V
Venom
Guest
I've got some chapters due for my creative writing class after christmas break and since my classmates are all busy with their own Christmas plans I don't have anyone to review what I wrote before I turn it in. Would anyone mind reading over some of what I've written? I'm more concerned about the overall flow of the writing than spelling and grammar. The story is basically about a two guys who are best friends who fall in love with the same girl. Very cliche, but it's just one of many short stories I have to write for the class and we have to write a short story for each genre. This is an attempt at romance.
***
A cacophony of rivaling voices resounded through the nigh; bloated frogs sounding their joy and anticipation for life, yet flirting with death as their calls remained undimmed despite the dark slinking shadows cast over the reflected lunar light of the glassy waters. Sometimes the struggle against wing and feather could be faintly heard, but the symphony of obnoxious discord never skipped a beat or measure. It was beautiful and Jonathan breathed it in its entirety, hopeful to hold a memory everlasting, testing the will of time and of his senses.
The musk of damp grass and bitter water lingered on his tongue even as the warm breath of his lungs flowed out to condense in the cool night air. His mind drifted to a pond he frequented in his youth in search of tadpoles and fireflies and his fingers clenched with longing for the grip of glass jars. He could even hear the satisfying pop of the jar tops as the memory of his younger self screwed on metal caps to temporarily imprison whatever he found lurking about the water’s edge.
A rustle in the leaves and branches brought him out of his reveries and he feigned surprise when he felt the tug and warmth of hands wrapping about his stomach. He felt her nuzzle the space between his shoulder blades and he leaned against her sighs, careful to not put any weight that her delicate frame would protest. They had met like this every evening since Henry’s return, meeting by the edge of the ghostly birch trees that lined the western shores of the lake. The excuses he gave to abruptly leave poker games and avoid rides into town were becoming more absurd by the day and Jon was sure that the boys were suspicious and perhaps even wary of his nightly disappearing act. Just a few minutes before, as he threw his cards down in false defeat, Sanders had nonchalantly waved a hand in mock dismissal and flashed a knowing grin round the table. John had pretended not to be aware of their muffled sneers and only raised a hand in farewell in answer to the shouts begging to know who the girl was.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” rang the soft bells of her voice, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.
“No worries. I barely noticed.”
Suddenly her hands withdrew from where they rested above his hips and she lightly shoved him from behind. “Liar! You were counting every second! You were scared that something had happened and I may never come!” Her eyes blazed with that familiar fire, but the pull at the ends of her lips betrayed her heated accusations. In mock defense he raised his hands in surrender and lowered his head in shame.
“You know me too well, Audrey. If you had taken but a moment longer I may very well have died of fear and heartbreak.”
She smiled at his confession and the fire died to a glowing ember that melted the last of his heart to a warm and syrupy pathetic pool of love. Silently he cursed this woman who had made him into a fool. Who had made him a liar and a traitor to all he had pledged himself to, even his best friend. She threaded her fingers through his and pulled him to her loving embrace. ‘And bless her,’ he thought. ‘Bless her for loving me, the fool and the liar and the traitor. And God forgive me, because I would do it all over again if but for one of her smiles.’
***
A cacophony of rivaling voices resounded through the nigh; bloated frogs sounding their joy and anticipation for life, yet flirting with death as their calls remained undimmed despite the dark slinking shadows cast over the reflected lunar light of the glassy waters. Sometimes the struggle against wing and feather could be faintly heard, but the symphony of obnoxious discord never skipped a beat or measure. It was beautiful and Jonathan breathed it in its entirety, hopeful to hold a memory everlasting, testing the will of time and of his senses.
The musk of damp grass and bitter water lingered on his tongue even as the warm breath of his lungs flowed out to condense in the cool night air. His mind drifted to a pond he frequented in his youth in search of tadpoles and fireflies and his fingers clenched with longing for the grip of glass jars. He could even hear the satisfying pop of the jar tops as the memory of his younger self screwed on metal caps to temporarily imprison whatever he found lurking about the water’s edge.
A rustle in the leaves and branches brought him out of his reveries and he feigned surprise when he felt the tug and warmth of hands wrapping about his stomach. He felt her nuzzle the space between his shoulder blades and he leaned against her sighs, careful to not put any weight that her delicate frame would protest. They had met like this every evening since Henry’s return, meeting by the edge of the ghostly birch trees that lined the western shores of the lake. The excuses he gave to abruptly leave poker games and avoid rides into town were becoming more absurd by the day and Jon was sure that the boys were suspicious and perhaps even wary of his nightly disappearing act. Just a few minutes before, as he threw his cards down in false defeat, Sanders had nonchalantly waved a hand in mock dismissal and flashed a knowing grin round the table. John had pretended not to be aware of their muffled sneers and only raised a hand in farewell in answer to the shouts begging to know who the girl was.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” rang the soft bells of her voice, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.
“No worries. I barely noticed.”
Suddenly her hands withdrew from where they rested above his hips and she lightly shoved him from behind. “Liar! You were counting every second! You were scared that something had happened and I may never come!” Her eyes blazed with that familiar fire, but the pull at the ends of her lips betrayed her heated accusations. In mock defense he raised his hands in surrender and lowered his head in shame.
“You know me too well, Audrey. If you had taken but a moment longer I may very well have died of fear and heartbreak.”
She smiled at his confession and the fire died to a glowing ember that melted the last of his heart to a warm and syrupy pathetic pool of love. Silently he cursed this woman who had made him into a fool. Who had made him a liar and a traitor to all he had pledged himself to, even his best friend. She threaded her fingers through his and pulled him to her loving embrace. ‘And bless her,’ he thought. ‘Bless her for loving me, the fool and the liar and the traitor. And God forgive me, because I would do it all over again if but for one of her smiles.’