Wasn't sure where to put this. Our writing class was given the task of writing about something that frightened us when we were children or teenagers. This is on the whole true, but with some tinkering.
Not sure of title or ending.
Comments most welcome.
Dusty
The bright, comforting lights of the bus disappeared into the distance. My heart sank as I realised, half an hour before the next one. I’d promised to be home by ten, sharing the ride with Sally, my friend from down the road. For some reason Sally hadn’t come.
I was on my own.
I’d spent all afternoon in my bedroom, the record player on repeat playing Dusty Springfield’s…’You don’t have to say you love me…’over and over again.
Even now her music has the power to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end!
Singing along and ‘performing’ in front of the mirror, perfecting the movements I’d seen her make on ‘Top of the Pops.’
Frequent shouts from downstairs of ‘Turn that down!’ had limited effect.
The bed covered in a heap of clothes, I couldn’t decide what to wear. Would HE be there? I could feel the goose pimples, just thinking about it.
Maybe he’d ask me out this time.
Eventually the decision was made. The new mini skirt, the one I’d saved up for from my Saturday job at Woolworth’s. The one my mother hadn’t seen. I knew she’d disapprove. ‘That’s much too short!’
If I put my coat on she wouldn’t notice I could take it off and put it into my bag before I got to the club.
If I timed my departure from the house just right mum would be in the kitchen getting dad’s tea. I’d get a quick kiss and a ‘You look nice dear. Have a lovely time. Don’t forget. Back by ten!’ Otherwise I’d get the full scrutiny and be told to change my skirt and wash off some of my makeup. Luckily she was in the middle of pastry making and so I managed to escape.
I’d planned to meet Sally there. It was her gran’s birthday and her dad was going to drop her off after the party.
The bus journey seemed to take forever. I sat on the edge of my seat rehearsing what I’d say to him. I just knew, he’d speak to me this week.
Why had I hung around when the club had closed?
I knew why and I was beginning to regret it slightly now.
He’d looked at me. He’d come over and spoken to me. ‘This is it,’ I’d thought, And that was why I was here.
On my own.
The bus stop, no shelter just a pole with a sign indicating the bus route. No one else. A street light, illuminating an area of safety. The road behind well lit the one ahead full of shadows and unknowns. I had a choice. Wait for the next bus and be home late and knowing I wouldn’t be allowed to go to the club next week, or walk and get home on time. I stood and thought, debating my best options.
‘You don’t have to say you love me…’ Dusty blasting out from the record player, The organisers setting out chairs, in the kitchen orange juice and biscuits being prepared. I looked around, couldn’t spot Sally. Looked again, couldn’t see HIM. Went and chatted to Becky for a while, made myself scarce when Roger arrived, no point in staying when they obviously were only interested in each other.
Was it my imagination or did it suddenly go very quiet as the door slowly swung open.
There HE was. My heart missed a beat. He looked around the room. Would he notice me?
I could not wait at that bus stop for half an hour. I looked towards the darkness, to the road stretching ahead. If I walked really quickly I’d be home in time. One last look to the bright lights of the main road and I set off. I’d walked down this road hundreds of times in daylight and had thought nothing of it, but darkness and night time makes everything very different. The tall blank faces of the factories on one side, the curtained, dimly lit windows of the houses on the other. Dark doorways and even darker side streets only added to the feeling of isolation. I set the next bus stop as my target; there might be another bus by the time I got there.
He looked over and waved.
Where was Sally when I needed her?
He went to talk to his friends and then went to get some orange juice. I tried to watch him without being too obvious.
I could not believe it when he walked towards me carrying two glasses of orange juice. He sat down, offered me the drink and started to chat. I was in heaven. I don’t think I’d ever felt happier!
The yellow light cast by the streetlights seemed to intensify the shadows beyond their beam. My footsteps echoed on the pavement, being bounced off the tall, dark factory walls. The occasional passing car did nothing to alleviate the feeling of being completely alone, of being beyond help should I need it.
Then I heard it.
A sound.
Footsteps seeming to match my own.
I walked faster; those other steps seeming to keep in time. I was too frightened to turn around. Afraid that there was something there that I did not want to see.
We’d talked about music, about school, about the holidays. I just wanted the night to go on for ever and ever. I could not believe it when the organisers started to clear up and it was time to go. We all stood outside for a while chatting, me hoping he’d ask me out. Eventually he turned, gave me a big smile and said, ‘See you next week!’ and walked off with his friends. I felt slightly disappointed, but there was always next week.
