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Re: Sally Pepper 808 words

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  • albiaicehouse
    Dave, Who is your audience? Rod aka albi
    Message 1 of 10 , Nov 5, 2009
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      Dave,

      Who is your audience?

      Rod
      aka albi

      --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "n2chi" <davidgriffin@...> wrote:
      >
      > I'm in love with Sally Pepper. She is always here when I wake up. She's my nurse and the prettiest girl I've ever met. I usually don't care for girls much older than me. She's a young woman in her twenties. I'm thirteen and a half years old.
      >
      > I've been here in the Children's Ward of Our Lady of All Angels Hospital for 3 weeks and the mass is growing bigger. Mom and Dad and everyone are all smiles, but as time goes on I can tell they're faking it. I know Mom doesn't think I'll make it this time. I've heard her whispering to Dad when they thought me asleep. She says I'm being shortchanged and I'll never have a life like her and Dad. But I've had a good life and thirteen years is a long time.
      >
      > Something is in my chest and it presses down more every day. Breathing gets to be an effort. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and I'm afraid and I wish Sally Pepper would hurry up and come on duty. I want her to smile at me and ask about school and say I'm handsome and all that silly stuff she tells me as she brushes the hair out of my eyes and rubs my chest where it hurts.
      >
      > When Sally leaves, old Sister Hymentuum comes in to give me the bed bath, a cleansing of the face and pits. Sister Hy says any work below the belt is my duty. Thank God. One day the medicine knocked me out and I woke up to find the old nun busy down there, knocking things around in a hurried effort to get the job done. I was sore the rest of the day.
      >
      > Sister Hy says she has never heard of Sally Pepper. She's a little forgetful, I guess. Maybe it's a nun thing to not remember the prettiest nurse in the hospital.
      >
      > I get needles in the rump all the time and it makes me wonder if Sally Pepper ever has a shot in the buttocks. It's hard to imagine such a mundane act violating the sacred. How profane to think of the doctor saying, "Sally, pull down your pants and give me a cheek." Not to be irreverent, but it would be like hearing the Blessed Mother fart. Sally isn't a saint, I hope, but her exposed bottom would be holy to me. If I were giving her a shot, I'd light a candle, put on Mahler's 9th Symphony and reveal only the tiniest piece of skin necessary. Probably. Maybe I'd bless myself as I pushed in the plunger. I wonder if Sally Pepper is a virgin.
      >
      > I sense that Sally Pepper has always been with me, since the day I was born. I can't explain how or why that could be. I've seen her only these past few weeks and so I wonder how I've overlooked her presence.
      >
      > I guess I'm sleeping most of the day now. I dreamed of learning to sew. I cut out the white fabric and stitched a beautiful fitted gown to embrace Sally Pepper, lovingly forming every fold of the fabric to accommodate each curve of her body. It felt almost as nice as it would to touch her.
      >
      > It's getting harder to breathe now. I take long, slow pulls through my nose and each time the pain is worse. I've lost track of everything around me. My whole world is my breathing and the pain. It always seems like late afternoon. It's cold and I haven't seen the sun since forever.
      >
      > I dreamed that Sally Pepper and I made love. I didn't see anything. It must have happened in the dark. I only know we did it, somehow. I could feel us. Later, I saw our children. I was proud of them and of myself. I came home from work wearing a shirt and a tie and Sally Pepper was cooking supper and feeding the baby in a chair. Our little boy played under the kitchen table. He looked like me.
      >
      > It's very dark now. The pain isn't gone, but it feels like it belongs to someone else. I haven't taken a breath in a while. I tried and tried and then I just gave up. It's very quiet, except for the breeze.
      >
      > Sally Pepper is beside me, dressed in the most stunning gown I've ever seen. I wish I had sewn it. She is absolutely beautiful and I've never seen her so radiant. We are walking hand in hand and she brings me to the top of a hill. Down the green slopes of the other side is a valley. I can see a river down there. I can feel the wind and the warm sun on my face. I am laughing. I am crying. I can breathe.
      >
      > copyright 2009 Dave Griffin
      >
    • dave_n2chi
      By the way, how did you arrive at that sister s name? Sheer childishness! Hahahaha! Thanks, Bernie. Thanks, Amy, you re certainly invited to my story list
      Message 2 of 10 , Nov 5, 2009
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        "By the way, how did you arrive at that sister's name?"

