Regret
Posted by TylerNewsome 10 years, 4 months ago to Books
This is a short story that I have not yet edited. I was seeking some opinions because I think it has potential to be a great 500 word story.
“Sacrifice what you are now for what you will become.” The quote that once hurt like needles was now indescribably worse for the old man as it echoed though his mind. He laid in the darkness of the room, involuntarily listening to the words over and over, wishing they would stop. If he weren't so old and physically unable he would have been tossing and turning, attempting to fight the attack on his mind. He only wanted peace, he wanted to sleep, he wanted to forget about all the mistakes of his wasteful past-he wanted to start over.
If only he could do it all again he wouldn't be in this plight at the young age of 64. He wanted grandchildren. He wished for a mulligan of his career. He desired any sort of happiness, even if it were for just a split second. He longed for love. He craved successful achievement. He requested to begin life again.
To whom would he make this request? He had not a wife, nor children. His father and mother passed away without him ever showing appreciation for the sacrifices they made for their son, and instead he showed them anger and disappointment that his every wish wasn't granted by them. What friends did he have to beg of a second chance? He chased them all off while blaming them for the reason his career never rocketed off. With no woman to whom he shared vows with, he began to wish he hadn't viewed women as nothing more than sexual satisfactions.
The old man began to cry not only in sadness, but more in pain. It pained him to think that everything was his fault-his career, his relationships, his desires, his achievements, his failures. For 64 years the old man wanted to be the greatest. He wouldn't settle for any other field of talent. His entire life he felt as if he were the greatest, but had no accomplishments to prove it-because he was the only one that would think this. He thought he were the best friend a person could have because he was so “dope”. He thought he was the best lover in the world because he pleased so many woman in the bedroom. He thought he that he were the best music creator in the history of music because he found his lyrics so “tight”.
Still laying in agonizing pain stemming from his mind and his heart, his breathing became more difficult. Although his heart felt as if it were going to explode, the mentality of his life was yet more painful. He wished he hadn't celebrated his perceived success with drugs, sex, and alcohol. If only he could go back in time and change not one thing, but everything, he would make it better. He would sacrifice what he was for what he could become. He would be successful, married, knowledgeable, and productive. He would not have just died from a heart attack with no success to show of life.
“Sacrifice what you are now for what you will become.” The quote that once hurt like needles was now indescribably worse for the old man as it echoed though his mind. He laid in the darkness of the room, involuntarily listening to the words over and over, wishing they would stop. If he weren't so old and physically unable he would have been tossing and turning, attempting to fight the attack on his mind. He only wanted peace, he wanted to sleep, he wanted to forget about all the mistakes of his wasteful past-he wanted to start over.
If only he could do it all again he wouldn't be in this plight at the young age of 64. He wanted grandchildren. He wished for a mulligan of his career. He desired any sort of happiness, even if it were for just a split second. He longed for love. He craved successful achievement. He requested to begin life again.
To whom would he make this request? He had not a wife, nor children. His father and mother passed away without him ever showing appreciation for the sacrifices they made for their son, and instead he showed them anger and disappointment that his every wish wasn't granted by them. What friends did he have to beg of a second chance? He chased them all off while blaming them for the reason his career never rocketed off. With no woman to whom he shared vows with, he began to wish he hadn't viewed women as nothing more than sexual satisfactions.
The old man began to cry not only in sadness, but more in pain. It pained him to think that everything was his fault-his career, his relationships, his desires, his achievements, his failures. For 64 years the old man wanted to be the greatest. He wouldn't settle for any other field of talent. His entire life he felt as if he were the greatest, but had no accomplishments to prove it-because he was the only one that would think this. He thought he were the best friend a person could have because he was so “dope”. He thought he was the best lover in the world because he pleased so many woman in the bedroom. He thought he that he were the best music creator in the history of music because he found his lyrics so “tight”.
Still laying in agonizing pain stemming from his mind and his heart, his breathing became more difficult. Although his heart felt as if it were going to explode, the mentality of his life was yet more painful. He wished he hadn't celebrated his perceived success with drugs, sex, and alcohol. If only he could go back in time and change not one thing, but everything, he would make it better. He would sacrifice what he was for what he could become. He would be successful, married, knowledgeable, and productive. He would not have just died from a heart attack with no success to show of life.
The words that once filled his head with worry now hurt the old man as they echoed in his mind. He laid in the darkness of the room, hearing the words over and over, wishing they would stop. His chest pumping up and down faster by the minute. If he weren't so old and physically unable, he would raise up, get a phone, and call for help. He wanted peace. He would do anything to sleep. Could he scratch all the mistakes of his wasteful past and get a fresh start?
