The separator between the comment pane and the story pane
is moveable. Drag it up or down if you need more room to read
on the screen.
From: Hammon Wry
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Mon, 05 Aug 2002 14:13:39 GMT
On Mon, 5 Aug 2002 08:42:14 -0400, "Desdmona" <me@desdmona.com> asked
us to cast our eyes to "Return" by Dryad, and consider its merits.
This story, "Return" is about a young woman who comforts her friend's
father. It is 1,463 words in length. FishTank guidelines apply:
1) 2 positive suggestions
2) 2 things to improve
3) Try not to repeat!
It looks like I may be the first to respond! What an exhilerating
feeling!
OK, this is a loverly piece, tender, full of mercy and compassion, and
had a melancholy eroticness to it. It also has its moments of poetic
beauty as well. Consider this section:
Then it began to rain. I mean RAIN. It had been warm, so I had been
wearing one of my old hippie days peasant shirts. Not exactly good for
rainstorms. Then I noticed it. He was staring at my chest, but oddly, it
wasn't me he was staring at. I mean, come on, Laura died of breast
cancer; and I realized. I wasn't hitting on him. I wasn't asking for
anything. But, somehow I knew, I knew he needed to see, to feel, to realize
that they all didn't go hard, malignant and murderous.
That last line is lyrical.
So, two positive points:
1. very good treatment of an age old solace for grieving and mourning.
The rain made it evocative. Brava!
2. Great potential for auditory enjoyment.
Two hints for improvement:
1.The tone of the piece is young - this is a young woman speaking, and
for some reason that does not appeal to me. I would like to have
heard this story from the narrator's matured voice.
2. As I said in #2 above, there is great POTENTIAL for auditory (read
it outloud) enjoyment. However, there are parts that are halting, do
not flow. Again, this is personal preference. If it sounds good when
read outloud, it's well written, IMO. I think that if this story were
told again from a mature (say over 40?) perspective, it would gain
that rythm.
Overall: Lovely, sweet, tender, and sad, all at once.
Hammon Wry.
Return (MF)
By Dryad gbbjg@yahoo.com
I'm not a pig. Really!
You say that because you don't know, or don't think. Yes, yes, he was my
best friend's
father. But you miss the point!
I was wandering the park. It was Monday afternoon; not many people out. It
looked like rain, but its not like I was going to melt or anything.
Then I saw him. He was walking along the avenue of oaks. He looked gaunt,
tired. No, that's not right. He looked alone, not the kind of closed off
alone, but the kind like a
child has, and has lost something that kept them safe. Compared to the Mr.
Allard I
knew, it was devastating. I mean, this is the man who actually let us teach
him how to do the Swim and the Monkey. He was so vibrant.
I knew Mrs. Allard had passed. Breast cancer. She only lived 4 months
after they found it. Such a shame. I read about the funeral, but funerals
are for the living. She knew I'd miss her and wished her well and I wasn't
going to cry because I had known such a beautiful person.
But here he was coming toward me. Actually, bumped right into me.
"Mr. Allard, I'm so sorry. I heard. It was so sudden. She was too young." I
said and I put my hand on his arm. All of which are true. Words just never
do service to the feelings we have.
You could see it too him a moment to recognize me. Well, I guess that is
fair, I stopped
straightening my hair when I graduated high school in '67. He'd seen me
since then, but
not as often as those high school sleep-overs.
"Thank you," he said forcing a slight smile. "It was quick; she didn't
suffer much."
Odd how men have to act so macho, when its obvious he thought the world fell
apart. I
fell into step with him. Why, You ask? Quite frankly, the man shouldn't
have been
alone. For all the times he listened to me, I could damn well listen. Maybe
remind him
he didn't die with her.
"This place," he shook his head as he continued walking, "It was so special.
Did you
know, Laura and I met here? I proposed to her, at the fountain." He
chuckled slightly. "I was never so scared. I shook so bad, I actually
dropped the ring in the fountain." I
smiled. I could see him doing it. "We both jumped in, running our hands
around looking
for it. She was so wet.." His voice trailed off suddenly.
Like I was going to care? Hell, I lost my virginity to Matt Jamison in his
basement junior year. No, that wasn't going to bother me. Not only that,
but I believe its important to remember those things. I reached out for his
hand. He looked so lost.
"It's okay. It's important to remember her that way. I'm not exactly the
little kid you
remember." I'd been practically living at their house since I was 7, so I
guess his not
wanting to share that was understandable. But, he needs this, and it is
certainly better he
talk it out with me than Denise. Kids don't want to know about what their
parents do after hours.
Then it began to rain. I mean RAIN. It had been warm, so I had been
wearing one of my old hippie days peasant shirts. Not exactly good for
rainstorms. Then I noticed it. He was staring at my chest, but oddly, it
wasn't me he was staring at. I mean, come on,
Laura died of breast cancer; and I realized. I wasn't hitting on him. I
wasn't asking for
anything. But, somehow I knew, I knew he needed to see, to feel, to realize
that they all
didn't go hard, malignant and murderous.
I took the hand I was holding and softly pulling it to my breast. "Its
okay," I murmured.
His hand shook, then rested on my breast.
"So soft," He whispered.
That is when I knew I was right. But I was getting soaked, and the
bandstand was way the hell over on the other side of the park. His fingers
kneaded my breast momentarily, then as though realizing the sky was opening
up, he pulled me by the hand, running toward a stand of hemlock Denise and I
used to play house in when we were little kids.
We pushed our way through the outer boughs, and into the inner sanctum. It
would stay
dry here, unless it became a torrential downpour. Suddenly, he leaned low
and kissed me softly, putting all his boiling emotion into it. I knew it
wasn't me. He was far too in love with Laura. But I realized this, and
knew that this was his way of saying goodbye, or gaining closure, or just
healing. Call it what you will. I've done a lot of things in this life I
wasn't exactly proud of, but letting him make love to me was not one of
them. His hand caressed my face, memorizing each detail, the slope of my
jaw, the curve of my neck. He kissed surprisingly well, and I soon found
myself kissing him back; between the affection and sensuality, I began to
lose myself.
I showed him with my body, reminded him he was alive. My leg went up and
wrapped
around his legs. Our lips parted, gasping for breath. We suddenly lost our
balance and I
landed on top of him. We laughed out loud, and I rubbed his backside,
pretending to
make his boo-boo feel better. We rolled in the dry, brown, slick needles.
He pressed into me, kissing me, but suddenly shy, sluggish; so tender of me.
My hands
told him though, placed on his shoulders, bringing his lips to my breast.
His lips covered
a chilled nipple through my shirt, warming it with his tongue. Oh, god I
couldn't tell you
how I felt. The sensation was incredible, yes, but I found I was needed.
He needed me, showed me how much he did, as he moved to my other side. This
new sudden power
surged through me, and I could no long keep my body still.
"Please." I whispered. Please forgive me for not being Laura, please let me
help you.
He continued to trail down my tummy. My skirt was pulled up around my
waist, and he
could see my naked thighs. My hands reached for his hair, pulling him
closer. He
nuzzled at me, at my warmth. I reached down to help him, peeling the wet
underwear
off. He sighed. Such a sigh!
Suddenly, he was licking against me. I went a bit hazy then. I shivered,
quaked. Then
out of nowhere, I came. I mean really came hard. I usually make a ton of
noise as I get
close, but this was such a surprise, I was speechless. His tongue fluttered
over my clitoris, and my orgasm continued, until I began to whimper low.
God, I wanted him. It no longer mattered that he was my friend's father.
He was someone I loved and respected, and was making me feel incredible. I
pulled him up to me, wanting more of him.
He knelt between my legs, pressing his head against me, rubbing it softly
into my
wetness, before pressing slowly into me. He filled me. His warmth, his
caring. This was
different from all the times I'd slept with people; it wasn't for fun, it
wasn't to prove a
point-wasn't because I had hopes of marrying. It was just caring.
He pressed in fully, before sliding back out just as slowly. I couldn't
help but moan,
feeling the pressure build within me again. Felt how he was feeling in an
odd sense.
Shaking beneath him, feeling him lose himself in my body.
I watched his face as he relaxed from his orgasm. I smiled softly. He
looked stunned,
even a bit embarrassed; it was very sweet. But then I saw the pain creep in.
He fell onto
my chest, weeping the large tears that only come with something so painful.
I didn't say
anything. I wrapped my arms around him, and let him lose himself in me.
Later, he tried to apologize, said I could press charges for raping me. I
shook my head. I knew what I was doing. I knew it wasn't me; wishing I
could find someone who loved
me as much as he had loved Laura.
So now, you think I'm a pig. Well, you know what? I don't care. I just saw
a smiling
man hold his new grandchild. A man who hasn't REALLY smiled in a long time.
Denise
had a baby girl. My god daughter's name is Laura.
Fin
From: Tesseract
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 5 Aug 2002 21:41:47 -0700
"Desdmona" <me@desdmona.com> wrote in message news:<ukssr9v1pr508@news.supernews.com> ...
The following is our second story for the week in the FishTank. Dryad
submitted a story a few weeks ago called, "Gone." The story in the FishTank
this week is a mirror version, told by the POV of the female in "Gone." It
is a complete story. It's not a requirement to read "Gone" before reading
this submission. But you may wish to. It can be found at:
http://www.asstr.org/~Dryad/gone.html
This story, "Return" is about a young woman who comforts her friend's
father. It is 1,463 words in length. FishTank guidelines apply:
1) 2 positive suggestions
2) 2 things to improve
3) Try not to repeat!
The comments to FishTank entries take place right here on ASSD. But you can
find the stories and the comments stored at:
http://www.asstr.org/~Desdmona/FishTank/base
Questions? Suggestions? Submissions? Direct them to: me@desdmona.com or
Desdmona22@aol.com.
******************************************
Return (MF)
By Dryad gbbjg@yahoo.com
I can try reading this story on its own, but it's hard not to relate
it to "Gone". Why fight it; let's relate.
"Gone" was melancholy, soft. "Return" is rough, hard. Sandy, though
you don't use her name here, has an attitude. You do a good job of
showing that. And it's interesting how you can change the tone like
that and keep the same dialogue.
Actually, you show Sandy as a warm, compassionate person trying to
display a tough shell to the world. You let just a bit of the tough
act out here and there as if she has to remind herself that she is
supposed to be tough and have an attitude.
<Interesting aside> Initially I liked "Gone" a lot more than I liked
"Return" but the more I write here, the more I'm liking
"Return"<\Interesting aside>
One problem is the dates. Here I get the impression that Sandy and
Denise are about the same age. Denise has just become a first time
mother. This would make them not much older than mid thirties. In your
FT response to "Gone" you said Sandy was 29. But here you have her
graduating in 1967, which would make her about 50 if the story is set
anytime near now, and you don't give any clues to the time setting.
