Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Illustrate the meaning of “A Stitch in Time Saves Nine” (without using the actual phrase or literal example). (01/03/08)
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TITLE: Doubt Kills a Dream | Previous Challenge Entry
By Clayton Skrzypczak
01/04/08 -
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Days turned into weeks and weeks turned to months and expectations grew and grew. Of course it didn’t help that he acted as excited as she was when they talked about it. He was kind of hoping he could be talked into it by going along with her. It was not working. The harder he tried to change his mind, the more her excitement grew, and the more his dread thickened. He must talk to her. He must tell her. She was not going to be very happy with him. He had let this go on for too long. She seemed to be so happy for so long. He seemed so miserable inside though. Was he willing to make her miserable to make himself feel better? Would he really feel better? How could he hurt her after all of this time? Maybe she would understand. Maybe not. Maybe he would do it over dinner tonight. Yes. He would make her favorite dish. She was a sucker for pasta. That colorful curly kind with garlic and olive oil. He would grill some fresh salmon to break over top and make it into a salad. She loves pasta salads.
He no sooner than lit the final candle for dinner when he heard the knock at the door. When he opened the door, there she stood as beautiful as an angel. No. He wasn’t going to get sucked into those eyes. That hair. That smell. That dress. Maybe he would wait. Just one more night. No. He would never tell her. He would find a way. It was what he wanted. It was what he always wanted. He couldn’t live without her.
He stepped aside to let her in when he noticed a tear on her cheek. A tear of joy! Right? He was finally getting it. He must tell her. That is why he made her dinner. He was going to tell her he was ready. She didn’t move. She just looked at him before saying it. The tremble in her voice informed him she was serious. Her dark curls fell at her face as her head bowed in silence. His arm braced against the doorway held him up. He felt weak in the knees and sick to his stomach. She turned to go. One last glance of her brilliant blue eyes forced him to his knees. How did it come to this. Why did he ever doubt. Was this for real? This shouldn’t be. He would never say it again. Never. Not to anyone. She was gone. He blew out the candles and sat in the dark. Good bye.
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Perhaps it would have been slightly stronger, if you put it in first person form.
Also, it helps the reader to space between paragraphs.
Good job.
Just work a bit on formatting, please...
This is really outstanding, one of my favorites so far.