If he could do it all again he wouldn't be in this plight at a young age of 58. He wanted family. He wished for a mulligan of his career. He desired any sort of happiness, even if it were a split second of satisfaction. He craved the love he never earned. He yearned for achievement. To any being, physical or mystical, requested a new life.
The old man began to cry not only in sadness, but more in pain. It pained to see glimpses of the past—the career that never blossomed, the relationships that ended in hatred, the failures which were never corrected. The old man wanted to be the greatest. He wouldn't settle for any other field of talent. The countless hours recording music in his homemade booth in the closet—the endless nights spent intimately with women he could not recall or even recognize today—the empty bottles and cans littered through his home—the bowls filled with nothing more than burnt residue-all of which brought him mental suffering.
What friends were close to beg of a second chance? He chased them all off while blaming them for the reason his career never rocketed off. His father and mother passed away without him ever showing appreciation for the sacrifices they made for their son, and instead he showed them anger and disappointment that his every wish wasn't granted by them. With no woman to whom he shared vows with, he began to wish he hadn't viewed women as nothing more than sexual satisfactions. He had no children or grandchildren that he could smile at in admiration of their playfulness.
Still laying in agonizing pain stemming from his heart, the visions of failure in his mind was yet more painful. If he could go back in time and change not one thing—but everything, he would make it better. He would make the most of each opportunity. He would be successful, choosing a career that would solidify him financially. The perfect mirror of himself and his values would be his wife. He would have used his mind to store knowledge. In place of mooching off producers he would be a producer. The words bounced off the walls of his mind a final time, “Sacrifice what you are now for what you will become.” On his final breath he felt disappointment, and for the first time ever he didn't blame anyone other than himself.
sentences like this tell without giving the reader the show. take the example in the next paragraph-not appreciating his parents. give us an actual event that happened. have him remember it in the present-don't forget things like smell, taste, hear, touch, see. the reader will feel the regret instead of you telling us. Last paragraph-same thing. He imagines this opportunity. give him one show us don't tell us. The final sentence is not needed..
If only he could do it all again he wouldn't be in this plight at a young age. He wanted family. He wished for a mulligan of his career. He desired any sort of happiness, even if it were for just a split second. He longed for love. He craved successful achievement. He requested to begin life again.
The old man began to cry not only in sadness, but more in pain. It pained him to think that everything was his fault-his career, his relationships, his desires, his achievements, his failures. The old man wanted to be the greatest. He wouldn't settle for any other field of talent. The countless hours recording music in his homemade booth in the closet-the endless nights spent intimately with women who he could not recall or even recognize today-the empty bottles and cans littered through his room-the bowls filled with nothing more than residue-all of which brought him here in mental suffering.
To whom would he make this request? What friends were close to beg of a second chance? He chased them all off while blaming them for the reason his career never rocketed off. His father and mother passed away without him ever showing appreciation for the sacrifices they made for their son, and instead he showed them anger and disappointment that his every wish wasn't granted by them. With no woman to whom he shared vows with, he began to wish he hadn't viewed women as nothing more than sexual satisfactions. He had no children or grandchildren that could share a few words with him-a few words that would encourage him to not frown on the past of failure but to smile on a future of potential success.
Still laying in agonizing pain stemming from his his heart, the realization of the failure in his life was yet more painful. If only he could go back in time and change not one thing, but everything, he would make it better. He would sacrifice what he was for what he could become. He would be successful, married, knowledgeable, and productive. The words bounced off the walls of his mind a final time, “Sacrifice what you are now for what you will become.” On his final breath he felt disappointment, and for the first time ever he didn't blame anyone other than himself.
It’s difficult to make this neat because we can’t use bold, italics, etc here. What I did to distinguish my commentary is to put a * before everything. I also broke this down to one or two sentences at a time. I did my best to not re-write anything for you. I don’t like doing that unless I’m specifically asked to by the writer. instead, I gave you my suggestions and the reasons behind them, plus general commentary so you know how I was reacting to your story as I read it.
The words that once hurt like needles now hurt indescribably worse for the old man as it echoed though his mind.
* “hurt like needles” isn’t the best phrase to use. A needle doesn’t hurt, only being poked by one does. Consider re-phrasing.
* I’ve never been a fan of using indescribably or indescribable for anything. If it can’t be described, then it can’t be written about and all that’s left in the reader’s mind is a blank. I suggest this word be deleted.
* take a look at “it” in this sentence. What is “it”? I think you’re referring to the words (plural), so it should read “…as they echoed…”
* suggest replacing “through” with “in”
* using a simile is okay here, but I suggest you find a stronger one to drive your point
* ex: the words echoed in his mind like….
He laid in the darkness of the room, involuntarily listening to the words over and over, wishing they would stop.