You could change that to graduated about 10 years ago if you don't
want to commit to actual dates.
Oh, a typo 'too' for 'took'.
Overall, a good effort and an interesting exercise in exploring
another POV.
To be honest, I didn't enjoy this as much as "Gone", although the sex
was more intense here. I was still bemused by the attraction and even
though it was told from the woman's perspective, I still didn't feel I
knew her. But it was a good idea to tell the story from two different
perspectives. It added a bit more depth.
The sex scene wasn't bad really. Perhaps it's because it comes from a
female perspective. I'm convinced that women get more out of sex than
men (lucky things!) even though men are supposed to think of nothing
else. This story reinforces my opinion.
I liked the description of the rain falling as well. This came over
quite vividly. There are a million ways to describe rain, but this
benefited from being from a girl's perspective, with the
capitalisation.
I wasn't convinced by the language, or even by the description of the
girl's character, however. But it's difficult to get right. What are
the "Swim" and the "Monkey"? Are they early sixties dance tunes like
the Twist, the Watuzi and the Locomotion. If it's more recent, then
there are dance phenomena in the States that really don't spread
beyond the county borders.
And motive? Difficult one, as the story is almost all about motive.
Feeling sorry for the man who enjoyed the Monkey. Reminiscences about
breast cancer. And then after getting it on, to be reminded of the
possibility of being done for rape. I still just didn't feel
convinced. But I guess this is a general problem with the genre, and I
can't claim to have resolved it especially satisfactorily in my
fiction either. How do you get the sex and also keep it credible?
Perhaps someone has the answer?
Overall, well done. I look forward to reading more.
Bradley Stoke
http://www.asstr.org/~Bradley_Stoke
From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Wed, 07 Aug 2002 21:24:02 -0600
On 6 Aug 2002 00:53:13 -0700, bradley_stoke@hushmail.com (Bradley
Stoke) wrote:
Dryad
The sex scene wasn't bad really. Perhaps it's because it comes from a
female perspective. I'm convinced that women get more out of sex than
men (lucky things!) even though men are supposed to think of nothing
else. This story reinforces my opinion.
While I don't know if my experiences generalize to everyone, I've
known a lot of women who were initiators and pushed to get sex
often. Maybe men talk about it more, but women are more inclined to
change thought into real action?
I wasn't convinced by the language, or even by the description of the
girl's character, however. But it's difficult to get right. What are
the "Swim" and the "Monkey"? Are they early sixties dance tunes like
the Twist, the Watuzi and the Locomotion. If it's more recent, then
there are dance phenomena in the States that really don't spread
beyond the county borders.
60s dances, watch "The Blues Brothers" for a cool dance bit showing
off a lot of styles. All part of the "Dance Craze" era, that time
when songs and dance styles were closely linked.
This story sets the time frame a bit more. She graduated high
school in 1967 - makes the dance stuff make sense, eh? This event is
probably 10 years past that, but not immensely more, because Denise
just has her first baby at the end. Nothing wrong with waiting until
you're 27-30ish, just that if you delay much longer it turns into
something less likely. Call the story set in 1975, as a guess.
And motive? Difficult one, as the story is almost all about motive.
Feeling sorry for the man who enjoyed the Monkey. Reminiscences about
breast cancer. And then after getting it on, to be reminded of the
possibility of being done for rape. I still just didn't feel
convinced. But I guess this is a general problem with the genre, and I
can't claim to have resolved it especially satisfactorily in my
fiction either. How do you get the sex and also keep it credible?
Perhaps someone has the answer?
Sandy is a sexual free spirit, a true hippie, not a fake. She
thinks that there is nothing at all wrong with sex, and when this man
puts moves on her, obviously imagining his lost Laura and using her
name (the story misses that, doesn't it? I'd stick it in; intuition
is great but when he calls her "Laura" instead of Sandy, she no longer
needs to guess. She knows, he is in dreamland. Touching her, in his
dream.
Is it OK to make love to someone who is hallucinating, thinking
you're someone else? I hope so - anyone who lived through the
60s/70s might have had the chance more than once ;-)
He doesn't think so, not at first. As you mention it, that is
something I think should be expanded. I mean, if I were Sandy, at
the end, I'd say something like, "Not only is it OK, I knew what I was
doing, but you can do it again if you like."
I don't think he'd accept the offer. But the same motivation which
makes it easy to go with the flow of the dream would make the
follow-up offer, a bit more "mercy sex," for the old man, a natural.
Jeff
Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/
For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/
There is nothing more important than petting the cat.
From: oosh
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Tue, 6 Aug 2002 13:04:29 +0000 (UTC)
I found /Return/ more persuasive than /Gone/ - more believable and also
more vivid. Others have commented on how different the atmosphere is. I
think that is necessary, inevitable. In the sentence where the narrator
says that she didn't go to Laura's funeral, her whole outlook is
encapsulated perfectly. She made sense to me.
The sex was really well done, but ...
I watched his face as he relaxed from his orgasm. I smiled softly.
He looked stunned,
even a bit embarrassed; it was very sweet. But then I saw the pain
creep in. He fell onto
my chest, weeping the large tears that only come with something so
painful. I didn't say
anything. I wrapped my arms around him, and let him lose himself in
me.
I thought that paragraph was wonderful.
However ...
[ ...] I knew it wasn't me;
wishing I could find someone who loved
me as much as he had loved Laura.
I felt this was a bit awkward - the "wishing" implies a continuity denied
by the semi-colon. (Also, my dictionary gives "godchild," "godfather,"
"godson," "godmother" all as single words, but hyphenates "god-daughter".)
Fin
Proves we're in the fish-tank, I suppose.
O.
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 07 Aug 2002 13:21:03 GMT
Okay, Officially, i know i'm not supposed to say anything (and i'm not really)
but i don't think i'm getting all the posts. I know of one for certain i have
yet to see ...
I've seen 3 posts so far (oosh, Bradley and umm..heck, i can't remember.)
I know i haven't seen Hammon Wry's one.
Could some one give me a clue? (i'd hate to miss them!)
Dryad (I hate my news-server)
From: dennyw
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Wed, 07 Aug 2002 20:20:06 GMT
On 07 Aug 2002 13:21:03 GMT, hamadryad73@cs.com (Hamadryad73) wrote:
Okay, Officially, i know i'm not supposed to say anything (and i'm not really)
but i don't think i'm getting all the posts. I know of one for certain i have
yet to see ...
I've seen 3 posts so far (oosh, Bradley and umm..heck, i can't remember.)
I know i haven't seen Hammon Wry's one.
Could some one give me a clue? (i'd hate to miss them!)
Dryad (I hate my news-server)
I bet some kind soul will email you all the posts from this thread.
(not me - my news server drops posts, too. and on this computer I only
am using the one. <pout>)
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 08 Aug 2002 00:11:25 GMT
thanks Denny,
oosh sent them to me ...
my whole systems been dropping stuff left and right lately ...i'm gonna have to
do something wth it sigh
Dryad
From: Souvie
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Thu, 08 Aug 2002 02:02:29 GMT
On Mon, 5 Aug 2002 08:42:14 -0400, "Desdmona" <me@desdmona.com> wrote:
The following is our second story for the week in the FishTank. Dryad
submitted a story a few weeks ago called, "Gone." The story in the FishTank
this week is a mirror version, told by the POV of the female in "Gone." It
is a complete story. It's not a requirement to read "Gone" before reading
this submission. But you may wish to. It can be found at:
http://www.asstr.org/~Dryad/gone.html
This story, "Return" is about a young woman who comforts her friend's
father. It is 1,463 words in length. FishTank guidelines apply:
1) 2 positive suggestions
Positive: I'll chime in with those who are comparing it to "Gone" and
say that I liked this better. I can't quite put my finger on why,
though. Maybe it's because I read it with the knowledge of the other
pov. I dunno.
Positive: I think you did a good job of capturing the difference in
her outlook on things/perception of things compared to Mr. Allard.
He's old enough to be her father, so there's the generational gap
between them, and it comes out in your writing of her pov. Which is a
good thing. :-)
2) 2 things to improve
Improvement: Some of the sentences/paragraphs were a bit choppy. It
didn't totally disrupt the flow of the story, but it did make me pause
and have to reread a couple of times.
Improvement: I would suggest you mention her name at least once. That
way people would definitely know it ties in with "Gone."
- Souvie
From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Wed, 07 Aug 2002 20:43:38 -0600
On Mon, 5 Aug 2002 08:42:14 -0400, "Desdmona" <me@desdmona.com> wrote:
The following is our second story for the week in the FishTank. Dryad
submitted a story a few weeks ago called, "Gone." The story in the FishTank
this week is a mirror version, told by the POV of the female in "Gone." It
is a complete story. It's not a requirement to read "Gone" before reading
this submission. But you may wish to. It can be found at:
http://www.asstr.org/~Dryad/gone.html
A POV note, since we're discussing that in another thread. This is
the viewpoint I see as 2nd person narrator setting up a conventional
first person past-tense story. She talks to "you", an undefined
person who is intended recipient of the story. Maybe it is a broad,
universal, anyone who reads it you (any reader can do for that). Or
maybe, the you is some personal friend.
But either way, the reader can take it as the first, barring some
sign that the "you" in the story is someone she knows. The opening of
the story suggests that it is written to someone who knows, because of
the structure of the comment.
Does it matter if we don't know who "you" is in the story? All I
know is that it isn't me, because not only didn't I call her names, I
wouldn't have. Nor likely used that particular one ;-)
I liked the part about her deciding that what she was doing was
helping, was just caring. Sometimes there really is sexual healing,
not as a joke but as a real effect.
On a mixed note, from her POV I find it harder to see it happening
so easily as in the reverse. From his POV, the sex was all memory,
not real. Not until the end would you think otherwise, and if you
check the story out (please do!), I think you could easily believe he
simply imagined the entire sex scene.
From her viewpoint, though, I don't think she justifies it all
honestly. Recognizing that he is in pain, and is reliving his first
time memory, that is one thing. Participating in it freely, without
question, without wondering whether he's lost his mind or something
worse, that requires something else.
I could see doing it. The sex part, that isn't really a big hassle,
not if you like having sex and aren't uptight about doing it with your
best friend's dad. However, up until it happens we don't know that
Sandy is that kind of person.
Maybe it was a fluke, and she wouldn't have had sex so easily with
an older man, on a whim, if the situation were otherwise. But the
odds seem better if she was into sex for fun, for pleasure, and not
tied to it only for romance.
