Writing Feedback /
"Mark." - a story research [15]
Hei there everyone!
I would really appreciate it if I could get some criticism on this story, because I truly love this way of writing and I would like to improve. Please, please be brutal. Thank you for reading! :3
If you would ask about what happened, I'd say, I cannot remember precisely.
Ever since he was a kid, Mark has been an asshole. He was the kind of child you'd rather slap than try to reason with. From biting others to swearing, to throwing potatoes at cars and bullying Peggy, he had done it all. He loved to set things on fire. Now, you might expect to hear that his parents didn't accord him enough attention. On the contrary, I tend to believe that it was too much attention that turned him into the obnoxious freak I knew. He had traveled the world and -although it's hard for me to admit- Mark was good with the ladies, for no reason really. He loved to wear bright yellow jackets even though they had been out of fashion for years. From time to time he would consider talking quietly, but usually he'd shout his lungs out. I almost forgot to mention that he was in fact my only friend.
"Looking sharp, ay?"
I used to greet him from afar, this way he got the chance of changing his lines so I wouldn't hear the same answers again and again.
"Trying my best", he murmured. For the first time in a long while, I could witness Mark being nervous. After a brief handshake he stopped to search for his cigarettes.
"Say", he continued while he kept looking, "do you have the invitation at hand?"
"We are indeed late", I assured him.
He was now chewing on the filter while soaking the wet smoke into his lungs. The mist seemed to have taken over the town.
"Why did the bitch have to build her mansion on top of the hill? God-damn it!" Without waiting for my response, Mark started climbing the stairs leading to his
aunt's residence.
I was right behind him, staring intently at his white tuxedo. The jacket was shorter than usual, revealing his firm derriere.
It was he who broke the silence: "I don't even know what the bloody hell I'm doing here."
He had spotted a bench and decided to stop.
"I won't see a penny of her money until I've married."
He coughed and spit on the ground between his feet.
"Don't sit down", he commanded, a smirk on his soft lips, "You'll get dirty!"
I couldn't help but recreate his smile.
"Let's go!"
"You know, marriage ain't so bad."
Mark started to play with the rose bushes that were invading the stairs, gently hitting them as he walked by.
"Says who? The happy husband of the year?"
I couldn't help but notice his derisive tone.
"Why won't you?"
"Why won't I what?"
"Marry."
In an instant he stopped and turned in my direction. He was standing a little higher than me.
"Who would you recommend?" he demanded, his breath, a hot whirl of air and spit, hitting my forehead.
I waited a couple of seconds for him to loosen up while I fixed his hair.
"Think about it", I added, stroking his face with the back of my hand.
Mark stepped back.
"O, boy!"
He turned away. Then he laughed. Then he looked back at me. Laughing.
"So what do you call yourself?"
I let my head slightly hang to a side.
"You like 'em wieners, don't ya?"
"That's not w-what I meant", I stuttered.
He pinched my check, keeping a stupid smile on his face.
"You don't like my attitude, I see", he added seriously without however changing his position, "Well, I won't bend for you."
"That's not what I meant!"
"But what's a girl to do?"
I pushed him back, however he barely lost his balance. His snicker persisted. I watched with the corner of my eye how he turned around and buoyantly jumped over some stairs. I couldn't see his face, but I supposed he was rubbing his nose. He inhaled twice and then decided to sit.
"Boy", -he had put a faded smile on-, "who would have guessed."
I avoided making eye contact.
"You sissy!"
Then I automatically looked towards him. A street lamp stood in the way. Behind the metal pillar I saw him staring at me disgusted. Decided to put an end to this moment, I waked up to him.
"Getting ... impatient, are we?"
He exaggerated every syllable the way all cheap whores would in order to appear more sensual.
"I'm not queer."
He looked away.
"I'm not queer", I calmly repeated putting my hand on his shoulder.
"You are!" he shouted pulling my hand away from him and sitting up. His other hand, now rolled to a fist was aiming for my face. I rapidly hid in a squat, almost falling on the ground. I must have remained like that for a while until a hush of air whispered to my ear.
"Yes, my friend, you're gay."
And there was the laugh again. That laugh I despised. That laugh ... I hated that laugh. I crept out of my carnal shelter and started guessing where he might be. Without really knowing I threw my elbow back hitting Mark in the nadgers. He crashed on the pavement growling hitting his head somewhere in between. Through the misty air, I saw he was hurt. I climbed some stairs up and slammed my foot in his stomach once. He started to cry. Twice.
"Please!"
Every time I hit again he would twitch from side to side.
"You sissy!"
This time he moved so much that he slipped on the stairs. He started rolling quickly down the hill. Afraid of letting my game escape, I ran after him or his body -I couldn't care less if he was dead or alive. It was unbelievable how the bulk of meet was cracking when hitting a stone in its way. I freed the victorious laugh that was pounding between my teeth. I don't know how long I ran like this. However, when I almost reached him, I stumbled, landing on his torso. I rested for a while, the smile still on my lips. I could feel his wet shirt pressing against my chest. I felt no pulse. The pain started to creep back into me while as I stood up. The sour taste of mud and blood filled my mouth.
"Shilit!"
I walked my way back to the stairs.
"Oh my goodness, George! I thought Mark was lying when he said you were here!"
"He made us wait on this cold bench until you would return."
"Mark doesn't lie, ladies! I told you he'd be back. Shall we now, George?"
With two ladies on his hands, Mark was climbing along the tidy path. I followed obediently letting the blood turn to acid on my tongue.
