Nov 07 2011

Published by at 3:02 pm under Uncategorized

Not the best story in my opinion…

It was crowded that day. The trains were coming and going, struggling to stay on schedule. Young and old people dressed in heavy coats passed by without even sparing them a second glance. They were after all two strangers, probably a couple parting or perhaps a brother and sister saying their final goodbyes. She remembered the mothers and fathers rushing to catch their train with their screaming children in tow. Old men and women stood on the platform with tears in their eyes waving goodbye to friends and family members. It was a time of mass movement from the countryside to the city, a chance for a better life. That’s why he was leaving.
With his luggage in hand, they stood looking at each other. She was trying to memorize every feature, every contour, and every line of his face. She didn’t want to let him go yet she couldn’t beg him to stay either, but she had faith that they would be together again soon, she had to believe. “I know you will become successful in Moscow. Once you settle down you will come back for me and we can start our new lives.” She talked while he remained silent; she made future plans with hope gleaming in her eyes and still he remained silent. Finally the time has come to board the train. He gathered his bags, took one last look around the train station and climbed aboard a passenger car, “farewell, I am never coming back and we shall never meet again,” he cried and quickly docked inside the car. Just like that he was gone. She stood on the platform her face ashen; she wanted to reach out to him, to demand an explanation but she was unable to make a sound. It was too late, the train doors closed and she was left far behind.

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  1.   Pruon 07 Nov 2011 at 5:33 pm

    I like it…I want to know more of what is to happen. Will he come back for her? Great details…

  2.   rafalborynskion 09 Nov 2011 at 1:51 pm

    Dear Margarita,
    I adore the bittersweet tones of your writing, the kind when you’re walking through a desolate snowy street in the middle of the night, hypnotized by the romantic beauty of such an environment while simultaneously moaning in agony at the cold winter’s wind shivering up your spine. Such is the portrait, no , not the portrait , the reality that your art evokes , drawing from the majestic magisterium of creativity, such as when in your short story the tenderness and empathy of the obvious love between the two characters is juxtaposed against the sheer sorrow that the lovers , due to the implication of forces out of their control, must part and go their separate ways.
    The narratives where the narrator presents information to you as you go along in the story indirectly through the actions occurring in the plot, those are narratives that I exceptionally fancy. Your narratives in your first short story is a prime case of this pristine technique of literary in how your narrative starts off with a description of a train station with trains coming and going . yet as the action moves forward, it is slowly revealed through step by step by step narration that the young man Is going off to Moscow. Up to that point the development of the plot is structured as if the lovers are parting, albeit sorrowfully and regretfully, but that they will soon reunite. Then , the surprise, no to call it a surprise would be undermining, the shock , the complete and utter shock, that comes with the following lines “farewell, I am never coming back and we shall never meet again,” he cried and quickly docked inside the car. Just like that he was gone. She stood on the platform her face ashen; she wanted to reach out to him, to demand an explanation but she was unable to make a sound. It was too late, the train doors closed and she was left far behind”. This conclusion left me in a state of shock , as your story built up I was already looking forward towards the sweet moment at the end where the couple reunites in warm and passionate embrace, and that ending killed off those altruistic anticiptions , and that is precisely what makes it a great ending.
    I found your poem “Forbidden” to be very enthralling indeed. A forbidden love affair on par with “Romeo and Juliet” rolled up into eighteen wonderful lines. The first two lines , “We live in sin, you and I,/ From their eyes we must hide” are intellectually puzzling because it is left ambiguous whether or not the narrator actually feels that what she and her brother are doing is actually a sin, meaning wrong and immoral , or if it only a sin because the society that they must hide from have labeled it as a sin. This ambiguity is further developed in the last two lines : “ Yet a grave mistake we have made/ By our kin we’ve been betrayed.” This line again leaves it ambigious as to whether the sin is the act itself or the fact that they got caught.
    Overall, this is some very good writing.

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