That gets suggested later.
He knelt between my legs, pressing his head against me, rubbing it softly
into my
wetness, before pressing slowly into me. He filled me. His warmth, his
caring. This was
different from all the times I'd slept with people; it wasn't for fun, it
wasn't to prove a
point-wasn't because I had hopes of marrying. It was just caring.
I see this paragraph as being part of the definition for why Sandy
does this at all. Up until this point, I have to wonder.
Even after, well, as much as sex can be a form of corporal kindness,
rather than merely a vehicle of lust or romantic love, it seems to me
that the decision to play out the scene he envisions is still
unlikely. She'd need to ask.
But maybe, just following his wordless lead is enough. I don't
know, because I can't quite imagine doing something while being
utterly unaware of it. I've known sleepwalkers, but I've never been
one.
Still, if you presume that he really can have sex while in a memory
hallucination, acting appropriately without awareness of who he is
with, then assuming that she is willing to cooperate fully isn't a
hard leap.
Of the two, I find it easier to understand the girl who is willing
to have sex just to make someone feel better. In the right mood, it
doesn't take much to get things going, if you're so inclined.
Later, he tried to apologize, said I could press charges for raping me. I
shook my head. I knew what I was doing. I knew it wasn't me; wishing I
could find someone who loved
me as much as he had loved Laura.
What does the last sentence mean? It has a semicolon, which makes
the last clause pretty much a standalone thought. But it isn't quite
so, yet if you substitute a comma it feels odd. She knew what she was
doing, that was clear.
But the wishing part, was Sandy wishing she could find someone like
him?
So now, you think I'm a pig. Well, you know what? I don't care. I just saw
a smiling
man hold his new grandchild. A man who hasn't REALLY smiled in a long time.
Denise
had a baby girl. My god daughter's name is Laura.
This is a kind of happy ending. Except that the onliest reason that
I might think she's a pig is because she says it, and implicitly maybe
feels that way sometimes. I know, hard to read a psych profile on a
fictional character from just a few comments, but I can imagine. I
know some women who just might do that sort of thing, you know? Or I
could imagine the opposite sex situation, and helping out the poor
widow, cooperating because she was in need.
Jeff
Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/
For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/
There is nothing more important than petting the cat.
From: oosh
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Thu, 8 Aug 2002 02:49:00 +0000 (UTC)
Jeff Zephyr <jeffzeph@hotmail.com> wrote in news:3d51cce5$0$1422$272ea4a1
@news.execpc.com:
A POV note, since we're discussing that in another thread. This is
the viewpoint I see as 2nd person narrator setting up a conventional
first person past-tense story.
I'm struggling to understand what people mean by "POV" and "narrator" now.
I don't see a 2nd person narrator. I think this recent POV fascination is
leading to hopeless confusion, and I don't believe it leads anywhere in
terms of being better able to understand or enjoy someone's writing.
O.
From: cmsix
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Thu, 08 Aug 2002 03:01:16 GMT
"oosh" <oosh@gmx.NOSPAM.net> wrote in message
news:Xns926426E30C7CCooshgmxnet@217.32.252.50 ...
Jeff Zephyr <jeffzeph@hotmail.com> wrote in news:3d51cce5$0$1422$272ea4a1
@news.execpc.com:
A POV note, since we're discussing that in another thread. This is
the viewpoint I see as 2nd person narrator setting up a conventional
first person past-tense story.
I'm struggling to understand what people mean by "POV" and "narrator" now.
I don't see a 2nd person narrator. I think this recent POV fascination is
leading to hopeless confusion, and I don't believe it leads anywhere in
terms of being better able to understand or enjoy someone's writing.
O.
I think this is the most intelligent post of the day, maybe the week. Thank
you for it.
cmsix
From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Thu, 08 Aug 2002 10:57:05 -0600
On Thu, 8 Aug 2002 02:49:00 +0000 (UTC), oosh <oosh@gmx.NOSPAM.net>
wrote:
Jeff Zephyr <jeffzeph@hotmail.com> wrote in news:3d51cce5$0$1422$272ea4a1
@news.execpc.com:
A POV note, since we're discussing that in another thread. This is
the viewpoint I see as 2nd person narrator setting up a conventional
first person past-tense story.
I'm struggling to understand what people mean by "POV" and "narrator" now.
I don't see a 2nd person narrator. I think this recent POV fascination is
leading to hopeless confusion, and I don't believe it leads anywhere in
terms of being better able to understand or enjoy someone's writing.
Well, I hope some others here have a better grasp on terminology. I
can describe what I mean well enough I hope ;-)
In this case, the narrator is telling the story directly to the
reader, or to someone else. The POV is first person, but the opening
narrative isn't directed inward. Instead, she talks directly to
"you."
That makes it a first person talking to a second. Someone remind
me, isn't that what 2nd person POV means?
Jeff
Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/
For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/
There is nothing more important than petting the cat.
From: Tesseract
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 8 Aug 2002 23:20:57 -0700
Jeff Zephyr <jeffzeph@hotmail.com> wrote in message news:<3d5294f8$0$3573$272ea4a1@news.execpc.com> ...
On Thu, 8 Aug 2002 02:49:00 +0000 (UTC), oosh <oosh@gmx.NOSPAM.net>
wrote:
Jeff Zephyr <jeffzeph@hotmail.com> wrote in news:3d51cce5$0$1422$272ea4a1
@news.execpc.com:
A POV note, since we're discussing that in another thread. This is
the viewpoint I see as 2nd person narrator setting up a conventional
first person past-tense story.
I'm struggling to understand what people mean by "POV" and "narrator" now.
I don't see a 2nd person narrator. I think this recent POV fascination is
leading to hopeless confusion, and I don't believe it leads anywhere in
terms of being better able to understand or enjoy someone's writing.
Well, I hope some others here have a better grasp on terminology. I
can describe what I mean well enough I hope ;-)
In this case, the narrator is telling the story directly to the
reader, or to someone else. The POV is first person, but the opening
narrative isn't directed inward. Instead, she talks directly to
"you."
That makes it a first person talking to a second. Someone remind
me, isn't that what 2nd person POV means?
The point of view is the character whose head we are in. There is the
omniscient, or all seeing, point of view - the god view. This view
point can see everything and knows what every character is thinking
and feeling. This can give the reader too much information and can get
boring after a while.
Beyond that the writer has to pick a character in the story. If the
character is a fly on the wall then we see everything but don't know
what anybody is thinking or feeling.
In this story the point of view is (the unnamed) Sandy. We know what
she is feeling, what she is thinking.
In the related story, Gone, the point of view is Mr. Allard. We know
what he is feeling but not what Sandy is.
First person, second person, third person, is not the point of view of
the story. It is the relationship of the narrator to the action.
What's the proper grammar term for this collection of possiblities? It
has to do with pronouns and verb conjugations.
Return is written in the first person. The narrator is Sandy. She is
telling the story. She is in the story. She makes occassional remarks
directly to you, the reader, but you are not in the story. She is
talking to you about herself.
Gone is written in the third person. The narrator is some unseen tick
that had bored into Allard's skull and can report what Allard sees and
feels. This tick is talking to you about this third person.
.... ...
You were skulking around the trees just waiting for an opportunity
like this. The older man, not much older than you, and the younger
hippy chick dashed into the hemlock grove. You crept around the
underbrush until you had a clear view of the couple under the tree. As
his pants came down to his ankles so did yours.
......
Since I'm not a writer, anybody who wants to may finish this.
......
My poor atttempt above is one possible version of the same story
written in the second person. The narrator is talking to you about
you. You are probably to point of view since we are told you were
waiting for this opportunity, but that could be the narrator's
labelling of you as such a sick pervert. We need to read more to be
sure. This story could be written from Sandy's or Allard's point of
view. The tick is in Sandy's brain and reporting her reactions but is
talking to you, and you are part of the story.
As I mentioned elsewhere, point of view and person (1st, 2nd, 3rd) of
the narrator are not immediately related, though I don't think I've
see a story in the first person that did not have the I person as
the point of view.
Now, is everybody properly confused?
Tesseract
From: john
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 7 Aug 2002 21:59:08 -0700
Des and Dryad,
He looked alone, not the kind of closed off alone, but the kind like a
child has, and has lost something that kept them safe.
This seems oddly out of place among so many well-constructed sentences
in this very well-written piece.
He obviously was alone. He must have looked lonely. The rest needs
some parallel alignment to make it understandable. Not closed off,
but lost, the way a child might be if it had lost the one that kept it
safe. (no, 2 losts) ...if it were separate forever from its parent.
(no, using "it" to refer to the child hurts your intention to be
very human in this sentence.) This author's good enough to fix it
way more better by herself.
Too much sex. (Face slap!) (I've been on shakier limbs? Whoa!) It
undercuts Sandy's thesis and I think she's smart enough to know it.
If we are to believe, <It's just caring.>, and I'd like to, then she'd
be more circumspect about the details. I wouldn't be quite so genteel
with Mr. Allard either. He knows he's liable for rape, but might he
not know that he's betrayed his daughter, his wife, and himself.
The situation is outlandish. It's super writing to make it plausible.
My tugue is off to you! There are many easy roads to travel. It's
a gutsy street you picked.
He kissed surprisingly well ...
Why the hell would I like that sentence? I do. I think you need more
like it, though. Naiveté. There's nothing sweeter in a younger
person's fantasy.
1 This one really grabbed me. I'm not sure that's any help,
any more than "good story," but it's true.
2 There is discussion right now about the dreaded 2nd-person
story. This is a fine example of how to do it right.
You say that because you don't know, or don't think. Yes, yes, he
was my best friend's father. But you miss the point!
2) 2 things to improve
1 This is really picky, but the formatting didn't work for
my system. I reformatted the quotation above.
2 The story doesn't quite jibe with "Dryad." He barely knows
her, knows her only as his daughter's best friend. She knows him
very well, practically grew up in his house.
From: PleaseCain
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 08 Aug 2002 23:26:04 GMT
Great job establishing that sullen, desperate mood; it's difficult to write
this kind of stuff and stay interesting. I also like your experiment around
point-of-view between the two stories, which is a great way to jump into
novels.
Much of the language and tense confused me enough to make me stop and reread,
and this presented a problem for me settling into the story. I think it
revolves around the fact that you've attempted a lot here, depicting
spontaneity and the rawness of emotions, so that the sentence structures are a
little bit unconventional. I'd suggest looking at this piece several weeks
from now, and you will probably find plenty to tweak.
Thank you for sharing your story with us!
