feel. To the narrator, what IS "that kind of a day?" The reader would identify a little better with the person if you knew more about him. Is it heartache, or the stress of a dead-end job, or even a lonely holiday that makes him go to the roof?

Turning this into a holiday piece would be good, because so many people don't understand how powerful loneliness can be for those with no family in a "family" season. Perhaps something like adding in that snow was falling as the wind picked up, or imagining a sparkling tree or candles in the window or hearing faint carols or canned music would add a gut-wrenching touch.

Just a thought. But a very good attempt!

Cathy

 

[neonumb]

Thx for your advice and your welcome and appreciate that you didn't laugh me off the forum.

I see what you meen and how it would have made it better and will try to use it to make this, or what I write next, better.

Always nice to see another writer come on board!

Give me 20 years and a some talent and I just might call myself that, but for now I will keep my dayjob.

I just write down what I think and try to make it something that others would enjoy reading, I'm still far from that point but who knows I just might reach that goal and if not, then I'm just glad I don't have to make a living of writing.

But thx for your input, but be warned I might just write more at some point.

 

[novella]

Hi neonumb,

Welcome to the forum.

This might seem presumptuous, but when I read this it seemed that it might be good to write it again back to front. Like, starting with him in the apartment, opening with the last line, which is the most interesting:

"Outside he heard the wind picking up." This draws him outside. He looks in the windows. He thinks about the empty chair. He looks over the edge.

If you take out the sentences about "one of those days" and substitute, as Cathy suggests, what you are referring to, I think that will lead you to the heart of the story. This is just a door opening. . . .


Novella