# Writing > Short Story Sharing >  A Cold Wednesday

## branbran

Hello, my name is Brandon and this is my first post and my first short story. I know there may be many mistakes--but I hope you enjoy the story...

A COLD WEDNESDAY

"The stars seemed perfectly aligned", he thought to himself, the night sky was as beautiful as Henry had ever seen it. He knew at that very moment that tonight was gonna be special. Henry grabbed an old sack, holding it close as he laid back against the brick wall, taking refuge from the cold wind. The sidewalk was colder than he could remember, thank goodness Liz gave him some old blankets. Liz was the reason he was here, it was Wednesday and he knew he would see her. He knew it was Wednesday because all the stores closed early for church. Liz would always wave to him, speak to him and sometimes bring him food, although he never asked for food, she would always offer and he always accepted. Henry never asked for anything from strangers. He understood his predicament, he understood it was his fault. He's accepted his fate and taken responsibility, he had done that years ago. "I'm lucky", he thought to himself. Henry has gained a close relationship with some restaurants in town that would help him in his time of need."I can't wait to see Liz", he thought as he pulled the old sack closer. Henry had been planning this night for some time. Yep, tonight's gonna be special.
Henry often tried to remember how he got himself in this situation, never thinking of the details, but just a broken time-line of his long life. He knew he was old, much older than the average homeless man. Henry shakes his head, amazed he that he is already seventy. A strong gust of wind blows through his long hair, he bites his lip--that one stung. He notices a candy wrapper blowing in a wind funnel nearby, the wrapper takes air, Henry counts to himself, "one, two, three, four, five, six", the wrapper exits the funnel and falls to the ground. Henry has thought of many things to do to pass the time, it also keeps him sane. Henry sighs and once again tries to remember how he got in this situation.
He had been married three times, the first only lasting a month and a half. Henry had been working for an entrepreneur for a year at the time and things were looking up. They would meet at the door that morning, kiss and say their "I love you's", which just seemed like words at the time. "Maybe we were to young to be married, maybe we should've never been married, I think both are suitable answers", he thought to himself. Her job seemed as bland as their marriage, as an assistant accountant for a law firm. She hated her job and her boss. She always claimed she was over-stressed and depressed, but he didn't realize how serious it was until that day she decided to take a leap from the thirteenth floor of her building.

The second marriage was even harder on his soul, he thought. His job was looking up and he was living in an above average lifestyle. He had asked her to marry him in Paris when she happily accepted and after continued to spend his money with nothing to show for it. Henry put up with her actions because it made her happy, he knew he could never find another woman as beautiful as her, he knew he was lucky to have her--or maybe unlucky to have found her. But before spending everything he had, she decided to cut loose and run off with a younger man. "And I was only twenty seven at the time", he thought. The other man happened to be a trust fund baby that left her soon after. Maybe she was the one with bad luck, he thought.
The third wife was special. Henry was thirty five when they married, she was the same age. He had worked hard to pay off the debt from the previous marriage, and he did a fine job doing it. He was now buying and selling property. She ran a house cleaning business that was successful, her employees loved her, as did Henry. They bought a small house in the suburbs and started their life. A neighborhood barbecue was a routine attraction every weekend. "Everyone loved my steaks", Henry thought. Yes, this marriage was what he had been hoping for all his life, that was until the drinking started. The pressures of work got the best of Henry, business was in a downward spiral and all he could do was go along for the ride. More drinking replaced the barbecues, the smiles were replaced with regret and apathy, a bad time to have a child--but it did happen. "Annie was beautiful", he thought. This gave Henry a new reason to push forward, but it was too late. He was served divorce papers a few months after, and according to the court his drinking was the cause which never allowed Henry to see his daughter again. The business went down, he owed money which he didn't have and so Henry went bankrupt. "I wish I could see my baby girl", he said aloud.

Now Henry remembers, he had spent many of nights on the street trying to forget. And now he remembers, he remembers why he hates these moments of reminiscing. He now remembers giving up on himself, giving up on life, just simply giving up. Henry never felt sorry for himself, he never claimed to have it bad, he was just tired of ruining other people's lives, "but tonight that's gonna change", he thought.

Another gust of wind blows through Henry's bones, he does his best to cover his body from mother nature. "Not many people out tonight", he thought and then remembered, it is Wednesday, people are at church. Henry looks up and notices a fellow of normal size walking toward him, another homeless character in the night. Henry quickly gathers his blankets and his crumpled bag. Possessions are a commodity in the streets. 

The man stops in front of Henry, "Hello". 
"Hello", Henry responds.
"Anything good to drink friend", the man asks.
"No, sorry"
"What's in the bag old man"? 
"Nothing, nothing you would want", Henry responds.
"I say your hiding something old man, let me see", the man has an aggressive tone. Henry has been through these situations many times before.
"Just keep moving, nothing here for you", the man becomes aggravated at Henry's refusal to compromise. 

He pushes Henry against the wall and goes for the bag. Henry fights with everything he can to keep the man away, but Henry is old and the man is much younger. Henry would've easily take him twenty years ago, but today he's old and tired. Henry decides to lay on the bag to keep him away. The man does his best to push Henry over.
Henry looks up and notices a car parking in front of the building. Henry has noticed this car many times before, he has waited all night for this car. The passenger door opens and out comes Liz, a nine year old girl. This is exactly how Henry pictured his daughter would have looked at this age. The man begins to hit Henry over the head, fighting for the bag. Henry quickly grabs his chest, his eyes wince in pain as the man continues to beat him. Henry looks up at Liz as she goes for the door with her mother. Henry does his best to call her name, "Liz". His voice is gone, age has crept up on him and now he fights for his life. Liz was his friend, and never judged him. Henry's body slowly becomes limp as his breathing slows, he slowly reaches for the bag holding it out as Liz walks inside, never seeing Henry. The old man tugs on the bag as a Barbie doll falls out.
"A doll"!? "Your a crazy old man". The man walks away disappointed.

