# Sleepless-661 words



## Crowley K. Jarvis (Feb 13, 2015)

Just a little story I wrote about two people with sleeping disorders. It was more romantic than anything so here it is. I might keep the characters and write more, I don't know. I'm just trying to write though, so practice is good if I have inspiration. As always, I'm improving so advice is appreciated. 




  I rolled over on my right shoulder and looked at the clock on my nightstand.  2:42 AM. It's been three hours now. Maybe it won't happen tonight. I turned back to the left. Freddie was lying on her back like always. Otherwise her shoulders would hurt. She's pretty warm blooded, so she doesn't wear anything or have blankets on the bed. She still has a sheet, but always throws it off in her sleep, so I admire the view.


    Her long red hair flowed underneath and around her. She dyes it this dark shade, so it always looks different depending on the light. She's pretty pale, but she has quite a few freckles. Something I've always loved. She's pretty athletic, but still weighs more than me. Something she's always hated.  But I, on the other hand, didn't mind it. Her slow breath pushed her chest up and down. I could sit here all night. 


   She took in a sharp, shaky breath. There it is. She always breathes through her nose. Now she panted, faster with each moment that passed. 

   "Freddie?" I said. No response. Here we go. Normally, someone might be pretty scared by this. Think she had a stroke or something, became a vegetable. I knew better though. 

    I did the same thing I always do. Turn on the lights. Cover her back up. She doesn't move a muscle. I felt her pulse. Her heart was pounding. I tug at her eyes to open them. She looks at me. She can still move her eyes. Hear, feel. She told me what to do.

   I followed her eyes, and walked around the room, waved my arms around, and all above her. I looked in the closet, out the window, and out into the hallway. A little deal we had when this happens. I break the illusion. Help her be less afraid. 

   "See? Nobody." I say, being sure to smile. I sat back down beside her, and pulled her up into my lap. I closed my arms around her. "Nothing is going to hurt you." I say. "Not while I'm here." Slowly, she relaxed. Her breathing slowed down. Her pulse got softer and softer. I closed her eyes, and held her until I was sure she was asleep. 

  I watched TV and kept an eye on her. At seven I went downstairs, to the kitchen. I made her breakfast. She doesn't usually eat much, but she likes omelets. I always make her a small one. I had just started the coffee when I heard her footsteps come down the stairs and to the doorway.

   She had just thrown on one of my old band shirts. Sleeping With Sirens. It was long enough but I still saw most of her legs. She frowned at me, like usual. She isn't a morning person. 

  "Come on sleeping beauty. Cheer up. You're still alive, right?" I said with a grin. She stayed quiet. Like usual.

  "So, who was it this time? Creepy old dude? Faceless white guy in a suit? Some Japanese girl? Oh, no, don't tell me! The clown! No? The guy with that smiley mask?"

  "No." Freddie said. “Nothing that bad, this time.” 

  I laughed. "Oh really? That's odd. Normally I almost have to punch the air to get you to calm down. I thought it was too easy.”

  "Yeah. You must've just been really quick. I guess it makes a difference. Glad you were paying attention.”

  "If you're glad about something I did, there are two words in English for that." 

  She huffed. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome." I said.

  Freddie fiddled with her hair. Her little nervous tick. "Look...I guess, I don't really remember. Whatever you did, it really helped. Can...Can you do that every time?"

  “Whatever you want. I’m not complaining. Just get some clothes on. I can’t be distracted here. Might cut myself.” 

  She rolled her eyes, and went back upstairs. I smiled to myself.
  Something tells me she does remember.


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## scd250 (Mar 10, 2015)

I rolled over on my right shoulder and looked at the clock on my nightstand. 2:42 AM. It's been three hours now. Maybe it won't happen tonight. I turned back to the left. Freddie was lying on her back like always. Otherwise her shoulders would hurt. She's pretty warm blooded, so she doesn't wear anything or have blankets on the bed. She still has a sheet, but always throws it off in her sleep, so I admire the view. *This is a really rich description. It tells me a lot about Freddie right off the bat. *


Her long red hair flowed underneath and around her. She dyes it this dark shade, so it always looks different depending on the light. She's pretty pale, but she has quite a few freckles. Something I've always loved. She's pretty athletic, but still weighs more than me. Something she's always hated. But I, on the other hand, didn't mind it. Her slow breath pushed her chest up and down. I could sit here all night. *This is a lot of 'show, don't tell'. Show me, don't tell me. Have the narrator describe what parts of her look like rather than saying 'they are x'.*


