The vodka seemed to arrive in Kev’s hand with increasing frequency. He took reluctant slugs, trying to dissolve the heavy dread in his stomach. It had to happen, here, on the wet bench. Paul had insisted.
Everyone said Stacey was easy, but she was capricious too. He’d seen Paul dole out beatings at her request as often as he’d heard boys boast of her caresses. “Go on, Stace”, said Paul. She moved towards Kev, kissed him. It was all tongue and teeth, braces brash against pursed lips. She took his hand and pushed it under her top. Blood rushed to his tingling fingers, her heartbeat pulsed beneath his palm. The weight in his stomach shifted, lightened.
Stacey recoiled: “What you doing, fag?” wiping the vomit from her chest. “Fucks sake, Kev. Go over there, Stace, I’ll deal with this”, said Paul. Stacey marched down the canal path to where the others sat waiting.
“I’m sorry. I was trying to make it easier for you”, said Paul, “for us.” He brushed the damp hair from Kev’s face, kissed him on the crown. Kev rested his head on Paul’s chest, felt his heart beat. Rain began to fall, giving the canal gooseflesh.
Constantin and Alice: thank you very much for your feedback and words of encouragement. I'm so glad you found some enjoyment in this, and I am certainly inspired to continue.
Alice: this was my first attempt at Flash, and I loved the process. When I've written in the past--for fun, and without paying much attention to form--I've had a tendency to waffle on (a bit like now), so hopefully writing in this format will help me to be more disciplined.
Thank you for your suggestions, all of which I agree with. The second, in particular, would have made things much clearer. I've been overwhelmed by how kind and insightful everybody is; it makes sharing your work a lot less daunting!
Hi Gareth,
I think it's a very enjoyable piece of writing. I thought that the 'wet bench' implied that it was a bench, outside, in the rain, so the location didn't confuse me in the slightest. I think it's beautifully written. Was this your first attempt at flash fiction? Then carry on, please! Not a word wasted, in my opinion - and don't cut the last line! I love, love, love it. It's one of those metaphors that I never would have thought of myself, but having read it can see that it of course is perfect.
Some points for improvement that you can of course feel free to ignore:
1. Perhaps you could switch around the word order in the line begining 'Stacey recoiled ...' I think that it sounds good opening the sentence with those words, but as it is it feels as though a word is missing, going straight from speech to 'wiping ...' It wouldn't take up any more words and yet would perhaps feel a more complete sentence if you put:
"What you doing, fag?" Stacey recoiled, wiping the vomit from her chest.
That's just an idea, though.
2. Perhaps you could start Paul's speech an another line, just to aid comprehension. I thought it was Stacey saying 'for fuck's sake ...'
Again, it probably doesn't matter.
3. You say in the last line 'Rain BEGAN to fall' ... and yet the bench's being wet implies that it already has been raining. Just a minor point.
All in all, suggestions notwithstanding, I thought this was really good! I'll look out for your future shares, most definitely!
Hello, Gareth. I really enjoyed reading your piece and I did not find it very confusing. In fact, sometimes I prefer the writing to be like that. Somewhere between the lines, you manage somehow to capture a shifting melancholy, there is a restlessness and a longing infusing the scene. Longing, (be)longing and perhaps even more of the unmentioned (and perhaps unmeantionable) one - (unbe)longing.