        Sheer childishness! Hahahaha! Thanks, Bernie.

        Thanks, Amy, you're certainly invited to my story list at:
        http://www.windsweptpress.com/essays.htm

        Dave


        --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "Bernard d" <rede2rollbaby@...> wrote:
        >
        > G'day Dave,
        > I don't often comment, don't offer platitudes...
        > Mate, this is something I really appreciated, an all too
        > familiar scenario given a concise, simple, yet encompassing
        > dignity.
        > By the way, how did you arrive at that sister's name?
        > Cheers Mate,
        > Bernie...
        >
      • queenie_of_cryptic_cyphers
        Dave, This is indeed a touching story, and well written. The development of the angel is good as well, however Rod asked a good question. What is the intended
        Message 3 of 10 , Nov 6, 2009
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          Dave,

          This is indeed a touching story, and well written. The development of the angel is good as well, however Rod asked a good question. What is the intended aucience? Although the story is touching, some of the details seem out of character for a 13 year old. Consistency with story characters are critical. Take another look at your story from that perspective, or bump up his age to about 16 who wants to play a rap or hip hop song.

          Cheers,
          Gwen



          --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "n2chi" <davidgriffin@...> wrote:
          >
          > I'm in love with Sally Pepper. She is always here when I wake up. She's my nurse and the prettiest girl I've ever met. I usually don't care for girls much older than me. She's a young woman in her twenties. I'm thirteen and a half years old.
          >
          > I've been here in the Children's Ward of Our Lady of All Angels Hospital for 3 weeks and the mass is growing bigger. Mom and Dad and everyone are all smiles, but as time goes on I can tell they're faking it. I know Mom doesn't think I'll make it this time. I've heard her whispering to Dad when they thought me asleep. She says I'm being shortchanged and I'll never have a life like her and Dad. But I've had a good life and thirteen years is a long time.
          >
          > Something is in my chest and it presses down more every day. Breathing gets to be an effort. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and I'm afraid and I wish Sally Pepper would hurry up and come on duty. I want her to smile at me and ask about school and say I'm handsome and all that silly stuff she tells me as she brushes the hair out of my eyes and rubs my chest where it hurts.
          >
          > When Sally leaves, old Sister Hymentuum comes in to give me the bed bath, a cleansing of the face and pits. Sister Hy says any work below the belt is my duty. Thank God. One day the medicine knocked me out and I woke up to find the old nun busy down there, knocking things around in a hurried effort to get the job done. I was sore the rest of the day.
          >
          > Sister Hy says she has never heard of Sally Pepper. She's a little forgetful, I guess. Maybe it's a nun thing to not remember the prettiest nurse in the hospital.
          >
          > I get needles in the rump all the time and it makes me wonder if Sally Pepper ever has a shot in the buttocks. It's hard to imagine such a mundane act violating the sacred. How profane to think of the doctor saying, "Sally, pull down your pants and give me a cheek." Not to be irreverent, but it would be like hearing the Blessed Mother fart. Sally isn't a saint, I hope, but her exposed bottom would be holy to me. If I were giving her a shot, I'd light a candle, put on Mahler's 9th Symphony and reveal only the tiniest piece of skin necessary. Probably. Maybe I'd bless myself as I pushed in the plunger. I wonder if Sally Pepper is a virgin.
          >
          > I sense that Sally Pepper has always been with me, since the day I was born. I can't explain how or why that could be. I've seen her only these past few weeks and so I wonder how I've overlooked her presence.
          >
          > I guess I'm sleeping most of the day now. I dreamed of learning to sew. I cut out the white fabric and stitched a beautiful fitted gown to embrace Sally Pepper, lovingly forming every fold of the fabric to accommodate each curve of her body. It felt almost as nice as it would to touch her.
          >
          > It's getting harder to breathe now. I take long, slow pulls through my nose and each time the pain is worse. I've lost track of everything around me. My whole world is my breathing and the pain. It always seems like late afternoon. It's cold and I haven't seen the sun since forever.
          >
          > I dreamed that Sally Pepper and I made love. I didn't see anything. It must have happened in the dark. I only know we did it, somehow. I could feel us. Later, I saw our children. I was proud of them and of myself. I came home from work wearing a shirt and a tie and Sally Pepper was cooking supper and feeding the baby in a chair. Our little boy played under the kitchen table. He looked like me.
          >
          > It's very dark now. The pain isn't gone, but it feels like it belongs to someone else. I haven't taken a breath in a while. I tried and tried and then I just gave up. It's very quiet, except for the breeze.
          >
          > Sally Pepper is beside me, dressed in the most stunning gown I've ever seen. I wish I had sewn it. She is absolutely beautiful and I've never seen her so radiant. We are walking hand in hand and she brings me to the top of a hill. Down the green slopes of the other side is a valley. I can see a river down there. I can feel the wind and the warm sun on my face. I am laughing. I am crying. I can breathe.
          >
          > copyright 2009 Dave Griffin
          >
        • dave_n2chi
          THanks, Gwen. All good points. In fact, much is out of character, from his mention of she s a young woman, to dreaming of sewing, to playing Mahler! But
          Message 4 of 10 , Nov 6, 2009
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            THanks, Gwen. All good points. In fact, much is out of character, from his mention of "she's a young woman," to dreaming of sewing, to playing Mahler!
            But although I often revise and re-write stories and have received and used many suggestions from other writers, I can never bring myself to make any changes to this story.
            Good thing I don't do this for money!
            Thanks again for your thoughts. Send us some more poetry!
            Dave