She took in a sharp, shaky breath. There it is. She always breathes through her nose. Now she panted, faster with each moment that passed. *Show, don't tell. I do like how much these passages tell me about Freddie without actually forcing it upon me though.*

"Freddie?" I said. No response. Here we go. Normally, someone might be pretty scared by this. Think she had a stroke or something, became a vegetable. I knew better though. *Awesome descriptive line yet again!*

I did the same thing I always do. Turn on the lights. Cover her back up. She doesn't move a muscle. I felt her pulse. Her heart was pounding. I tug at her eyes to open them. She looks at me. She can still move her eyes. Hear, feel. She told me what to do. *This seems a bit stilted. I do like how it sounds like this happens a lot, but short, jagged sentences are best left to passages with a lot of action, and this doesn't have much. *

I followed her eyes, and walked around the room, waved my arms around, and all above her. I looked in the closet, out the window, and out into the hallway. A little deal we had when this happens. I break the illusion. Help her be less afraid. *"waved my arms around, and all above her" is a REALLY awkward sentence. *

"See? Nobody." I say, being sure to smile. I sat back down beside her, and pulled her up into my lap. I closed my arms around her. "Nothing is going to hurt you." I say. "Not while I'm here." Slowly, she relaxed. Her breathing slowed down. Her pulse got softer and softer. I closed her eyes, and held her until I was sure she was asleep. '*Being sure to smile' also sounds pretty awkward. This is pretty cute for the rest of this paragraph.*

I watched TV and kept an eye on her. At seven I went downstairs, to the kitchen. I made her breakfast. She doesn't usually eat much, but she likes omelets. I always make her a small one. I had just started the coffee when I heard her footsteps come down the stairs and to the doorway.* 'I went downstairs, to the kitchen' could stand to lose the comma, it sounds awkward. Why does he make her a small breakfast and not a big one?*

She had just thrown on one of my old band shirts. Sleeping With Sirens. It was long enough but I still saw most of her legs. She frowned at me, like usual. She isn't a morning person. *Show me she isn't a morning person, don't tell me that. What do her legs look like? All I know is that I can see them.*

"Come on sleeping beauty. Cheer up. You're still alive, right?" I said with a grin. She stayed quiet. Like usual. *I don't like the last part of this. It's very 'telly'.*

"So, who was it this time? Creepy old dude? Faceless white guy in a suit? Some Japanese girl? Oh, no, don't tell me! The clown! No? The guy with that smiley mask?" *The narrator now strikes me as kind of a jerk, which is probably not what you're going for.*

"No." Freddie said. “Nothing that bad, this time.” *I would think Freddie would be kind of mad at the teasing.*

I laughed. "Oh really? That's odd. Normally I almost have to punch the air to get you to calm down. I thought it was too easy.” *Still think narrator is a jerk.*

"Yeah. You must've just been really quick. I guess it makes a difference. Glad you were paying attention." *How did it make a difference?*

"If you're glad about something I did, there are two words in English for that." *Narrator is a jerk still.*

She huffed. "Thank you." *Okay, yeah, Freddie sounds kind of pissed and I honestly don't blame her.*

"You're welcome." I said. *Can probably cut this line. I'm also getting a bit confused as to who's talking, but can keep up if I pay attention.*

Freddie fiddled with her hair. Her little nervous tick. "Look...I guess, I don't really remember. Whatever you did, it really helped. Can...Can you do that every time?" *Aww.*

“Whatever you want. I’m not complaining. Just get some clothes on. I can’t be distracted here. Might cut myself.” *I can tell these two have a bond, which is good.*

She rolled her eyes, and went back upstairs. I smiled to myself. *Because you're a jerk.*

Something tells me she does remember. *Wow, what an asshole. Why was he teasing her then?

Summary: You started out with a great expository piece and then lost me somewhere in the middle. You need to show more and do less telling me what's going on. Toward the end the narrator strikes me as kind of a dick and by the end I didn't like him--I'm not sure this is on purpose. If it was, great job, it was very effective--sometimes characters are not meant to be likeable!

As for the genre, I'm not sure this fits as romance. I'm pretty sure these two are a couple but I can't really tell. 

