Synopsis: Steve meets an unexpected stranger in his bar, in the lonely cold winter
Steve wiped over the clean counter for the umpteenth time that day. It already was clean and it was more than likely going to stay that way. It was another slow Wednesday afternoon; it was like this every winter, weekdays seemed to drag on, even many of the regulars stopped coming in winter. He called it the bar migration.
"Another beer Paul?" Steve said, looking over to the old man in the corner.
The old man looked down at his half empty beer and sighed, "Trying to get me drunk, Steve?"
"Sorry Paul, I'm just bored, you know how it is."
Paul nodded, he'd been coming to this bar for twenty years, and he knew what it was like in these quiet winters. "Bar migration," he said, as Steve had said to him many times before. "It's going to be a long winter, at least you have me here to give you some company."
Steve smiled wistfully, "That's something to be thankful for at least."
Paul's wife had died three years earlier, and now he spent all his time here at the bar. He was a quiet man, and Steve was happy to let him sit and do his crosswords. Paul didn't talk often, apart from the occasional, "Four letter word for broth?" but Steve was glad for the company all the same, it stopped him from going completely insane during the quiet times.
Steve slowly walked to his stool and sat down. Some days he regretted buying the bar, but he'd owned it for ten years now, and had he told himself after the first year of bar migration he'd learned how to deal with the lonely winters. But the truth was Steve had learnt to deal with being lonesome a long time before he ever bought the bar. Steve had led a lonely life, his parents had died while he was still a young boy and from then on he had learnt to fend for himself. In fact the closest thing Steve had ever had to a friend was Paul.
Reflecting on his past for a moment Steve wondered what life would have been like had his parents survived that car crash. He let his thoughts wander. What was it like to be with a woman? He thought to himself, not for the first time.
As he sat there deep in his own thoughts the door slammed open, startled, Steve looked up. For a second all he could see was the snowy blizzard raging outside. It's got worse, he thought to himself quickly. Just as Steve started to wonder how the door had come open, a snow covered figure struggled into the bar and closed the door.
"Three shots of whiskey and a Corona chaser please." The figure called out as he tried to remove the masses of snow built up on his outer clothing.
"There's a rack behind you, for your coat." Steve looked over as he pulled out the bottle of Jack Daniels.
The middle aged man who had just entered made his way to the bar, taking time to soak in the warmth of the large heater on his way.
"Rough day?" Steve enquired.
The man looked up, his eyes questioning, "Why would you think that?"
Steve studied the stranger for a moment. The deep furrows around the man's eyes and the odd grey hair scattered through the brown added years onto his age. His eyes were deep and piercing. This was a man who had led a hard life.
Steve dropped his gaze and wiped over the clean countertop again before leaning on it, "Mate," an Australian phrase he had picked up from his few Australian regulars. "I've been working in bars my whole life. No one orders 3 shots of whiskey, unless they've had a rough day."
The stranger threw back a shot, looked at Steve, then threw back another one. "You're right," He said calmly, "I have had a rough day." He threw back the last shot, "But you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Steve chuckled softly, "I've heard that one before."
"You probably have, many times. But this is one story that takes a lot more than a few years working in a bar to believe."
"Try me." Steve said, fetching his stool, "I'll tell you what," Steve continued as he made himself comfortable on the stool. "If you're telling the truth, and I don't believe you. The drinks are on me."
The man eyed Steve, as if deciding whether he could be trusted. He took a long draught from the Corona and sighed. Looking at his beer then back at Steve he finally spoke. "What I'm about to tell you I have never told anyone else. It's a tale that started back when I was a young boy."
..."Joseph!? Joseph, Time for dinner darling." A woman stood in the doorway to an old Victorian house. She was framed there, picturesque, and beautiful. Her white sun- dress flowed around her as the slight breeze played innocently with the material.
"Coming mother!" A small boy called from where he had just jumped out of his sand pit. His little overalls rained sand as he ran towards his mother.
"Guess who's going to be at dinner tonight, Joseph?" The beautiful woman asked her son with obvious delight, as she brushed the sand from him before letting him inside. "Your father."
"Daddy!" Joseph squealed rushing inside to find his father, not letting his mother finish.
As Joseph ran in to the lounge room he found his father waiting for him.
"Joey!" The man exclaimed, sweeping his son up into his arms and clasping him tightly.
"Did you bring me anything, father?" the questioning eyes looked up at the man from his arms.
"Did I bring you anything?" The man laughed as he put his son down, "It's always the first question."