Cain
From: Mat Twassel
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 09 Aug 2002 11:03:11 GMT
Return:
Suggestions:
Not so much a suggestion, just a reaction: I'm not sure who the narrator is
addressing. The reader? Or some explicit person in the story or at the edge of
it or just beyond the edge of it? Or maybe she is addressing herself in some
roundabout diary sort of way. Yes, I could see this as a diary entry, so maybe
my suggestion is to make it that explicitly. I think that would make the
ending stronger. As it is, the ending doesn't quite connect.
Another observation:
I watched his face as he relaxed from his orgasm. I smiled softly.
What does this mean that the narrator knows she smiled softly? I can see
someone else making that observation, but not the smiler herself.
One further note, again, not a suggestion, not even a criticism: In this
version it seems much more likely that the man knew what he was doing, that is,
that he wasn't so deep into a trance that he thought he was making love with
his wife.
Things that work:
I like the relaxed language and style of the narration. Consistent.
Appropriate. Reflective. Nearly conversational. I had no trouble believing the
character.
I think it's a measure of the story's success that I wondered how the man
thought about this incident later. It would be sort of fun and interesting to
see them in another scene, another story.
- Mat Twassel
Mat's Erotic Calendar at http://calendar.atEros.com
From: Shadow Wolf
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 9 Aug 2002 11:39:25 -0500
mmtwassel@aol.com (mat twassel) wrote in
news:20020809070311.22754.00001931@mb-de.aol.com:
Another observation:
I watched his face as he relaxed from his orgasm. I smiled
softly.
What does this mean that the narrator knows she smiled softly? I can
see someone else making that observation, but not the smiler herself.
What, you're not aware of your own facial expressions? I know I am. It
doesn't sound odd at all to me.
Shadow Wolf
shadow_wolf@softhome.net
Stories at http://www.asstr.org/~Shadow_Wolf
From: Mat Twassel
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 09 Aug 2002 18:16:54 GMT
Shadow Wolf writes:
mmtwassel@aol.com (mat twassel) wrote in
news:20020809070311.22754.00001931@mb-de.aol.com:
Another observation:
I watched his face as he relaxed from his orgasm. I smiled
softly.
What does this mean that the narrator knows she smiled softly? I can
see someone else making that observation, but not the smiler herself.
What, you're not aware of your own facial expressions? I know I am. It
doesn't sound odd at all to me.
Maybe you're right. In fact, I'm not really aware of my expression, though I
am aware, sometimes, of how I feel. Here it's more than awareness; it's intent.
I think the writer wants to give us the whole picture, but the part in which
the narrator is seeing herself is disturbing to me, not because narrators don't
see themselves, but because the focus isn't quite right, and 'softly' is what's
wrong with it. I still think it's a mixture of first and third person narration
here, and it makes me uncomfortable. Minor point? You bet. But good writers
need to consider minor points to become great writers. There are other
instances in this story of the same kind of slight mix-up. Probably the
narrator does "feel" she's smiling softly. Trick is to find the right way to
communicate this. Yes, we need to see that soft smile. And usually I'm for
straightforward narration. But here it seems just a little off.
- Mat Twassel
Mat's Erotic Calendar at http://calendar.atEros.com
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 10 Aug 2002 15:12:55 GMT
Thanks for all the comments guys:)
I'll sit down tonight and hash out all the gory details for you; but we're off
on a family day ...
Til tonight!
Thanks!
Dryad
(p.s. if it was one (or many) of you guys who nominated "Gone" ...I REALLY
appreciate it! (you love me, you really love me!)giggle
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 11 Aug 2002 01:34:55 GMT
(i hate my newreader)
i got cut off ...but was more or less done.
only one other note
Des,
Until you said it, i hadn't even really thought about Sandy's need for
this ...(art reflects life?)
anyway ...i'll have to think about that:)
For those of you who reviewed Gone, does his fascination with her breasts make
more sense now? Knowing both sides, does it seem a bit more probable?
i'll be posting the revised copy of Return to ASSM probably in the next few
days ....
THANKS!
Dryad
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 11 Aug 2002 11:32:19 GMT
Revised copy:
Return (MF)
I'm not a pig. Really!
You say that because you don't know, or don't think. Yes, yes, he was my best
friend's father. But you're missing the point!
I was wandering the park. It was Monday afternoon; not many people out. It
looked like rain, but its not like I was gonna melt or anything.
Then I saw him. He was walking along the avenue of oaks. He looked gaunt,
tired. No, that's not right. He looked lonely, not the kind of closed off
lonely, but the look a child has when they've lost something that kept them
safe. Compared to the Mr. Allard I knew, it was devastating. I mean, this is
the man who actually let us teach him how to do the Swim and the Monkey. He was
so vibrant.
I knew Mrs. Allard had passed. Breast cancer. She only lived 4 months after
they found out. Such a shame. I read about the funeral, but hey, funerals are
for the living. She knew I'd miss her and wished her well and I wasn't going
to cry because I had known such a beautiful person.
But here he was coming toward me. Actually, bumped right into me.
"Mr. Allard, I'm so sorry. I heard. It was so sudden. She was too young." I
said and I put my hand on his arm. All of which are true. Words just never do
service to the feelings we have.
You could see it took him a moment to recognize me. Well, I guess that is
fair, I stopped straightening my hair when I graduated high school in '67,
though he'd seen me since then.
"Thank you, Sandy" he said forcing a slight smile, shaken out of his reverie.
"It was quick; she didn't suffer much."
Odd how men have to try and act so strong, when its obvious he thought the
world fell apart. I fell into step with him. Why, You ask? Quite frankly, the
man shouldn't have been alone. For all the times he listened to me, I could
damn well listen. Maybe remind him he didn't die with her.
"This place," he shook his head as he continued walking, "It was so special.
Did you know Laura and I met here? I proposed to her, here at the fountain."
He chuckled slightly. "I was never so scared. I shook so bad, I actually
dropped the ring in the fountain." I smiled. I could see him doing it. "We
both jumped in, running our hands around looking for it. She was so wet…."
His voice trailed off suddenly. Like I was going to care? Hell, I lost my
virginity to Matt Jamison in his basement sophomore year. No, that wasn't going
to bother me. Not only that, but I believe its important to remember those
things. I reached out for his hand. He looked so lost.
"It's okay. It's important to remember her that way. I'm not exactly the
little kid you remember." I'd been practically living at their house since I
was 7, so I guess his not wanting to share was understandable. But, he needs
this, and it's certainly better he talk it out with me than Denise. Kids don't
want to know about what their parents do after hours.
Then it began to rain. I mean RAIN. It had been warm, so I had been wearing
one of my old hippie days peasant shirts. Not exactly good for rainstorms.
Then I noticed it. He was staring at my chest, but oddly, I knew it wasn't me
he was staring at. I mean, come on, Laura died of breast cancer; and I
realized. I wasn't hitting on him. I wasn't asking for anything. But,
somehow I knew, I knew he needed to see, to feel, to realize that they all
didn't go hard, malignant and murderous.
I took the hand I was holding and softly pulling it to my breast. "Its okay," I
murmured. His hand shook, then rested on my breast.
"So soft," He whispered. That's when I knew I was right. But I was getting
soaked, and the bandstand was way the hell over on the other side of the park.
His fingers rested on my breast momentarily, then as though realizing the sky
was opening up, he pulled me by the hand, running toward a stand of hemlock
Denise and I used to play house in, when we were little kids.
We pushed our way through the outer boughs, and into the inner sanctum. It
would stay dry here, unless it really started to downpour. Suddenly, he leaned
low and kissed me softly, putting all his boiling emotion into it. I knew it
wasn't me. He was far too in love with Laura. But I realized this, and knew
that this was his way of saying goodbye, or gaining closure, or just healing.
Call it what you will. I've done a lot of things in this life I wasn't exactly
proud of, but letting him make love to me was not one of them. His hand
caressed my face, memorizing each detail, the slope of my jaw, the curve of my
neck. He kissed surprisingly well, and I soon found myself kissing him back;
between the affection and sensuality, I began to lose myself.
I showed him with my body, reminded him he was alive. My leg went up and
wrapped around his legs. Our lips parted, gasping for breath. We suddenly lost
our balance and I landed on top of him. We laughed out loud, and I rubbed his
backside, pretending to make his boo-boo feel better. We rolled in the dry,
brown, slick needles.
He pressed into me, kissing me, but suddenly shy, sluggish; so tender of me. My
hands told him though, placed on his shoulders, bringing his lips to my breast.
His lips covered a chilled nipple through my shirt, warming it with his
tongue. Oh, god I couldn't tell you how it felt. The sensation was
incredible, yes, but I found I was needed. He needed me, showed me how much he
did, as he moved to my other side. This new sudden power surged through me,
and I could no long keep my body still.
"Please." I whispered. Please forgive me for not being Laura, please let me
help you.
"Laura," he moaned softly. He continued to trail down my tummy. My skirt was
pulled up around my waist. He knelt between my legs, kissing my thighs. My
hands reached for his hair, pulling him closer. He nuzzled at me, at my
warmth. I reached down to help him, peeling my underwear off. He sighed. Such
a sigh!
Suddenly, he was licking against me. I went a bit hazy then. I shivered,
quaked. Then out of nowhere, I came. I mean really came hard. I usually made
a ton of noise as I got close, but this was such a surprise, I was speechless.
His tongue fluttered over my clitoris, and my orgasm continued, until I began
to whimper low. God, I wanted him. It no longer mattered that he was my
friend's father. He was someone I loved and respected, and was making me feel
surprisingly incredible. I pulled him up to me, wanting more of him.
He knelt between my legs, pressing his head against me, rubbing it softly into
my wetness, before pressing slowly into me. He filled me. His warmth, his
caring. This was different from all the times I'd slept with people; it wasn't
for fun, it wasn't to prove a point-wasn't because I had hopes of marrying. It
was just caring.
He pressed in fully, before sliding back out just as slowly. I couldn't help
but moan, feeling the pressure build within me again. Felt how he was feeling
in an odd sense. Shaking beneath him, feeling him lose himself in my body.
I watched his face as he relaxed from his orgasm. I smiled softly. He looked
stunned, even a bit embarrassed; it was rather sweet. But then I saw the pain
creep in. He fell onto my chest, weeping the large tears that only come with
something so painful. I didn't say anything. I wrapped my arms around him,
and let him lose himself in me.
He tried to apologize, said I could press charges for raping me, as his tears
continued to fall..
"Of course not." I replied, brushing back his hair. "Its okay to cry."
"I thought you were Laura, I'm so sorry." He sniffled quietly, as though he
couldn't quite believe it himself.
