About to submit a short story to a local Literary magazine and I'm looking for some input, criticism if you will, positive or otherwise. So this is about half, drop something.


The day is coming to a close as the lone tree that stands in the lawn, sways with what will be the final calm breeze of the afternoon. A leaf descends from the shaking limbs and a single sparrow, searching for its way, lifts into the fading blue above. Below, a young man of average height, wearing a black shirt and a pair of jeans, places his baseball cap at his side and leans back on the trunk of the tree.
The green grass rustles under his weight as he shifts his body to face the young woman sitting with him on the gentle rise of the front lawn. Where, overlooking a small street, the two friends silently watch the ebb and flow of motorists as the outline of a pale, white moon appears in the distant horizon. Calmly, his thin lips hardly moving, he says,” June, you asked me over and yet you just sit there not saying a word,”
June, her short brunette hair resting just above her shoulders, returns his gaze. “I don’t know what to do, August,” she says and her soft blue eyes close while she tugs at a wrinkle on her light blue shirt before lazily placing her elbows on her knees.
His dark eye brows narrow in confusion,” What do you mean, you don’t know what to do?”
“You see.” June replies, slightly embarrassed,” I’ve graduated; I have my degree in hand, so now what?” and pausing briefly as if to gather a distant thought June steadily continues,” I guess what I’m really trying to say is, can there something more to all of this?”
He lifts a hand to rub his chin in careful contemplation like a man going over the meaning of his life for the first time. Then, his eyes narrowing, he stares over at June; “to be honest I haven’t exactly given it much thought until now. Maybe, you should try to not think about it, I believe that’s what most people do…at least that’s what I’ve done.” Looking down, he runs a hand across a few blades of grass, in a hopeful search for answers.
June raises a hand to shield the rays of the setting sun and then hangs her head, “My days are so empty though, so how can I not possibly think about it. I’m beginning to think that maybe I missed something.” She pauses to lift a clump of grass from the confines of the earth and then runs her fingers absent mindedly over their simple, soft contours. “It’s just that lately August, I feel like I’m strumming an old, out of tune guitar, playing a melody no one understands.”
And as the words from her thick, full lips hang in the air, the faint shadows of the trees are slowly tossed onto the sidewalk by the dimming light of the fading sun. Meanwhile, just over the slight rise of the lawn, a young couple’s silhouette comes into view on the sidewalk, each arm draped around the other as they saunter through the cascading shadows of the coming evening while the headlights of passing cars give light to their fair complexion.

Maybe you need to post more. It's a bunch of words, but nothing is happening. This could be a scene, maybe. But not really a story.

appreciate the feed back, been reading Checkov a lot of late so there is a lot influences in the theme here, no real plot or ending, just a snap shot. This is also just the first half, I also forgot to put spaces when I cut and pasted it from word, so that can contribute to the feeling that is just a garbled mess.

appreciate the feed back, been reading Checkov a lot of late so there is a lot of influences in the format here as in no real plot or ending, just a snap shot. This is also just the first half though and I also forgot to put spaces when I cut and pasted it from word, so that can contribute to the feeling that is just a garbled mess.

......Damn it, double post

It's got no narrative, so it's not really a short story. I suggest multiple "scenes/episodes," more explosions, and dogs on minibikes.