Donovan Untrabore

His name is Donovan Untrabore and he is of the classy sort. That is to say, he often wears checkered, collared, and not to mention pleated shirts. Naturally so and almost assuredly so he keeps his pants crisply ironed at the middle. He has most recently gotten into the bizarre habit of tying his shoes once, untying them, and tying them again to insure the longevity of the tie. This was comfort.

You see, Donovan was no more than nineteen years in age. Girls his age were often far too young for him. At least, that was how he saw it. If a girl didn’t like the clothes he wore there was obviously something wrong with her taste. If a girl he found particularly interesting found him rather dull, it was obvious to Donovan she was uneducated. When a girl tickled Donovan’s fancy, that’s when it was all over and started, both for him and her. His mind would flood with thoughts of love, and hers would stir undoubtedly. Too often did Donovan let the ladylove take him down an irreversible path.

But today is a new day for Donovan, and he is walking out of his two and a half bath apartment into downtown L.A. looking rather sharp. He’s following his senses and he’s got a great feeling that a certain girl will find him doing something interesting today in a park. On his way to the park he picks up a cigar from the local Stop n’ Smoke, and lights it rather coolly on the sidewalk.

“Stop smorkin them… cigar………..ettes!” sputtered a rather untimely, dirty, grimey, long-fingernailed, and raggedly dressed man.

Donovan shot him a quick look. “These are cigars you see, do I look foolish to thee? Mine decisions are mine alone, look away before I raise my tone.” No sooner had he finished his words had the man said, “Whut are you…. some sort of.. magician?”

This was easier to laugh at, and Donovan forgot the presence of the homeless fellow, and carried himself further down Seline Street before coming to a stop light.

“Did you hear about the bridge collapsing downtown?” a rather portly fellow said to Donovan at his next stop. Donovan annoyed, but humored the man.

“No, I can’t say I have heard, but oh?”

“Well, I didn’t hear much to speak of that I know, just that maybe a thing or two happened.” He trailed off and just kind of soaked in Donovan’s presence.

“Well, I do hope that I have been comforting, in your obvious time of mourning.” Donovan scoffed at his new friend standing gawk-eyed as he continued down Seline. The oddballs were certainly out today, and Donovan had no problem reminding them he was above them. As he marched down 4th holding his newly acquired jumbo coffee from a local Coffee Shop, he bumped into some bum who knocked all of Donovan’s coffee onto the sidewalk!

“Quite obviously so, that your face would show. A face like none and a face like many bums, either way you’re to blame, chum!” and with a most fearful cry he grabbed coins from nearby and hurled them at his assailant. Bedazzled and respectfully so, the bum ran away with his own Cup of Joe. Undeniably and handsomely so, Donovan straightened up and prodded on with his unseen stick.

Round to 8th and Fortris, Donovan carried on with his iron fist. Never had so much clay and brick been crushed by one fist. But alas, the damage and carnage would tarry on. He braved the transit system they called, a bus, and fed the vehicle its fare.

“Sit down!” squeaked a kindly woman seated nearby.

“Seats are for children ma’am, and that’s not the kind of child I am!” he only dutifully replied. She eyed him closely and shrugged off his crazy behavior. It was obvious for him and him alone to see, see the magic hidden beneath.

As the bus wavered and plentifully stopped, Donovan methodically tapped with his lips. Unaware of his lasting words and those fully aware, he is interrupted.

“Sir, do sir, stop sir, such crazy words!” A rather finagled woman desperately cried of Donovan.

“Such desperation and such despair,” Donovan broke free, “I can’t understand how you so despair! Stop harassing me, quick leave me be!”

“I’m quite unsure of you, this day.” A rather usual voice said to Donovan.

“It was as if you awoke me today,” Donovan continued, “And told me today was my day!”

Toppled and obviously upset, “A deal is a deal.”

Donovan clambered on and on over the tracks until his stop meant for keeps. Until finally off his train and fast transit, did he realize he forgot his stop. So begrudgingly and rightfully so, Donovan trudged along and along the side of the road. A pair of lights struck him in the eyes, which he soon met.