"I knew. Its fine. You were saying goodbye." I continued to stroke his
shoulders. I wish I had someone who loved me as much as he loved Laura.
"She's gone. She's really gone. I miss her so much." His tears fell silently
onto my chest.
"I know." I held him softly, absorbing his pain.
He sniffed again. "What happens now?"
"Well, what do you want to happen?" I parried. I was open to possibilities
after all.
So now, you think I'm a pig. Well, you know what? I don't care. Cuz I just
saw a smiling man hold his new grandchild. A man who hasn't REALLY smiled in a
long time. Denise had a baby girl. My god daughter's name is Laura.
From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Fri, 09 Aug 2002 17:03:35 -0600
On 9 Aug 2002 11:39:25 -0500, Shadow Wolf <shadow_wolf@softhome.net>
wrote:
mmtwassel@aol.com (mat twassel) wrote in
news:20020809070311.22754.00001931@mb-de.aol.com:
Another observation:
I watched his face as he relaxed from his orgasm. I smiled
softly.
What does this mean that the narrator knows she smiled softly? I can
see someone else making that observation, but not the smiler herself.
What, you're not aware of your own facial expressions? I know I am. It
doesn't sound odd at all to me.
I think it is more that she'd notice more than the smile. The
feeling which inspires the smile is more important, when viewed from
the inside. The smiler is aware of the action, but she can't see it.
So, making it something like ...
I smiled softly, knowing that I'd brought him some peace.
Or whatever other emotion triggered the smile. It isn't always
happiness as such, though that can be implied by the smile. But TV
stars can smile for the camera while feeling miserable, so the action
alone doesn't indicate emotion.
Jeff
Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/
For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/
There is nothing more important than petting the cat.
From: Desdmona
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Sat, 10 Aug 2002 10:08:30 -0400
Return (MF)
By Dryad gbbjg@yahoo.com
It's hard not to compare this story to "Gone" but maybe that's what we're
supposed to do when we read the same story from two POV's. That's one thing
I'd like to say. I like having both stories, both POV's. It was an
interesting project.
But, now having read Sandy's POV, I feel even more strongly about Mr.
Allard's.
I took the hand I was holding and softly pulling it to my breast. "Its
okay," I murmured. His hand shook, then rested on my breast.
"So soft," He whispered.
At this moment, it's believable that he's trancelike. But unfortunately,
when they run to another place:
His fingers kneaded my breast momentarily, then as though realizing the
sky was opening up, he pulled me by the hand, running toward a stand of
hemlock Denise and I used to play house in when we were little kids.
The moment is lost for me. I no longer can believe that he's not aware,
because his awareness is apparent. He stops, takes her hand, and finds them
a place where they are protected from the rain. Too much thinking on his
part.
I like Sandy's style. I believe her. I like her vulnerability. She's
convinced herself that she's having sex with Mr. Allard because he needs it,
when in reality it is she who is trying to fulfill need. And not the need of
sex, but the need of being cared for. This is real. Real emotion and real
misguided thinking. It's done very well.
Maybe one thing that stuck in my mind and it might be attributed to Sandy's
youth, or even her misguided thinking I referred to, is this passage:
"Thank you," he said forcing a slight smile. "It was quick; she didn't
suffer much."
Odd how men have to act so macho, when its obvious he thought the world fell
apart.
I don't see his words as macho at all. I see them more as a knee-jerk
response. Words he might have told himself to add comfort ...at least she
didn't suffer, he might think. By calling him macho or even his thinking
macho, it takes away from his suffering and only adds to the feeling that he
knows what he's doing, and his motives are not genuine.
This is a very provocative story. It gives us real emotion. Something really
cool about reading both stories, is the way I felt about each character. I
liked Mr. Allard when I read, "Gone" and didn't much believe Sandy, and now
having read, "Return" I feel just the opposite. I attribute that to the
writing. Good job all around!
Des
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 11 Aug 2002 01:31:14 GMT
Well, I don't think i can answer as well as i did last time. Ah well.
But here i go:)
Hammon,
The reason behind her being younger was (besides a personal kink for older men)
that for him to relive that moment, of first having Laura, his partner,
tactilely (if such aword exists) would have to be younger.
The line you pointed out is actually my favorite too:). I did read it aloud,
and when i found myself saying something different from what was written i
changed it; We'll see if the next version is a bit more fluid.
Tess,
Added Sandy's name in; i think in an understated way (you'll have to tell me)
fixed the typo (hate those slippery critters!)
And ...Jeff answered the time line for me, so i won't go into it here:).
Bradley,
Once again, Jeff answered the question as to the dances (laugh) I fixed the
rape reference a tad ...
Oosh,
Thanks for the lovely comments:) I think i fixed the areas ...though i expanded
on your favorite paragraph; so we'll have to see ...
<Skips viewpoint posts>
Jeff,
I don't know who gave you the key to inside my head but ...grin
the one question ...about why she would say she wasn't a pig? perhaps a matter
of "thou protesteth too much?" She's actually afraid of censure, so she goes on
the offensive; it fits her character. Make sense?
Souvie,
Hopefully, reading through the story out loud has softened most of those
"choppy" sentences (unless it was showing how she thought ...a few of those
stayed.)
John,
I did add a few more "naivete" comments ...though understated. Fixed the
alone/lonely thing, as well as the lost child comment ...
<skips more pov posts>
Cain,
The choppiness (hopefully) has been worked out a bit; however a good portion of
it was there purposely. (but hopefully limited now, so as not to totally
disrupt your reading:)!)
As to shelving, Its already been shelved for a while, and reworked a few times.
After FT is over, its likely to be pretty much fini:) I do have plenty of
stories though, that are still shelved:)
Uther,
you're right, formatting is nit-picky laugh which is why i like html ...i can
control the formatting (I despise txt) but there you are.
and i think i fixed your other nit:).
Mat,
okay, i won't say it, everyone else jumped on you about the smiling softly:).
as to the other points ...i tried to make it more obvious that he wasn't all
there ...dunno if i succeeded.
<skips posts on smiles>
Des,
I expected everyone to compare it to Gone. Each have mysteries that are
unanswered, unless the other one is read. They can stand alone; but they back
fill eachother.
The stopping taking her hand ...at this point, he is already reliving his memory
of Laura. It was the 2 of them that had gotten caught in a storm ...so its from
that point he's reliving ...i'm not sure how to be clearer on that point without
losing something else.
From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Mon, 12 Aug 2002 00:17:46 -0600
On 11 Aug 2002 01:31:14 GMT, hamadryad73@cs.com (Hamadryad73) wrote:
Well, I don't think i can answer as well as i did last time. Ah well.
But here i go:)
Jeff,
I don't know who gave you the key to inside my head but ...grin
the one question ...about why she would say she wasn't a pig? perhaps a matter
of "thou protesteth too much?" She's actually afraid of censure, so she goes on
the offensive; it fits her character. Make sense?
Oh, I think it was that I wouldn't say she was a pig. But I get the
defensive reaction thing rather well (my whole "Guilty for Life"
article for JZL sums that up). I can imagine being her, could easily
see doing the same sort of thing myself. A combination of empathy,
lustiness, and a lack of embarrassing awkward shyness about sex.
That same sort of action gets a lot of bad comments from certain
people. Even if you don't believe them, you still imagine what other
people may say. Saying it first might defuse the situation.
Jeff
Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/
For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/
There is nothing more important than petting the cat.
The web site does not currently support submitting comments
on stories. If you want to join in the discussion on this
story, come to the thread in alt.sex.stories.d and post
a follow-up.
Note that all the comments archived here were culled from
active discussions occuring in the Usenet newsgroup
alt.sex.stories.d.
If you want to contribute to the discussion, please join
us in ASSD and say your piece. Everyone is welcome.
If you do not know how to read Usenet newsgroups, there is
a nice web interface on Google:
http://groups.google.com/.
If you have any problems,
send us email.
If we're lucky, we'll get you set up and contributing in no
time!
If you have not done so, please read the
Comment Guidelines. We ask that all comments include two
positive remarks and two suggestions for improvement.
Please, try not to repeat!
Comments on Return, by Dryad.
The separator between the comment pane and the story pane is moveable. Drag it up or down if you need more room to read on the screen.
From: Hammon Wry
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Mon, 05 Aug 2002 14:13:39 GMT
On Mon, 5 Aug 2002 08:42:14 -0400, "Desdmona" <me@desdmona.com> asked us to cast our eyes to "Return" by Dryad, and consider its merits.
It looks like I may be the first to respond! What an exhilerating feeling!
OK, this is a loverly piece, tender, full of mercy and compassion, and had a melancholy eroticness to it. It also has its moments of poetic beauty as well. Consider this section:
That last line is lyrical.
So, two positive points:
1. very good treatment of an age old solace for grieving and mourning. The rain made it evocative. Brava!
2. Great potential for auditory enjoyment.
Two hints for improvement:
1.The tone of the piece is young - this is a young woman speaking, and for some reason that does not appeal to me. I would like to have heard this story from the narrator's matured voice.
2. As I said in #2 above, there is great POTENTIAL for auditory (read it outloud) enjoyment. However, there are parts that are halting, do not flow. Again, this is personal preference. If it sounds good when read outloud, it's well written, IMO. I think that if this story were told again from a mature (say over 40?) perspective, it would gain that rythm.
Overall: Lovely, sweet, tender, and sad, all at once.
Hammon Wry.
From: Tesseract
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 5 Aug 2002 21:41:47 -0700
"Desdmona" <me@desdmona.com> wrote in message news:<ukssr9v1pr508@news.supernews.com> ...
I can try reading this story on its own, but it's hard not to relate it to "Gone". Why fight it; let's relate.
"Gone" was melancholy, soft. "Return" is rough, hard. Sandy, though you don't use her name here, has an attitude. You do a good job of showing that. And it's interesting how you can change the tone like that and keep the same dialogue.
Actually, you show Sandy as a warm, compassionate person trying to display a tough shell to the world. You let just a bit of the tough act out here and there as if she has to remind herself that she is supposed to be tough and have an attitude.
<Interesting aside> Initially I liked "Gone" a lot more than I liked "Return" but the more I write here, the more I'm liking "Return"<\Interesting aside>
One problem is the dates. Here I get the impression that Sandy and Denise are about the same age. Denise has just become a first time mother. This would make them not much older than mid thirties. In your FT response to "Gone" you said Sandy was 29. But here you have her graduating in 1967, which would make her about 50 if the story is set anytime near now, and you don't give any clues to the time setting. You could change that to graduated about 10 years ago if you don't want to commit to actual dates.
