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I Hate Rainbows: or what really happened to Donny Haulsman

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Old 02-08-2017, 08:43 PM
spshane (Offline)
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Default I Hate Rainbows: or what really happened to Donny Haulsman


Exiting through the smeared glass doors of the hospital, I caught a glimpse of a rainbow in the pale sky.


“Fuck me,” I muttered as I discovered inside of me the kind of fucking anger that only a nun, who's discovered that God is dead, could know. “Fuck rainbows!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the stone walls.


I hated rainbows. Had a bullshit experience with them.


Just kids, barely old enough to ride our goddamned bicycles, me and Donny rode off looking for end of the rainbow. We still believed in all the shit our parents told us. Santa Claus, leprechauns, Jesus Christ, and—fuck you—gold.


Donny started whining, because he was a pussy, and we already way the fuck further than where we were supposed to be. But the rainbow was right fucking there. I could almost touch.


“Jesus, Peter, I can't go any further. My mom'll beat my ass for this shit.”


“Man, my dad really needs this.” And he did. Laid off about six months by then and about to lose the house.


I pedaled harder and just as I got to intersection I saw it—the tail end of the rainbow touching down in an overgrown field. The weeds seemed to glow in golden light.



“Holy shit!” Donny chirped and started pedaling like a motherfucker. Passed me. Cleared the intersection. Rode down the embankment. Just as he ditched his bike, I saw it—this huge ass black pot in the middle of the field. I mean it was the size of a compact car and shit. And I just knew it was filled with gold.


I pumped on my pedals and just as I pulled into the intersection everything went dark. Never heard screeching tires. Never saw the car. Never felt myself sailing through the air. Just remember waking up to beeping monitors and everything numb below my chest.


“Peter, I'm here.” Mom clutched my hand.


“Did he get it, Mom? Did Donny get the gold?”


And all at once she burst into tears.


“Donny's dead,” Dad shuffled forward.


I told him he didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. Donny was right there. I saw him.


He had found the gold.


No one came right and told me all at once what had happened to Donny or to me. Like learning to handle a wheelchair, lots of things came in little bis and pieces. His death remained a mystery to me. Something I put together over time.


While the paramedics loaded me into the ambulance one them caught a glimpse of Donny's jacket flapping in the field. He moved closer and saw his body. Looked like he had been attacked by some sort of wild animals. Claw marks. But I knew it wasn't a wild animal. It was a leprechaun. And you need to know this: leprechauns are all dicks.


Last edited by spshane; 02-09-2017 at 09:37 AM..
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Old 02-09-2017, 05:24 AM
Cityboy (Offline)
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I hated rainbows. I had bad experiences with rainbows. Well, actually it was just one bad experience, but seeing how my best friend died because of it, it was just awful.

Not too crazy about the above lines. You're just filling in the blanks with unnecessary words and leading your readers around by their noses.

Just say what you're supposed to:

I hated rainbows because I had a bad experience with one.

The rest of the words (in original are merely "fillers"). I noticed the best writers use words as though they are paying for each one. They extract the most from every single word they put on paper.

Sometimes taxi drivers take tourists the longer route to gin up the meter. When you put meaningless words on a page you are doing the same thing to your readers. Take them straight to the destination! Nobody wants to be taken for a ride. Otherwise you'll only have amateurs (tourists) reading your stuff.
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Old 02-09-2017, 09:40 AM
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True. Dad used to go on about shit. Heard too many words from him. Like why was he still talking? Said "Dad those are just fillers. Stop."
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Old 02-09-2017, 02:40 PM
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Originally Posted by spshane View Post
Exiting through the smeared glass doors of the hospital, I caught a glimpse of a rainbow in the pale sky.


“Fuck me,” I muttered as I discovered inside of me the kind of fucking anger that only a nun, who's discovered that God is dead, could know. “Fuck rainbows!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the stone walls.


