Redial. - Comments

You have an incredibly way of writing. The imagery one gets from your stories stuns me. You have no reason to wish to have any of my "talent" because you have your own.

So, am I correct in thinking that Tom died? Or did he simply leave? Because I want to think he's dead, but then how could Danny continue to reach the answering machine? Wouldn't the number have been disconnected? Hm...:think:

“Hi, you’ve reached Tom – oi, Danny, get off me! I can’t answer my mobile, so you know the drill…”

That line made me laugh really hard, but in a sad sort of way, because of the tone of the rest of the story. To be honest, though, I would not be at all surprised to find out that Tom's actual voicemail was something along those lines. It just seems like them. :XD

No matter who was in the room with him, he would still be alone - because they weren’t Tom.

The way Danny thinks; tramautized by the passing of his lover (whether in death or simply being left) is just captivating. It shows that love is eternal and when one is left, they suffer immensely. It's perfect, in a tragic sort of way.

And I adore the title. The way it connects to the story, after reading, is positively chilling, which is a good thing for this tone.

Oh and you tricked me! I thought Tom was actually there. :grr:

All in all, a touching story, with beautiful writing. You don't need my talent. :arms:

And I'm sorry I can't write epic reviews like you do. But I tried. That counts too, right?

This was amazing. Your use of imagery was perfect. I could visualize it in my head, could watch what happened like it was playing off a screen.
The emotions were electric. The way you described it, I could almost feel the pain and fear.
It just made me so sad. Danny's reactions to everything, you could tell that he must have loved Tom an encredible amount.
This story was crushing.

The bed was cold.

Nice. You put us all in the setting, the tone, so immediately.

The night outside turned angry.

I love how it wasn't the storm, but the night itself that you described. You know that little story, about painters and the meaning of peace? Like, a painting competition about what peace was. Lots of pretty pictures about still lakes and sunsets and meadows. Then, a painting of a raging storm, but in the corner, a mother bird sleeps quietly in her nest. But here, you didn't let them escape the rage. It seemed like it was going to envelope the room.

After a few minutes he remembered Tom’s arms, snaking round him to press his palms to Danny’s spine.

Very nice, very simple gesture of affection.

I love you.”

The words left his lips in no more than a soft breath and he extended his hand out, wanting to cup Tom’s soft cheek and run a thumb over that dimple – but his palm touched nothing but cold air.

I was stunned by that. A soft, silver, almost intangible moment... and then it was gone. I can just imagine what he was feeling.

no amount of calls to his answer phone was ever going to bring him back to anybody.

I got so sad.
Just an overwhelming wave of sad, and that hopeless kind of feeling that won't go away, because someone you loved did. Like, a foreign object replacing air in your lungs; it took up the gap, but left you choking in its wake.

No matter who was in the room with him, he would still be alone - because they weren’t Tom.

He must have loved him so much.

Danny was still shaking when the morning sunlight broke through the kitchen window.

A good, visual finality to an equally stark yet brilliant piece.

Well the writing was very lovely. I just didn't like how sad it was.

Sorry, I am bad at explaining what I thought. But I did like it.

The bed was cold. You set the mood right of the bat. You can just tell something bad is going to happen. And yet, it’s so simple.

The only source of light was the moonbeams refracting off the snow-coated window-ledge outside and into his room, casting pallid pools of brightness over the carpet. Nice description, mon amie. I got a nice, clear picture in my head of the settings

The whole second paragraph is a nice description of insomnia. We all know what’s wrong with Danny without having to hear “He can’t sleep!” Tres bien.
The night outside turned angry. Personification! Oh, wonderful personification! You can tell Danny’s getting really freaked, again without direct descriptions.

Lightening should be “lightning”

Danny’s eyes flicker open in curiosity. He realised his mistake and clenched them shut again, clutching the pillowcase in his hands. Mistakes? I love mistakes! Makes me wanna read more and find out what that mistake was.
Calmly; that was the key. I think it’d be better as “To do it calmly was the key” or “Calmness: that was the key”

The image of his softly smiling face came into his mind behind his closed, tired eyes, and Danny’s muscles relaxed into the mattress. He allowed himself to focus on the creases made in the skin by Tom’s brown eyes as he grinned, also forming that distinctive single dimple on his left cheek that he loved to touch. He lingered on his messy mop of light hair before venturing back to his eyes, feeling so lucky that he was able to look this close into them.
The words left his lips in no more than a soft breath and he extended his hand out, wanting to cup Tom’s soft cheek and run a thumb over that dimple – but his palm touched nothing but cold air. Dream?!

because if Danny could hear Tom, he had to still be here, hadn’t he? And if he was here, he wasn’t lost forever, and Danny was not alone. Reassuring himself. I like it.

and in the moment that his friend saw him like this for the first time, his heart grew cold again. The hand holding the phone dropped limply to his side, and his thorax began to shudder. Whoa. For whatever reason, that line struck me.
He could never be – and no amount of calls to his answer phone was ever going to bring him back to anybody. So… Tom’s dead?

No matter who was in the room with him, he would still be alone - because they weren’t Tom. Awww! How sad. Danny just misses his boyfriend, and now he just retreats into himself.

All in all, it was a very good story. Sad, but in a beautiful way. You have a gift with writing imagery. I feel like I’m in the story. No punctuation problems and grammar and spelling are stated above.

I swear when I read "autophobia" I was like, "Is he afraid of cars?"