Fic: Shadows
Aug. 8th, 2008 08:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aubreym Rolling back into San Francisco was more like coming home than home ever was. Though Anthony usually loved L.A. - the sun and the scene, the energy he felt coming up though the sidewalks (as though any minute now you'd turn a corner and step into the life of fame and fortune) - lately the sun was covered by smog, the scene nothing more than pretty people looking pretty and the energy left him wrung out and hung over. Exhausted. Tinseltown lost its shine. Not so San Francisco.
The sun had just cleared the horizon as his tires hit the Bay Bridge and it set the City alight. The TransAmerica Building, Coit Tower, even the Golden Gate Bridge, way off on his right. Twin Peaks. The Embarcadero buildings - even offices looked inviting with the sun winking off their windows. The houses nestled into the hills shone.
A long sigh escaped him, his shoulders dropped. He had been gone too long. Firmly he pushed all thought of why he'd come back into a corner of his mind. Now was not the time. It was enough just to be back. It was too early to drop in on Michael. The man was a morning person, but he didn't appreciate surprises, especially before coffee. His welcome was precarious enough as it was. Peter certainly wouldn't be happy to see him. He didn't want to stack the deck any more against himself. So Anthony kept driving.
Though the Presidio with the windows rolled down. The air was sharp with the smell of Eucalyptus trees and fresh as it always was at dawn on a summer day. Underneath a hint of dust - it would be hot later, unusual for the City. It was in the dark of the trees that Anthony first saw the shadows. Himself and Michael, walking through the park deep in conversation. Discussing something important like art, or the meaning of life, or whether the hot bartender might be into guys. They'd talked about everything.
Through the Haight. He caught sight of himself dragging Michael into yet another head shop. Supposedly searching out the perfect glass bong, but secretly loving how wide Michael's eyes got. Not in Kansas anymore. Michael put up with it for only so long before tugging him away to Amoeba records where they'd look for the best deals on Zepplin or the Dead or Floyd. Music that was appropriate for long nights of wine and weed.
Through the Castro. Shadows darting into bars, lingering in the window of Peets with steaming cups of coffee, just crossing the street to hit another store. He and Michael were everywhere, steeped into the shadows of San Francisco. He never should have left - and somehow, he never had.
The sun had just cleared the horizon as his tires hit the Bay Bridge and it set the City alight. The TransAmerica Building, Coit Tower, even the Golden Gate Bridge, way off on his right. Twin Peaks. The Embarcadero buildings - even offices looked inviting with the sun winking off their windows. The houses nestled into the hills shone.
A long sigh escaped him, his shoulders dropped. He had been gone too long. Firmly he pushed all thought of why he'd come back into a corner of his mind. Now was not the time. It was enough just to be back. It was too early to drop in on Michael. The man was a morning person, but he didn't appreciate surprises, especially before coffee. His welcome was precarious enough as it was. Peter certainly wouldn't be happy to see him. He didn't want to stack the deck any more against himself. So Anthony kept driving.
Though the Presidio with the windows rolled down. The air was sharp with the smell of Eucalyptus trees and fresh as it always was at dawn on a summer day. Underneath a hint of dust - it would be hot later, unusual for the City. It was in the dark of the trees that Anthony first saw the shadows. Himself and Michael, walking through the park deep in conversation. Discussing something important like art, or the meaning of life, or whether the hot bartender might be into guys. They'd talked about everything.
Through the Haight. He caught sight of himself dragging Michael into yet another head shop. Supposedly searching out the perfect glass bong, but secretly loving how wide Michael's eyes got. Not in Kansas anymore. Michael put up with it for only so long before tugging him away to Amoeba records where they'd look for the best deals on Zepplin or the Dead or Floyd. Music that was appropriate for long nights of wine and weed.
Through the Castro. Shadows darting into bars, lingering in the window of Peets with steaming cups of coffee, just crossing the street to hit another store. He and Michael were everywhere, steeped into the shadows of San Francisco. He never should have left - and somehow, he never had.
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Date: 2008-08-09 01:40 am (UTC)Evocative.
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Date: 2008-08-09 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-09 12:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-09 05:24 pm (UTC)Edit 1
Date: 2008-08-12 05:40 pm (UTC)The first sentence seems awkward to me. I think it's because you say that coming back to San Francisco is more like coming home than home -- but home isn't like coming home. Home is like home. Does that make sense? It might make more sense to say something like "Rolling back into San Francisco was more like coming home than anything ever was."
energy he felt coming up though the sidewalks --> energy he felt coming up through the sidewalks
as though any minute now you'd turn a corner --> Me? I thought you were talking about Anthony. You want to avoid using the second person for impersonal statements. In this case I think "he" would be better, but in the future if you want to make a global statement consider "we."
In the first sentence of your second paragraph, the verb that's carrying the sentence is "set." What's happening in the sentence is that the sun is setting the City alight, but there's so much in between the subject and the verb that the sentence gets a little muddled.
I'm guessing the first sentence of the fourth paragraph is meant to read "Through the Presidio with the windows rolled down, the air was sharp..." but I almost always recommend against the passive voice, unless you're using it for a very specific reason. Waiting too long for the action of the sentence can make for awkward and confusing sentences.
Oh, I think I get it. You were going for something else with the fragments at the beginning. I had to go back and reread it, though. Maybe consider a colon instead of a period.
I really like the ending. The overall feeling of this piece is really very lovely--just reexamine your sentence structure to make it flow a little better. Maybe try reading it out loud to yourself so you can catch anything that doesn't sound right.