“Do I know you?” said the naïve helper.

“Aught I to know you?” replied Donovan, and quickly don’t you know.

“Just as quickly as you showed, surely I wasn’t untold.” At once recognizing the befuddled Donovan. “You’re no stranger to me, Donovan.”

“That time, you said my name like it was mine! It is my name and it is my game, I am Donovan and you know that’s who I am.” Certain distaste built up in Donovan’s throat, and he littered it for all to see.

“No longer with your presence shall I be, for disdainfully I have grown towards you.” retorted our increasingly wise and educated friend. “For every word I speak, is a word spoken against you!” Surely each word increased his intelligence six-fold and a visible glow began around him.

“Quench you up with endless water, each shall have their training fodder! Perhaps you will be mine, I won’t hold it a crime!” Echoed and bellowed Donovan, for now he held himself steady and low. These places are the places he needs to be. Soon the educated friend tarnished below, an afterthought for Donovan and his crowd.

Finally, he will take himself home. His destiny is destined to be as easy as the next you see. Tragically and trustfully so, he went to his looming home thrust at the end of 6th and Limel. There he found his most indiscriminate brother, whom is Daniel to his credit.

“Donovan, it’s Daniel, you see?” he squinted hard but Daniel it was indeed. “Daniel, its you I see.” He relax fully said so. “Are mine eyes deceiving me this day, Donovan?” Force fully but expectedly so. “Daniel, you’re eyes are as deceived as mine, this day.” Donovan for once forgetting if he was in step, in between, or out of step, quickly remembered his cue, “It doesn’t matter what deceit they bring, as long as its truth we keep bringing!” Half expectant and half desired so. “Does this seem timely, given, or previously disclosed?” Donovan remembering, “The things Daniel says are logical and timely, which make the things he says to be timely and logical.” Daniel heartedly amused but most understood, “For his desire to quench me out holds strong, yet his desire for truth holds stronger.” Soon through his rapid-fire questioning, Donovan found himself slipping one by, “Who perspective is perspective enough?” Such tomfoolery, Daniel first undeniably thought, but hadn’t Donovan expected as much? “If perspective is perspective you’re seeking, then the only natural thing you would find is perspective.” Perhaps some truth, perhaps some lie, either way Donovan couldn’t deny: it had come from Daniel’s mouth. “Well then I guess perspective can’t be taught, and teaching can’t be learned.”

Donovan soon felt his insides imploding and churning, and he twisted up into the arms of forgetfulness. With a sudden flash of light his world snaps back into what he assumes is place. With his sudden flash of light his moments become seconds and his seconds become years, the abilities seem so intricately obscure. He opened his eyes and here he was, kneeling at the station to tie his shoes. He had been here before, at this station, and tying his shoe. It was all too familiar and too close for Donovan, he didn’t feel comfortable there so he took himself away until he found a place of comfort.

 

Okay, your character walks downtown, and he's very focused on appearances. Tying his shoes properly is important enough to make it into the story. He likes to make rhymes when he talks, thinking to impress listeners. After all, "the oddballs were certainly out today."

You're in need of a story line here, complete with some action or meaningful event. Otherwise, your readers will lose interest.

Your style is stilted and archaic. No one I know talks or thinks that way.

One thing most writers do is omit trivia. They present action that drives the characters from one situation to another. The characters struggle with conflicts, they suffer, love, despair, hope and scheme. The reader identifies (in some cases) and is swept into the plot, forgetting for the moment his own problems.

So, I think it needs some work. Keep trying, and please don't be put off by constructive criticism.

 

Have you seen Wes Anderson's films? Something like Life Aquatic, Bill Murray catching the shark isn't really that important, its more like learning about his character. This was in my mind more of a characterization than a story, because like you said, it has no real action or event.

However, I appreciate your time in reading it, and I will let you know when I revise it. And I will think about your criticism. Thanks chief