The Tunnel (Short Story) - 5/2/2016 3:20:03 AM
as always, your work is appealing
The Tunnel (Short Story) - 3/29/2016 5:14:28 AM
I wish that I could write phrases like, "…, scrap-booked against the wan light of an inescapable conclusion."
Unfortunately, some errors and inconsistencies had me stopping my reading and probably should be checked by an editor. Cellars would only, very rarely, have wood floors unless they were finished off to serve as living spaces. Lakes, even long and narrow ones, rarely have any current. Still, the idea of a boat drifting effortlessly on a still lake with no wind is enough to concern the observer. I never heard of a "tapered" culvert and one would be very difficult to make. Unless, of course, it was the perception of a desperate man's view of his nightmare, making anything possible.
The last line leaves everything open for a lot of interpretation. Probably a necessary device for a story like this.
Ron
The Tunnel (Short Story) - 3/28/2016 8:22:21 AM
Aeosop's Fables taught many lessons and I would rank this story right up there with the very best of them!! Kudos on a great story!! It kept me on the edge of my seat!!
Love ya!
Jane
The Tunnel (Short Story) - 3/28/2016 6:35:17 AM
be careful what you look for you might find it, I enjoyed this story
Play Hero- Chapter Five (Short Story) - 1/9/2016 1:09:51 AM
as always your work holds reader interest and leaves a feeling a wanting to read more!
m
Play Hero (Short Story) - 1/2/2016 1:38:44 AM
holds reader interest
Play Hero - Chapter Four (Short Story) - 12/29/2015 6:58:31 AM
This is the first time I've seen you mention the name, Shawn. So, as I suspected, this may be autobiographical. It certainly reads like it. And, if it is your life, it is interesting reading.
Ron
Play Hero - Chapter Three (Short Story) - 12/29/2015 6:17:52 AM
Once again, you slide effortlessly between scenes except once when you return to Hilda two, too abruptly. I'm reminded of myself in those segments of young man's life.
I think you meant "Construction Company."
Ron
Play Hero- Chapter Two (Short Story) - 12/29/2015 5:20:00 AM
Although I read and commented on the first chapter, I don't recall it and haven't got time right now to read it. Written in the first person, this novel reads like biography. This chapter jumps from Glenn's death to Jane's love quite seamlessly. A lot of emotion is expressed in well-formed adjectives. Romances often start when two people start off on the wrong foot.
A cousin of mine who I was never very close to, crashed and died while flying a friend's experimental plane only 100 feet off the ground. My uncle, his father, who I'm quite close to, was watching when it happened and was devastated, losing his only son. Fortunately, his adopted son is now taking care of him and my aunt in their very old age.
Ron
Play Hero - Chapter Four (Short Story) - 12/29/2015 3:46:43 AM
I enjoyed reading your well-written story which piqued my curiosity about Rachel, the car looting, Kimberly and what the interrelated significance might be.
Play Hero (Short Story) - 10/15/2013 11:31:32 AM
Certainly gripping and making me want to read more. Since I am quadriplegic and cannot turn in bed (except when I spasm involuntarily), I can identify with the feeling of being in a straitjacket unable to even scratch an itch on my nose. As improbable as the space required to store six capsules is, I have recently lost chunks of carrot between my teeth and gums, and, unable to use a toothpick, have worn my tongue bloody trying to get those irritating pieces out.
I assume there will be a flashback to earlier times when Jane was in the picture.
There are a few spellos… taut and dough come to mind. We all can use a little editing.
Ron
Play Hero (Short Story) - 10/15/2013 9:07:00 AM
well penned
budd
The Sunday Herald (Short Story) - 11/18/2007 1:43:30 PM
enjoyed the read, didn't know you were posting to AD! welcome
The Sunday Herald (Short Story) - 9/25/2006 7:46:49 AM
Beautiful story. It holds attention and is nicely written. :-)
One suggestion: "He met Naomi at the airport." Here, you might want to say "He had met..." to show that you're jumping back in time for a moment. Otherwise, it looks like he's meeting her again in present time.
I love how you slid into the ending so well. The story all flows together as smoothly as the plane through the blue sky. :-)
The Sunday Herald (Short Story) - 9/21/2006 3:31:29 PM
Nice and talented story. Very emotional and captivating.
Charles D. O'Connor III (Check out my new work "Mable's Grave")
The Sunday Herald (Short Story) - 9/3/2006 2:31:29 PM
very nice work.....
Pebble (Poetry) - 9/1/2019 9:38:31 AM
Susan said it all. Well done
Pebble (Poetry) - 11/22/2016 12:19:40 AM
I do believe that you're on to something here. Life has a way of kicking us around.
Kudos on a job well done. Keep on writing and keep on keeping om.
That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 11/22/2016 12:16:24 AM
Very nicely done. This is a fine eulogy for your brother. Hopefully you will meet again beyond that final curtain.
You have a typo in the final line of stanza 2.
Pebble (Poetry) - 2/20/2016 2:56:10 PM
I understand.
Love ya!
Jane
That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 2/20/2016 2:55:01 PM
Thought provoking on so many levels. 'Loved it!
Love ya!
