Short Story: Falling on Deaf Years

Subject: Short Story: Falling on Deaf Years Tue Sep 03, 2013 2:57 am

Falling on Deaf Years

-Jamie Findley-

"You must find safety!" Walter demanded, flailing his arms in the air, putting emphasis on the word must. On the top stair of the town hall, he stood, above a large group of confused people. "Please, listen," he begged, "If you don't, you'll all die!" The words spewed from his mouth and past the spectator’s ears, the booing gradually growing louder.

A sudden crack of lightning caught the corner of Walter’s eye, the spectators slowly started to disperse, crawling back into the streets and alleyways. Another flash of lightning struck, bringing down a torrent of rain.

A glimmer of hope was extinguished inside Walter, like a candle being blown out. Walter slinked down the stairs solemnly, the rain drenching his clothing and his short brown hair. He moved through the streets, passing into a narrow, dark alleyway. He slipped through a small, wooden door stepping into a gloomy space. He flicked a switch, light spilling through the small apartment. Paperwork was splayed across desks in-between miniature radios and computer.

Walter sunk into an office chair, groaning, memories flooding back from the day before…

“Please, Mum!” Walter said, gripping the lady by her frail arms. In return, the woman shook out of her son’s grip. “You have to come with me!”

“I’m sorry, son…” She finally replied, “But I don’t believe you…”

Thunder rumbled loudly, the rain getting heavier, clink clink clink. He reached for a phone, quickly dialling a number and waiting impatiently for the other end to pick up.

“Hello, this is George Bennett, how may I be of service to you?” The man on the other end answered with little expression in his tone.

“We need to talk, George,” Walter demanded. The phone went dead for a moment and soon came back to life.

“There is nothing to talk about Walter,” George replied, sighing, “We have discussed this already.”

“The people here are going to die, don’t you understand that?” Walter said in defence.

“The ‘evidence’ you have given us proves nothing, except you have nothing better to do, Mr Howard,” George’s voice turned gruff with frustration.

Walter slammed his fist on the desk, “What if it does hit? What if that meteor hits earth and kills you along with this city and the world around it?”

“It won’t happen,” George replied, “Goodbye Walter.” With that, the phone went dead and buzzed in Walter’s ear.

“You have got to be kidding!” he said, throwing the phone to the ground and burying his head in palms. A computer screen flashed; a small icon of a mailbox illuminating the screen. Walter spun the chair around, facing the computer with angered eyes. He clicked the icon, and after a brief moment, he saw a short wall of text pop up.

Subject: RE: Meteor disaster

GMD@global.com.nz > walter.howards@gmail.com

5:56 PM

Dear Walter Howards,

We have read thoroughly through your report, except not enough evidence can justify what you’re saying exactly.

If a meteor was to hit in the next 24 hour, our professional meteorologists would have picked it up a week before it happened. I am sorry if your work has been put to waste, but to issue a warning across television, we need full justification by more than one person.

Thankyou Mr Howards

-GMD (Global Meteorologist Department.)

Walter pushed the computer out of view, paper being pushed to the ground. He glanced at his watch, “Three hours left,” he announced, standing up, running a pale hand through his drenched hair, “Let’s make the most of it.” Suddenly the window on Walter’s left, shattered, millions of shards of glass, the size of glitter landing at his feet. A rock pierced his leg, a bruise appearing slowly.

“Damn vandals!” Walter said, fuming in rage, finding his feet just as the ground trembled, papers flying everywhere and radios shattering on the floor. He flung the door open, stepping into the alleyway. He gasped; in the sky was a massive red dot, bigger than the sun and brighter than a blazing fire.

A nervous smile flickered across his face as he rushed into the streets as the ground trembled again, windows shattering and rocks flying through the air. The smell of smoke reached his nose and a soft rumbling noise reached his ears.

“Help!” a woman screamed, shards of glass protruding from her back. Walter had eyes piercing him in every direction as he ran past, recognising him from earlier today.

Another sudden tremor occurred as the ball of fire in the sky neared, a house crumbling to pieces and a power box exploding. Screams and pleas of help exploded through the city as Walter stopped at a small brick house. He stepped onto the blank lawn, the grass crunching beneath him. He unbolted the door, stepping past the threshold into an empty space. In the middle of the space was a hatch which he opened, to reveal a staircase.

Walter travelled down the stairway, the sound of his steps ricocheting through the narrow space. He emerged into a metal walled room, sliding shut a thick behind him. The walls were lined with cans of food and tubs of water. The soaring sound could still be heard, getting louder and louder. The desperate cries were only muffles but sent chills up Walter’s spine and the rumbling shook the surrounding supplies of food.

Suddenly, Walter listened as all the noise stopped, as if someone had hit a pause button on a TV remote.

Then it returned.

Walter’s ears popped and the surrounding food clattered to the ground. The walls rumbled and shook uncontrollably. Walter’s hearing returned, still fuzzy, to hear crackling fire and his mother’s voice ringing through his head.

“I’m sorry, son…” She finally replied, “But I don’t believe you…”

Subject: Re: Short Story: Falling on Deaf Years Tue Sep 03, 2013 2:58 am

Please tell me what you thought!

Subject: Re: Short Story: Falling on Deaf Years Tue Sep 03, 2013 10:26 pm

Pretty good, but felt... not as good as it could be. The beginning wasn't descriptive enough. I knew Walter was addressing a crowd of people on a staircase, but I don't know what the building was like. Was it a grand hall with a large staircase, or was he not inside at all, and rather out at the curb, standing in front of the town hall?

I felt the story started moving too fast. I got confused after a bit. It wasn't bad enough to where I couldn't figure out what was going on, but it certainly wasn't a smooth read. You need to stay on topics longer. Describe what Walter is thinking. Go into his head, describe to the reader what he is seeing, thinking, feeling, in detail. Don't stick on it too long, obviously, but I felt a little lost a lot.

Next time, get someone to proofread. I'm up to that, if you want. The grammar had obvious flaws, which kind of ruined my immersion.

This is something important to remember when writing: though you may know the setting and what's going on, the reader doesn't. Read your story through a reader's eyes, not your eyes. Assume the reader knows nothing about your story.

Overall, though, the premise is good, and has potential. The story just needs refining.