Quicklinks:
Short S. | Poetry | Not News | Scripts | Comedy | Non-Fiction | SF | Crime | For Kids | Extended | Village
Great Writing - Home > Short S. > Respect
READING ROOM
Great Writing - Home
Read and review others' work
Articles on writing
Advice from the community
COMMUNITY
Talk to others in the forums
Events and Competitions
GW News
ABOUT GREAT WRITING
All About Us
Contact Us
WORK AWAITING REVIEW
GW IS...
Great Writing creative writing community is designed to prompt ideas and provide inspiration and motivation within aspiring and amateur authors. Whatever your topic; from love poetry to Doctor Who or Harry Potter fan fiction, Great Writing's online writing group is where you can make new friends and improve your creative writing.
WHO'S ONLINE
We have 1276 guests online and 3 members online
Shorts
print friendly version     
Respect
By Snodlander
28 May 2007
There's a reason I don't commute by train

There’s something about a man with a sword that commands respect, thought Richard, as he ran the whetstone slowly down the edge of the blade.  It doesn’t much matter if it’s an eastern katana or a western sabre.  Brutal broadsword or precise epee.  Size truly didn’t matter, nor style.  It was just the fact that it was a sword.  People respected a man with a sword.

He turned the sword gently in his lap.  The light caught the microscopic particles of steel that had been shaved off by the whetstone.  In an odd way, it was beautiful: the razor-sharp blade with the tiny flecks glittering.  It was deep, symbolic of… well, Richard wasn’t too sure what it was symbolic of, but it seemed full of symbolism.

People didn’t just respect a man with a sword, they showed respect, too.  In their actions, their body language, their eyes.  Especially their eyes.

Take today.  Here he was, sitting alone.  When did that ever happen?  Normally he was packed up close to strangers, smelling their sweat, feeling their body heat as they pressed their flesh up close to his.  Today the seats either side of him were empty.  Two of the three seats opposite too.  The third seat was occupied by a young woman, sitting by the window, who had been there when Richard had sat down.  And the carriage was crowded.  People were standing up in the aisle.  But they respected Richard too much to crowd him.  Not today, the day he had a sword.

He carefully replaced the whetsone back into his briefcase.  He took out his hanky and gently ran it along the length of the blade, gathering up all those glittering, metal flecks, binding them in the oil that had transferred from the whetstone.  Grey and red streaks stark against the white cotton.

The woman opposite was staring at him.  She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him since he had freed the sword from its scabbard.  That would not have happened normally.  Normally Richard was invisible.  People would ignore him, bumping into him on the crowded platform without a grunt of apology as if he didn’t exist.  Now this young lady, attractive enough in her own way, was looking at him.  Him, Richard, the man with the sword.

He graced her with a smile.  She returned it, nervously, and then looked away.  Shy.  Too respectful to continue to openly stare at him.  He had seen that before.  At work.  A woman would start to act all shy and bashful in front of a particular male colleague.  He knew how that went.  There would be smiles, then later private jokes.  Sometimes Richard was sure the jokes were about him.  Then a bunch of them would go to the pub after work, and the two would disappear.  But none of the women were ever coquettish with him.  Not before today.  But today it would be different.  Today he would have a sword.

Carefully Richard ran his thumb across the edge, testing how sharp it was.  Sharp enough to slice his thumb if he wasn’t too careful.  Sharp enough to slice to the bone if he wanted to.  Sharp enough to command respect.  Richard carefully slid the sword into the scabbard, then stood up.  The woman opposite flinched.  He smiled beatifically at her.  A man with a sword can afford to be generous with his smiles.

“My stop,” he apologised to her.  He was tempted, briefly, to remain with her.  To continue the journey to her destination, maybe go to the pub with her.  To disappear afterwards, just the two of them.  But there was time enough for that.  First he had to get to work.  Respect was owed to him there.

Richard alighted and strode down the platform.  Briefcase in one hand, scabbard in the other.  Yes, there was something about a man with a sword that commanded respect.

