Peer Review by the.greater.odyssey (United States)

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Cold. Too Cold. - Part 1

By: Pi_Pen


FREE WRITING

The cold air bashes against my face, and I look squinting up into the sky. Too bright. The sun is hiding behind a thin cloud, but the entire atmosphere is glowing today. Too much for my delicate eyes. The sun is to sharp for my skin. I look away. I look ahead of me, and I see the bus stop I've been walking towards. Cold. I head towards it, I see the ice stuck on the poles of it, a little bench is underneath a broken little roof that had been constructed by wooden planks. Probably against the snow. It wouldn't stay in its place anymore, the wind had made it battered enough. I sit down on the metal bench. Cold seeps through my pants. What a dreadful day. I wait for the bus to arrive, sitting there for some time, freezing. The bus comes. I get on, looking into the bus driver's empty eyes and handing him my ticket. I sit down towards the front... better to get off soon. Not that anyone would stand in my way. The bus is generally empty, except for what looks like a lost tourist and a young woman with groceries. I'm not in the mood to start a conversation.
The young man- the tourist- looks at his map, confused. I didn't want to help him, not today. The young woman, seeing him in trouble, asks if there was a way she can help, and I stare at them engage in conversation, the woman pointing to places on the map and conversing casually with the young man. He wears spectacles, a tan suit, a black tie. She wears her chestnut hair down, messy. The young man thanks her and looks out the window, finally reassured.
My stop comes.
Brooks Road.
Not really a road so much as a dirt path long covered by weeds.
I head out, thank the bus driver with a whisper, and head out. I don't want to be here. I never have. I look around, the gray sky assaulting me again. I feel my lips turning blue. I look around, see a few small wooden shacks and nothing more. What has become of...? I sigh. I turn my head around, like a lost child in a grocery store looking for his mother. I turn around, the bus is long gone... much too far to hear my frightful, "Wait!" head towards it.
There wasn't a bus stop. I had pressed the little yellow button to get off here. Of course, who would stop here? Why build a bus stop here? No point in doing that, no one would come. I turn again, suddenly afraid of this place, like a little kid. There is nothing to be afraid of, really. I have been here so many times before. Too many.
No one is near. It is noon. I have to return. I can't stay here. Where would I sleep? In the over-grown wheat fields? No. No, I can't do that. This isn't my home-town. I don't recognize "Bobby from next door," or "That nice old man that told me stories." No. Nothing like that.
All I remember is Tom.

S H O U L D   I   W R I T E   M O R E ? ? ?
Thanks to the wonderful Paperbird for some great feedback.
Thanks to RainandSonder 's writing tips for alternating sentence length!
Note: I literally just started writing and this happened. XP Since this was literally from the top of my head, I hope it wasn't too heavily influenced by anything that I subconsciously had in mind at the moment. Let me know if it sounds familiar to anything, and I'll un-publish it, I would never want to plagiarize. Thanks!
That feeling when you write something mysterious, but have as much of an idea of what the answer to the mystery is as the reader does. XP

Message to Readers

Tell me if you think I should write more parts! :D


Peer Review

Absolutely brilliantly described. With gorgeous scenes and unexplained details, this is so beautiful and intriguing.


Is this inspired by somewhere you know; a place that was supposed to be home, but never truly was?


Reviewer Comments

Yes, write more.