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  1. #1
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    Not sure what to make of it...

    Her intuition sounded something wasn't right. Six minutes till six -- It sounded again.

    Tristan Isolde Nasari relaxed her tortured gaze into the cornucopia of convoluted ideas on the honey-truffle oak station in front of her. The station's tawny, angled, shaft of light revealed the world in patterns of light and shadows. The steady stream of constituents had dwindled. The only patrons of the library at closing time, on a Friday, were the dedicated ones the rest were out at Solomon's a local bar drinking the night away or chasing the opposite sex.

    The remainders either didn't have a life, were interim in life, or were busy escaping into someone else life. The geek in the charcoal black World of Warcraft t-shirt with giant earmuffs tucked away in velvet, magenta, upholstery over in the corner: obscured from the neck down by a 17 inch laptop screen: probably reaching level eighty. The diva in the apricot hoodie, with the glittering,bedazzled, Bebe logo on it, across the island of reading stations; fingers glued to the keypad of her phone, lost in whatever tune she blasted through her ear buds. The brunette, shuffling a nearby stroller with her foot as she quieted the five year old tugging at her leg to buy herself more time to indulge in the latest celebrity gossip. Tristan wouldn't have considered herself anything special, but there were six blocks to the bus stop and dusk and dark corners didn't make a good combination.

    The fat legal edition thudded closed before she stuffed it into the dingy cotton-candy backpack lapping at her chair leg. Her pack was now eraser pink after years of after-school drops, boyfriends who needed return calls, and first morning gossip on a school bus; a hand-me-down from her older sister Teresa. Her parents may have immigrated to America, but, when it came to money, they were stuck in their middle eastern roots. American capitalism was an unspeakable evil never to be tolerated even if a new backpack only cost nine dollars. Stupid.

    As was, she thought, her name. Her parents, obsessed with the story of Tristan and Isolde, bestowed the name hoping she'd find eternal, true, love with their permission of course. Tristan preferred to be called by her first name; never her first and middle name. Her slender fingers traced the cotton strands protruding out of the gash in the front pocket it was time to set her foot down.



  2. #2
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    Re: Not sure what to make of it...

    Somebody stop me.

  3. #3
    Senior Member Lea Zalas's Avatar
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    Re: Not sure what to make of it...

    Here ya go - I'll hold you back.

  4. #4
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    Re: Not sure what to make of it...

    Author,

    is this something you wrote?
    Did you want comments on it?
    if the wine is sour throw it out

    SatyricalRaven

  5. #5
    Cat
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    Re: Not sure what to make of it...

    Hold me back, too, Lea.

  6. #6
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    Re: Not sure what to make of it...

    @Sat

    Feel free to comment. Yes, it is something I wrote, but from the way Leslee responded, I'm not sure. Normally, her asking to be held back is not a good thing.

  7. #7
    Senior Member Lea Zalas's Avatar
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    Re: Not sure what to make of it...

    Here, kitty, kitty, CAT.

  8. #8
    Senior Member Lea Zalas's Avatar
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    Re: Not sure what to make of it...

    Author, the name Tristan Isolde is just too off-putting. It's one thing to give your character a name of a mythological character, but it's another to give a character the names of both mythological characters from an extremely old and well-known tale. As soon as I saw the name, I immediately assumed it would be a similar tale.

  9. #9
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    Re: Not sure what to make of it...

    Et tu, Lea? No scathing words? Thanks. I will probably go with Tristan. Some critiques would be helpful -- if you've a mind to.

  10. #10
    Senior Member
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    Re: Not sure what to make of it...

    I tried to incorporate a lot of details into the story. I was trying to be a specific as possible. The setting is in a library. The MC is a teenage girl.

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