Jane
The Child Within (Poetry) - 2/20/2016 2:48:59 PM
I was happy for "The boy"!!! I saw the knuckles on that big old coffee cup.
Love ya!
Jane
The Child Within (Poetry) - 2/5/2014 6:28:46 PM
I think this is brilliant because to everyone of its readers a different yet meaningful message is learned. Thant you for this.
The Child Within (Poetry) - 2/5/2014 10:51:05 AM
I sense an old man whose wife has passed away, still setting the table for two. The boy at the door is his memory of his youth.
But then I'm probably wrong because a therapist is involved.
Ron
Pebble (Poetry) - 8/22/2013 11:15:01 AM
...am in sync with your train of thought..as are many others!
am saving this one ..thank you Shawn..
Blessings,
Vesna :)
Castaway (Poetry) - 2/16/2012 12:26:12 PM
Wow, the likes of this poem remind me of Tennyson's "Lady of Shallot," nice poem and great rhyming.
THE LADY OF SHALLOT
by Tennyson
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly;
Down to tower'd Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers, " 'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.
And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance --
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right --
The leaves upon her falling light --
Thro' the noises of the night,
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And around the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the Knights at Camelot;
But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
Pebble (Poetry) - 2/16/2012 12:21:33 PM
Sounds like the feelings of emptiness all of us have. Nice wording!
Pebble (Poetry) - 3/7/2011 5:50:06 PM
Hi Shawn, So much more to that "peace" isn't there? Thank you for sharing this emotionally charged write.. =))
In Spirit,
Bear
Pebble (Poetry) - 2/24/2010 6:23:43 PM
Know these feelings all to well. Great write. Thank you, DL Mullan
That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 8/4/2009 10:37:31 AM
You write true: the memories we have of someone dearly departed quite alot of the time are filled with negative, guilty emotions. Like a story left half-written, or "like a song left unsung".
The wind? Fantastic metaphor, truly.
Castaway (Poetry) - 8/4/2009 10:33:31 AM
What does it truly take for a man to find himself? To be totally alone, isolated from all other feelings, people or stimuli. And out of the darkness comes a maiden so clearly made for you, made for "us": myself and I.
Your descriptions work wonders on a tempered heart, and this woman you love should feel fair and confident in herself; you obviously see her that way.
She is a lucky woman to have such endearing, respectful thoughts written about her.
Castaway (Poetry) - 7/20/2009 4:15:26 AM
What a lovely tribute to your wife.....lots to think about in your words. I really enjoyed the lyrical flow of your poem.
Anna
Pebble (Poetry) - 7/20/2009 4:12:50 AM
Yes Shawn, I have been there. Excellent write.
Anna
Pebble (Poetry) - 3/11/2009 4:30:56 PM
If you drop a pebble into a pond its ripples cross the pond. are not your words like pebbles, droped into the pond of humanity?rcs
That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 5/15/2008 6:29:22 AM
Memories of him will always be and in spirit he is with you now. God needed him to do work in heaven and took him to that place to be. He is not alone but with loved ones gone before and the angels and God.
Pebble (Poetry) - 4/30/2008 9:19:36 AM
Tossed back from the ocean, but the ocean is so peaceful a place to me. You are not lost among the sand, you are revived and going on from your losses very nicely.
Castaway (Poetry) - 4/30/2008 9:17:52 AM
What a great way to meet and become one. I like the wording of this and ships that pass in the night never stray and this is a beautiful tribute to your wife.**********
Castaway (Poetry) - 11/18/2007 1:44:31 PM
good one
Pebble (Poetry) - 11/18/2007 1:44:12 PM
i like this
Pebble (Poetry) - 5/13/2007 12:55:33 PM
truer words were never spoken
Pebble (Poetry) - 4/27/2007 7:51:42 PM
very poignant write-i feel like i am in the lost phase right now--anyway, a well done write
Pebble (Poetry) - 9/11/2006 6:35:04 PM
a powerful sense of loss of control over the events in your life ...
Pebble (Poetry) - 9/11/2006 4:05:28 PM
Yes we have. A very apt comparison.
Pebble (Poetry) - 9/11/2006 12:38:24 PM
I like it.... the words flow so well..~Lady GoldStar
That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 9/7/2006 9:33:45 AM
Compelling sentiments that reach the depth of the soul; a fine tribute, Shawn. Thank you for sharing. Love and peace,
Regis
Castaway (Poetry) - 9/7/2006 9:32:25 AM
Thank you for sharing this engaging poetic tale, Shawn. Love and peace,
Regis
Pebble (Poetry) - 9/7/2006 9:31:13 AM
Yes. You are right. You express a universal human theme here, Shawn. I can certainly relate. Thank you for sharing this offering. Love and peace to you,
Regis
Pebble (Poetry) - 9/6/2006 7:12:20 PM
an excellent description of a feeling of helplessness...of being the recipient of whatever whim the fates might have
this is very, very good. it reads very well.
Susan
Castaway (Poetry) - 9/6/2006 3:21:53 PM
A Onederful tale she will enjoy.
Ron
That Endless Runway (Poetry) - 9/4/2006 12:22:25 AM
Now that is a poem worth remembering.
Well done and said.