            --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "queenie_of_cryptic_cyphers" <poetryofmuses@...> wrote:
            >
            > Dave,
            >
            > This is indeed a touching story, and well written. The development of the angel is good as well, however Rod asked a good question. What is the intended aucience? Although the story is touching, some of the details seem out of character for a 13 year old. Consistency with story characters are critical. Take another look at your story from that perspective, or bump up his age to about 16 who wants to play a rap or hip hop song.
            >
            > Cheers,
            > Gwen
            >
            >
            >
            > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "n2chi" <davidgriffin@> wrote:
            > >
            > > I'm in love with Sally Pepper. She is always here when I wake up. She's my nurse and the prettiest girl I've ever met. I usually don't care for girls much older than me. She's a young woman in her twenties. I'm thirteen and a half years old.
            > >
            > > I've been here in the Children's Ward of Our Lady of All Angels Hospital for 3 weeks and the mass is growing bigger. Mom and Dad and everyone are all smiles, but as time goes on I can tell they're faking it. I know Mom doesn't think I'll make it this time. I've heard her whispering to Dad when they thought me asleep. She says I'm being shortchanged and I'll never have a life like her and Dad. But I've had a good life and thirteen years is a long time.
            > >
            > > Something is in my chest and it presses down more every day. Breathing gets to be an effort. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and I'm afraid and I wish Sally Pepper would hurry up and come on duty. I want her to smile at me and ask about school and say I'm handsome and all that silly stuff she tells me as she brushes the hair out of my eyes and rubs my chest where it hurts.
            > >
            > > When Sally leaves, old Sister Hymentuum comes in to give me the bed bath, a cleansing of the face and pits. Sister Hy says any work below the belt is my duty. Thank God. One day the medicine knocked me out and I woke up to find the old nun busy down there, knocking things around in a hurried effort to get the job done. I was sore the rest of the day.
            > >
            > > Sister Hy says she has never heard of Sally Pepper. She's a little forgetful, I guess. Maybe it's a nun thing to not remember the prettiest nurse in the hospital.
            > >
            > > I get needles in the rump all the time and it makes me wonder if Sally Pepper ever has a shot in the buttocks. It's hard to imagine such a mundane act violating the sacred. How profane to think of the doctor saying, "Sally, pull down your pants and give me a cheek." Not to be irreverent, but it would be like hearing the Blessed Mother fart. Sally isn't a saint, I hope, but her exposed bottom would be holy to me. If I were giving her a shot, I'd light a candle, put on Mahler's 9th Symphony and reveal only the tiniest piece of skin necessary. Probably. Maybe I'd bless myself as I pushed in the plunger. I wonder if Sally Pepper is a virgin.
            > >
            > > I sense that Sally Pepper has always been with me, since the day I was born. I can't explain how or why that could be. I've seen her only these past few weeks and so I wonder how I've overlooked her presence.
            > >
            > > I guess I'm sleeping most of the day now. I dreamed of learning to sew. I cut out the white fabric and stitched a beautiful fitted gown to embrace Sally Pepper, lovingly forming every fold of the fabric to accommodate each curve of her body. It felt almost as nice as it would to touch her.
            > >
            > > It's getting harder to breathe now. I take long, slow pulls through my nose and each time the pain is worse. I've lost track of everything around me. My whole world is my breathing and the pain. It always seems like late afternoon. It's cold and I haven't seen the sun since forever.
            > >
            > > I dreamed that Sally Pepper and I made love. I didn't see anything. It must have happened in the dark. I only know we did it, somehow. I could feel us. Later, I saw our children. I was proud of them and of myself. I came home from work wearing a shirt and a tie and Sally Pepper was cooking supper and feeding the baby in a chair. Our little boy played under the kitchen table. He looked like me.
            > >
            > > It's very dark now. The pain isn't gone, but it feels like it belongs to someone else. I haven't taken a breath in a while. I tried and tried and then I just gave up. It's very quiet, except for the breeze.
            > >
            > > Sally Pepper is beside me, dressed in the most stunning gown I've ever seen. I wish I had sewn it. She is absolutely beautiful and I've never seen her so radiant. We are walking hand in hand and she brings me to the top of a hill. Down the green slopes of the other side is a valley. I can see a river down there. I can feel the wind and the warm sun on my face. I am laughing. I am crying. I can breathe.
            > >
            > > copyright 2009 Dave Griffin
            > >
            >
          • dave_n2chi
            Hi Rod, Not to be a smart ass, but I guess I m the audience. It s really true, I write for my own amusement and don t publish. Well that s not completely
            Message 5 of 10 , Nov 6, 2009
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              Hi Rod,
              Not to be a smart ass, but I guess I'm the audience. It's really true, I write for my own amusement and don't publish. Well that's not completely accurate, I do in fact self-publish so I can give my writing to those who are not on the web. And I have all of my essays and stories on a web page:
              http://www.windsweptpress.com