In all this was an entertaining piece but I kind of hate the narrator. Not in a 'this is a badly written narrator' way so much as a 'this guy is a jerk' way. You could probably use to tighten it up a little. *


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## Crowley K. Jarvis (Mar 10, 2015)

...Oh wow. I was going for the more familiar older brother-like boyfriend kind of relationship. Did not realize how it actually came across. Haha. I'll probably re-work this tonight then since I'm writing...

As for the show and tell, not to argue, but I think it might be of a POV type of thing. Being so first person, it was meant more to be his thoughts. So yes when a person thinks, there's alot of showing from the first person.

Or maybe that's just how I wrote it, haha. And yes, the MC was a tad salty and a little too vocal with his inner thoughts...I'm glad though it entertained where it mattered. (Kind of.) 

Thanks for taking the time to point it out though...I had all but forgotten about this little piece and now I want to fix it up...


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## ClaireValmont (Mar 15, 2015)

You should keep writing! I enjoyed it, and hope to see more!


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## Reichelina (Mar 14, 2016)

I liked it!  
Being "disordered" of some sort too, I get the flow of the story right away. 
I might have guessed it even if you didn't state it in your intro. 

Since the guy is disordered too, he cuts himself right? 
Why not show his disordered behaviour in the way he dealt with her? 
I'm not sure how, but I guess it could give more life to who he is? 

But then again what do i know. Haha. 

This is not related to the work itself, but I wanna know what is inside your head here. 
Why would the guy cut himself if she stayed there? Usually, people hurt themselves to FEEL something after being physically numb (due to anxiety or depression or both.) But it seems to me, he likes staring at her. Why cut? 

Hahahaha. I am trying to get inside the boy's head, sorry.


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## Crowley K. Jarvis (Mar 14, 2016)

Reichelina said:


> I liked it!
> Being "disordered" of some sort too, I get the flow of the story right away.
> I might have guessed it even if you didn't state it in your intro.
> 
> ...



Hm? Oh, ah... It seems I had envisioned him cutting veggies for an omelet and neglected to mention that he was holding a knife. The implication was that he would be staring, lose his focus, and accidentally cut his hand. 

However, his insomnia does have rather unpleasant effects on his mentality, and I never asked myself why or why not he might resort to self injury despite being in her presence... And they are indeed both characters who are not normal in the first place. 

Although I probably won't revisit this story itself, I will definitely keep the characters. Next story should definitely have better clarity, and show more about the unnamed narrator... Hm...


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## Reichelina (Mar 14, 2016)

Crowley K. Jarvis said:


> Hm? Oh, ah... It seems I had envisioned him cutting veggies for an omelet and neglected to mention that he was holding a knife. The implication was that he would be staring, lose his focus, and accidentally cut his hand.
> ..




Oh okay! Hahaha. 
Sorry I guess, I was confused. I thought he was also doing self-harm. Hihi.


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## Jay Greenstein (May 6, 2016)

I like it. It's much better than what I generally see online. I felt it needs fleshing out, though, and a deeper POV. The character reacts, but doesn't speculate or wonder, or in any way seem more than an observer recording the event sequence. I get no feeling that he cares if she gets better or not, or even cares for her. Certainly he doesn't worry enough to talk about trying to find out the whys of it. Would you be as accepting? I also wonder how, if he's up every night watching TV till three, and after, he can function.


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## KThoughts (May 9, 2016)

This was pretty intense from the way you described the story but I feel like there's a missing element...or...something is missing 

Like some more dialogue to add more tension and there's hardly any struggle (at least for me) like for example shouldn't the guy face more problems 
with dealing with Freddie? I thought it was too easy and as for this one it lacks a "show" for Romance, sure the guy said some caring stuff here and there
but it felt incomplete for me :/ 

_*"Not while I'm here." Slowly, she relaxed. Her breathing slowed down. Her pulse got softer and softer. I closed her eyes, and held her until I was sure she was asleep. *_

The way the girl calmed was too easy, shouldn't there be more dialogue from Freddie? like saying something in denial because she's suffering from something and her "not that bad" dream wasn't explained that well I mean it wasn't explained at all. I was kind of curious to know what dream that was... 

But overall this was a good short romance  
I hope you can improve this more because I was quite intrigued!


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## Jack Semmes (Mar 16, 2017)

I must disagree with some of the others.  I liked this, and found nothing needing change.


I have a three part test for good fiction.
1.  Does the reader see the story visually in their minds eye?  Yes, I did.
2.  Does the reader think of your characters as real people?  I did.
3.  Does the reader want to read to the end of the piece, to see what happens?  Yes


Keep up the good writing.