Wait ‘til I told Sally!
The steps behind me seemed to be getting louder, and closer. Suddenly all those reports I’d read in the paper or seen on the tele came back to me. The warnings about being a girl alone in a lonely place. ‘At night always stay in a place with other people. Don’t go into dark unlit places alone!’ I could feel my heart beating and I’d begun to sweat. I walked faster and those other heavy footsteps were still with me.
The next bus stop was just ahead and to my great relief there was a couple waiting there. I stopped when I reached it, not daring to look round, but still aware of those footsteps. They kept coming and for a moment I had an awful feeling that the couple and the owner of the footsteps were in league and it was a plot to do me some harm.
The footsteps kept coming, getting louder and closer until I could feel they were right behind me. I closed my eyes and held my breath, not sure what to expect. When I opened them again a figure was disappearing into the distance.
I waited for the bus, which dropped me not far from my front door.
I was banned from going to the club the next week but it took me a very long time to forget the fear I had felt.
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Written by andybyers (171 comments posted) 29th September 2007 |
This is really good. I like the way it weaves back and forth from a moment of increasing excitement and joy to one of increasing dread and terror. It's a good, solid basis for... something. I think there's something about it that doesn't make the best use of your materials, though. Something that ought to tie it all together. Something about the boy, to coin a phrase. I'm hoping there's something about the good time your narrator, with an eye to being significant to what happens later on. Does she tell him about it? Does he offer to walk her home next time, and their life together takes flight from these mingled events? I understand you were to write about a moment of dread, and as that, it works very well. But you've also included this wonderful setup for something more, and I think you can use that to leverage this piece beyond the exercise it was originally intended to be. I hope you'll consider it... it's a strong piece.  |
Written by Phil (6730 comments posted) 29th September 2007 |
It's always hard with non-fiction to tie all the pieces together as you would in a fiction narrative. This had all the elements of a good story, but as Andy suggests, it lacks something to tie it together at the end. If you're willing to play a little loose with the facts I'm sure this wouldn't be too difficult. Enjoyed it anyway. The interspliced narrative worked well. Phil. |
Hi Lizzy Written by jean.day (2283 comments posted) 29th September 2007 |
I too, Lizzy, greatly enjoyed reading this. I think if you had put one of the alternating time scales in italics, it would read better. It reminded me of scarey times I have had. And the wishing for the big HE to do something struck a chord too. |
Hello Lizzy Written by Josie (2785 comments posted) 30th September 2007 |
| You are in my age group. When I read your story it took me back to those days. Life was much more simple. Firstly you wondered if he'd come and ask you for a dance, and secondly, would he walk you home. I remember one boy saying to me: "You don't remember me do you?" "No, I don't think so." "I walked you up the garden path one night because you were frightened you would step on the little frogs." ha ha. If you got as far as going out with HIM the next question was whether you allowed a kiss on the first date. Please continue the story because we wonder whether you saw him again and how did your story with HIM continue. Looking forward to the next chapter. |
Written by Lizzy (800 comments posted) 30th September 2007 |
Thanks Andy, Phil, Jean and Josie, i also feel that the ending is quite unsatisfactory. I'll have to look at it again and add more and so make it 'fictional' By the by HE never did ask me out, sob,sob. Lizzy |
Written by Bottleblondesurfer (3362 comments posted) 8th October 2007 |
The trouble with non-fiction is you can't make it up, you have to stick to what happened but by alternating the two narratives you make most of the scenario and create a really powerful atmosphere. I think I know what Andy meant I felt it was all building to something but it didn't in the end, though that is not to say you didn't have a very lucky escape [perhaps the walker did mean you harm] You create a strong sense of time and place and a feel for the prevailing attitudes at that time,all adding context. I think fear is one of the hardest emotions to capture on paper [screen?] but you got it across very well and in an understated way that actually heightened the tension; and the inter-cutting helped. Not sure about the title, a bit misleading but I can't think of anything,except maybe Saving the last dance,-hey ho cheers Jane |
Written by Lizzy (800 comments posted) 9th October 2007 |
Thanks Jane. Yes I agree with you about the title. I might pinch your idea or maybe 'You don't have to say you love me' Thanks Lizzy |
Written by Fledermaus (3301 comments posted) 10th October 2007 |
| Very good piece indeed. At first I was a bit confused because of the way you switched between the paragraphs, but when I got it it, it read easily. |
Written by Lizzy (800 comments posted) 17th October 2007 |
Thanks for the review Fledermaus. Lizzy |
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