              Not to say I'm uninterested in the craft. That's why I'm here, for the critique. I believe my writing began to improve by leaps and bounds when I started submitting pieces for critique, on the Internet as well as in local writing groups.

              I love to write. I think everyone does and can, with a little work.
              If you visit More Stories! you'll find people trying their darndest!
              Dave

              --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse <no_reply@...> wrote:
              >
              > Dave,
              >
              > Who is your audience?
              >
              > Rod
              > aka albi
              >
              > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "n2chi" <davidgriffin@> wrote:
              > >
              > > I'm in love with Sally Pepper. She is always here when I wake up. She's my nurse and the prettiest girl I've ever met. I usually don't care for girls much older than me. She's a young woman in her twenties. I'm thirteen and a half years old.
              > >
              > > I've been here in the Children's Ward of Our Lady of All Angels Hospital for 3 weeks and the mass is growing bigger. Mom and Dad and everyone are all smiles, but as time goes on I can tell they're faking it. I know Mom doesn't think I'll make it this time. I've heard her whispering to Dad when they thought me asleep. She says I'm being shortchanged and I'll never have a life like her and Dad. But I've had a good life and thirteen years is a long time.
              > >
              > > Something is in my chest and it presses down more every day. Breathing gets to be an effort. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and I'm afraid and I wish Sally Pepper would hurry up and come on duty. I want her to smile at me and ask about school and say I'm handsome and all that silly stuff she tells me as she brushes the hair out of my eyes and rubs my chest where it hurts.
              > >
              > > When Sally leaves, old Sister Hymentuum comes in to give me the bed bath, a cleansing of the face and pits. Sister Hy says any work below the belt is my duty. Thank God. One day the medicine knocked me out and I woke up to find the old nun busy down there, knocking things around in a hurried effort to get the job done. I was sore the rest of the day.
              > >
              > > Sister Hy says she has never heard of Sally Pepper. She's a little forgetful, I guess. Maybe it's a nun thing to not remember the prettiest nurse in the hospital.
              > >
              > > I get needles in the rump all the time and it makes me wonder if Sally Pepper ever has a shot in the buttocks. It's hard to imagine such a mundane act violating the sacred. How profane to think of the doctor saying, "Sally, pull down your pants and give me a cheek." Not to be irreverent, but it would be like hearing the Blessed Mother fart. Sally isn't a saint, I hope, but her exposed bottom would be holy to me. If I were giving her a shot, I'd light a candle, put on Mahler's 9th Symphony and reveal only the tiniest piece of skin necessary. Probably. Maybe I'd bless myself as I pushed in the plunger. I wonder if Sally Pepper is a virgin.
              > >
              > > I sense that Sally Pepper has always been with me, since the day I was born. I can't explain how or why that could be. I've seen her only these past few weeks and so I wonder how I've overlooked her presence.
              > >
              > > I guess I'm sleeping most of the day now. I dreamed of learning to sew. I cut out the white fabric and stitched a beautiful fitted gown to embrace Sally Pepper, lovingly forming every fold of the fabric to accommodate each curve of her body. It felt almost as nice as it would to touch her.
              > >
              > > It's getting harder to breathe now. I take long, slow pulls through my nose and each time the pain is worse. I've lost track of everything around me. My whole world is my breathing and the pain. It always seems like late afternoon. It's cold and I haven't seen the sun since forever.
              > >
              > > I dreamed that Sally Pepper and I made love. I didn't see anything. It must have happened in the dark. I only know we did it, somehow. I could feel us. Later, I saw our children. I was proud of them and of myself. I came home from work wearing a shirt and a tie and Sally Pepper was cooking supper and feeding the baby in a chair. Our little boy played under the kitchen table. He looked like me.
              > >
              > > It's very dark now. The pain isn't gone, but it feels like it belongs to someone else. I haven't taken a breath in a while. I tried and tried and then I just gave up. It's very quiet, except for the breeze.
              > >
              > > Sally Pepper is beside me, dressed in the most stunning gown I've ever seen. I wish I had sewn it. She is absolutely beautiful and I've never seen her so radiant. We are walking hand in hand and she brings me to the top of a hill. Down the green slopes of the other side is a valley. I can see a river down there. I can feel the wind and the warm sun on my face. I am laughing. I am crying. I can breathe.
              > >
              > > copyright 2009 Dave Griffin
              > >
              >
            • albiaicehouse
              Dave, If one of us is going to be a smart ass, I might as well take that role. If you wrote it for yourself, why did you post it? The story and the narrating
              Message 6 of 10 , Nov 6, 2009
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                Dave,

                If one of us is going to be a smart ass, I might as well take that role. If you wrote it for yourself, why did you post it?

