[EternalPen]

NOTE: This is the first story I've posted by myself, and I'm a bit skeptical about my editing. Please let me know if I've failed to correct any spelling or grammatical mistakes. And yes, I tried to tone down on my comma usage.

That smell pierced his nose. His nostrils instinctively flared and the smell penetrated his every thought until it was the only thing going through his mind. He was overcome with dread and fear, but mostly loneliness and desperation for a vehicle. He wanted a vehicle for transportation, but wanted one more now that ever, working or not, that he could enter to hide from the smell. He would have run, but he remembered this smell and knew no matter where he went it would linger in his mind and on his clothes and nestle deeply into his soul. He had no more strength to run now, anyway. Some of this exhaustion came from the smell that ensured a cadaver was nearby, but most of it was due to the fact that he had run until he had vomited and was forcing himself to walk now, though he felt as if his legs were no more than toothpicks. The smell of death continued to follow him.

The smell first stank of raw oysters, but Jack had been educated enough in his instincts to fully understand that the worst was yet to come. And it did.

The smell of raw oysters instantaneously changed to rotten oysters and Jack would have kept himself from throwing up if his stomach muscles were as tired as his legs. He dropped to his knees and spewed the remaining contents of his stomach onto the dirt only a few inches to the left of the gravel road he was traveling, and the bile from his stomach hung from his widened nostrils and gaping mouth. He breathed from his mouth now, not daring to smell death again, and he spat three times. He wiped his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his tattered, but untorn, shirt.

He stood again, his legs shaking, and he swallowed to try to rid his throat of the stinging pain his acidic vomit had created. During this swallow he ran out of breath. He breathed through his nostrils when he was able to again, and the stench returned.

Jack fell to his knees and struggled with his stomach to resist creating another stinking puddle on the shoulder of the road. The smell of dry and dusty fur had half-covered the oyster smell until it smelled as if both of them had merged into one. It was all topped off with that constant stench of exhaust, and a bit of mildew.

Jack looked around the barren landscape to find the source of his problems. It was nothing but small mountains and cacti. Dirt, like an ocean, was spread across everything in sight. The scarce bushes that popped up out of the ground were nearly dead and as dusty as everything else. Jack waited, but saw no tumbleweed rolling by.

He did see a small, black form in the middle of the road not far from where he was, and he decided it was worth a look. He continued walking, wobbling this way and that out of exhaustion, and neared the thing.

The sun was setting on the road before him. As if the sun had planned this all along, it set directly down the road. The edges of the bright ball of gas just touched the edges of the road and it looked as if it were a drive straight into space. Stars were just beginning to dot the sky behind Jack.

Jack reached the body and knelt down to examine it. It was a small, black puppy. It’s hind portion had been split open as if it were smashed by a speeding sledge-hammer and it’s intestines were strewn along the left lane. Its eyes were frozen open and glazed. It stared at the sun with all the hope a dead body could have.

The body was rotten, but the coagulated blood had nearly cemented its body to the road, and Jack knew this had not happened recently. The smell of death returned now, stronger than ever, and Jack marveled at it.

If this was not what death smelled like, but what a body smelled like, he would enjoy this moment. He took a deep breath of air into his lungs through his nasal cavity, and nearly threw up again. He stood and smiled as if he were proving to his friends that he loved it. There was no one to prove anything to, save himself, and that was enough reason to do so.

Jack returned to his walk down the road and thanked the guiding entity of the stars and moon and sun, whatever it was, for showing him that wonderful sight and smell. He would have to get used to it, soon, and was thankful for a bit of practice.

Jack continued his trek away from the lights behind him. He turned, though only for a moments glance, but was still frozen. The flickering luminosity behind him was dimming now, but only because of how far he had come. He had to squint his eyes and focus hard to see what was now a twenty-feet-tall blaze. He was sure it was still bright as ever about five miles back.

He turned his back on the house again, and continued on further. The flame behind him was a burning effigy of his sanity, a blazing construction of his anger, and a collapsing image of the moral ways and innocence of mind he used breathe.

He knew what death smelled like. It smelled like the living bodies in the house as it burned. It smelled like the cherry-wood fireplace that contained fires as it was consumed by one. It smelled like his worst nightmares, completely masked by hope, fear, smoke, and a misunderstanding that cost the people living inside their lives.

And now Jack knew what escape felt like. It smelled like gasoline, it sounded like melting screams, it tasted like an overdone steak, it looked like a bonfire full of testimonies of happiness, and it felt like freedom. That was what escapes from hell and imprisonment, and loss of age felt like.

