Kathy floored the gas as her little 1999 Escort climbed the hill that took the traffic of Anderson Street over the railroad tracks towards Loma Linda Medical Center, but the mice didn’t pedal any faster. Was he dead, or was he alive? She didn’t even think of Spain. What did their trip matter now? The Escort had slowed to the speed limit by the time she reached the top. Loma Linda’s foothills were looking particularly dirty today. The hot dry summer had burned them brown; the hot opaque air had antiqued them with gray. It was a bad omen.
Her dad was only 76. Young enough to prune the apricot tree, to ride a boogie board at Huntington Beach, to play hide and seek with the grandkids. Too young to be lying in the emergency room with a stroke. Sometimes Kathy felt older than
[This message has been edited by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (edited January 29, 2009).]
Posted by Gan (Member # 8405) on :
I enjoyed it. The main thing that stuck out to me was the first sentence. It felt clunky, and too long. Perhaps cut it into two sentences, or use a few more 'pauses'.
Posted by skadder (Member # 6757) on :
This is the short story section.
Posted by Devnal (Member # 6724) on :
The "mice didn't pedal any faster." Kind of lost me. I understand it's not really mice, but for some reason I thought it was. If no one else stumbled over it, it's probably not a big deal
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
Mom1Sharon, do you want me to move this to the Fragments and Feedback for Novels area?
Posted by Mom1Sharon (Member # 8244) on :
Yes, please move it. I'm sorry, I got confused.
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
Okay. It will close here and show up in the Novel area. I'll delete this and the last two posts when it gets over there.