Thanks for the review. I’m hoping to get the rest of it up this week. Then it will be much more clear.
Joel.
Short Story / Cleansing
Though the demons of chance spy upon us, it is not us they see, only our indecision.
April, the new moon, the old habit. I walked along a path lit by firelight. The wicked shadow play on the houses across the street offered the image of neurotic laughter. It was as if the houses, though just as vulnerable as the other, and in fact threatened by the other, were nonetheless delighting in the sanctuary of avoided-wrath.
The air was in my face and was fresh with the memory of Spring rains. I walked fast, but not too fast. Random images of frightened children, dying horrible deaths of the worst kind, of weeping mothers unable to control the rolling certainty of fate, flittered within the echo-chamber of my mind.
“What have I done?”
I kept walking, as fast as I could, though each footfall seemed in slow motion. Behind me a small explosion hunched my shoulders. In the distance, sirens responded to the hovel’s distress. Another explosion, this one violent. Shards of debris, glass, wood, fabrics, all smouldering, pelted my back and the bushes around me. And with them came that pernicious odor. Like a cloud of acid, that smell of distilled death flooded the air, driving back the freshness of the Spring rains.
Lights were blinking on in the neighborhood. I slowed down and turned. “Don’t” be stupid. No one walks away from something like this.” People started rushing into the streets. At first they stopped at the imaginary barriers of their own properties. The sirens shrieked impending law. Then the bolder stepped into the street. For a scene like this there had to be those who gave up their ground to the authorities. It would be wrong were it otherwise. The almost bold followed into the street. Then the first fire engine rounded the corner and stared down the hostile looks of the possessive neighbors, forcing them to relinquish.
I crossed the street and took up an orbit at the edge of the gathering crowd. Lightning shadows danced in chaos between flashes of firelight, kissing each face with shuddering relief, only to return them to the clutches of the unfolding spectacle. I alone received no kisses from the flame’s light.
“Who are they?”
The murmuring of the crowd whispered, “Innocence.”
“There is no innocence, only the dead are innocent, and they don’t exist.”
“Unfortunates.”
“There is no fortune, there is no fate.”
The susurrant choir then said, “Evidence.”
This rattled me. They knew, somehow they knew. They were staring at me in secret. They knew.
A flat face turned to meet my eyes. Her blank stare carried a hidden accusation and a bold investigation. What did she want? How did she know? I couldn’t take her stair. The firemen were keeping their distance as they hosed down the collapsing home. Some sprayed the houses on either side. I glanced back towards my accuser, but she had fled. Panic!
“Where?” My synapses sparked rapid fire solutions. “Where is she, what has she done! I must, I must…”
I kept my face calm despite the insistent surging of myriad trepidations, a thousand pinpricks, a million molecules of irresistible pressure. Pushing me, rushing me, forcing me to decision. “Where was she, who is she telling? I must get away!”
The crashing of the collapsing house fell behind me. The murmuring of the crowd, the efforts of the firefighters, dwindled away. I was running. “No!” My mind screamed louder, “No, stop!” But my body wasn’t listening. Not until the flicker lighting of the emergency was faded into echos could I get control back. Always getting control. If only that were a career option, master of getting control. Then I would truly be successful, for I was the master of ‘getting control’.
Through my gasps for breath the familiar conversation began to return. Though I hated it, it was better than that which I had just been through. What an awful thing. If there were Fates ruling our futures surely I had earned enough karma to retire from this responsibility. The burden was almost too much. Almost.
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RhapsodyRead reviewed Version 2 -
Read 33% of the Item
Interesting. You have an excellent hook at the beginning of your story. “Though the demons of chance spy upon us, it is not us they see, only our indecision.” I was immediately drawn in to your work. However, I felt like wordiness and an over-abundance of similies and metaphores slowed the flow of the piece and interfered with the clarity. I think a little rewording could fix this problem.
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avedis reviewed Version 2 -
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From this short section, the theme is not clear yet. What is here is well done overall and captures interest. I can’t rate something incomplete highly as a short story, so sorry for the lowish marks.
A few suggestions;
“The wicked shadow play on the houses ..as if the houses,” Repetition, “The wicked shadow play on the houses across the street offered the image of neurotic laughter. It was as if those particular homes”
“The air was in my face and was fresh with” Repetition again, “The air was in my face, fresh with”
“footfall seemed in slow”. ‘Seemed’ is a very weak and overused word.->”footfall sensed in slow”
“I alone received no kisses from the flame’s light.” I don’t understand this, why?
The last sentence is also confusing, perhaps because it is leading to something in the next part.
Still, overall very good,
ShiriHatcher reviewed Version 2 -
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This story is very interesting. The only things that I found odd that most of the lines had too many spaces in there. It was unappropiate.
Ex:
“Though the demons of chance spy upon us, it is not us they see, only our indecision.
April, the new moon, the old habit. I walked along a path lit by firelight. The wicked shadow play on the houses across the street offered the image of neurotic laughter. It was as if the houses, though just as vulnerable as the other, and in fact threatened by the other, were nonetheless delighting in the sanctuary of avoided-wrath.
The air was in my face and was fresh with the memory of Spring rains. I walked fast, but not too fast. Random images of frightened children, dying horrible deaths, of weeping mothers unable to control the rolling certainty of fate, flittered within the echo-chamber of my mind.”