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## Ptolemy (Mar 16, 2017)

Jack Semmes said:


> I must disagree with some of the others.  I liked this, and found nothing needing change.
> 
> 
> I have a three part test for good fiction.
> ...



Usually I dislike necroposts like this, but it honestly it brought up a very interesting and complex story.


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## mishonabi (Mar 18, 2017)

I really enjoyed your story! It was pretty creative and fresh.


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## AnnPreston (Mar 22, 2017)

I rolled over on *I think onto might make more sense than on.* my right shoulder and looked at the clock on my nightstand. 2:42 AM. It's been three hours now. Maybe it won't happen tonight. I turned back to the left. Freddie was lying on her back like always. Otherwise her shoulders would hurt. She's pretty *You could take the word pretty out. *warm blooded, so she doesn't wear anything or have blankets on the bed. She still has a sheet, but always throws it off in her sleep, so I admire the view.


Her long red hair flowed underneath and around her. She dyes it this dark shade, so it always looks different depending on the light. She's pretty pale, but she has quite a few freckles. Something I've always loved. She's pretty athletic, but still weighs more than me. Something she's always hated. But I, on the other hand, didn't mind it. Her slow breath pushed her chest up and down. I could sit here all night. 
*I would change up the sentence a bit here as most sentences beginning the same way with her or she.  It might help to use some metaphors like her skin is as white as the snow her hair was the color of red wine etc.*

She took in a sharp, shaky breath. There it is. She always breathes through her nose. Now she panted, faster with each moment that passed. 

"Freddie?" I said. No response. Here we go. Normally, someone might be pretty scared by this. Think she had a stroke or something, became a vegetable. I knew better though. 

I did the same thing I always do. Turn on the lights. Cover her back up. She doesn't move a muscle. I felt her pulse. Her heart was pounding. I tug at her eyes to open them. She looks at me. She can still move her eyes. Hear, feel. She told me what to do.

I followed her eyes, and walked around the room, waved my arms around, and all above her. I looked in the closet, out the window, and out into the hallway. A little deal we had when this happens. I break the illusion. Help her be less afraid. 

"See? Nobody." I say, being sure to smile. I sat back down beside her, and pulled her up into my lap. I closed my arms around her. "Nothing is going to hurt you." I say. "Not while I'm here." Slowly, she relaxed. Her breathing slowed down. Her pulse got softer and softer. I closed her eyes, and held her until I was sure she was asleep. 

I watched TV and kept an eye on her. At seven I went downstairs, to the kitchen. I made her breakfast. She doesn't usually eat much, but she likes omelets. I always make her a small one. I had just started the coffee when I heard her footsteps come down the stairs and to the doorway.

She had just thrown on one of my old band shirts. Sleeping With Sirens. It was long enough but I still saw most of her legs. She frowned at me, like usual. She isn't a morning person. 

"Come on sleeping beauty. Cheer up. You're still alive, right?" I said with a grin. She stayed quiet. Like usual.

"So, who was it this time? Creepy old dude? Faceless white guy in a suit? Some Japanese girl? Oh, no, don't tell me! The clown! No? The guy with that smiley mask?"

"No." Freddie said. “Nothing that bad, this time.” 

I laughed. "Oh really? That's odd. Normally I almost have to punch the air to get you to calm down. I thought it was too easy.” 

"Yeah. You must've just been really quick. I guess it makes a difference. Glad you were paying attention.” *It’s hard to read her emotion here she seems upset and he being mean.*

"If you're glad about something I did, there are two words in English for that." 

She huffed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I said.

Freddie fiddled with her hair. Her little nervous tick. "Look...I guess, I don't really remember. Whatever you did, it really helped. Can...Can you do that every time?"

“Whatever you want. I’m not complaining. Just get some clothes on. I can’t be distracted here. Might cut myself.” 

She rolled her eyes, and went back upstairs. I smiled to myself.

Something tells me she does remember. 

*The impression that I get is that she loves her but is kind of a jerk to her and she doesn’t seem to like him at all.  It would be interesting start to a story I am wondering what will happen next.*

*I think the biggest thing is that you need to put emotion into what the female is saying.*


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## Dolores B. Turner (Apr 11, 2017)

I like it too! An amazing job


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## w.riter (May 18, 2017)

A nice depiction of looking at a loved person while they are at sleep. Your humor is a subtle one and I liked it. You write thinking out of the box. Yet, you keep it simple.


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