Ring of Sorrow [Short Story]

[noveleigh]

I'm better at reading stories than writing them. Unfortunately there are times when an idea pops into your head; times when you can't achieve peace of mind until you scrawl them out onto paper (or on computer, heh). Constructive criticism is a plus. - Leigh





It had been a long and difficult day, what with a near collapse in the marble mine and the near record heat. The economy was quickly spiraling downwards, as well. The foreman had told the workers in a meeting earlier in the week that it was only a matter of time until the site would be shut down. He could still picture the terrified tears falling down his wife's face, as he told her the horrible news. They were already in difficult times, but this seemed to signal the end of a long struggle. A struggle that they would not win.

Through all of this, he had the knowledge that his wife was nearing her due date, and her health slowly declining as the pregnancy came nearer to its close. The doctors kept a careful check on her, Dr Morrison had even taken to coming in once a week to keep an eye on her health. Things were not looking hopeful, was all that he could muster out to the frightened husband, but still they tried. He had some trouble concentrating on his lunch that day, as all of these thoughts came streaming through his head. At least while he was working, he could block them out for some time, and concentrate on getting the job done.

One of his co-workers, his best friend, could see the painful thoughts create worry marks on his face. "You know, my parents own a farm. It ain't too far from here, actually. I'm sure that if I could talk to them, I could get yah some work. Seein as we wont be havin a job here much longer, an all." he paused and shifted his feet uncomfortably, "They wouldn' be able to pay ya firm wages, at least not much to speak of. But I'm sure they won' let you-uns go hungry."

"Thanks, Phil." he said sadly, but forcing a smile. "I'll keep that in mind."



That particular evening seemed much darker than any evening he could remember. He wasn't sure if it was his dim outlook on the future, or the oncoming thunderstorm. Probably a mixture of both. It didn't take long for the rain to hit; a heavy kind of rain. The kind that makes it difficult to see in the middle of the day, but impossible at night. He decided to stop at a gas station on the outskirts of town, and use the phone to call his wife and let her know that he would be late. He watched the owners dog laying under the covered porch, lazily watching him as he pulled up. He half envied the animal for it's carefree days.

"How's it goin, Bert?" came a cheerful greeting as he stepped out of the truck and ran to the safety of the porch.

"Oh, it's goin. Hey, listen, can I borrow your phone for a minute. I gotta call the missus and let her know that I'll be late."

"Why sure you can! You know where it is, dont cha?"

"Yeah, I know. Thanks." he made his way inside, and finding the phone directed the operator to transfer to his house number. A few moments later, the operators voice came back on the line. "There's no answer, sir. Shall I try again?"

"No....no, it's alright. Thanks." he hung up the phone and pondered silently as to the reasons his wife wouldn't have picked up.

"Did'ja talk to the Missus, Bert?" the owner asked as he looked in the door from the rocking chair outside.

"No, there was no answer...."

"Well! I'm sure that everythin's alright. She might've fallen asleep."

"Yeah...." he swallowed and patted the dog as he came back out onto the porch. "Well, I guess I better head on. Thanks, again."



The crickets chirping provided no comfort for him as he sped home. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what it was. He hit the gas a bit harder in his anxiousness to get home. However when he turned a blind curb, he was shocked to see a woman standing in the middle of the road. He slammed his breaks and turned his wheel hard right, sending his car flying into a large tree trunk. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness, was seen through the rear view mirror. The woman was sitting in the back seat looking at him sadly, and then she vanished.



A truck full of farmhands found the truck the next morning. Inside they found the man, cold as stone and rigid as a board. On his head was a long gash, and in the back seat laid a womans wedding ring. The farmhands contacted the police, who had the body carried off to the county morgue, before giving his wife the bad news. When they reached the home of our unhappy gentleman, they were greeted by Doctor Morrison. He let them in, and sadly stated that the wife had passed away the night before, but not before giving birth to a set of healthy twins; a boy and a girl. He recollected an odd occurrence to them, however, and stated that the wedding ring which she refused to take off even when her hands were swelling past the point of pain, was missing. When the police showed them the ring that had been found in the back seat, the old doctor's face grew pale. It was the same ring which had belonged to the unfortunate woman; he'd seen it too so many times it'd have been impossible to mistake it.

[JCC]

"It had been a long and difficult day,"

Stopped reading there. Terrible way to start a story.

[noveleigh]

Fair enough.

[MitsyMayhem]

Originally Posted by JCC

"It had been a long and difficult day,"

Stopped reading there. Terrible way to start a story.

Exactly.
You're telling not showing.
Take that out completely.

[Saya]

Originally Posted by noveleigh

It had been a long and difficult day, what with a near collapse in the marble mine and the near record heat. The economy was quickly spiraling downwards, as well. The foreman had told the workers in a meeting earlier in the week that it was only a matter of time until the site would be shut down. He could still picture the terrified tears falling down his wife's face, as he told her the horrible news. They were already in difficult times, but this seemed to signal the end of a long struggle. A struggle that they would not win.

Like already stated, not a great way to begin. Beginning a story I find is hard though, never quite sure how to drag the reader in. But try another draft or two and we'll see what works.

One of his co-workers, his best friend, could see the painful thoughts create worry marks on his face. "You know, my parents own a farm. It ain't too far from here, actually. I'm sure that if I could talk to them, I could get yah some work. Seein as we wont be havin a job here much longer, an all." he paused and shifted his feet uncomfortably, "They wouldn' be able to pay ya firm wages, at least not much to speak of. But I'm sure they won' let you-uns go hungry."

Just to point out that for the rest of the speech he used "ya" and "yer" but here he said "you". Not a major slip up but it seems he doesn't speak consistently. Do you have a particular dialect in mind?

The story has potential but in its current form seems really rushed, especially at the end. Its kinda like a urban legend or just an account of a ghost story you read in a folklore book. Try beefing it up a bit more, especially with the scene of him driving home. It needs more details.

[noveleigh]

Thanks so much, all of you for the reviews. I know this story kind of sucked, and I knew I could count on there being some truthful reviews (and constructive criticism).

Mitsy, I'll definitely keep that in mind when I work on it again. Thanks for making that distinction on why it sucked. Now that I look back on it I can fully agree, that intro does completely suck.

Saya, I'm trying for a deep-south type accent, perhaps as southerners may have talked during the 30's. Beginning the story was difficult. I had so many different ways in mind, and obviously went with the worst one. This story was actually inspired by a marble quarry near my house that's been abandoned for a long time, plus a love of spooky stories.

Does anyone know a place you can go for proof-reading and suggestions on things like this? My local friends can't be trusted. They're too nice. Heh.