This is the short story assignment from the Characters, Dialogue and Setting module.
Original Submission:
The year that Anne turned thirty-four, she celebrated alone. Her husband called from his job as a bank manager on the morning of her birthday. She had been staring at herself in the cracked vanity mirror and did not realize that the phone had rung until she heard his smooth voice on the answering machine. She pictured him in his office, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head. She had once found his arrogance attractive.
“Hey beautiful. I’ll meet you at the restaurant where I first set eyes on you. 6:30. I’ll see you tonight.” He clicked off.
Anne frowned at her image. They hadn’t met at a restaurant. She knew this was his way of staying out late with someone else. He would insist he’d sat at some restaurant, on some street, waiting for her, and that she was the one who’d forgotten. Six years ago when they’d met, Anne had been working in a scuba diving gear shop. He’d been looking for diving gear to go diving in the bay with his boss. His smile had been easy, and she’d been attracted to that. Money had not been an issue, and she was attracted to that, too. Six weeks later, she had quit her sales clerk position and moved into his apartment with him. They got married on a whim one foggy Saturday morning. He said that she was too beautiful to bother with work, and instead she should start looking for a house for the two of them to build their life together. She’d scoured the real estate listings and made dozens of calls, and finally chose a house on the beach, old and big, but in excellent condition, or so the owner assured her. There was a trellis on either side of the front porch, with dark pink flowers growing and twisting up each one.
“The foundation is solid,” the owner assured her,” and it has a brand-new roof.”
Anne hadn’t been listening particularly closely; she’d been picturing her husband’s smile and the way he traced letters on her back, while she tried to guess what he’d written. She’d pictured herself sitting in the wide chair on the porch, while he husband plucked a few flowers from the trellis and wound them through her long dark hair. Every evening he would come home and cook dinner with her, popping blueberries into her laughing mouth. Of course, none of that happened. A week after they’d moved in, her husband started working late. Soon after, the pipes in the basement burst, and she’d run up and down the stairs, helplessly filling and emptying buckets. When she’d tried to call her husband at work, his assistant assured her that he would call her back. She’d fallen asleep waiting on so many occasions that she’s stopped calling at all. After the incident with the pipes, the house had slowly fallen apart. The wallpaper was peeling. The porch boards were loose. When it rained, the water would drip into the bathroom from the ceiling. Her husband never noticed a thing wrong with the house and every morning he’d say, I must be the luckiest guy around. I’ve got a beautiful wife and a beautiful house.” Anne wondered if he called his the women he’d been seeing beautiful too. Now, when he spoke to her, she could only hear the dripping ceiling and the creaking boards. She could feel it falling apart.
Turning from the mirror, she rolled the idea of living with his infidelities in her mind. It did afford her a lot of free time. She wandered into her husband’s office and sat at his computer to send an email to her mother. As she logged into the account, she noticed a small box next to his desk lamp. She hesitated only a moment before opening it. It was a lovely deep blue sapphire ring, set in white gold. She loved sapphires and thought that perhaps he had seen how he was hurting her. Turning the ring over between her finger she realized that the initials were not her own.
Now with Gary's revision suggestions:
title?
The year that Anne turned thirty-four, she celebrated alone. Her husband called from his job as a bank manager on the morning of her birthday. She had been staring at herself in the cracked vanity mirror and did not realize that the phone had rung until she heard his smooth voice on the answering machine. She pictured him in his office, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head. She had once found his arrogance attractive.
“Hey beautiful. I’ll meet you at the restaurant where I first set eyes on you. 6:30. I’ll see you tonight.” He clicked off. His voice clicked off? Anne frowned at her image. They hadn’t met at a restaurant.
“The foundation is solid,” the owner assured her,” and it has a brand-new roof.”
