Short Story- rate please?

Effulgent
Thu, 25 Nov 2004 00:04:30 +0000

Hey, I’m just looking for a repsonse for my short story that I wrote just a few minutes ago. I figured this was the most suitable place to put it.

Anyway, my story may seem a little pointless, but you have to analyze it a bit. I used simplistic writing purposely. Please give constructive feedback!

Hard Talkin’ (possible name change soon)

Sebastian looked wearily at the beaten-up brown suitcase at the rear of the car. The last week has felt longer than his eight years. His daddy and him were poor; that’s why his mama was leaving. That’s what she said. Anyway, she promised she’d be back. But Sebbie wasn’t dumb. He didn’t talk like the boy with the white-blonde hair in the big house, but he wasn’t dumb. He was just tired.
“Seb? Sebbie? Aren’t you gonna say 'bye?” He looked up at a tall and willowy woman–she had the same eyes as him. They were sort of hazel, brown-green and deep, round and deepset. He could see something sparkling in them, and suddenly he felt like his eyes wanted to sparkle like hers too–to match. They always matched, haven’t they? Mother and son, so alike.
Sebastian wiped away at his face with the rough sleeve of his arm, although his face was parched and dry.
“M-mummy? Are y-you-” He stopped talking then; he knew he couldn’t talk like the white-blonde boy, and anyway, he was just too tired to try.
But Mama always understands.
“Sorry, baby,” she said softly, betraying her suddenly stone face (which was so smooth-looking now; had he aged his mother before that much?). She ruffled his honey-colored stringy hair and turned away. Forever, Sebastian though. Then, he felt guilty; dare he accuse his own mum of not keeping her promises? She never lied to him to before, that’s what she said, wasn’t it?
Sebastian stood and watched as his mother got in the car. She opened the door, stepped in, sat down. She straightened her dress, called to the driver, lit a cigarette. The car drove off. She never looked in the rearview mirror. Sebastian stared as the car rattled away, off to some future, to some sort of gimick wrold, where the too-bright northern lights his mother was looking for were.
He turned when the sky got a little dark and took slow steps towards that shanty of his, making sure he was quiet and slow, just in case mama decided to return. He finally reached the door, but his mama hasn’t changed her mind yet. Sebastian wasn’t dumb, but he was hoping anyway. He pulled the door open and stepped inside. It was kind of dark, sort of like the water when the sun wasn’t shining on it–except not as bright.
Daddy was sitting in his chair, his body slack and face hard. It wasn’t the same kind of hardness as mother’s, but it was rather sad, more forlorn. Papa’s eyes were red, maybe from all the crying. Sebastian wasn’t dumb; he knew what his father felt when he wasn’t trying too hard to smile.
The nights following were always like this; Sebastian would wait every afternoon in the driveway for his mama, but when his mother didn’t come back, he came in to sit quietly with his daddy. They never talked. They hardly slept, either. They just looked at each other with their red eyes and aching bodies. Sebastian wasn’t dumb; he knew his heart ached the most.
“Son?” asked dad one evening that was particularly cold. “Do you reckon she’s found some money yet?”
Sebbie shrugs his shoulders, which look smaller than they did a month ago. Papa notices.
“Gettin’ a wee bit skinny there, boy. I reckon you could use a bit of bread. Maybe some fresh bacon too, if you like,” suggested daddy.
Sebbie shakes his head. His hair is too long. Papa noticed this too.
“You sure? I have some fresh eggs. And you need a haircut real bad.”
Sebastian stares at him. His eyes are different; they’re blue and light and flat. They were bloodshot. His eyes sparkled too, but not the same. They didn’t match with Sebastian’s.
“Cheer up, son. Mom’s comin’ home soon.” Pa put his large hands through Sebastian’s honey strings, but they weren’t smooth like mom’s. His fingers were too rough. Sebastian hated father because father makes his soul ache more than mother already did, and when daddy wasn’t looking, Sebastian’s eyes sparkled too much. But they weren’t pretty, like mom’s. They didn’t match. Sebastian stared intently into dad’s eyes.
“Aw, boy. She promised ya, didn’t she?” he asked, laughing. Sebastian heard no mirth, for he tried to hear it. But he was just tired of trying.
“I am not dumb, father,” said Sebastian without a single stutter. And all father could do was cry.