                The story and the narrating character veers from vulgar to sentimentally touching. As Gwen pointed out, the character isn't consistent with his age.

                The teenage vulgar parts of this were funny and could be put to great effect. All teenagers have their serious side too. But I didn't feel it transitioned authentically. Maybe it was just me.

                I encourage you to try to find the joys in rewrites. Inspiration must often be balanced with perspiration. It takes a whole different head to craft a piece better and better, but the rewards are great!

                My boss always makes the point writing better through revision trains the mind so its work needs less revision.

                Rod
                aka albi

                --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "dave_n2chi" <davidgriffin@...> wrote:
                >
                > Hi Rod,
                > Not to be a smart ass, but I guess I'm the audience. It's really true, I write for my own amusement and don't publish. Well that's not completely accurate, I do in fact self-publish so I can give my writing to those who are not on the web. And I have all of my essays and stories on a web page:
                > http://www.windsweptpress.com
                >
                > Not to say I'm uninterested in the craft. That's why I'm here, for the critique. I believe my writing began to improve by leaps and bounds when I started submitting pieces for critique, on the Internet as well as in local writing groups.
                >
                > I love to write. I think everyone does and can, with a little work.
                > If you visit More Stories! you'll find people trying their darndest!
                > Dave
                >
                > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse <no_reply@> wrote:
                > >
                > > Dave,
                > >
                > > Who is your audience?
                > >
                > > Rod
                > > aka albi
                > >
                > > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "n2chi" <davidgriffin@> wrote:
                > > >
                > > > I'm in love with Sally Pepper. She is always here when I wake up. She's my nurse and the prettiest girl I've ever met. I usually don't care for girls much older than me. She's a young woman in her twenties. I'm thirteen and a half years old.
                > > >
                > > > I've been here in the Children's Ward of Our Lady of All Angels Hospital for 3 weeks and the mass is growing bigger. Mom and Dad and everyone are all smiles, but as time goes on I can tell they're faking it. I know Mom doesn't think I'll make it this time. I've heard her whispering to Dad when they thought me asleep. She says I'm being shortchanged and I'll never have a life like her and Dad. But I've had a good life and thirteen years is a long time.
                > > >
                > > > Something is in my chest and it presses down more every day. Breathing gets to be an effort. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and I'm afraid and I wish Sally Pepper would hurry up and come on duty. I want her to smile at me and ask about school and say I'm handsome and all that silly stuff she tells me as she brushes the hair out of my eyes and rubs my chest where it hurts.
                > > >
                > > > When Sally leaves, old Sister Hymentuum comes in to give me the bed bath, a cleansing of the face and pits. Sister Hy says any work below the belt is my duty. Thank God. One day the medicine knocked me out and I woke up to find the old nun busy down there, knocking things around in a hurried effort to get the job done. I was sore the rest of the day.
                > > >