I think the space between them wasn’t necessary to put in because the lines was alittle too short to be a paragraph each to tell you the truth. Other than that then this literature is fine.
lluuiiissaa reviewed Version 2 -
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your first line was a fantastic attention grabber. loved the description of the blast: “distilled death”. i like your style and flow of writing. i’m not quite sure whats going on though. perhaps a few more hints would lead us in the right direction.
Icarus_in_Asbestos reviewed Version 2 -
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Page one:
First, I’d like to say that I really like your opening line:
“Though the demons of chance spy upon us, it is not us they see, only our indecision.”
It grabs your attention and sets the mood. Great job.
You weave your words wonderfully, by the way. Great reading until we get to the line:
“I kept walking, as fast as I could, though each footfall seemed in slow motion.”
This sentence is fine, but I really think it would flow much better if it were written a little differently. Maybe something like:
“I kept walking, as fast as I could, though each footfall seemed slower than the last.”
Another standout sentence:
“The sirens shrieked impending law.”
Very nice! Very poetic.
Page two:
I really love this sentence:
“Lightning shadows danced in chaos between flashes of firelight, kissing each face with shuddering relief, only to return them to the clutches of the unfolding spectacle.”
but I’ve got to say I’m not in love with the one that follows:
“I alone received no kisses from the flame’s light.”
Seems a bit melodramatic. Maybe because of the second use of the ‘kisses’ metaphor. Small doses.
The dialog is fine! The murmuring of the “susurrant choir” creates a mood of uncertainty, and that is a good thing. Keeps the reader off balance.
And then we come to this sentence:
“A flat face turned to meet my eyes. Her blank stare carried a hidden accusation and a bold investigation.”
It’s OK, but I think you could improve its flow if you wrote it something like this:
“A flat face turned to meet my eyes, her blank stare carrying a hidden accusation and a bold investigation.”
A little thing, but little things add up.
And yet another standout sentence:
“I kept my face calm despite the insistent surging of myriad trepidations, a thousand pinpricks, a million molecules of irresistible pressure. Pushing me, rushing me, forcing me to decision. “Where was she, who is she telling? I must get away!”
I really do like that one.
Page three:
Not really fond of this one passage:
“Not until the flicker lighting of the emergency faded into echos could I get control. Always getting control. If only that were a career option. Then I would truly be successful, for I was the master of ‘getting control’.”
I think it’s the repetition of the phrase “getting control”. I guess you want it to come off mantra like, but it really isn’t working as is.
There are a few places where you might want to substitute commas for periods and vice versa, and a few spelling mistakes, but all in all I like it and I would love to read more. Thanks.
Emily11 reviewed Version 2 -
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I thought this was a very good story. You used amazing detail that created a perfect picture in my mind of the scene.I saw nothing really wrong with it but there were some sentences that i had to read a little more to understand but other than that is was great suspencfull story.
ellefie reviewed Version 2 -
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I don’t think your tense works with the descriptive nature of other passages. For example “I was running” in:
“The murmuring of the crowd, the efforts of the firefighters, dwindled away. I was running.”
completely alters the tone of the piece and makes it sound clumsy and simple-minded. It doesn’t fit the same tone of the piece that was suggested in your opening line, or what is suggested throughout with your more loquacious descriptions.
The opening line hooks the attention – it is a great opening line – but again, the follow-up line detracts from this. I think if you changed this to third-person narrative it would solve this by making it more dramatic.
In:
“Like a cloud of acid, that smell of distilled death flooded the air”
because you have personalised the description of death, you may want to use “death, death flooded” or “it flooded” to make the description more powerful. You may want to consider reinforcing other parts too in this way.
However, in other instances, like with the repetition of “getting control” – I think the repetition is unnecessary – I don’t think it creates any effect.
I think if you can clear up how powerful you want your voice to be in this, then it would work much better.
Mdhuilin reviewed Version 2 -
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As a piece, it’s contained in itself and reminds me of the general conflict felt within people when compelled to do a public act. The paranoia, the caution and closed in awkwardness kept me insecure as I read, a good feeling to have in a piece such as this. It’s not meant to comfort; it distorts and throws off balance.
I’ve been mentally invaded.
In a good way.
dpak reviewed Version 2 -
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What a fascinating evocation of the mindset of this character! Of course there is much to speculate about? Was he a terrorist? Or was his motive something more personal? The fact that there are two explosions while he is still walking away – and that he gets pelted by debris i n the second – suggests that he is an amateur. But then again he wouldn’t be the first amateur to try his hand at bombing.
On a technical note, the sirens seem to follow the first explosion too quickly – especially as it is followed by a second explosion while the narrator is still sufficiently close to be rained down upon by the second blast. Or did he call the police before the explosion to give them a warning to evacuate?
This was a story that really sets the reader thinking and wondering – a fragment that leaves us yearning for more.
There were a few lapses in the language: ”It was as if the houses, though just as vulnerable as the other, and in fact threatened by the other, were nonetheless delighting in the sanctuary of avoided-wrath.” This is just a little too bulky and unwieldy. One comma-demarcated parenthesis is fine: two is one too many. Also “avoided wrath” sounds a bit clumsy.
But the overall tone of the poem works well, taking us into the mind of the tormented protagonist who is not sure of the rightness of his cause, but does it anyway in his desire to be “in control.”
djini35 reviewed Version 2 -
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Your imagery is good and you bring the scene to life. I would like to see the story developed some more before any harsh critique can be leveled against it. So far this piece sounds intriguing and has the potential to hold the reader’s attention.
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