I liked the way you developed the conflict between the sisters. Your description of Charlie's unreasonableness suggests that their disagreement is not a new thing. In fact, I wonder if the narrator might have pulled for cremation if Charlie was for burial. I also liked the way the other siblings wisely stayed out of it, as if they had long known the lay of the land between these two.
For story's sake, though, I'd like to see a little development from Charlie's side. Your narrator's reason, that Charlie wanted cremation because "She loathed my father because he was strict over the years..." doesn't exactly ring true for me. Even if the narrator is right, I'd like to hear it from Charlie. Otherwise, it doesn't make sense that this one sibling would stand against the rest of her family. Maybe she hates them all and believes burning the patriarch would be hurtful, or maybe she knows something about the father's wishes that they don't.
Either way, you've done a nice job illustrating this family's dynamics, especially with Charlie running off with mom following after.
I really enjoyed reading this. The voice of your bewildered narrator was pitch perfect, and you did a nice job with pacing and attention to detail. Anyone who has ever tried selling a house will certainly be able to relate to the couple's plight as they are invaded by the THEMS. I look forward to reading more of your work.
This is such a sad piece. You do such a nice job of conveying the narrator's despair at the end of his relationship, even as he refuses to accept it. With each line, he clearly understands that the end is coming because of his own actions. It is not as though he does not grasp the truth. He is simply raging against inevitable consequences. As I read through, I am waiting to find out whether his own self-recriminations will allow him to let go in the end. The ending is poignant when you realize that he chooses to hold on, grasping for what no longer exists.
The only criticism I have is of your choice in using the word girl. The person is question is of marriageable age. She is doing a difficult thing in choosing to face the pain of separation and making the narrator understand what is happening and why. These are the actions of a woman, not a girl. I would grant her the respect of that designation.
This was deliciously creepy. I already think clowns are two parts good fun and 98 parts pure evil. Most funhouses are ridiculous if you're over eight, but a dark, dreary, condemned funhouse - that's the stuff of nightmares.
This story works on its own, but It would also be great as part of a larger work. Maybe the funhouse gets preserved instead of torn down with the rest of the park. Maybe grown-up Kevin is driven by guilt to confront whatever took his friends. I can see lots of ways that could go.
Your content is great and it works fine the way it is. If anything, I might like a bit more imagery in your description of the funhouse rooms. I'd like to feel Kevin's hands and feet slipping inside the Barrel 'O Fun as he realizes that this usually harmless bit of staggering and weaving trips him up and keeps him from his friends. I'd like to know how it sounded when he destroyed the paper mache alien.
When I read the first stanzas of your poem, I can almost feel the sea breezes in my hair and hear the lap of the ocean "Walking along white sandy beaches, which stretched on and on and on…" I want to climb those mango, coconut, and tamarind trees and reach for those tantalizing fruits. You've done an excellent job of evoking a sense of nostalgia for a beloved home.
The fourth stanza jarred me out of that reverie quickly and I can feel the narrator's shock when "someone questioned the color of my skin" and his sense of feeling
lucky ... To be going to the land of milk and honey." The abrupt change of tone works well in conveying the narrator's sense of betrayal as he discovers that "being black wasn’t where it was at."
The feeling of disillusionment and bitterness in clear and sad in the last stanza.
If anything, I'd love for you to expand this to include a few lines about what aspects of himself the narrator sacrificed. Were there specific instances where he felt that his real self was dying. Tell me what the girl said to him to make him believe "Love is indeed very hard to find." You are very specific in your images in the first half, I know what kind of trees were there and what the beaches looked like. The images in the second half seem more distant, less personal. Give me moments to help me feel the bitterness overtaking hope.
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