                > > > Sister Hy says she has never heard of Sally Pepper. She's a little forgetful, I guess. Maybe it's a nun thing to not remember the prettiest nurse in the hospital.
                > > >
                > > > I get needles in the rump all the time and it makes me wonder if Sally Pepper ever has a shot in the buttocks. It's hard to imagine such a mundane act violating the sacred. How profane to think of the doctor saying, "Sally, pull down your pants and give me a cheek." Not to be irreverent, but it would be like hearing the Blessed Mother fart. Sally isn't a saint, I hope, but her exposed bottom would be holy to me. If I were giving her a shot, I'd light a candle, put on Mahler's 9th Symphony and reveal only the tiniest piece of skin necessary. Probably. Maybe I'd bless myself as I pushed in the plunger. I wonder if Sally Pepper is a virgin.
                > > >
                > > > I sense that Sally Pepper has always been with me, since the day I was born. I can't explain how or why that could be. I've seen her only these past few weeks and so I wonder how I've overlooked her presence.
                > > >
                > > > I guess I'm sleeping most of the day now. I dreamed of learning to sew. I cut out the white fabric and stitched a beautiful fitted gown to embrace Sally Pepper, lovingly forming every fold of the fabric to accommodate each curve of her body. It felt almost as nice as it would to touch her.
                > > >
                > > > It's getting harder to breathe now. I take long, slow pulls through my nose and each time the pain is worse. I've lost track of everything around me. My whole world is my breathing and the pain. It always seems like late afternoon. It's cold and I haven't seen the sun since forever.
                > > >
                > > > I dreamed that Sally Pepper and I made love. I didn't see anything. It must have happened in the dark. I only know we did it, somehow. I could feel us. Later, I saw our children. I was proud of them and of myself. I came home from work wearing a shirt and a tie and Sally Pepper was cooking supper and feeding the baby in a chair. Our little boy played under the kitchen table. He looked like me.
                > > >
                > > > It's very dark now. The pain isn't gone, but it feels like it belongs to someone else. I haven't taken a breath in a while. I tried and tried and then I just gave up. It's very quiet, except for the breeze.
                > > >
                > > > Sally Pepper is beside me, dressed in the most stunning gown I've ever seen. I wish I had sewn it. She is absolutely beautiful and I've never seen her so radiant. We are walking hand in hand and she brings me to the top of a hill. Down the green slopes of the other side is a valley. I can see a river down there. I can feel the wind and the warm sun on my face. I am laughing. I am crying. I can breathe.
                > > >
                > > > copyright 2009 Dave Griffin
                > > >
                > >
                >
              • dave_n2chi
                Hi Rod, I agree. And I m always rewriting and revising my stuff. Most of it. One benefit of putting my pieces up on my web page is ... poof! .... it can be
                Message 7 of 10 , Nov 7, 2009
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                  Hi Rod,
                  I agree. And I'm always rewriting and revising my stuff. Most of it.
                  One benefit of putting my pieces up on my web page is ... poof! .... it can be changed just like that!
                  You were mild in your critique of Sally Pepper. In another group, a reader told me I should be ashamed of myself for writing such salacious stuff about a guardian angel! :)
                  Dave