Henry clutches the doll in his hand. Liz had told him she wanted a Barbie for her birthday, she told him the day of her birthday. Henry had collected many of coins from the street for this Barbie, this was Liz's gift for treating him like a friend. He knew today was Wednesday cause everyone closed early for church, he knew today was Wednesday cause this was Liz's birthday. Henry feels his heart slowing, "I can't believe I'm already seventy", he thinks.
The sidewalk seems especially cold tonight, the wind is strong, he thinks. Tonight is a special night. Henry lies looking at the sky, "The stars are perfectly aligned", he says aloud. Henry closes his eyes as his heart now retires, clutching the doll.

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## DickZ

That's a very nice story, Brandon, and you did a good job constructing it. You should keep writing, and you'll learn a lot as you continue getting the practice.

However, you bounce around from past tense to present and back to past, for no apparent reason. Also, you should be more careful in your use of of _your_ and _you're_, which are not the same, and there's a difference between _to_ and _too_.

And where is it that the stores close early on Wednesday for church?

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## amanda_isabel

i agree with Dick Z, i really liked the story--with the exception of a few grammatical errors. 

perhaps you could shed some light on why stores close early on Wednesday?

hope to see you around, Brandon  :Biggrin:

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## branbran

Yeah, I should pay closer attention to those errors--Thank you for the feedback.

As far as stores closing early on Wednesday--Church is a big deal where I'm from and usually stores close before 6pm for church. Maybe I should change the day to Sunday so it has some type of reality with readers. Would that make more sense?

I will go back over the story and try to correct the past and present errors. Does it happen throughout the story or in a specific part?

Thanks again, 

Bran

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## amanda_isabel

Brandon,

i'd suggest you maintain the Wednesday thing. where are you from, by the way? (give the forums a taste of it  :Biggrin: ) maybe you can put a few sentences about it before the story or something, just so people know.

grammatical errors happen throughout the story.. minor checks, that's all.

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## branbran

I'm from Kentucky--right on the Bible belt. Live in California now, been here for about 7 years. Ernest Hemingway gives me a lot of inspiration and I've got an affinity for Hunter S. Thompson. I've always wanted to write a book of short stories, but I have a long way to go before I'm experienced enough to be be serious about it....

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## DickZ

> ...I will go back over the story and try to correct the past and present errors. Does it happen throughout the story or in a specific part?


Based on how well you write, you should be able to find the tense changes yourself. 





> I'm from Kentucky--right on the Bible belt. Live in California now...


OK - then keep the early Wednesday store closing, but explain it a little more (as amanda isabel suggested) since stores stay open late on Wednesday in most cities in the US.

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## AuntShecky

I'm glad that you're trying to write some fiction, but it's generally a good idea to READ as many short stories by several different established authors as you can to get an idea of how a story unfolds. In modern and contemporary fiction, narration ("This happened, then this happened, then finally this was the result") has been surplanted by suggestion and small scenes of dialogue. Years and years ago I read some advice for beginning writers which said that a sentence such as "He knew it was Wednesday because. . ." is the mark of an amateur. Well, all of us start out as amateurs, don't we? We try to improve our writing by lots of reading and through practice.

Another benefit of reading GOOD fiction is that you'll get
an idea of expressive language via osmosis. I cannot recommend enough a slim volume called _The Elements of_ _Expression_ by Arthur Plotnik (and yes, that's his real name.) If you read his book, you'll see how to avoid clichés, generalities, and abstractions. The more specific and concrete the image is, the better.

What you want to do is work on your sentence structure and your paragraphing skills, as well as collecting and thinking up expressive words. Your grammar also could use some tweaking. As previous commentators have pointed out, don't shift verb tenses.

If you have time and are interested you could check out the following by clicking the underline phrases below:

Show, don't tell


Cheap advice:
http://www.online-literature.com/for...t=Cheap+advice

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## branbran

Thank you very much for the feedback.

I'm definitely gonna pick up that book AuntShecky, I have so many stories I want to tell, so hopefully this will help. I'm currently reading Ernest Hemingway and his complete short stories--it's so inspiring on so many different levels.

Again, thank you for the feedback and help--I feel this is a start of something expressive that I've been dying to do for a while....

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## DickZ

Well, just keep your stories coming, branbran. I'm sure AuntShecky is right about how reading and studying will make you a better writer, because she's a great writer and that's probably how she reached that plateau. But I also think that writing will make you a better writer, so don't get bogged down in reading and studying to the point that it slows down your writing.

If you keep writing, you will eventually see progress. It will certainly be more rapid progress if you combine reading and studying with the writing, but my theory is that continuing to write is crucial.

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## amanda_isabel

DickZ, writing for improvement is a theory i would defintely support.. not that i regard myself excellent  :Biggrin:  , but i remember once when i ran acorss poems i wrote just two year sback and thought to myself, "i didn't realize i improved this much over just two years."

AuntShecky, i should also thank you; i do plan to check out that book if i can.. i always thought of myself as someone who should be sticking to poems and articles (not so much short stories, and of course novels are wayyy out of my league) but after this maybe i'll try....

branbran, keep them coming, 'kay?  :Smile:

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## DickZ

> ...I remember once when I ran across poems I wrote just two years back and thought to myself, "I didn't realize I improved this much over just two years."...


You're absolutely right, amanda isabel, and you correctly point out the need to save all your work. Otherwise, you can't look back at it and notice how far you've come a few years later. And YEARS is the operative word - if anybody's hoping for overnight, they will probably be disappointed.

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## Pretty^Athens

i loved your story. it's very touching!

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