Oh, a typo 'too' for 'took'.
Overall, a good effort and an interesting exercise in exploring another POV.
Tesseract
From: Bradley Stoke
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 6 Aug 2002 00:53:13 -0700
Dryad
To be honest, I didn't enjoy this as much as "Gone", although the sex was more intense here. I was still bemused by the attraction and even though it was told from the woman's perspective, I still didn't feel I knew her. But it was a good idea to tell the story from two different perspectives. It added a bit more depth.
The sex scene wasn't bad really. Perhaps it's because it comes from a female perspective. I'm convinced that women get more out of sex than men (lucky things!) even though men are supposed to think of nothing else. This story reinforces my opinion.
I liked the description of the rain falling as well. This came over quite vividly. There are a million ways to describe rain, but this benefited from being from a girl's perspective, with the capitalisation.
I wasn't convinced by the language, or even by the description of the girl's character, however. But it's difficult to get right. What are the "Swim" and the "Monkey"? Are they early sixties dance tunes like the Twist, the Watuzi and the Locomotion. If it's more recent, then there are dance phenomena in the States that really don't spread beyond the county borders.
And motive? Difficult one, as the story is almost all about motive. Feeling sorry for the man who enjoyed the Monkey. Reminiscences about breast cancer. And then after getting it on, to be reminded of the possibility of being done for rape. I still just didn't feel convinced. But I guess this is a general problem with the genre, and I can't claim to have resolved it especially satisfactorily in my fiction either. How do you get the sex and also keep it credible? Perhaps someone has the answer?
Overall, well done. I look forward to reading more.
Bradley Stoke
http://www.asstr.org/~Bradley_Stoke
From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Wed, 07 Aug 2002 21:24:02 -0600
On 6 Aug 2002 00:53:13 -0700, bradley_stoke@hushmail.com (Bradley Stoke) wrote:
While I don't know if my experiences generalize to everyone, I've known a lot of women who were initiators and pushed to get sex often. Maybe men talk about it more, but women are more inclined to change thought into real action?
60s dances, watch "The Blues Brothers" for a cool dance bit showing off a lot of styles. All part of the "Dance Craze" era, that time when songs and dance styles were closely linked.
This story sets the time frame a bit more. She graduated high school in 1967 - makes the dance stuff make sense, eh? This event is probably 10 years past that, but not immensely more, because Denise just has her first baby at the end. Nothing wrong with waiting until you're 27-30ish, just that if you delay much longer it turns into something less likely. Call the story set in 1975, as a guess.
Sandy is a sexual free spirit, a true hippie, not a fake. She thinks that there is nothing at all wrong with sex, and when this man puts moves on her, obviously imagining his lost Laura and using her name (the story misses that, doesn't it? I'd stick it in; intuition is great but when he calls her "Laura" instead of Sandy, she no longer needs to guess. She knows, he is in dreamland. Touching her, in his dream.
Is it OK to make love to someone who is hallucinating, thinking you're someone else? I hope so - anyone who lived through the 60s/70s might have had the chance more than once ;-)
He doesn't think so, not at first. As you mention it, that is something I think should be expanded. I mean, if I were Sandy, at the end, I'd say something like, "Not only is it OK, I knew what I was doing, but you can do it again if you like."
I don't think he'd accept the offer. But the same motivation which makes it easy to go with the flow of the dream would make the follow-up offer, a bit more "mercy sex," for the old man, a natural.
Jeff
Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/ For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/
There is nothing more important than petting the cat.
From: oosh
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Tue, 6 Aug 2002 13:04:29 +0000 (UTC)
I found /Return/ more persuasive than /Gone/ - more believable and also more vivid. Others have commented on how different the atmosphere is. I think that is necessary, inevitable. In the sentence where the narrator says that she didn't go to Laura's funeral, her whole outlook is encapsulated perfectly. She made sense to me.
The sex was really well done, but ...
I thought that paragraph was wonderful.
However ...
I felt this was a bit awkward - the "wishing" implies a continuity denied by the semi-colon. (Also, my dictionary gives "godchild," "godfather," "godson," "godmother" all as single words, but hyphenates "god-daughter".)
Proves we're in the fish-tank, I suppose.
O.
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 07 Aug 2002 13:21:03 GMT
Okay, Officially, i know i'm not supposed to say anything (and i'm not really) but i don't think i'm getting all the posts. I know of one for certain i have yet to see ... I've seen 3 posts so far (oosh, Bradley and umm..heck, i can't remember.) I know i haven't seen Hammon Wry's one.
Could some one give me a clue? (i'd hate to miss them!)
Dryad (I hate my news-server)
From: dennyw
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Wed, 07 Aug 2002 20:20:06 GMT
On 07 Aug 2002 13:21:03 GMT, hamadryad73@cs.com (Hamadryad73) wrote:
I bet some kind soul will email you all the posts from this thread. (not me - my news server drops posts, too. and on this computer I only am using the one. <pout>)
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 08 Aug 2002 00:11:25 GMT
thanks Denny,
oosh sent them to me ...
my whole systems been dropping stuff left and right lately ...i'm gonna have to do something wth it sigh
Dryad
From: Souvie
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Thu, 08 Aug 2002 02:02:29 GMT
On Mon, 5 Aug 2002 08:42:14 -0400, "Desdmona" <me@desdmona.com> wrote:
Positive: I'll chime in with those who are comparing it to "Gone" and say that I liked this better. I can't quite put my finger on why, though. Maybe it's because I read it with the knowledge of the other pov. I dunno.
Positive: I think you did a good job of capturing the difference in her outlook on things/perception of things compared to Mr. Allard. He's old enough to be her father, so there's the generational gap between them, and it comes out in your writing of her pov. Which is a good thing. :-)
Improvement: Some of the sentences/paragraphs were a bit choppy. It didn't totally disrupt the flow of the story, but it did make me pause and have to reread a couple of times.
Improvement: I would suggest you mention her name at least once. That way people would definitely know it ties in with "Gone."
- Souvie
From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Wed, 07 Aug 2002 20:43:38 -0600
On Mon, 5 Aug 2002 08:42:14 -0400, "Desdmona" <me@desdmona.com> wrote:
A POV note, since we're discussing that in another thread. This is the viewpoint I see as 2nd person narrator setting up a conventional first person past-tense story. She talks to "you", an undefined person who is intended recipient of the story. Maybe it is a broad, universal, anyone who reads it you (any reader can do for that). Or maybe, the you is some personal friend.
But either way, the reader can take it as the first, barring some sign that the "you" in the story is someone she knows. The opening of the story suggests that it is written to someone who knows, because of the structure of the comment.
Does it matter if we don't know who "you" is in the story? All I know is that it isn't me, because not only didn't I call her names, I wouldn't have. Nor likely used that particular one ;-)
I liked the part about her deciding that what she was doing was helping, was just caring. Sometimes there really is sexual healing, not as a joke but as a real effect.
On a mixed note, from her POV I find it harder to see it happening so easily as in the reverse. From his POV, the sex was all memory, not real. Not until the end would you think otherwise, and if you check the story out (please do!), I think you could easily believe he simply imagined the entire sex scene.
From her viewpoint, though, I don't think she justifies it all honestly. Recognizing that he is in pain, and is reliving his first time memory, that is one thing. Participating in it freely, without question, without wondering whether he's lost his mind or something worse, that requires something else.
I could see doing it. The sex part, that isn't really a big hassle, not if you like having sex and aren't uptight about doing it with your best friend's dad. However, up until it happens we don't know that Sandy is that kind of person.
Maybe it was a fluke, and she wouldn't have had sex so easily with an older man, on a whim, if the situation were otherwise. But the odds seem better if she was into sex for fun, for pleasure, and not tied to it only for romance.
That gets suggested later.
I see this paragraph as being part of the definition for why Sandy does this at all. Up until this point, I have to wonder.
Even after, well, as much as sex can be a form of corporal kindness, rather than merely a vehicle of lust or romantic love, it seems to me that the decision to play out the scene he envisions is still unlikely. She'd need to ask.
But maybe, just following his wordless lead is enough. I don't know, because I can't quite imagine doing something while being utterly unaware of it. I've known sleepwalkers, but I've never been one.
Still, if you presume that he really can have sex while in a memory hallucination, acting appropriately without awareness of who he is with, then assuming that she is willing to cooperate fully isn't a hard leap.
Of the two, I find it easier to understand the girl who is willing to have sex just to make someone feel better. In the right mood, it doesn't take much to get things going, if you're so inclined.
What does the last sentence mean? It has a semicolon, which makes the last clause pretty much a standalone thought. But it isn't quite so, yet if you substitute a comma it feels odd. She knew what she was doing, that was clear.
But the wishing part, was Sandy wishing she could find someone like him?
This is a kind of happy ending. Except that the onliest reason that I might think she's a pig is because she says it, and implicitly maybe feels that way sometimes. I know, hard to read a psych profile on a fictional character from just a few comments, but I can imagine. I know some women who just might do that sort of thing, you know? Or I could imagine the opposite sex situation, and helping out the poor widow, cooperating because she was in need.
Jeff
Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/ For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/
There is nothing more important than petting the cat.
From: oosh
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Thu, 8 Aug 2002 02:49:00 +0000 (UTC)
Jeff Zephyr <jeffzeph@hotmail.com> wrote in news:3d51cce5$0$1422$272ea4a1 @news.execpc.com:
I'm struggling to understand what people mean by "POV" and "narrator" now. I don't see a 2nd person narrator. I think this recent POV fascination is leading to hopeless confusion, and I don't believe it leads anywhere in terms of being better able to understand or enjoy someone's writing.
O.
From: cmsix
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Thu, 08 Aug 2002 03:01:16 GMT
"oosh" <oosh@gmx.NOSPAM.net> wrote in message news:Xns926426E30C7CCooshgmxnet@217.32.252.50 ...
I think this is the most intelligent post of the day, maybe the week. Thank you for it.
cmsix
From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Thu, 08 Aug 2002 10:57:05 -0600
On Thu, 8 Aug 2002 02:49:00 +0000 (UTC), oosh <oosh@gmx.NOSPAM.net> wrote:
Well, I hope some others here have a better grasp on terminology. I can describe what I mean well enough I hope ;-)
In this case, the narrator is telling the story directly to the reader, or to someone else. The POV is first person, but the opening narrative isn't directed inward. Instead, she talks directly to "you."
That makes it a first person talking to a second. Someone remind me, isn't that what 2nd person POV means?
Jeff
Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/ For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/
There is nothing more important than petting the cat.
