Awesome review. Thanks for those words of encouragement. Because of your review, I just revised and put up the third version of the story. If you have the time, please critique it again! I look forward to it.
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Flash Fiction / Among Men
You're in a room.
The first thing to notice here? The complete lack of true, proper lighting. The second thing was the absolute lack of anything else. The room seemed stripped bare of furnishings. No chairs or sofas or tables, and the walls were as naked as the floor; one look, even in the dull, amber light filtering through the barred windows cut high on the walls revealed the concrete bricks making up the six sides of the room. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling whispered of nothing more than complete and utter confinement.
In the absolute center of the room, measured to fractional inches of perfection, there sat a man. Completely unmoving and gripping tight the edges of what was likely the only chair to be found for miles and miles.
Any attempt at description, to any graspable degree of precision, proved a futile endeavor. To simply write this man off as being covered in shadow was the mark of a brash, thoughtless mind. It did not simply cover the man, it layered him. Stacked itself like thick plates onto his arms and his chest. Parts of him, bits and pieces here and there, were indistinguishable from the shadow-stuff itself. When he spoke, words drifted lazily past his lips and a low, gravely tone edged his words; grated on the ears and drew jagged lines across the skin.
"I remember…I remember. I remember a time when I could look into her eyes and I'd never have to look away. Wouldn't want to. I remember a time when I was comfortable with the man I used to be. Accepted my virtues and embraced my sins. You need both to be human, you know. A lot of people overlook that."
A flame sparked to life furiously and surrounded the man's hand in a halo of dim, red light. Shadows, once static and immobile, undulated with the flickering flame, splashed the walls and painted an unsettling scene of angels dancing with demons. A smaller, brighter ember floated mid-air; noxious vapors that swarmed the room told the story. A lighter. A cigarette. A kiss.
"It's like. God, it's like….hold on. Here, let me try to put it to you this way."
A long, sorrowful drag of the paper wrapped coffin-nail had the ember smoldering patiently. An almost invisible cloud of smoke diffused from his lips, blanketed his face in fog before rising steadily towards the ceiling and impregnating the clean air with its chemical filth.
"You know how they say that losing your sight is the most horrible thing that could happen to you or whatever? I'm sure you've heard it. Somewhere, from someone. Pretty bad, right? Well, ever thought about what it'd be like if you lost your sense of smell? Everything you eat tastes dull and grainy and stupid. You can't smell flowers anymore. Or detergent. Rain, none of it. The smell of a woman? Gone. Forever."
Another sharp, steady inhale; another creeping, ominous exhale. The man brought his wrist to rest against the incline of his knee and the occasional shake of his fingers scattered ash across ground. Gray snow piling on an already gray world.
"If you stay awake long enough, you start to see it. The problems piling up all around us, each one racing to reach the sky. I don't know. I don't know what it is. It's almost like not blinking for a long time. Keep your eyes open long enough and you start to notice the little things. Your usual take on life gets bunched up like tissue paper and thrown out the window. Insomnia is the exact same way, but it lasts longer and it hits harder. The patterns become clear. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer. Violence solves too many questions, kindness doesn't solve nearly enough. And the stupid stand at the top of it all."
The man reached up slowly, edging the cigarette's filter towards his mouth. A well placed flare of the ember, as if hit by a sudden and intangible gust, brought just enough light to touch more than the bare edges of his face. A sharp, beak-like nose. Not beautiful, just unique. Round, healthy cheeks that transitioned nicely to a well-defined jaw. The man was not lacking his own, particular brand of allure but what could be naturally born comeliness was severely undermined by the tired bags around his eyes. The wrinkles stretching the corners of his lips.
He was old. Strong and handsome, but old.
The man touched the red cherry of his hand-rolled cigarette to the lip of the chair, paid it no mind as it sizzled in protest of being snuffed out, and tucked the remainder behind his ear.
"I hope you don't mind that I'm just talking about myself here. It's all I really know nowadays. All I can really vest some faith in. Sometimes I feel like a damned fool. I'll wake up in the middle of the night and reach out to her. My arm's all tense. I can feel the want ebbing from my fingertips like string pulled out of my hands. Every time, every damn time I swear, I expect something to be there. Waiting for me, like a gift. Like it's something I've worked for. Something I deserve."
He sighed, and it was heavy. An invisible weight balanced itself precariously on his shoulders and made him sag. He slid down his chair and leaned forward a bit, trying to get comfortable under this new burden. He was so tired, and Father Time was a spiteful bastard.
