Drabble/Short Story #1

I don't know exactly what to call this, maybe a short story or a drabble.
Either way I got off work early today and have started writing for the weekend.
I'm a book editor but I really would like to write my own novels so I just venture out to la-la land and write sometimes. I'd like feedback on some of my work and my husband isn't valuable feedback so I thought I could get some of your opinions.

Here's the first/rough chapter of this thing I have. Please tell me your honest opinions.
__________________________________________________ _________________
"I’m here, which, roughly translated, means that I’m trying harder for you than Sam ever did," he states with sad eyes.
--
You know that whole opposites attract saying? How two negative and positive atoms will attach themselves into an orbit, neatly elliptical for the rest of their days?

Bull****.

It’s the ones who are exactly the same that will find each other, revel in the similarity and how they are finally able to say, I am not alone. They are the ones that will collide with a scream of fire and rage and dent each other out of circuit forever.

Forever and ever.

They’ve crashed into their own wavering, kind of addicting pattern, him and her, and nothing will ever be the same again.
--

Her hands trace scribbles down his back, nonsensical things that he doesn’t try to understand. They’re lying under his blanket, trapping their combined heat together and building it higher and higher.

“I’m hot,” she mumbles against his shoulder blade, full lips rounding out the words and burning them into his skin.

“I’m cold,” he whispers back. He draws her up to him, curling her like a comma into his chest, cupping a hand over her hip and drifting fingertips along her wrist until he’s sure that the only thing she can feel is him.
--

This is some messed up ****, she tells him, holding a Miller Lite and a cigarette. She dips back her head to take a drink, and one twist of hair sticks to the long column of her throat.

He bites back his reply.
(That’s why it’s perfect.)
--

"What are we doing," he wonders out loud, because it refuses to make sense in his own head.

They were both meant for two other people and ripped away from them by the supernatural— so how does it follow that their own names sound so right next to each other, that their whole bodies fit together so easily, and their similarities mock them with words like meant to be?

She falls, upside down, onto the couch. There’s a smudge of grease on her cheek, and her shirt rides up over her ribs as she stares at him with eyebrows raised in an expression of, "Are you honestly that dumb?"

Her face goes exasperated, and she sighs.

"Didn’t you ever learn math, stupid?" she quips.

Using her legs as leverage, she flips right-side-up.

Two halves equal a whole.

She holds out her hand.
--

He hesitates.

There is one long moment of would-have-been, could-have-been, should-have-been a clumsy pale girl in front of him, offering herself.

In the space of a remembrance, he forgets.

There is only the woman with her own heavy cross to bear, asking if maybe they can walk together— pile the weight of their heartache up and linger with one another until the load lessens into something tolerable.

Without thinking, he presses their palms together, burning hot, until he thinks he can feel their life lines sear on either side to join as one— branching out into a map of the world too large to explore alone.
-
Good thing they’re not alone.

__________________________________________________ ______________

Please give me an honest assessment. Thanks.

Continuation or might be different all along but I did not want to start a new thread for it.
Feedback for this would be greatly appreciated as well.
Tell me if you think they could go together at some point also.

_______Maybe Chapter 2-ish.

They don't read minds or draw lines in the sand or proselytize in their spare time.
They just are.
--
What happens happens, they say (a glance is worth more than wasted breath) and they have eternity for the happening.
It's like seeing what you should have been in the might-still-be.
---
The silken strands fall across her cheek and in the sunlight they cast rays of their own. Hidden they illuminate the darkest places. At twilight they are sunken silver glowing like a gem, like spirits melting.
---
"I l--" she tries to say.
"Don't."
It's like they knew it all along.

Hmm, did u read the first chapter of the story i was writing??

no, why?

i based this off of something else.

boy and girl from one of my favorite novels, although they were minor characters.

give me your link if you think it is similar.

yeah thats some drabble.

I think this could be the beginnings of something good but what type of story could it be? romance, maybe a end of times apocalypse, a supernatural thriller, or a dark sick twisted murder novel. I think its a good rough, maybe tweak it a little, add some enviromental aspects, but other than that, great reading!

Yes, I was thinking supernatural myself.

Writing a novel is something I'd love to do but do not actually forsee it happening because it is so time consuming and I don't know how well it would be and work out.

I love all elements of thriller and adventure seeking players in the world you get to create is such a thriller idea for me in itself.

I think I'm going to keep working at it but do not know what will actually come of it.

Thanks for your imput though.

I thought this thread was going to be about Margaret Drabble, which would be as weird as a thread about Beryl Bainbridge. I prefer Katherine Mansfield. Jane Austen was a fascist ****.

Wow, you thought that just from the title. Nope afraid you are wrong sorry. And I happen to like Jane Austen.