Jack’s ten-year-old form began to disappear into the sun as he took, step-by-step, his journey into the next place he would call home. He never really did call that other place home, but he would the net place. If the people there did not love him enough, he would call the place after that home. This vicious cycle would continue until Jack met someone who loved him no matter what.

So far, only one person did. That person told Jack he had no name, but the nameless voice in Jack’s head never left. It didn’t judge, it didn’t scream, and it didn’t hit him. It, in fact, did nothing but free and help him.

Jack knew this voice would always love him, too. He smelled love every time he heard it. It smelled like blood, and jack always got a nose-bleed when it spoke. He didn’t understand why and, frankly, he didn’t care.

Jack loved this voice… for it first loved him.

[Nupur]

I can't put my finger on it, but I felt there was something missing here. Your descriptions were pretty good. Not something that would completely blow me away, but yes, I liked them. You began this well; the mention of the smell and everything else. It was described in a lovely manner. Good description there; I could feel it. I could feel your protagonist getting all sick and my stomach too started churning. Lol.

As I said, you started well, but somewhere in between you lost the original thought. I've seen better work from you (That Attraction Program was really good) and I know you have it in you. Just keep you focus and go through whatever you've written. Run your file on a spell checker. A grammar checker too could be used.

Now coming to the errors here, let me first say that I'm not stalking you. Lol.

Ok... I'll try to go through this fast.

That smell pierced his nose. His nostrils instinctively flared and the smell penetrated his every thought until it was the only thing going through his mind.

Repetition. Perhaps use a synonym? Stench, odour, reek...

He wanted a vehicle for transportation, but wanted one more now that ever, working or not, that he could enter to hide from the smell.

Typo? Also, it would be better if you begin the sentence with He had been wanting a vehicle…

He had no more strength to run now, anyway.

Perhaps add a word here?

He had no more strength left to run now, anyway.

Some of this exhaustion came from the smell that ensured a cadaver was nearby, but most of it was due to the fact that he had run until he had vomited and was forcing himself to walk now, though he felt as if his legs were no more than toothpicks.

The tenses are screwed up over here. try using 'forced'.

He dropped to his knees and spewed the remaining contents of his stomach onto the dirt only a few inches to the left of the gravel road he was traveling,

This looks incomplete. 'Travelling on/by'? Not very good, but you could improve that line.

He wiped his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his tattered, but untorn, shirt.

'untorn' isn't a word. Please replace it.

He stood again, his legs shaking, and he swallowed to try to rid his throat of the stinging pain his acidic vomit had created.

Repetition. Perhaps 'to try and rid'? Or 'ridding'?

He breathed through his nostrils when he was able to again, and the stench returned.

Placement of words could be better.

He breathed through his nostrils when he was able to, and again the stench returned.

He continued walking, wobbling this way and that out of exhaustion, and neared the thing.

Something wrong with this. Please revise the sentence.

It’s hind portion had been split open as if it were smashed by a speeding sledge-hammer and it’s intestines were strewn along the left lane.

The apostrophe shouldn't be used here. Also, in place of 'were' it should be 'was'.

The body was rotten, but the coagulated blood had nearly cemented its body to the road, and Jack knew this had not happened recently.

Your subject here is the body. If you use 'its body', it would imply 'the body's body'. Please use 'it' instead.

He stood and smiled as if he were proving to his friends that he loved it.

was

He would have to get used to it, soon, and was thankful for a bit of practice.

I'm glad to see you've really toned down your commas here. But here, you could probably remove another one.

He would have to get used to it soon and was thankful for a bit of practice.

The comma before 'and' is a personal choice.

He turned his back on the house again, and continued on further.

'on' isn't required.

He never really did call that other place home, but he would the net place.

net?

If the people there did not love him enough, he would call the place after that home.

If you meant 'next' in the previous sentence, this one is superfluous.

It smelled like blood, and jack always got a nose-bleed when it spoke.

caps. Proper noun.

A few of your sentences were absolutely fantastic. But as soon as I started sinking into their depth, they reached an awkward and abrupt end.

Some examples:

The flame behind him was a burning effigy of his sanity, a blazing construction of his anger, and a collapsing image of the moral ways and innocence of mind he used breathe.

It smelled like his worst nightmares, completely masked by hope, fear, smoke, and a misunderstanding that cost the people living inside their lives.

Please do revise these sentences as they are absolutely wonderful. They'd be really charming with just a little revision.

