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"Play Acting" by Redd

This story is quite recent amongst my short stories, it comes from the back of my 'the unrequited zombie' novel. I chose this story because it is inoffensive and I have a particular fondness for it and I think it is relativly easy on the reader to read. There is a lot of imagery as in all my stuff.

Category: Short Story

Tags: descriptive, romantic, horror, fiction

You can do an inline review of this work in the review tab.

Play Acting

John was dieing slowly in his chair. He looked up to the mirror like he was looking to heaven, crucified on his own body, his joints like splinters of wood, acheing, wobbling, like a structure of burning matches.

That was what he saw in the mirror also.Like a guilt framed x-ray, shaking matches about to topple to a heap of nothing but held together by the starch in his striped pyjamas.

He bowed back down to his tomato soup last meal in front of him, ‘this soup my blood, this bread my body’ he thought.

The door bell tolled .He dropped his spoon; spilling his soup. He put his hand to his heart where the warm soup had spread over stripes. Blood. He held out his hand; growing paler as it dripped on to the floor in drops; pouring away his life in a pitter patter. A new fear started; the now loud drumming of his heart like voodoo. Like a curse you believe in.

Then hope spread. ‘Is it her?’ he listened for the singing of the door bell again. ‘If it is her it will sing in a certain way. I will know who stands behind it.’

The door bell sang again in three short bursts. It gave an identikit of the soul behind the wailing; painted a picture clear behind the door of the girl with the finger on the button.

He saw her there; demanding, loving, patient. Hand on handbag and hand on button; crouched as a baby bird waiting for its feed. The bell rang.

“Don’t go I've waited for you so long.”

He stood up fast and fell to the floor; with a jarring thud. “Wait I'm coming.” He could crawl. He crawled rapidly.

The bell had stopped ringing. Finally he stood up and opened the door. The perfect smile, so white and neat, met him at eye level; breathing a warm wind on his face.

“Hello.”

She did not offer to help him. But walked past and sat down. Waiting.

With renewed strength he managed to sit down next to Helen. She turned on the sofa, smiled and held his shoulders with both cold hands and shook him. An act that was as uplifting as it was rattling and painful.

“Merry Christmas!”

She gave a tight lipped smile and reached in her handbag. Out of the bag she drew a cracker.

“Pull!”

The cracker joined them together; each smiling complicitly. The cracker was like a warm handshake; the tension of the paper the clasp.

Then came the pain. The cracker was tugged straight out; like it would snap at his arm. There was a look of triumph on Helens face. As the cracker burst with a snap like the sound of his bones breaking, he fell on the floor. He laughed.

“Stay there if it’s easier.” She said Putting the paper crown on her head.

“Can you pretend you love me?” He pleaded. Her eyes connected with his like the strings of party poppers; containing amused surprise.

“We’ll do a play.” She replied.

She looked at her hair that she had started platting. "Rapunzel!"

“You look like a princess in that party hat.”

“I was a princess!”

“Let me tell the story first.”

As she spoke she platted her golden hair. Paused with each strand, each strand a weaved thought, paused, pondered, looked at him, then tucked it in with her story.

After she had finished John said. “I didn’t know Rapunzel was a villain.”

“They don’t put you in a tower for no reason.” Helen replied.

Helen stood up. John looked up adoring from the floor.

“Prince .My tower is high .The stones are white; polished. Set like rows of teeth. You must climb my hair and give me a kiss.”

Helen bowed; proffering her hair. John grabbed the yellow braid. It really was like rope. He climbed up her hair from the floor; his fingers tugging. If he could only reach off the floor a kiss awaited him.

He made it.

She kissed his strained pulsing neck. The red lips parted and sharp teeth bit out flesh; draining the rest of his blood. She did not spill a drop from the vessel. John slept. Disappearing down a river…


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Category Name: My Thoughts

I did not enjoy this story. I am not even sure what problem the protagonist faced. This story was okay. The story would have been better if the author had introduced the problem differently and made it feel more pressing. I really enjoyed this story. The author did a good job pulling me into the story by introducing an immediate and important problem for the protagonist.

This section is for overall comments and general ideas. The score should reflect how much you enjoyed the story.

Category Name: Character Development

The characters were not dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable or unique. I don’t care about or understand the characters because they were poorly developed. The characters were somewhat dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable and unique. I partially understood the thoughts, feelings, and actions of the characters. I somewhat connected with and care about the characters. The characters were very dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable and unique. I thoroughly understood their thoughts, feelings and actions. I felt connected with and cared about the characters.

This is act of bringing a character to life on the page. It is a combination of the author’s description of the character and the character’s dialog, action, and thoughts. Though all characters should be believable, the protagonist and antagonist are usually the most developed characters.

Category Name: Plot

I finished reading the story so the plot must have unfolded, but I am not sure what the plot was. The characters did not achieve or grow by solving the problems they faced in this story. There were definite wrinkles in the way the plot unfolded leading to the final conflict. The plot was loosely tied to the achievement and growth of the characters. The way the protagonist overcame some of the problems flowed unnaturally with the story. I could see the plot unfolding through a series of escalating problems that lead to the final conflict. The plot helped me understand the achievements and growth of the characters. The way the protagonist overcame the problems flowed naturally with the st

In fiction a plot is all the events in a story, particularly rendered towards the achievement of some particular artistic or emotional effect. In other words it's what mostly happened in the story. The plot draws the reader into the character's lives and helps the reader understand the choices that the characters make.