"I can't help it, no matter how hard I try. Sometimes…sometimes I'm just walking down an empty hallway or in a room all by myself and I can hear her calling me. I don't think she's calling me, I know it. Reminding me that I love her. Calling me back for a kiss. There are times…if I just stare long enough I can see her face sketched out in the sand. Her eyes in the stars. Feel her fingers in the breeze. I can stare into the dark and see her looking back at me like nothing's wrong. Like nothing even happened. But it did…it sure as hell did."
For the next hour or so the man sat so still and so quietly that his impassivity bordered on the inhumane. He didn't have to say anything. The emotions swelling his insides were strong enough to saturate the air around him. The room was his heart and it reflected his soul, beating in tandem with his pain. Spiraling down into a deep, dark nothingness, falling for all time, sheeted in ice and then burned from the inside out.
He stood up suddenly, rage roiling around him like a churning ocean, the sunlight that streamed through the window flickering like a cheap light bulb before dimming to twilight. His fist clenched in rage.
"And what for?! Is this supposed to be fair?! God's laughing at his little ant farm from on high, and He thought it'd be better for the world if she just died?! I'm not even a fucking man anymore. I'm just an empty shell going through the motions of life like some kind of fuckin' robot. Get up, eat, sleep, over and over and over again. Until I waste away into bone dust and worm food."
The next few minutes were infinite in their sobriety, winding down the drain of time and the man did nothing more than stand there with his fists pressed against his eyes and his lungs stretching to take deeper and deeper breaths. Air to quench the fire in his breast. He seated himself after what seemed like too long a while, rubbing his knees nervously and tilting his head to look at the gathering light streaming through the window.
"When it snows, I can feel her next to me. Her warmth, creeping up my arms and legs. I know there's nothing there. I can pass my hand right through the air where she should be, and I can see how empty the space next to me is. But she's there. Somehow. She's my compass, and every day I'm force to live without her is like eating glass dipped in alcohol. It hurts so bad for so long, but I somehow manage to stomach the pain just so I can do it the next day all over again."
The man shuddered. Decided that he had gone too long without a smoke and plucked the half-spent cigarette from behind his ear. He settled it between his lips, lit it, and the tendrils of smoke danced around his frame like snakes.
"I thought I found a cure for a bit. I tried not sleeping and not eating for a while. I thought one day I might get tired enough that I'd sleep through the night in blackness, and I wouldn't see her in my dreams. Or that I would get so hungry that the pain in my stomach might overwhelm the pain in my heart. It sounds stupid now but they were the only ideas that made sense at the time. Six days in, I fainted. I held her in my arms for 12 solid hours. A half a day of pure bliss. Then I woke up and that was it. It felt like someone scooped my heart out with a shovel."
He paused for a moment. His eyes were mute, coveted by a blanket of shadow, but they bore through space like meteors. Hot pinpoints that etched lines into the wall. If he turned that gaze on you, it felt like he was tracing a path across your body, reaching into the very depths of your soul. The quality of his voice changed. It was desperate before. Desperate for salvation or some form of closure. Now it was steady. Steady and cold.
"Man is a creature of habit, and little more than that. What most people fail to realize is that our darkest habits can never be broken. I don't mean smoking or drinking. Not drugs or televisions. Not the way you comb your hair or what kind of food you eat. I mean greed. Anger. Hunger. Fear. Love is my shackle. Sounds pretty doesn't it? But it's one of the heaviest ones. People do evil things for love. Love of country. Love of God. Love of…of her."
Remorse.
He leaned forward, and something sinister stole the air. A thousand eyes from all corners of the world now trained their demonic irides on this little, inconsequential room.
"It's a dangerous thing, love is. It can be twisted and turned into something just absolutely grotesque. Into lust so strong that we will take what is not given to us. There are things darker than this, ingrained into the fabric of human nature for as long as anyone cares to remember. Murder. We thirst for blood like animals. Code of honor? Acts of valor and courage? All lead to one end. War? An excuse. It's blood, that's all.
"If you look around, look real close, you start to see that there are chains no matter what you're lookin' at. And that's not even the half of it! No one knows the damages. You know how our society is 'advancing'? All I see is the chains getting thicker and heavier. Longer, and they cage the whole world. But me? True and pure love keeps me free. I'm one in a billion. A minority. It makes me a titan, not a man. A chained slave that sleeps in the gutters but looks to the stars."
