Hi BP,

Thanks for the editing refresh. It's made this scary tale, much easier to read and enjoy. The ending made me shiver with terror for the leading man.

There's quite a bit to savor. Your descriptions are delighful and I can "see" as I read so much of what's happening.

The formatting and pacing are right on target.

The story is well developed and complete. It leaves the reader wanting more, more, more!

Some things to work on:

A semicolon is not a period. If the phrase stands alone, or it a complete thought, it's okay to use a period. This is first person and we don't all speak in correct sentences.

It's okay to use contractions.

Here's a little hint that may help with the active tense:
When you are describing something, it's okay to use "was, were, be, being, been," etc. words. When describing the action, that's when to remove them.

The opening of this tale still needs a bit of work. It's a rambling set of thoughts from a male who is trying to tell us he's left a woman. Later, we find out that perhaps his rambling has a reason, though, still, it would help if there were more hints to help the reader understand the timeline.

Here's some suggestions:

Quote Originally Posted by Beswitchingly Positive View Post
Standing outside Celia's apartment, pain grasped my chest. It wasn't the pain of heartbreak, more like almost drowning. When had I stopped loving her? In the beginning, she was strong, calm and quiet. When it was good, we fucked every night. When had I started feeling smothered?

"Insert time - Last month, last week, last year" After quitting my job, I got mixed messages from her. She had became a friendly cat that suddenly bites. Never yelling, she brooded over her writing more and more. It was her way of quietly panicking. I knew she was angry at me, but she wouldn't say why. She just glared. Breathing around her had become difficult.

"Take us back to the present." Now, finally out, I breathed deep. I had wanted to leave for weeks. I was, momentarily, free.

"Interesting, you tip us off with momentarily. Is this deliberate?"

"Help us again, with the time line and the moment".

Often, when I was with her, I wished I was really free, like the mad millionaire who lived in the mansion on the corner. He wanted for nothing. Loved by many, the neighborhood girls called him Papa. Lean and muscular in his advanced years, he was handsome and capable. He did all of the maintenance on his property. Crazy old guy, he climbed all over the roof of his house, shouting at people in the street, captain of his own ship. I had watched the old man, studied him. He never seemed to pass up an opportunity, women threw themselves at him. He had lots of money and young girlfriends.

If you are talking to the reader, it's okay to break the third wall. Give us a transition and let us know you are changing topics again.

You see, I didn't leave Celia without thought. I wanted something different.

"When was this?"

Six months ago, the summer heat settled in. For months, I existed in a damp sweat. No matter how much deodorant I wore my clothes would stink of sweat in a few hours. Tempers rose with the temperature. Crime was at an all time high. The heat had driven the town mad. Celia refused to run the air. Since, she was paying the bills, I suffered.

When the power blacked out for good, we lost the option of air conditioning. I had no money to go out with. I felt stuck. I had her to stare at in the evening. Instead, I took to staring at the walls. I would catch her glaring at me every now and then, in the candle light, looking up from the book she read. Without a word, she would close the book, give me a look of sad resolve, and proceed to lock herself in her room.

There was no more mention of sex. Celia had been rabid for my cock when we got together. I have to admit, sex with her was the best. She did everything. Tirelessly sucking my cock, she handled my stuff better than any girl I had been with. At first, I thought she was too rough, grabbing and pulling on my cock and balls. It scared me. "removed rest of sentence" She was right though, once I relaxed, her aggressive grip became pleasurable. Every way imaginable, Celia had expertly extracted ounce after ounce of my fluid, making me come several times a night.

As the summer dragged on, she stopped touching me. If I tried to touch her, she reacted by flinching. Next, she stopped speaking to me, only answering direct questions.

She drove me crazy, I could not stay another day.

One night, Celia locked herself in her room. I listened to her chanting in the dark. After the third night, I had to ask.

“What are you doing?”

Her intense green eyes held the light of madness. Her voice had a hint of old certainty.

“I'm protecting the block. There are demons out there. Don’t go out, Mateo, please.”

“I’m not going out.”

Sadness and worry made her face lumpy and ugly. Part of me wanted to comfort her, but most of me wanted to run. There was no use arguing with her. I couldn't reach out to her. Every time I thought I should, I froze.

At first, I didn't go out. Scattered announcements on the radio warned of gang warfare, looting, and out of control fires. The city was in chaos. It was hard to believe just a few miles away people were shooting at cops and rioting. Our block was quiet. It seemed perfectly peaceful. The gunfire sounded distant and few cars passed.

During the day, Celia talked to the neighbors. She knew everything that happened out in the badlands. I knew what she told me, which wasn’t much. I quit asking "no comma needed" after she stopped talking. I couldn't bring myself to talk to the neighbors. I imagined she told everyone what a worthless, jobless, waste I was.

I couldn't talk to her. I realized I had no friends here.

My last night with Celia, I listened to her chanting again. The incense smoke seeped out the cracks of dim light that framed her door, saturating the apartment with a sharp smell. Demons or not, I itched to go out.

Moving as in a dream, I dressed in my favorite jeans and a dark shirt. I packed a small bag with a change of clothes, toothbrush, razor, comb, hair gel, and extra socks. I took a bottle of water for the walk downtown. I was going to find a job in the cold air and electric light. It wasn’t more than five miles away, not a long walk. Though not exactly afraid, I wished I had a gun. All the weapons were in Celia’s room. They were all hers anyway, and I wouldn't ask for one. I didn't want her to know I was leaving. I slipped on my boots and took a deep breath. There was only one way to save myself.

I quietly stepped out the front door. Turning her key for the last time, it felt final. I knew I would never go back.
I'll stop edits here and put the task to you to do the following:

a. Seek semicolons and remove them.
b. Look for places to take advantage of the active tense and go for it.
c. Look to places where you tip off the reader that something bad is going to happen and ask if this is what you wanted. If not, remove them.

Have fun with it and keep up the great work!

Ruby

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Other reviewers,

Please let BP know how she is doing in these areas:

1. Does her dialog read like something that would be written in the first person? Does it work for you?

2. Do you believe that this story is told by a man?

3. Do you have any suggestions on how she can make this story better?

4. What is she doing right?

Thanks!

Ruby

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Moptop,

I haven't forgotten you. BP has been waiting a bit longer. She sent me her assignment in an e-mail before you posted yours. You're up next!