Category Name: Dialog

The dialog seemed like cold words on paper. I had a hard time following it. I didn’t learn very much about the characters through the dialog. Through the dialog I could sometimes see the characters learn and grow while occasionally discovering new facets of their personalities. The dialog was generally consistent with the character. Through the dialog I could see the characters learn and grow while simultaneously discovering new facets of their personalities. The dialog was true to the character and it helped me understand the characters emotions.

Category Name: Setting

The setting created a haze in my mind that detracted from the story. I am lost in time and space because I don’t know when or where this story takes place. The setting was described adequately, but not well enough to bring it to life in my mind. The setting did not add to or detract from the story. I am pretty sure I know when and where the story takes place. The author engaged all of my senses while vividly describing the setting. The setting helped me better understand the setting and plot. I know when and where this story takes place.

The setting is where a story takes place. The choice of setting and its description helps the story come alive in the mind of the reader. Appropriate setting contributes to the plot and mood of the story.

Category Name: Mechanics

The story contained so many mechanical errors that it was hard to follow the plot or understand certain sentences or paragraphs. Occasional mechanical errors were distracting, but these errors did not inhibit me from being able to understand the plot or connect with characters in the story. I rarely if ever noticed mechanical errors. As far as I could tell, the writing was clear and correct.

Mechanics includes sentence structure, verb agreement, grammar, spelling, voice, punctuation and aspects of basic style.

Note: The purpose of ReviewFuse reviews is NOT to provide comprehensive copy editing, but rather to "ignite creativity." Reviewers should not feel obliged to point out every grammar or spelling error (though they certainly can if they wish), but should focus on this area only to the degree that errors make a story hard to follow or understand.

Inline comments are the most helpful and important aspects of your review.

Click on a paragraph or highlight text from the paragraph to provide inline comments. While detailed grammar correction is welcome, the purpose of inline commenting is to spark the author's creativity. This is best done by expressing feelings, questions, and concerns you have about the story while you are reading.

1. Play Acting

2. John was dieing slowly in his chair. He looked up to the mirror like he was looking to heaven, crucified on his own body, his joints like splinters of wood, acheing, wobbling, like a structure of burning matches.

3. That was what he saw in the mirror also.Like a guilt framed x-ray, shaking matches about to topple to a heap of nothing but held together by the starch in his striped pyjamas.

4. He bowed back down to his tomato soup last meal in front of him, ‘this soup my blood, this bread my body’ he thought.

5. The door bell tolled .He dropped his spoon; spilling his soup. He put his hand to his heart where the warm soup had spread over stripes. Blood. He held out his hand; growing paler as it dripped on to the floor in drops; pouring away his life in a pitter patter. A new fear started; the now loud drumming of his heart like voodoo. Like a curse you believe in.

6. Then hope spread. ‘Is it her?’ he listened for the singing of the door bell again. ‘If it is her it will sing in a certain way. I will know who stands behind it.’

7. The door bell sang again in three short bursts. It gave an identikit of the soul behind the wailing; painted a picture clear behind the door of the girl with the finger on the button.

8. He saw her there; demanding, loving, patient. Hand on handbag and hand on button; crouched as a baby bird waiting for its feed. The bell rang.

9. “Don’t go I've waited for you so long.”

10. He stood up fast and fell to the floor; with a jarring thud. “Wait I'm coming.” He could crawl. He crawled rapidly.

11. The bell had stopped ringing. Finally he stood up and opened the door. The perfect smile, so white and neat, met him at eye level; breathing a warm wind on his face.

12. “Hello.”

13. She did not offer to help him. But walked past and sat down. Waiting.

14. With renewed strength he managed to sit down next to Helen. She turned on the sofa, smiled and held his shoulders with both cold hands and shook him. An act that was as uplifting as it was rattling and painful.

15. “Merry Christmas!”

16. She gave a tight lipped smile and reached in her handbag. Out of the bag she drew a cracker.

17. “Pull!”

18. The cracker joined them together; each smiling complicitly. The cracker was like a warm handshake; the tension of the paper the clasp.

19. Then came the pain. The cracker was tugged straight out; like it would snap at his arm. There was a look of triumph on Helens face. As the cracker burst with a snap like the sound of his bones breaking, he fell on the floor. He laughed.

20. “Stay there if it’s easier.” She said Putting the paper crown on her head.

21. “Can you pretend you love me?” He pleaded. Her eyes connected with his like the strings of party poppers; containing amused surprise.

22. “We’ll do a play.” She replied.

23. She looked at her hair that she had started platting. "Rapunzel!"

24. “You look like a princess in that party hat.”

25. “I was a princess!”

26. “Let me tell the story first.”

27. As she spoke she platted her golden hair. Paused with each strand, each strand a weaved thought, paused, pondered, looked at him, then tucked it in with her story.

28. After she had finished John said. “I didn’t know Rapunzel was a villain.”

29. “They don’t put you in a tower for no reason.” Helen replied.

30. Helen stood up. John looked up adoring from the floor.

31. “Prince .My tower is high .The stones are white; polished. Set like rows of teeth. You must climb my hair and give me a kiss.”

32. Helen bowed; proffering her hair. John grabbed the yellow braid. It really was like rope. He climbed up her hair from the floor; his fingers tugging. If he could only reach off the floor a kiss awaited him.

33. He made it.

34. She kissed his strained pulsing neck. The red lips parted and sharp teeth bit out flesh; draining the rest of his blood. She did not spill a drop from the vessel. John slept. Disappearing down a river…

35.

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