The Word Cloud

Hi everyone, all feedback welcome. The thing I'm most mindful about is the proof reading. I've really tried to get the spelling and grammer 100% So I need eagle-eyed individuals to look out to see what I've missed. Thank you!

Tom and Hannah

Hannah woke up, reached over, turned off her alarm, and lay back with a sigh. She stared at the ceiling thinking about her dream; Tom had been in it. She tried to remember how his face had looked. Unable to, she felt angry. If only she had some photos of him, she thought.

He was still in her mind in the kitchen. She used the end of a spoon to butter her toast, and gave herself a mental telling-off for letting the dishes pile up so high. After she had eaten, she went upstairs and fished her towel out from her laundry basket.

The water flowed over her, and she began to think about all the things she had to do - there were too many to remember: the hot water was broken and she had to check how much money she had, not that she knew how much it would cost to fix. ‘What time is the plumber meant to be coming tomorrow anyway?’ she thought. She wanted to tidy up a little before he came, but was probably going to have to stay late at work that night.

She sighed; all she really wanted to do was crawl back into bed. She felt an overwhelming sense of sadness, what a mess her life was, she thought. Ever since her dad had died she had been a mess, but it was hard to take control, life seemed so pointless, it was so difficult to really care. She thought about Tom again, and the memories started to bubble up: sixteen, skipping school, and having fun- getting drunk in the park – she and him were always so close. He was the friend who knew all her secrets; one of those people who was just too beautiful for this world. She had found out that he had hung himself just around the time she had dropped out of university. A part of her became damaged forever. She never got invited to the funeral, she never got to say goodbye. They said it was a family only thing. It seemed weird to her now: ‘Tom was so popular, there must have been so many people who wanted to say goodbye. Why would they not want anyone else to be there? It’s as if they are hiding something.’

She froze. Tom had been in a lot of trouble, he had kicked a two year heroin addiction, and was about to give evidence against his old dealers, people who he owed a lot of money too, maybe he went into witness protection, she thought. Maybe they faked his death to protect him. Maybe he was alive!

She dressed in a daze, and found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror. ‘What should I do? Where might he be? Can you choose where they relocate you to? He mentioned Bude a lot. He said that it was sunny, and the people were cool. Could I go? Why not? I could skip work. Who cares if they fire me, I hate my job anyway. They treat me like dirt. She continued to stare at the mirror, her heart was screaming to go find him, her brain was telling her to carry on with her life. Then, something inside her snapped. A burning urge cut through the indecision. I’m going to do it!

The sun was shining as she sped along the motorway. Her thoughts drifted to the things she and Tom had done. There was primary school, where they turned the playground into rainforests and castles and volcanoes and a hundred other things. Then there was high school, where the world was suddenly much bigger. The innocence of childhood had slowly turned into teenage life. A giddy mix of boys, drinking, late nights, streetlights, best friends, worst enemies, shouting, crying and laughter. She and Tom had navigated those years, those highs and lows, in a constant whirlwind of thoughts and words, always with an underlying trust, always with love at the centre. She tried again to remember his face, the way he had looked as he listened to her and chewed a tooth pick –a strange habit he had picked up; he used to go through boxes of them; he claimed it made him feel less nervous- but it was no use, it was nothing but a vague outline. She put on some music, and kept on driving.

When she arrived it took a long search before she found a parking space and got out. She was hit by the smell of salt in the air. Her feet carried her a little way down the street that ran alongside the car park. There were tourist shops on the ground floors of little terraced whitewash houses. The walls shone bright in the midday sun, a neutral canvas for the reds and blues and yellows of the plastic spades and buckets that littered the shop entrances. There were families milling around, squinting under the sun, equipped with ice cream, sunscreen and sandwiches. Some argued, some smiled, some did neither, and then there was her, not knowing what to do, wondering if she had gone mad.

She headed towards the sea, it seemed as good a place as any. Hard tarmac became soft sand, and the noise of rolling waves grew around her. It was a good sound, a calm sound. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt the stress float away as the air filled her lungs. All the little things worries, that had seemed so important, floated into the sky, leaving her free, pure and happy. Right then and there, on that beach, she remembered who she was.

She remembered being a free spirit, she remembered living for the moment, putting people before things, freedom before safety. How did I lose my way, was it breaking up with Steve?Steve had been her boyfriend for two years; she had loved him, then she found out he was cheating on her, she took him back, then he did it again. What had followed was severe depression and a sense of worthlessness. She lost her job at the café. Her boss had told her that she had lost her customer service skills. The truth was, she had lost her smile. After that, she struggled to find another job. Eventually she managed to get a part time job in a supermarket, but it was a horrible place full of bitter people. There were times when she considered going back to unemployment benefit, after all, she wouldn’t be much worse off financially.

She turned towards the promenade. There was a turned back disappearing behind the slope of the sand. The hair was the right colour. She ran towards him, her heat racing. She got to the top of the bank, just in time to see a figure round a corner. Was that him? There was no time to mull it over. She ran, side-stepping the tourists drifting slowly around the streets. She rounded the corner, there was no sign of the figure. She ran forward to the next junction, a crossroads. Still, she could not see him. She panicked, and ran through the streets, choosing her path at random. She knocked into the back of a guy, but did not waste breath to say sorry. She ran and ran and ran, but eventually she had to come to a halt. She put her hands on her knees, drawing in long shuddering breaths as her body screamed for oxygen.

She raised her head a little, tears starting to roll down her face. She looked around desperately, just wanting to see him. Her heart called out for him. An agonising sickness pierced through her, but the world was not listening. Then… she saw it. She walked over and stared at it; a toothpick lying on the pavement. She did not know what to think. It could be from Tom, it could be from anyone. She could be close, she could be going insane. ‘What should I do? Could it really be him?’ She looked up and down the street. ‘If that was really him he does not want to see me, maybe he thinks it’s dangerous if I find him.’ Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face, ‘that’s Tom for you, always making sure I’m safe.’ She took a deep breath, ‘we will meet again,’ she told herself, ‘in this life or in the next. Which ever it is, there is nothing I can do. I have to wait. It is not for me to decide when we will see each other.’ She picked up the toothpick, took another deep breath and went home.

For me, this is too much 'tell' - I'd like to discover the relationship berween Tom and Hannah through dialogue. I'd like to read the scene in the park - two young people drinking.

Why did she take him back after his infidelity ? - write the scene where he explains - or - she forgives him.

As to the writing - I suspect your characters would not say 'I had & They had' but I'd & They'd.

I keep feeling the writing is not 'you' - are you trying to 'write' instead of telling your story? What works for me is to take a print-out away from the PC - take it to the park with a red-pen - read this aloud as if to an audience - edit edit the 'voice'- write this as you would say it to some-one in the pub.

As ever - ignore at will - best of luck.