I hated rainbows. Had a bullshit experience with them.


Just kids, barely old enough to ride our goddamned bicycles, me and Donny rode off looking for end of the rainbow. We still believed in all the shit our parents told us. Santa Claus, leprechauns, Jesus Christ, and—fuck you—gold.


Donny started whining, because he was a pussy, and we already way the fuck further than where we were supposed to be. But the rainbow was right fucking there. I could almost touch.


“Jesus, Peter, I can't go any further. My mom'll beat my ass for this shit.”


“Man, my dad really needs this.” And he did. Laid off about six months by then and about to lose the house.


I pedaled harder and just as I got to intersection I saw it—the tail end of the rainbow touching down in an overgrown field. The weeds seemed to glow in golden light.



“Holy shit!” Donny chirped and started pedaling like a motherfucker. Passed me. Cleared the intersection. Rode down the embankment. Just as he ditched his bike, I saw it—this huge ass black pot in the middle of the field. I mean it was the size of a compact car and shit. And I just knew it was filled with gold.


I pumped on my pedals and just as I pulled into the intersection everything went dark. Never heard screeching tires. Never saw the car. Never felt myself sailing through the air. Just remember waking up to beeping monitors and everything numb below my chest.


“Peter, I'm here.” Mom clutched my hand.


“Did he get it, Mom? Did Donny get the gold?”


And all at once she burst into tears.


“Donny's dead,” Dad shuffled forward.


I told him he didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. Donny was right there. I saw him.


He had found the gold.


No one came right and told me all at once what had happened to Donny or to me. Like learning to handle a wheelchair, lots of things came in little bis and pieces. His death remained a mystery to me. Something I put together over time.


While the paramedics loaded me into the ambulance one them caught a glimpse of Donny's jacket flapping in the field. He moved closer and saw his body. Looked like he had been attacked by some sort of wild animals. Claw marks. But I knew it wasn't a wild animal. It was a leprechaun. And you need to know this: leprechauns are all dicks.


bits and pieces rather than bis and pieces

Not a bad effort

Way too much rough language

Sequence near the end seems a bit out of, well... sequence


And the nailer could be worked some

leprechauns are all little dicks

That is an example of what I mean
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Old 02-09-2017, 05:20 PM
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And you need to know this: leprechauns are all dicks.
Well sure have you ever watched those Leprechaun movies?

I don't mind bad language, but in this case most of it just seems to have no value. Maybe if your character is in middle school that would make sense.
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Old 02-09-2017, 06:54 PM
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Character is in middle school. Well, high school freshman.
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Old 02-10-2017, 12:16 PM
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Speech tags no good. Chirped, murmured, etc.

They aren't necessary and add nothing.

Donny chirped like a little gay bird; his voice was still changing. "Holy shit!" (Something like that maybe).
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Old 03-08-2017, 03:11 AM
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Describe where your characters are riding after 'fuck you - gold,' or just a little before. It gives the reader a better sense of place, and a better evocation of a long ride to get there. It doesn't have to be very detailed, but a little description here would help.
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Old 03-08-2017, 06:38 AM
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Originally Posted by Cityboy View Post
I hated rainbows. I had bad experiences with rainbows. Well, actually it was just one bad experience, but seeing how my best friend died because of it, it was just awful.

Not too crazy about the above lines. You're just filling in the blanks with unnecessary words and leading your readers around by their noses.

Just say what you're supposed to:

I hated rainbows because I had a bad experience with one.

The rest of the words (in original are merely "fillers"). I noticed the best writers use words as though they are paying for each one. They extract the most from every single word they put on paper.


Sometimes taxi drivers take tourists the longer route to gin up the meter. When you put meaningless words on a page you are doing the same thing to your readers. Take them straight to the destination! Nobody wants to be taken for a ride. Otherwise you'll only have amateurs (tourists) reading your stuff.
Sometimes writing the scenic route is a beneficial endeavor.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
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