From: Tesseract
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 8 Aug 2002 23:20:57 -0700
Jeff Zephyr <jeffzeph@hotmail.com> wrote in message news:<3d5294f8$0$3573$272ea4a1@news.execpc.com> ...
The point of view is the character whose head we are in. There is the omniscient, or all seeing, point of view - the god view. This view point can see everything and knows what every character is thinking and feeling. This can give the reader too much information and can get boring after a while.
Beyond that the writer has to pick a character in the story. If the character is a fly on the wall then we see everything but don't know what anybody is thinking or feeling.
In this story the point of view is (the unnamed) Sandy. We know what she is feeling, what she is thinking.
In the related story, Gone, the point of view is Mr. Allard. We know what he is feeling but not what Sandy is.
First person, second person, third person, is not the point of view of the story. It is the relationship of the narrator to the action. What's the proper grammar term for this collection of possiblities? It has to do with pronouns and verb conjugations.
Return is written in the first person. The narrator is Sandy. She is telling the story. She is in the story. She makes occassional remarks directly to you, the reader, but you are not in the story. She is talking to you about herself.
Gone is written in the third person. The narrator is some unseen tick that had bored into Allard's skull and can report what Allard sees and feels. This tick is talking to you about this third person. .... ... You were skulking around the trees just waiting for an opportunity like this. The older man, not much older than you, and the younger hippy chick dashed into the hemlock grove. You crept around the underbrush until you had a clear view of the couple under the tree. As his pants came down to his ankles so did yours. ...... Since I'm not a writer, anybody who wants to may finish this. ......
My poor atttempt above is one possible version of the same story written in the second person. The narrator is talking to you about you. You are probably to point of view since we are told you were waiting for this opportunity, but that could be the narrator's labelling of you as such a sick pervert. We need to read more to be sure. This story could be written from Sandy's or Allard's point of view. The tick is in Sandy's brain and reporting her reactions but is talking to you, and you are part of the story.
As I mentioned elsewhere, point of view and person (1st, 2nd, 3rd) of the narrator are not immediately related, though I don't think I've see a story in the first person that did not have the I person as the point of view.
Now, is everybody properly confused?
Tesseract
From: john
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 7 Aug 2002 21:59:08 -0700
Des and Dryad,
This seems oddly out of place among so many well-constructed sentences in this very well-written piece.
He obviously was alone. He must have looked lonely. The rest needs some parallel alignment to make it understandable. Not closed off, but lost, the way a child might be if it had lost the one that kept it safe. (no, 2 losts) ...if it were separate forever from its parent.
(no, using "it" to refer to the child hurts your intention to be very human in this sentence.) This author's good enough to fix it way more better by herself.
Too much sex. (Face slap!) (I've been on shakier limbs? Whoa!) It undercuts Sandy's thesis and I think she's smart enough to know it. If we are to believe, <It's just caring.>, and I'd like to, then she'd be more circumspect about the details. I wouldn't be quite so genteel with Mr. Allard either. He knows he's liable for rape, but might he not know that he's betrayed his daughter, his wife, and himself.
The situation is outlandish. It's super writing to make it plausible.
My tugue is off to you! There are many easy roads to travel. It's a gutsy street you picked.
Why the hell would I like that sentence? I do. I think you need more like it, though. Naiveté. There's nothing sweeter in a younger person's fantasy.
Take care
John
From: Uther Pendragon
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 8 Aug 2002 12:47:33 -0600
1 This one really grabbed me. I'm not sure that's any help, any more than "good story," but it's true.
2 There is discussion right now about the dreaded 2nd-person story. This is a fine example of how to do it right.
1 This is really picky, but the formatting didn't work for my system. I reformatted the quotation above.
2 The story doesn't quite jibe with "Dryad." He barely knows her, knows her only as his daughter's best friend. She knows him very well, practically grew up in his house.
Uther Pendragon FAQs http://www.nyx.net/~anon584c anon584c@nyx.net fiqshn http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon
From: PleaseCain
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 08 Aug 2002 23:26:04 GMT
Great job establishing that sullen, desperate mood; it's difficult to write this kind of stuff and stay interesting. I also like your experiment around point-of-view between the two stories, which is a great way to jump into novels.
Much of the language and tense confused me enough to make me stop and reread, and this presented a problem for me settling into the story. I think it revolves around the fact that you've attempted a lot here, depicting spontaneity and the rawness of emotions, so that the sentence structures are a little bit unconventional. I'd suggest looking at this piece several weeks from now, and you will probably find plenty to tweak.
Thank you for sharing your story with us!
Cain
From: Mat Twassel
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 09 Aug 2002 11:03:11 GMT
Return:
Suggestions:
Not so much a suggestion, just a reaction: I'm not sure who the narrator is addressing. The reader? Or some explicit person in the story or at the edge of it or just beyond the edge of it? Or maybe she is addressing herself in some roundabout diary sort of way. Yes, I could see this as a diary entry, so maybe my suggestion is to make it that explicitly. I think that would make the ending stronger. As it is, the ending doesn't quite connect.
Another observation:
I watched his face as he relaxed from his orgasm. I smiled softly.
What does this mean that the narrator knows she smiled softly? I can see someone else making that observation, but not the smiler herself.
One further note, again, not a suggestion, not even a criticism: In this version it seems much more likely that the man knew what he was doing, that is, that he wasn't so deep into a trance that he thought he was making love with his wife.
Things that work:
I like the relaxed language and style of the narration. Consistent. Appropriate. Reflective. Nearly conversational. I had no trouble believing the character.
I think it's a measure of the story's success that I wondered how the man thought about this incident later. It would be sort of fun and interesting to see them in another scene, another story.
- Mat Twassel
Mat's Erotic Calendar at http://calendar.atEros.com
From: Shadow Wolf
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 9 Aug 2002 11:39:25 -0500
mmtwassel@aol.com (mat twassel) wrote in news:20020809070311.22754.00001931@mb-de.aol.com:
What, you're not aware of your own facial expressions? I know I am. It doesn't sound odd at all to me.
Shadow Wolf
shadow_wolf@softhome.net
Stories at http://www.asstr.org/~Shadow_Wolf
From: Mat Twassel
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 09 Aug 2002 18:16:54 GMT
Shadow Wolf writes:
Maybe you're right. In fact, I'm not really aware of my expression, though I am aware, sometimes, of how I feel. Here it's more than awareness; it's intent. I think the writer wants to give us the whole picture, but the part in which the narrator is seeing herself is disturbing to me, not because narrators don't see themselves, but because the focus isn't quite right, and 'softly' is what's wrong with it. I still think it's a mixture of first and third person narration here, and it makes me uncomfortable. Minor point? You bet. But good writers need to consider minor points to become great writers. There are other instances in this story of the same kind of slight mix-up. Probably the narrator does "feel" she's smiling softly. Trick is to find the right way to communicate this. Yes, we need to see that soft smile. And usually I'm for straightforward narration. But here it seems just a little off.
- Mat Twassel
Mat's Erotic Calendar at http://calendar.atEros.com
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 10 Aug 2002 15:12:55 GMT
Thanks for all the comments guys:)
I'll sit down tonight and hash out all the gory details for you; but we're off on a family day ...
Til tonight!
Thanks!
Dryad
(p.s. if it was one (or many) of you guys who nominated "Gone" ...I REALLY appreciate it! (you love me, you really love me!)giggle
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 11 Aug 2002 01:34:55 GMT
(i hate my newreader)
i got cut off ...but was more or less done. only one other note Des,
Until you said it, i hadn't even really thought about Sandy's need for this ...(art reflects life?) anyway ...i'll have to think about that:)
For those of you who reviewed Gone, does his fascination with her breasts make more sense now? Knowing both sides, does it seem a bit more probable?
i'll be posting the revised copy of Return to ASSM probably in the next few days ....
THANKS!
Dryad
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 11 Aug 2002 11:32:19 GMT
Revised copy:
Return (MF)
I'm not a pig. Really!
You say that because you don't know, or don't think. Yes, yes, he was my best friend's father. But you're missing the point!
I was wandering the park. It was Monday afternoon; not many people out. It looked like rain, but its not like I was gonna melt or anything.
Then I saw him. He was walking along the avenue of oaks. He looked gaunt, tired. No, that's not right. He looked lonely, not the kind of closed off lonely, but the look a child has when they've lost something that kept them safe. Compared to the Mr. Allard I knew, it was devastating. I mean, this is the man who actually let us teach him how to do the Swim and the Monkey. He was so vibrant.
I knew Mrs. Allard had passed. Breast cancer. She only lived 4 months after they found out. Such a shame. I read about the funeral, but hey, funerals are for the living. She knew I'd miss her and wished her well and I wasn't going to cry because I had known such a beautiful person.
But here he was coming toward me. Actually, bumped right into me.
"Mr. Allard, I'm so sorry. I heard. It was so sudden. She was too young." I said and I put my hand on his arm. All of which are true. Words just never do service to the feelings we have.
You could see it took him a moment to recognize me. Well, I guess that is fair, I stopped straightening my hair when I graduated high school in '67, though he'd seen me since then.
"Thank you, Sandy" he said forcing a slight smile, shaken out of his reverie. "It was quick; she didn't suffer much."
Odd how men have to try and act so strong, when its obvious he thought the world fell apart. I fell into step with him. Why, You ask? Quite frankly, the man shouldn't have been alone. For all the times he listened to me, I could damn well listen. Maybe remind him he didn't die with her.
"This place," he shook his head as he continued walking, "It was so special. Did you know Laura and I met here? I proposed to her, here at the fountain." He chuckled slightly. "I was never so scared. I shook so bad, I actually dropped the ring in the fountain." I smiled. I could see him doing it. "We both jumped in, running our hands around looking for it. She was so wet…." His voice trailed off suddenly. Like I was going to care? Hell, I lost my virginity to Matt Jamison in his basement sophomore year. No, that wasn't going to bother me. Not only that, but I believe its important to remember those things. I reached out for his hand. He looked so lost.
"It's okay. It's important to remember her that way. I'm not exactly the little kid you remember." I'd been practically living at their house since I was 7, so I guess his not wanting to share was understandable. But, he needs this, and it's certainly better he talk it out with me than Denise. Kids don't want to know about what their parents do after hours.
Then it began to rain. I mean RAIN. It had been warm, so I had been wearing one of my old hippie days peasant shirts. Not exactly good for rainstorms. Then I noticed it. He was staring at my chest, but oddly, I knew it wasn't me he was staring at. I mean, come on, Laura died of breast cancer; and I realized. I wasn't hitting on him. I wasn't asking for anything. But, somehow I knew, I knew he needed to see, to feel, to realize that they all didn't go hard, malignant and murderous.