Reviews

Written by stevetroster (1549 comments posted) 28th May 2007
So we are finally away from fairy stories and on to troubled souls, and rightly so, there's far more mileage in a good psycho. 
As usual, very nicely written with some lovely images: 
 
'The light caught the microscopic particles of steel that had been shaved off by the whetstone. In an odd way, it was beautiful. The razor-sharp blade with the tiny flecks glittering. It was deep, symbolic.' 
 
It is touches like these that are symbolic of your work. 
 
However, I must do it again - 'help' that is. 
" He smile beatifically at her." 
 
Best wishes 
Steve. 
great writing
Written by Asferthecat (834 comments posted) 28th May 2007
Great writing and a brilliant idea. You must chuck your stuff out - this has a distracting number of typos. 
My only tiny quibble is the whetstone. What happens to it? Does he put in his pocket? Isn't it too big? Does he put it in his briefcase? We are not told. With so much detail about his other doings it was a little niggle. 

Written by Snodlander (501 comments posted) 28th May 2007
Whetstone returned. Not sure what typos you mean, though. Unless you read this within five minutes of my posting, when I corrected a couple.

Written by Janie (265 comments posted) 29th May 2007
ooh i can't wait till he gets to work :grin very nice vignette and a glimpse into the mind of a nutter. 
 
something's wrong with this sentennce..it felt as if it should be leading somewhere..something's missing but don't know what...maybe if you used 'glittered' 
 
The razor-sharp blade with the tiny flecks glittering.  
 
also here there's a repeat of taken and think you could replace with soemething else for better flow. 
 
She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him since he had taken the sword from its scabbard. 
 
love this word..will use it my next story for sure. :grin  
 
coquettish 
 
i wasn't sure about beatifically or whatever it was, can't find it now...anyway i've not come across that before, wasn't sure what it meant..is it something to do with saints? (beautification) 
 
nice story.

Written by Lizzy (790 comments posted) 29th May 2007
Quite chilling and well written. Kept me on the edge of my seat. 
With Janie can't wait till he gets to work. 
I think you tapped into the idea of madness very well (assuming that he is mad and not just typical of train commuters.) 
Good one 
Lizzy

Written by Snodlander (501 comments posted) 29th May 2007
Janie, 
 
The first sentence you queried really followed on from the previous, so I've run the two together. Thanks for the 'taken'. I've now got him freeing the sword, which sounds more menacing. 
 
beatifically means giving a blessing. because she 'respects' him he is magnanimous and blesses her with a smile.

Written by TwistedTales (548 comments posted) 29th May 2007
At first i thought he made swords or mended them or something, but later when you say that he had to get to work i got a lil confused. What did he do? You mention that initially people ignored him and now that he has a sword, people have suddenly started respecting him. If he was menatlly unstable he would have tried other things to get attention. I also didn't get this "then a bunch of them would go to the pub after work, and the two would disappear." Dissapear where? SO all this put together, i couldn't personally relate to the story much, but it is written well nonetheless. Sorry, if my comments seem a lil harsh.  
 
Regards, 
TT

Written by Janie (265 comments posted) 29th May 2007
it's faux respect TT, they're shitting themselves cos he has a huge blade and is sharpening on the train..it makes them uneasy. 
 
the pub, they are disappearing for a bit of how's yer father, probably to one or the other's pads, or maybe up the park in the bushes :)  
 
 
 
Is it my dirty mind....
Written by philkent (157 comments posted) 29th May 2007
or is there some phallic Fruedian symbolism buried in this piece. 
 
You've balanced some dark observational humour and edgy suspense very nicely. The imagery is direct and surreal all at the same time.

Written by Phil (6681 comments posted) 30th May 2007
Thank god for Philkent. I dare ask it too now. Was there some phallic symbolism going on? If there wasn't - there ought to have been. 
 
I wonder - when he gets to work, does he he just polish it, or do something thrusting with it? (The sword that is.) 
 
Enjoyed very much. 
 
Phil.

   Only registered users can rate and write comments.
   Please login or register.

Powered by AkoComment 2.0!
 Previous item   Next item
This site is copyright 2005 - 2007 Great Writing. Work submitted by members remains the copyright of the respective authors.
See our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.