                  --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse <no_reply@...> wrote:
                  >
                  > Dave,
                  >
                  > If one of us is going to be a smart ass, I might as well take that role. If you wrote it for yourself, why did you post it?
                  >
                  > The story and the narrating character veers from vulgar to sentimentally touching. As Gwen pointed out, the character isn't consistent with his age.
                  >
                  > The teenage vulgar parts of this were funny and could be put to great effect. All teenagers have their serious side too. But I didn't feel it transitioned authentically. Maybe it was just me.
                  >
                  > I encourage you to try to find the joys in rewrites. Inspiration must often be balanced with perspiration. It takes a whole different head to craft a piece better and better, but the rewards are great!
                  >
                  > My boss always makes the point writing better through revision trains the mind so its work needs less revision.
                  >
                  > Rod
                  > aka albi
                  >
                  > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "dave_n2chi" <davidgriffin@> wrote:
                  > >
                  > > Hi Rod,
                  > > Not to be a smart ass, but I guess I'm the audience. It's really true, I write for my own amusement and don't publish. Well that's not completely accurate, I do in fact self-publish so I can give my writing to those who are not on the web. And I have all of my essays and stories on a web page:
                  > > http://www.windsweptpress.com
                  > >
                  > > Not to say I'm uninterested in the craft. That's why I'm here, for the critique. I believe my writing began to improve by leaps and bounds when I started submitting pieces for critique, on the Internet as well as in local writing groups.
                  > >
                  > > I love to write. I think everyone does and can, with a little work.
                  > > If you visit More Stories! you'll find people trying their darndest!
                  > > Dave
                  > >
                  > > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse <no_reply@> wrote:
                  > > >
                  > > > Dave,
                  > > >
                  > > > Who is your audience?
                  > > >
                  > > > Rod
                  > > > aka albi
                  > > >
                  > > > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "n2chi" <davidgriffin@> wrote:
                  > > > >
                  > > > > I'm in love with Sally Pepper. She is always here when I wake up. She's my nurse and the prettiest girl I've ever met. I usually don't care for girls much older than me. She's a young woman in her twenties. I'm thirteen and a half years old.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > I've been here in the Children's Ward of Our Lady of All Angels Hospital for 3 weeks and the mass is growing bigger. Mom and Dad and everyone are all smiles, but as time goes on I can tell they're faking it. I know Mom doesn't think I'll make it this time. I've heard her whispering to Dad when they thought me asleep. She says I'm being shortchanged and I'll never have a life like her and Dad. But I've had a good life and thirteen years is a long time.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > Something is in my chest and it presses down more every day. Breathing gets to be an effort. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and I'm afraid and I wish Sally Pepper would hurry up and come on duty. I want her to smile at me and ask about school and say I'm handsome and all that silly stuff she tells me as she brushes the hair out of my eyes and rubs my chest where it hurts.