Joseph looked from his father to his mother excitedly, he knew his father had got him something, he always had something for Joseph when he returned from his trips.
"Your mother actually told me not to get you anything this time." The man said shrugging and turning away.
Joseph looked at his mother, his grey eyes welled up with tears "But mother, why?"
The woman looked back at Joseph, her heart breaking as she looked at her only son so upset; tears welled up in her eyes as she continued to look at him.
"Of course I got you something sport." The man said ,rubbing his sons brown hair, "I was only joking."
Josephs face instantly lit up as he turned back to his father. His father handed him a small package wrapped in a brown fading cloth and tied with string, "What is it?" his excitement evident.
"Open it and see." The man bent down to watch his son rip the string off.
Joseph slowly unfolded the brown cloth. He wanted to savour the moment when he opened it. As the final fold came undone, he stared down at a small silver pendant, on a thin silver chain.
"This is a special necklace." His father said as he lifted it from Joseph's hands and put it around his neck. "It has been passed down for many generations of warriors, only the bravest son of a family was allowed to wear it. This necklace will keep you safe."
Joseph looked down at his new gift, and puffed his chest out in pride. He was the man's only son, but that didn't mean he wasn't the bravest only son.
"I also got something for the most beautiful lady in the world." The man said looking into the woman's eyes. "Do you think I should give it to her Joey?"
The woman smiled, a small quiet smile, she returned the look into the man's eyes. Their eyes met and made a secret exchange that Joseph would not understand till he was much older.
"What did you get her father?"
The man laughed a small proud laugh. His son was going to grow up strong and smart, of this he was sure. Ignoring the question for his own sake, he changed the subject. "So your mother made our favourite meal for dinner tonight Joey. What do you say we go eat some of that braised steak and kidney pie?"
"Yay!" Joseph yelped, the change of subject lost on him as his father scooped him up and placed him on his shoulders.
"What's better then your mother's braised steak and kidney pies Joey?"
"Nothing!" The squealed response came as his father tickled him.
As the family sat to enjoy their meal, Joseph looked over at his father. Knowing that his father would again be leaving soon, he vowed silently to make every minute with him count.
Joseph's father looked over at his son, and smiled. The boy's mother had done a great job raising him, and she would continue to do a great job. The smile slipped from his face as he realised that this was going to be the last time that he ever saw his son. He vowed silently to himself to make every last minute with him count.
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The world looks left...I look right
Last edited by Storiesmaniac; 03-08-2007 at 08:23 PM.
I'm certainly intrigued and will be on the lookout for chapter 2. I enjoyed the "mate"....guess it would have been too much to expect him to say "don't come the raw prawn with me" which is just about my favorite piece of Aussie vernacular.
I was a little surprised by the switch to third person rather than keeping the story coming from Joey's point of view, but it worked. When is chapter 2 expected?
i would have liked more of a decription of the bar - this could be brought out in the characters actions - scraping the stool legs across a wooden floor - catching a glimpse of the others faint smile in a large mirror - will give the setting more of an atmosphere - are they huddled in coats trying to keep warm - warmed by a fire or beer?
i dont think the relationship between the men was defined enough - their characters how they dealt with one another - a few critasisms on main characters part would be telling indications working in both directions. { what you did describe was real gd though - old man of few words}
steve went and got his stool, as he turned caught Paul's curious eyes regarding the stranger....blah blah
you did an excellent job of of physically describing the stranger 2 n1- - they not seen him before, but wot did Steve think of this stranger? where did he think he came from - or was such a regular occurrence?
i found this an interesting read, and can't wait till next chapter. n1 Tim
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Time; an elusive element to a creative mind. For the story burns to be expressed, flooding the mind, seeking an outlet. Red brimmed eyes and dark circles fore-tells a deeper story, echoed in a mirrors reflection. - my story.
even many of the regulars stopped coming in winter. He called it the bar migration.
The beginning of this doesn't flow well. I had to reread it twice to comprehend it. And the last sentence is a little short and choppy, if you ask me.
Quote:
"Another beer Paul?" Steve said, looking over to the old man in the corner.
The old man looked down at his half empty beer and sighed, "Trying to get me drunk, Steve?"
"Sorry Paul, I'm just bored, you know how it is."
I enjoyed this, kind of brought me into the Bar Migration, I guess.
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"It's going to be a long winter, at least you have me here to give you some company."
I found this kind of awkward. The flow was slightly off in the middle. I would consider rewording this.
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He was a quiet man, and Steve was happy to let him sit and do his crosswords.