Without warning, as abruptly as the dawn breaks over the horizon, the room was filled with a horrifying screech of murder and pain; flowing just outside those barred windows. Thousands of people stampeded down the streets and alleys, trampled over one another in their desperation. At first, the screams proved to be nothing more than an incoherent cloud of guttural syllables and vowels, but soon enough a steady message thumped alongside their feet. Listening closely one could hear, mixed in with the slur of anxiety and mass hysteria, that the sky was falling.
He flicked the ember into a desolate corner of the barren room, rising as he exhaled. The man raked his fingers through his hair, sobbing as he nearly ripped it clean from his skull and looked to the windows. His tears glittered like comet tails in the light of the inferno raging outside. It was impossible to think of another man that looked so stoic in a halo of dust made from the remnants of a broken world. With the back of his hands, the man roughly brushed away his tears, squared his shoulders, and took a shuddering breath.
"I don't know why, but it feels like the world stopped giving birth to legends. Like there's no more room for heroes anymore. I feel like I'm the only one left. Well, thanks for taking the time to listen. It doesn't change anything, but getting things off my chest makes it a little easier to breathe. I gotta get back to work now. Sky's not going to hold itself up."
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snarfus reviewed Version 3 -
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DaturaOnFire reviewed Version 3 -
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Hypernormal reviewed Version 3 -
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Hi there,
I have to be honest…I think I liked the previous version better. It had an overall air of being more honest and gritty. This version comes across as wanting to be a bit too…polished.
(The complete lack of true, proper lighting.) – There’s a conflict here, which makes this sentence stand out. ‘Lack’ gives a sense of ambiguity as it is, but following ‘complete’ that ambiguity disappears. But then the ambiguity returns again when ‘lack’ is followed by ‘true, proper lighting’.
You shift tenses here: “You’re in a room.” to “The second thing was…”
“If you stay awake long enough, you start to see it.” and “Keep your eyes open long enough and you start to notice the little things.” – These seem like repeated sentences in the same paragraph.
(He was so tired,) – I could be wrong, I’ve scanned a couple times, but this looks like the only instance where we’re inside his head, while the rest of the piece is in third person objective. ‘He seemed tired’ or something along those lines might be better.
(every day I’m force to live ) – forced
(If he turned that gaze on you, it felt like…) – This really stands out. Should be “it would feel like…” Conditional tense.
I wish I could put my finger on exactly what it is that makes me like the previous one better, to help you out, but no dice I’m afraid. I read over it twice. Maybe it’s me.
Don’t get me wrong, though, this is still a great piece of work.
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Hypernormal reviewed Version 2 -
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I really really like this piece. The worst thing I can say about it is that the grammar needs straightening up and there are a couple word repetitions, and spelling errors—but I can’t wait to see how this shapes up on a third or fourth draft.
I love the fact that at the end you realise that he is some sort of hero, and it’s left to the reader to decide exactly which type.
I’d personally be happy to end the review at this point, because even though the story is not polished I like it well enough, but I guess I have to give something other than praise.
A few repeated words here that you might want to get rid of:
(The man raked his fingers through his hair, sobbing as he nearly ripped the hair out…)
(A thousand eyes, from all corners of the world, now trained their eyes to this little…)
In the first two paragraph ‘complete’ and ‘completely’ appear twice each. A writer of your ability can easily substitute two of those occurrences for other words.
That was stretching it, too. I honestly can’t say much about it that I don’t like. It’s an awesome piece. Mysterious; intimate; poignant.
Great stuff.
ladlamlag reviewed Version 2 -
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Clarification: the “5” rating for flash fiction simply means, for me, that it reads longer than what flash fiction should. I’m new to the genre and, too, have written pieces that seems to short but too long.
Your dialogue is the best aspect of this story. I called you out for writing a long piece for flash, but I have to note that this is one of the best uses for dialogue in a flash piece that I’ve read. That’s what keeps the story going, what maintains reader interest, and also how I get to know this guy.
I don’t have a sense of time, place, or of the person to which the character is speaking, though.
Good job!
burnvictim reviewed Version 2 -
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“whispered of complete and utter confinement”
I don’t understand this image. Perhaps, the echoes from the walls, etc, might whisper… but a visual image would seem to make more sense.
The third paragraph does a bit too much “this isn’t what he was” sort of negative character sketching. I find that usually comes off as trying too hard to make things mysterious.