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > When Sally leaves, old Sister Hymentuum comes in to give me the bed bath, a cleansing of the face and pits. Sister Hy says any work below the belt is my duty. Thank God. One day the medicine knocked me out and I woke up to find the old nun busy down there, knocking things around in a hurried effort to get the job done. I was sore the rest of the day.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > Sister Hy says she has never heard of Sally Pepper. She's a little forgetful, I guess. Maybe it's a nun thing to not remember the prettiest nurse in the hospital.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > I get needles in the rump all the time and it makes me wonder if Sally Pepper ever has a shot in the buttocks. It's hard to imagine such a mundane act violating the sacred. How profane to think of the doctor saying, "Sally, pull down your pants and give me a cheek." Not to be irreverent, but it would be like hearing the Blessed Mother fart. Sally isn't a saint, I hope, but her exposed bottom would be holy to me. If I were giving her a shot, I'd light a candle, put on Mahler's 9th Symphony and reveal only the tiniest piece of skin necessary. Probably. Maybe I'd bless myself as I pushed in the plunger. I wonder if Sally Pepper is a virgin.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > I sense that Sally Pepper has always been with me, since the day I was born. I can't explain how or why that could be. I've seen her only these past few weeks and so I wonder how I've overlooked her presence.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > I guess I'm sleeping most of the day now. I dreamed of learning to sew. I cut out the white fabric and stitched a beautiful fitted gown to embrace Sally Pepper, lovingly forming every fold of the fabric to accommodate each curve of her body. It felt almost as nice as it would to touch her.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > It's getting harder to breathe now. I take long, slow pulls through my nose and each time the pain is worse. I've lost track of everything around me. My whole world is my breathing and the pain. It always seems like late afternoon. It's cold and I haven't seen the sun since forever.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > I dreamed that Sally Pepper and I made love. I didn't see anything. It must have happened in the dark. I only know we did it, somehow. I could feel us. Later, I saw our children. I was proud of them and of myself. I came home from work wearing a shirt and a tie and Sally Pepper was cooking supper and feeding the baby in a chair. Our little boy played under the kitchen table. He looked like me.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > It's very dark now. The pain isn't gone, but it feels like it belongs to someone else. I haven't taken a breath in a while. I tried and tried and then I just gave up. It's very quiet, except for the breeze.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > Sally Pepper is beside me, dressed in the most stunning gown I've ever seen. I wish I had sewn it. She is absolutely beautiful and I've never seen her so radiant. We are walking hand in hand and she brings me to the top of a hill. Down the green slopes of the other side is a valley. I can see a river down there. I can feel the wind and the warm sun on my face. I am laughing. I am crying. I can breathe.
                  > > > >
                  > > > > copyright 2009 Dave Griffin
                  > > > >
                  > > >
                  > >
                  >
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