I really dislike how you start this off with him being quiet...and then go off into his talking about crosswords, they're too different. Break it off into two sentences and add a little more to the quiet man, preferrably something that isn't cliche. You need to be careful with that.
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Reflecting on his past for a moment Steve wondered what life would have been like had his parents survived that car crash. He let his thoughts wander. What was it like to be with a woman? He thought to himself, not for the first time.
Elaborate on this some more. My eyes kind of skipped ahead. I have a horrible habit of doing that. My eyes can't handle anticipation. But with the part my eyes scanned while I was supposed to be reading, that above, I think you should add more detail. Kind of get the reader lost into Steve's world and then we'll be more surprised by this stranger. Who is obviously very important.
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As he sat there deep in his own thoughts the door slammed open, startled, Steve looked up.
The old door creaked open, as Steven got lost in his thoughts. By the time he looked up it was slamming closed.
Don't write it exactly like that-its crap but sort of written like that would've been better. Then you would have to equip it with the rest of that paragraph. I just, its too safe. The way you were writing it, way too safe. Boring, you need to woah the reader.
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Steve studied the stranger for a moment. The deep furrows around the man's eyes and the odd grey hair scattered through the brown added years onto his age. His eyes were deep and piercing. This was a man who had led a hard life.
Oh Tim, did you have to go there? Did you? I mean seriously does every mysterious stranger who walks in a bar with dark eyes have to have a "hard life" ?!
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Steve dropped his gaze and wiped over the clean countertop again before leaning on it, "Mate," an Australian phrase he had picked up from his few Australian regulars. "I've been working in bars my whole life. No one orders 3 shots of whiskey, unless they've had a rough day."
And woot, great connection with the "rough day". Brilliant! And I like how you slipped in the Australian thing. Every author slips in part of they're life into each piece they write. Althought I would've loved to see you elaborate just a bit more. You kind of gave us this idea, then kind of lost us readers.
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Steve chuckled softly, "I've heard that one before."
That seemed a bit...unmanly.
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"Try me." Steve said, fetching his stool, "I'll tell you what," Steve continued as he made himself comfortable on the stool. "If you're telling the truth, and I don't believe you. The drinks are on me."
Oh darn. This was supposed to be a big point in the story...and you didn't exactly, bring it to the table. You really need to exaggerate this. You need to make this so unbelievably important without it being lame and corny.
Quote:
The man eyed Steve, as if deciding whether he could be trusted. He took a long draught from the Corona and sighed. Looking at his beer then back at Steve he finally spoke. "What I'm about to tell you I have never told anyone else. It's a tale that started back when I was a young boy."
What about Paul?! Did he just disappear? Is he listening to the story? Um, you can't just leave this character out...where did he go?!
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..."Joseph!? Joseph, Time for dinner darling." A woman stood in the doorway to an old Victorian house. She was framed there, picturesque, and beautiful. Her white sun- dress flowed around her as the slight breeze played innocently with the material.
Beautiful, I love how you switch to a flashback instead of explaining this story. Brilliant. I'm not sure about the italics. A break in the story would've been fine.
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"Your mother actually told me not to get you anything this time." The man said shrugging and turning away.
Joseph looked at his mother, his grey eyes welled up with tears "But mother, why?"
Oh my gosh, awww, adorable. Great job.
Note: Seriously, you kind of took a turn from the bar scene to the flashback. They kind of work, the opposition, I wouldn't change too much. Especially since the bar scene was Steve's POV and the flashback is Joey's POV. But my note is, I love your writing style in the flashback. Its so beautiful and perfect (it may be the italics, playing tricks on my mind a little too) but its amazing.
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The man said ,rubbing his sons brown hair, "I was only joking."
Ah. Coma error.
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"I also got something for the most beautiful lady in the world." The man said looking into the woman's eyes. "Do you think I should give it to her Joey?"
As a girl this just made me melt reading, so cute, so adorable.
Quote:
As the family sat to enjoy their meal, Joseph looked over at his father. Knowing that his father would again be leaving soon, he vowed silently to make every minute with him count.
Joseph's father looked over at his son, and smiled. The boy's mother had done a great job raising him, and she would continue to do a great job. The smile slipped from his face as he realised that this was going to be the last time that he ever saw his son. He vowed silently to himself to make every last minute with him count.
First of all, I love how you connected these two paragraphs.
Second of all, I love how you see that father and son are more alike than anything
Third of all, *sniffles*
Fourth of all, GET YOUR ASS WRITING CHAPTER 2!
Re: Joey - Chapter 1
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