I took the hand I was holding and softly pulling it to my breast. "Its okay," I murmured. His hand shook, then rested on my breast.
"So soft," He whispered. That's when I knew I was right. But I was getting soaked, and the bandstand was way the hell over on the other side of the park. His fingers rested on my breast momentarily, then as though realizing the sky was opening up, he pulled me by the hand, running toward a stand of hemlock Denise and I used to play house in, when we were little kids.
We pushed our way through the outer boughs, and into the inner sanctum. It would stay dry here, unless it really started to downpour. Suddenly, he leaned low and kissed me softly, putting all his boiling emotion into it. I knew it wasn't me. He was far too in love with Laura. But I realized this, and knew that this was his way of saying goodbye, or gaining closure, or just healing. Call it what you will. I've done a lot of things in this life I wasn't exactly proud of, but letting him make love to me was not one of them. His hand caressed my face, memorizing each detail, the slope of my jaw, the curve of my neck. He kissed surprisingly well, and I soon found myself kissing him back; between the affection and sensuality, I began to lose myself.
I showed him with my body, reminded him he was alive. My leg went up and wrapped around his legs. Our lips parted, gasping for breath. We suddenly lost our balance and I landed on top of him. We laughed out loud, and I rubbed his backside, pretending to make his boo-boo feel better. We rolled in the dry, brown, slick needles.
He pressed into me, kissing me, but suddenly shy, sluggish; so tender of me. My hands told him though, placed on his shoulders, bringing his lips to my breast. His lips covered a chilled nipple through my shirt, warming it with his tongue. Oh, god I couldn't tell you how it felt. The sensation was incredible, yes, but I found I was needed. He needed me, showed me how much he did, as he moved to my other side. This new sudden power surged through me, and I could no long keep my body still.
"Please." I whispered. Please forgive me for not being Laura, please let me help you.
"Laura," he moaned softly. He continued to trail down my tummy. My skirt was pulled up around my waist. He knelt between my legs, kissing my thighs. My hands reached for his hair, pulling him closer. He nuzzled at me, at my warmth. I reached down to help him, peeling my underwear off. He sighed. Such a sigh!
Suddenly, he was licking against me. I went a bit hazy then. I shivered, quaked. Then out of nowhere, I came. I mean really came hard. I usually made a ton of noise as I got close, but this was such a surprise, I was speechless. His tongue fluttered over my clitoris, and my orgasm continued, until I began to whimper low. God, I wanted him. It no longer mattered that he was my friend's father. He was someone I loved and respected, and was making me feel surprisingly incredible. I pulled him up to me, wanting more of him.
He knelt between my legs, pressing his head against me, rubbing it softly into my wetness, before pressing slowly into me. He filled me. His warmth, his caring. This was different from all the times I'd slept with people; it wasn't for fun, it wasn't to prove a point-wasn't because I had hopes of marrying. It was just caring.
He pressed in fully, before sliding back out just as slowly. I couldn't help but moan, feeling the pressure build within me again. Felt how he was feeling in an odd sense. Shaking beneath him, feeling him lose himself in my body.
I watched his face as he relaxed from his orgasm. I smiled softly. He looked stunned, even a bit embarrassed; it was rather sweet. But then I saw the pain creep in. He fell onto my chest, weeping the large tears that only come with something so painful. I didn't say anything. I wrapped my arms around him, and let him lose himself in me.
He tried to apologize, said I could press charges for raping me, as his tears continued to fall..
"Of course not." I replied, brushing back his hair. "Its okay to cry."
"I thought you were Laura, I'm so sorry." He sniffled quietly, as though he couldn't quite believe it himself.
"I knew. Its fine. You were saying goodbye." I continued to stroke his shoulders. I wish I had someone who loved me as much as he loved Laura.
"She's gone. She's really gone. I miss her so much." His tears fell silently onto my chest.
"I know." I held him softly, absorbing his pain.
He sniffed again. "What happens now?"
"Well, what do you want to happen?" I parried. I was open to possibilities after all.
So now, you think I'm a pig. Well, you know what? I don't care. Cuz I just saw a smiling man hold his new grandchild. A man who hasn't REALLY smiled in a long time. Denise had a baby girl. My god daughter's name is Laura.
Fin
Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) http://www.asstr.org/~Dryad
From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Fri, 09 Aug 2002 17:03:35 -0600
On 9 Aug 2002 11:39:25 -0500, Shadow Wolf <shadow_wolf@softhome.net> wrote:
I think it is more that she'd notice more than the smile. The feeling which inspires the smile is more important, when viewed from the inside. The smiler is aware of the action, but she can't see it. So, making it something like ...
I smiled softly, knowing that I'd brought him some peace.
Or whatever other emotion triggered the smile. It isn't always happiness as such, though that can be implied by the smile. But TV stars can smile for the camera while feeling miserable, so the action alone doesn't indicate emotion.
Jeff
Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/ For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/
There is nothing more important than petting the cat.
From: Desdmona
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Sat, 10 Aug 2002 10:08:30 -0400
It's hard not to compare this story to "Gone" but maybe that's what we're supposed to do when we read the same story from two POV's. That's one thing I'd like to say. I like having both stories, both POV's. It was an interesting project.
But, now having read Sandy's POV, I feel even more strongly about Mr. Allard's.
okay," I murmured. His hand shook, then rested on my breast.
At this moment, it's believable that he's trancelike. But unfortunately, when they run to another place:
sky was opening up, he pulled me by the hand, running toward a stand of hemlock Denise and I used to play house in when we were little kids.
The moment is lost for me. I no longer can believe that he's not aware, because his awareness is apparent. He stops, takes her hand, and finds them a place where they are protected from the rain. Too much thinking on his part.
I like Sandy's style. I believe her. I like her vulnerability. She's convinced herself that she's having sex with Mr. Allard because he needs it, when in reality it is she who is trying to fulfill need. And not the need of sex, but the need of being cared for. This is real. Real emotion and real misguided thinking. It's done very well.
Maybe one thing that stuck in my mind and it might be attributed to Sandy's youth, or even her misguided thinking I referred to, is this passage:
suffer much."
Odd how men have to act so macho, when its obvious he thought the world fell apart.
I don't see his words as macho at all. I see them more as a knee-jerk response. Words he might have told himself to add comfort ...at least she didn't suffer, he might think. By calling him macho or even his thinking macho, it takes away from his suffering and only adds to the feeling that he knows what he's doing, and his motives are not genuine.
This is a very provocative story. It gives us real emotion. Something really cool about reading both stories, is the way I felt about each character. I liked Mr. Allard when I read, "Gone" and didn't much believe Sandy, and now having read, "Return" I feel just the opposite. I attribute that to the writing. Good job all around!
Des
From: Hamadryad73
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: 11 Aug 2002 01:31:14 GMT
Well, I don't think i can answer as well as i did last time. Ah well. But here i go:)
Hammon,
The reason behind her being younger was (besides a personal kink for older men) that for him to relive that moment, of first having Laura, his partner, tactilely (if such aword exists) would have to be younger. The line you pointed out is actually my favorite too:). I did read it aloud, and when i found myself saying something different from what was written i changed it; We'll see if the next version is a bit more fluid.
Tess,
Added Sandy's name in; i think in an understated way (you'll have to tell me) fixed the typo (hate those slippery critters!) And ...Jeff answered the time line for me, so i won't go into it here:).
Bradley,
Once again, Jeff answered the question as to the dances (laugh) I fixed the rape reference a tad ...
Oosh,
Thanks for the lovely comments:) I think i fixed the areas ...though i expanded on your favorite paragraph; so we'll have to see ...
<Skips viewpoint posts>
Jeff,
I don't know who gave you the key to inside my head but ...grin the one question ...about why she would say she wasn't a pig? perhaps a matter of "thou protesteth too much?" She's actually afraid of censure, so she goes on the offensive; it fits her character. Make sense?
Souvie,
Hopefully, reading through the story out loud has softened most of those "choppy" sentences (unless it was showing how she thought ...a few of those stayed.)
John,
I did add a few more "naivete" comments ...though understated. Fixed the alone/lonely thing, as well as the lost child comment ...
<skips more pov posts>
Cain,
The choppiness (hopefully) has been worked out a bit; however a good portion of it was there purposely. (but hopefully limited now, so as not to totally disrupt your reading:)!)
As to shelving, Its already been shelved for a while, and reworked a few times. After FT is over, its likely to be pretty much fini:) I do have plenty of stories though, that are still shelved:)
Uther,
you're right, formatting is nit-picky laugh which is why i like html ...i can control the formatting (I despise txt) but there you are. and i think i fixed your other nit:).
Mat,
okay, i won't say it, everyone else jumped on you about the smiling softly:).
as to the other points ...i tried to make it more obvious that he wasn't all there ...dunno if i succeeded.
<skips posts on smiles>
Des,
I expected everyone to compare it to Gone. Each have mysteries that are unanswered, unless the other one is read. They can stand alone; but they back fill eachother.
The stopping taking her hand ...at this point, he is already reliving his memory of Laura. It was the 2 of them that had gotten caught in a storm ...so its from that point he's reliving ...i'm not sure how to be clearer on that point without losing something else.
From: Jeff Zephyr
Re: Return, by Dryad
Date: Mon, 12 Aug 2002 00:17:46 -0600
On 11 Aug 2002 01:31:14 GMT, hamadryad73@cs.com (Hamadryad73) wrote:
Oh, I think it was that I wouldn't say she was a pig. But I get the defensive reaction thing rather well (my whole "Guilty for Life" article for JZL sums that up). I can imagine being her, could easily see doing the same sort of thing myself. A combination of empathy, lustiness, and a lack of embarrassing awkward shyness about sex.
That same sort of action gets a lot of bad comments from certain people. Even if you don't believe them, you still imagine what other people may say. Saying it first might defuse the situation.
Jeff
Web site at http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/ For FTP, ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/
There is nothing more important than petting the cat.
Submitting new story comments
The web site does not currently support submitting comments on stories. If you want to join in the discussion on this story, come to the thread in alt.sex.stories.d and post a follow-up.
Note that all the comments archived here were culled from active discussions occuring in the Usenet newsgroup alt.sex.stories.d. If you want to contribute to the discussion, please join us in ASSD and say your piece. Everyone is welcome.
If you do not know how to read Usenet newsgroups, there is a nice web interface on Google: http://groups.google.com/. If you have any problems, send us email. If we're lucky, we'll get you set up and contributing in no time!
If you have not done so, please read the Comment Guidelines. We ask that all comments include two positive remarks and two suggestions for improvement. Please, try not to repeat!