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durham_knits at 07:54pm on 22/04/2004
durham_knits at 07:54pm on 22/04/2004Have cut short story from 52 to 43 pages. My cutting knife of doom is involved. It's quite painful for all. I cut an entire character. Gahh. But, it's all for the best. i think it's shaping up quite nicely, indeed, even the angel who randomly showed up.
Mrs. Bethel gave half a smile and her eyes seemed to light up. "Sometimes men do tell the truth, you know. My husband... he has the tendency to say very complicated, almost ridiculous sounding things. They're often quite important, but often they get... misrepresented." She zoned off a moment, glancing out across the street. She seemed to see something there, and I glanced over to see what it was. The street was empty. The convenience store in the front of the building was closed up for the night and the lights in the building above it were mostly off.
It was the lack of cars that caught my attention. Rush hour in Boston is vicious. There should've been lines of cars at the stoplights. Instead it was just Mrs. Bethel and myself on the bench.
I opened my mouth to say something about it, but Mrs. Bethel spoke first. "Do you think he's lying? Or do you think hes telling the truth, and you just can't believe it?"
I glanced at the road, but gave up on it and answered her instead. "He's telling the truth as he knows it... I just don't think he knows better."
"He sees falsely?"
"He's seeing things that aren't there. Things that aren't possible. He actually thinks hes a..." I shook my head. "It's embarrassing."
Mrs. Bethel gave a knowing look. Her eyes were the brightest of blues, the deep hue of a hazy summer sky, and they seemed somehow foreign in her creased face. If anything, they seemed older than her appearance, as though she had some infinite source of knowledge that I could only imagine. "Sometimes, there are truths that are hard to accept."
Maybe it was her eyes. They were deeper than the ocean, stretching down into depths I couldn't imagine, so deep that I couldn't look away. They were warmth and comfort, and I was sinking. "God talks to him. He saw the city burning."
Mrs. Bethel gave half a smile and her eyes seemed to light up. "Sometimes men do tell the truth, you know. My husband... he has the tendency to say very complicated, almost ridiculous sounding things. They're often quite important, but often they get... misrepresented." She zoned off a moment, glancing out across the street. She seemed to see something there, and I glanced over to see what it was. The street was empty. The convenience store in the front of the building was closed up for the night and the lights in the building above it were mostly off.
It was the lack of cars that caught my attention. Rush hour in Boston is vicious. There should've been lines of cars at the stoplights. Instead it was just Mrs. Bethel and myself on the bench.
I opened my mouth to say something about it, but Mrs. Bethel spoke first. "Do you think he's lying? Or do you think hes telling the truth, and you just can't believe it?"
I glanced at the road, but gave up on it and answered her instead. "He's telling the truth as he knows it... I just don't think he knows better."
"He sees falsely?"
"He's seeing things that aren't there. Things that aren't possible. He actually thinks hes a..." I shook my head. "It's embarrassing."
Mrs. Bethel gave a knowing look. Her eyes were the brightest of blues, the deep hue of a hazy summer sky, and they seemed somehow foreign in her creased face. If anything, they seemed older than her appearance, as though she had some infinite source of knowledge that I could only imagine. "Sometimes, there are truths that are hard to accept."
Maybe it was her eyes. They were deeper than the ocean, stretching down into depths I couldn't imagine, so deep that I couldn't look away. They were warmth and comfort, and I was sinking. "God talks to him. He saw the city burning."
creative