I think that's about it. Your writing is pretty good. You have a thing with descriptions; the 'sick' scene was very well done, and then the sentences I have highlighted here. Good work, but you can definitely do a lot better.

[EternalPen]

Haha, wow. Thank you. I'm trying, but I seem to be losing my ability to correct mistakes. I'm trying, but I'll try a little harder.

[Themis Fallidas]

That was a fine description i must say! You work very well with images, emotions and continuity. Of course, i'm not sure if you have decided yet what is the original idea. It seems to me that you have illustrated the "lonelyness of the long distance runner" and yes i could smell it all the way! What i can't find in your story is the purpose, the motive. I believe that it is absolutely important to let us know more things about your character. You've got the image right, you've created a fine situation but there is no plot in your story. If it was the scene description of a screenplay then everything would be fine. In fact, why don't you try write it again in a screenplay format, but first work on the plot.

[EternalPen]

Yeah, this was inspired by pretty much nothing more than a dead puppy on the side of the road. It smelled gross, but I couldn't get over the fact that it was dead. That just kind of... it hurt. The poor thing never had a chance at life. I wondered if other people had seen it and laughed, so I got a plastic bag, picked it up, and buried it properly. The next day there was two more where the first had been. They weren't flat or squished, just dead. I thought someone might be killing them, and I wrote what I thought someone who knew death would think if they came across it. It's not much, I just needed to write my feelings out because those puppies were making me depressed.

(Yes, I gave those two a proper burial next to their brother. No, I didn't see anymore dead puppies.)

[RENA HANDS]

First a few laughs concerning the ‘comma situation.’ And lets remember too for reassurance that the editors/reviewers are all here to point out and assist in the punctuation department…lols (I too have the same problem so I mention it.)

Now for my thoughts (though I think there will not be much), Nupur has ‘picked u apart like a bloody bone.’ LOL

Maybe…That smell pierced his nose; his flaring nostrils instinctively flared as that odor penetrated his every thought until it became his mind’s only thought.(OR something similar.)

Was his ‘want(s)’ greater than the ‘need(s)’ for a vehicle? One always desires/wants a car, but one needs a vehicle to carry him/her to places of employment and other.

Did u mean ‘than,’ here…but wanted one more now (than) that ever, working or not,

Y does ur character need to ‘hide away from a smell?’ Or are u being metaphorical?

U could describe the ‘smell’ with more descriptive words; revolting, repulsive, pungent , nauseating odor/scent/aroma/stench.

(For me) the first paragraph is awkwardly written; ur being repetitive, but not in a good way.

Ah, the second sentence under the first paragraph is too awkward.

The detection of raw oysters stabbed his sinuses warning him that something more dangerous was to come.(OR something similar.)

Did u mean something like…The cold bitterness of raw oysters followed him so too did its ‘smell.’ The decomposition of their graying flesh made his stomach wretch. ‘Vomit (perhaps describe its color, thickness…)’ climbed through his belly heading towards a gasping mouth; if his throbbing legs muscles hadn’t distracted him, his twinging* stomach would’ve erupted a pile of it.(OR something similar.) I ask this only in ur original, the sentence seems to say/illustrate that his legs weren’t as tired as his hurling stomach.

What was the ‘dirty?’ He dropped to his knees and spewed the remaining contents of his stomach onto the dirty____(the dirtied what?)?

The paragraph itself too could be more descriptive regarding the smells, looks, perhaps touch/feel and the actions of expulsion their of.

Maybe…He stood on shaking legs trying to swallow the stinging acidic vomit that his stomach had erupted/created.(OR something similar.)

Also to give more imagery, why not in the following rather than saying ‘stinking,’ say bubbling/oozing vomit?

I think ‘oyster,’ could be replaced by ‘muscles.’ There are other words describing ‘oysters,’ but I don’t know them all.

Shouldn’t it be…If this was not what death smelled like, but what a body smelled like, he (would have enjoyed) would enjoy this moment. (And this whole sentence is awkward.)

Y would one ‘adjust to the smell(s) of death?’

U mean, He turned, though only for a (moment’s) moments glance,

U mean, but he would the (next) net place.

U mean…Jack’s ten year old form began to disappear into the *setting/sinking sun as he took a step, then another walking towards the place he would call ‘his new home.'(OR something similar.)

I’m perplexed by ur tale. I understand possibly that ur character has become a killer in order to feel/smell the ‘love,’ of burning flesh/blood. Its all just very complex for me. And ur delivery for such a psychological/intense tale…the descriptions were too dull and too simple. I give a rating…2 of 5.