Anne hadn’t been listening particularly closely; she’d been picturing her husband’s smile and the way he traced letters on her back, while she tried to guess what he’d written. She’d pictured herself sitting in the wide chair on the porch, while he husband plucked a few flowers from the trellis and wound them through her long dark hair. Every evening he would come home and cook dinner with her, popping blueberries into her laughing mouth. Of course, none of that happened. A week after they’d moved in, her husband started working late. Soon after, the pipes in the basement burst, and she’d run up and down the stairs, helplessly filling and emptying buckets. When she’d tried to call her husband at work, his assistant assured her that he would call her back. She’d fallen asleep waiting on so many occasions that she’s stopped calling at all. After the incident with the pipes, the house had slowly fallen apart. The wallpaper was peeling. The porch boards were loose. like her husband :) nice symbolismmmmmmmm When it rained, the water would drip into the bathroom from the ceiling. Her husband never noticed a thing wrong with the house really? that doesn't seem right to me. maybe he noticed (who doesn't notice burst pipes!) but looks elsewhere, like his so called marriage and every morning he’d say, "I must be the luckiest guy around. I’ve got a beautiful wife and a beautiful house.” Anne wondered if he called his the women he’d been seeing beautiful too. Now, when he spoke to her, she could only hear the dripping ceiling and the creaking boards. She could feel it falling apart. again, apt symbolism
Turning from the mirror, she rolled the idea of living with his infidelities in her mind. It did afford her a lot of free time. a biting good point She wandered into her husband’s office and sat at his computer to send an email to her mother. As she logged into the account, she noticed a small box next to his desk lamp. She hesitated only a moment before opening it. It was a lovely deep blue sapphire ring, set in white gold. She loved sapphires and thought that perhaps he had seen how he was hurting her. Turning the ring over between her finger she realized that the initials TMD were not her own.
Hey Carol,
Great story; excellent writing. Anne is truly an ordinary character in a very ordinary setting (fantastic symbolism) who finds something extraordinary that changes her life in a small but very significant way. Review my comments for further direction.
Gary
This is the final story:
Some Things Fall Apart
The year that Anne turned thirty-four, she celebrated alone. Her husband called from his job as a bank manager on the morning of her birthday. She had been staring at herself in the cracked vanity mirror and did not realize that the phone had rung until she heard his smooth voice on the answering machine. She pictured him in his office, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head. She had once found his arrogance attractive.
“Hey beautiful. I’ll meet you at the restaurant where I first set eyes on you. 6:30. I’ll see you tonight.” He voice clicked off.
Anne frowned at her image. They hadn’t met at a restaurant. She knew this was his way of staying out late with someone else. He would insist he’d sat at some restaurant, on some street, waiting for her, and that she was the one who’d forgotten. Six years ago when they’d met, Anne had been working in a scuba diving gear shop. He’d been looking for diving gear to go diving in the bay with his boss. His smile had been easy, and she’d been attracted to that. Money had not been an issue, and she was attracted to that, too. Six weeks later she moved into his apartment with him. They got married on a whim one foggy Saturday morning. He said that she was too beautiful to bother with work, suggesting that she quit her job, stay home, and start looking for a house for the two of them to build their life together. Anne readily agreed because she had always secretly wanted someone to take care of her. She’d scoured the real estate listings and made dozens of calls, and finally chose a house on the beach, old and big, but in excellent condition, or so the owner assured her. There was a trellis on either side of the front porch, with dark pink flowers growing and twisting up each one.
“The foundation is solid,” the owner assured her,” and it has a brand-new roof.”
Anne hadn’t been listening particularly closely; she’d been picturing her husband’s smile and the way he traced letters on her back, while she tried to guess what he’d written. She’d pictured herself sitting in the wide chair on the porch, while he husband plucked a few flowers from the trellis and wound them through her long dark hair. Every evening he would come home and cook dinner with her, popping blueberries into her laughing mouth. Of course, none of that happened. A week after they’d moved in, her husband started working late. Soon after, the pipes in the basement burst, and she’d run up and down the stairs, helplessly filling and emptying buckets. When she’d tried to call her husband at work, his assistant assured her that he would call her back. She’d fallen asleep waiting on so many occasions that she’s stopped calling at all. After the incident with the pipes, the house had slowly fallen apart. The wallpaper was peeling. The porch boards were loose. When it rained, the water would drip into the bathroom from the ceiling. Her husband pretended not to notice the house’s disrepair and every morning he’d say,"I must be the luckiest guy around. I’ve got a beautiful wife and a beautiful house.” Anne wondered if he called his the women he’d been seeing beautiful too. Now, when he spoke to her, she could only hear the dripping ceiling and the creaking boards. She could feel it falling apart.
Turning from the mirror, she rolled the idea of living with his infidelities in her mind. It did afford her a lot of free time. She wandered into her husband’s office and sat at his computer to send an email to her mother. As she logged into the account, she noticed a small box next to his desk lamp. She hesitated only a moment before opening it. It was a lovely deep blue sapphire ring, set in white gold. She loved sapphires and thought that perhaps he had seen how he was hurting her. Turning the ring over between her finger she realized that the initials JKL were not her own.
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