You use the word ember quite a few times. To the point where it calls attention to the repetition.
“The emotions swelling his insides were strong enough to saturate the air around him.” This completely contradicts his impassivity you mention right beforehand. Plus, I don’t know what emotions swelling insides looks like or translates to in reality.
Some of your other images are also confused:
“danced… like snakes”... Those famous dancing snakes I’m not familiar with, I take it.
“coveted by a blanket of shadow”... Covered would make sense… coveted would have to mean that this blanket of shadow really wanted his eyes. Mute eyes doesn’t add up, and then add in shooting like meteors… you lost me completely.
“A thousand eyes… now trained their eyes” Alert the Department of Redundancy Department.
snarfus reviewed Version 2 -
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Interesting piece, but it needs some work. My main problem is the format. As it stands, it’s a story that’s hard to read. This would work much better a one-act stage play or a screenplay for a short film, as it’s basically just monologue and some stage directions as it stands. Otherwise, I’d strongly suggest dropping the 3rd person narration and rewriting it in the first person. The narrative voice doesn’t appear to tell the reader anything that the protagonist couldn’t tell the reader. Plus, since there isn’t really anybody else in the story anyway, it couldn’t hurt to have the whole thing told from his point of view. It would make the main character have more of a connection with the reader.
My other main concern is with the ending. It’s just so out-there. The reader thinks this is a moving story about personal loss and then BAM! There’s an apocalypse. Huh? You definitely need to foreshadow that a bit more.
My last bit of advice is for the section that starts, “When it snows…” I think you could definitely make an analogy between his loss and someone with an amputated limb; you know, how someone who loses an arm can still feel their hand flex? That definitely seems similar to how you character feels, and such an analogy could really drive the point home to the reader.
Overall, not a bad start; with some fine-tuning, this could be very good.
Betty13 reviewed Version 1 -
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I really like this piece in spite of how it may appear with the numerous notes and suggestions below. I feel like there is a lot more to be said in between. I love the ending, left me questioning what sort of creature he is.
I hope my suggestions don’t hit you like an insult. I am merely pointing out things that felt unfinished, or confusing. I would like to see this piece reworked and tightened up. It would be a terrific story.
Good luck.
The first paragraph talks about NOTHING existing in the room. The next tells of a man on a chair in the middle.
Six sides of the room. This would be an effective visual if you expanded on the thought just a tad.
His silhouette
Dark shadows cast by (blank) created a darkness that lapped…
It seemed as though pieces of him were shadow rather than flesh.
dragging goosebumps across my skin…. ??
The glowing ember of a cigarette cast a flooding light?
and the twisting cloud of smoke…
The paragraph about “plucking the cigarette from his mouth” is very confusing.
Unclear.
His beak-like nose…
“lip of the chair” unclear
“ballast” He has a counterweight on his back? An invisible ballast pressed down on his shoulders…???
“like nothing is wrong”
pain pulsing in time with the rhythm of his heart???
Then it suddenly goes into second person with “you”
The next paragraph is angry and could use some sort of physical description about the change in his demeanor.
Now he is standing?
Unable to continue, he plucked the cigarette…
I like the paragraph about the love shackles.
...something sinister claimed the air…??
Who was screeching?
MrJawbreakingEquilibrium reviewed Version 1 -
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Nitpicks:
- jawline is just one word
- surround the air around him – kind of hoaky sounding; redundant, I’d tweak it* a bit and choose one or the other. Or change surround to ‘satuarate’ or something akin to that.
How is the room filled with sunlight but he’s cast in silhoutte and the ember of the cigarette is plain to see?
tiling his head – typo? tilting?
again – you say earlier the sunlight is streaming throught the windows and later it’s steadily gathering, it’s not cohesive
I’d say the story has potential. It’s pretty interesting but it seems to be filled with holes. I have no idea why the narrator is there talking to the man, who the man is and what he has to do with what’s going on outside. The whole last part with the sky falling and ‘the sky is not going to hold itself up’ doesn’t play out in a way that’s not…vague is what I want to say. I have no idea what anything has to do with what.
I think it’ll help to explain why the narrator is there and what his purpose is and to give a fuller explanation of what is going on outside. Because that part comes out of nowhere.
The story does have potential like I said but I think that it needs some of those holes filled. I get the impression that maybe the world maybe only exists because of this guy but then the god thing confuses that thought…I can’t make heads or tails of what’s going on without more info.
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