* I recommend you try not to use too many –ly words. Modifiers shouldn’t be used very often, in my opinion.
On top of that his breathing became increasingly more difficult and his heart felt as if it were going to explode. If he weren't so old and physically unable he would have been tossing and turning, attempting to fight the attack on his mind and heart.
* get rid of “on top of that”. It doesn’t add to the story, so its not necessary. Just start: His breathing became increasingly difficult…”
* you don’t need both “increasingly” and “more”
* consider how you use the word “difficult”. What kind of picture does this paint in the reader’s mind? Is there another word that would better describe his breathing? For example – labored.
* alternatively, don’t use the above sentence at all. Instead, describe how his chest moves up and down quickly. Show the reader what’s happening to your guy instead of telling.
* comma after “unable”
* “the attack” throws me off a little. I know because of previous posts I checked out that he has a heart attack, but at this moment I can only assume the attack comes from the words. I’m asking myself: is he having a panic attack? Is that why his heart is beating so fast?
* “…been tossing and turning, attempting…” those three words all end in –ing. It sounds repetitive to me. I suggest “…tossing and turning to fight the attack…”
* I got rid of “attempting” for two reasons. 1- because of the –ing being repetitive, and 2 – because the sentence doesn’t need it. The fewer words you use, the better for a faster pace (assuming that’s what you’re going for. I see you use a technique that intentionally slows down the pace, but I don’t know if the entire short story should read as such).
He only wanted peace, he wanted to sleep, he wanted to forget about all the mistakes of his wasteful past-he wanted to start over.
* this is where you slow down the pace and emphasize his desires. This is okay – I’m just pointing it out because of what I said earlier about pacing.
* why do you use the word “only”? does this sentence work better without it?
* same goes for “about” in “…wanted to forget about all the…” I don’t think it’s needed.
* I would make the last bit a new sentence just to distinguish it more. Say it out loud and see if it sounds better with a period or with the dashes. Also, you need two hyphens to make one dash there. Ex:
…wasteful past—he wanted to start over… (dash, or two hyphens put together)
…wasteful past-he wanted to start over… (hyphen, which isn’t correct here)
If only he could do it all again he wouldn't be in this plight at a young age. He wanted family. He wished for a mulligan of his career. He desired any sort of happiness, even if it were for just a split second. He longed for love. He craved successful achievement. He requested to begin life again.
* why use “if only”? consider starting the sentence with “If he could it all again, he wouldn’t…”
* you mention “young age,” so I’m wondering how old he is. My expectation now as a reader is to find out later how old he is.
* you’re using the same repetitive technique you used just a few sentences ago. I recommend you use just it once in the entire story. since this is its own paragraph, i think I’d choose for this piece to use the repetition technique and find another way to write the last sentence of the first paragraph.
* wanted / wished / desired / longed / craved all could be used interchangeably here. It sounds like a thesaurus was pulled up here. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I do want to note it because it sticks out to me. I recommend you find other words that achieve the message you want to give, but don’t all necessarily mean the same thing for the purposes of this paragraph.
* the phrase “successful achievement” is strange. What other kind of achievement is there? I don’t know exactly what this means.
* who did he make he request to begin life again to? is he talking to god here?
I hope you found this helpful. there are other producers around here who are great at catching grammatical errors. that wasn't my focus today, since i think grammar should always be the last element of a story to be corrected. anyway, good luck with your writing. what do you plan on doing with this piece?
now the part in the middle.
play up the former lifestyle. instead of telling us he felt he was the "dope" have him remember "the dope." show us the possible accolades he felt. whether it was actually true-leave that up to the reader to discern from the rest.
"He wished he hadn't celebrated his perceived success with drugs, sex, and alcohol."
you are preaching here. we get it. consider removing this sentence.
good luck with your writing!
If only he could do it all again he wouldn't be in this plight at the young age of 64. He wanted grandchildren. He wished for a mulligan of his career. He desired any sort of happiness, even if it were for just a split second. He longed for love. He craved successful achievement. He requested to begin life again.
To whom would he make this request? He had not a wife, nor children. His father and mother passed away without him ever showing appreciation for the sacrifices they made for their son, and instead he showed them anger and disappointment that his every wish wasn't granted by them. What friends did he have to beg of a second chance? He chased them all off while blaming them for the reason his career never rocketed off. With no woman to whom he shared vows with, he began to wish he hadn't viewed women as nothing more than sexual satisfactions.
The old man began to cry not only in sadness, but more in pain. It pained him to think that everything was his fault-his career, his relationships, his desires, his achievements, his failures. For 64 years the old man wanted to be the greatest. He wouldn't settle for any other field of talent. His entire life he felt as if he were the greatest, but had no accomplishments to prove it-because he was the only one that would think this. He thought he were the best friend a person could have because he was so “dope”. He thought he was the best lover in the world because he pleased so many woman in the bedroom. He thought he that he were the best music creator in the history of music because he found his lyrics so “tight”.
Still laying in agonizing pain stemming from his his heart, the realization of the failure in his life was yet more painful. If only he could go back in time and change not one thing, but everything, he would make it better. He would sacrifice what he was for what he could become. He would be successful, married, knowledgeable, and productive. The words bounced off the walls of his mind a final time, “Sacrifice what you are now for what you will become.” His corpse lay stiff with no chance to sacrifice anything.
put the paragraph following "he requested to begin life again."
now ask-whom whom would he make this request?
and move into who he could NOT ask.
Last sentence-rework. His "corpse" can't be stiff yet anyway, and you're hitting us over the head with it. Consider giving us last breath, or something us to let us know life was draining away and with it-the chance.
All that said, I do not understand the "sacrifice" philosophically. This is about choices. Building a successful career and enjoying the fruits of it do not imply sacrifice. If he truly wanted a personal life filled with meaningful friends and close to his family- he would not sacrifice as much as pursue both goals. He ignored one of his goals for some reason. You imply those reasons.
I hope this is better understood. I am a runner, but I know that running is not ever going to help me produce the amount of wealth that can support me. I choose to run as a hobby. The old man in the story did the opposite. But he also relieved himself of the pains of reality during the duration of his life by taking drugs and alcohol and participating in meaningless sexual scenarios.
The word - a compound word, really - is "self-discipline".
Ever since I first read Coolidge's words back in 1991 or 1992, I drew inspiration from them, but there is something missing.
Persistence is *not* supreme.
"“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan "press on" has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race”"
Often, failure is blamed upon lack of intelligence, or on laziness. But, I believe, more often failure is a result of a lack of self-discipline. This is NOT the same as laziness; one can be industrious, a hard worker... so long as an outside force, such as an employer, provides the discipline.
Self-discipline involves delayed gratification, among other things. Without self-discipline, you can persist in pursuing a goal for your entire life, but you won't achieve it.
But really I say sacrifice because you sacrfice time, attention, and devotion of one matter to another.
I like it in the "Nurse Ratchett" from One Flew Over The Cukoos Nest way. Disturbing things bring challenge / growth.
Just thought I'd add that.
One of my relatives is a success in this industry...he's a great leader by being an expert learner and an awesome follower.......then....the luck of being in the right place at the right time. Can never underestimate that!
Thanks for sharing this.
I must look really DAFT! Well....I have my moments! LOL! This won't be the last time
The words that once hurt like needles now hurt indescribably worse for the old man as it echoed though his mind. He laid in the darkness of the room, involuntarily listening to the words over and over, wishing they would stop. On top of that his breathing became increasingly more difficult and his heart felt as if it were going to explode. If he weren't so old and physically unable he would have been tossing and turning, attempting to fight the attack on his mind and heart. He only wanted peace, he wanted to sleep, he wanted to forget about all the mistakes of his wasteful past-he wanted to start over.
If only he could do it all again he wouldn't be in this plight at a young age. He wanted family. He wished for a mulligan of his career. He desired any sort of happiness, even if it were for just a split second. He longed for love. He craved successful achievement. He requested to begin life again.
The old man began to cry not only in sadness, but more in pain. It pained him to think that everything was his fault-his career, his relationships, his desires, his achievements, his failures. The old man wanted to be the greatest. He wouldn't settle for any other field of talent. The countless hours recording music in his homemade booth in the closet-the endless nights spent intimately with women who he could not recall or even recognize today-the empty bottles and cans littered through his room-the bowls filled with nothing more than residue-all of which brought him here in mental suffering.
To whom would he make this request? What friends were close to beg of a second chance? He chased them all off while blaming them for the reason his career never rocketed off. His father and mother passed away without him ever showing appreciation for the sacrifices they made for their son, and instead he showed them anger and disappointment that his every wish wasn't granted by them. With no woman to whom he shared vows with, he began to wish he hadn't viewed women as nothing more than sexual satisfactions. He had no children or grandchildren that could share a few words with him-a few words that would encourage him to not frown on the past of failure but to smile on a future of potential success.
Still laying in agonizing pain stemming from his his heart, the realization of the failure in his life was yet more painful. If only he could go back in time and change not one thing, but everything, he would make it better. He would sacrifice what he was for what he could become. He would be successful, married, knowledgeable, and productive. The words bounced off the walls of his mind a final time, “Sacrifice what you are now for what you will become.” On his final breath he felt disappointment, and for the first time ever he didn't blame anyone other than himself.