I think when I looked at it I suggested less, it seemed a bit busy with too many in it, but mine misses some of the accents you want; somewhere between them, maybe?
Improving our 300 Word Stories -- READ FIRST POST!
- Thread starter The Judge
- Start date
I do not presume to interfere in your word order, unless it is to point out inconsistencies in relationships, or outright grammatical errors. And yes, the 'breath at a comma' rule is excellent; when you find spots in front of your eyes and the world blanking out (as has happened to me more than once when singing) you know your setntence is too long or too fragmented. But nested adjectival phrases (the "as I often did that time of year" inside the "Sitting on the lawn" require some separation, or demand effort of the reader to decode.
Anyway, you can always ignore anything I say if you consider I've misunderstood (although in itself this is a reason to investigate whether that point cannot be clarified) or am just plain wrong.
Anyway, you can always ignore anything I say if you consider I've misunderstood (although in itself this is a reason to investigate whether that point cannot be clarified) or am just plain wrong.
hopewrites
Crochet Streamer
Time
A soft spring breeze danced tiny tendrils of my raven hair ticklingly beside my cheek. Flowers dappled the ground and air with their fragrant rejoicing in the season. Laughter rang over our little corner of the world, skipping down the lanes and sneaking into the hearts of those too old to participate in such revelry. Life was perfect.
God and Time conspire against perfection in mortals, I think.
Seated on the lawn, as I often was that time of year, where I could watch over those I loved. With the bright sun caressing my back while I worked, I could almost wish the day would last forever.
Gretchen was muddying up her new boots, while Anna scolded jealously at such wanton delight.
Peter was just coming back with his father when it happened. A flash of thunder and a bolt of pain were the collapse of our idyllic world. It happened too fast to give warning, too sudden to intervene, and I remained frozen in place. Flash again and third and a fourth time; all those I loved were stolen beyond my reach, my heart rent to pieces. I remained immobilized by the suddenness of the attack. The beauty of the day became incongruous with the turmoil in my soul.
Silence is my punishment for silence. Turned to stone by a pain too great to bear. Left to witness time’s dance across all I once knew; meadows turn to forests, pastures to rowhouses, villages swell and are stripped of inhabitants. All under my watchful care and all beyond my reach.
Time can be so cruel. Time does not cure all wounds, centuries later my pain is as fresh as it was that distant spring day.
with changes. fixed the tense thing and jostled the wording in places to make it flow and make more sense.
better?????
Hi Hope, yes, I like this better, and I especially like the fact you kept the things you liked as well.. hubby has just read a rewrite of a scene and I'm at daggers with him over what I think works and what he doesn't, I might just stick to my guns, with the appropriate changes, having seen this.
BTW not really at daggers, the poor chap's a saint.
BTW not really at daggers, the poor chap's a saint.
Okuporr (oops -- can't do the thorn and accents...) -- sorry to come late to this.
A neat idea of the angels as baddies, and as TDZ says, a very good opening line. In view of my own entry this quarter I can hardly talk, but for me it wasn't quite enough of a story, ie with a beginning middle and end, being more of a reflective piece.
I also thought the end didn't quite live up to the promise of the opening. The grandmother's words didn't seem to have any connection with the story, and by italicising them you've given them a prominence they don't really deserve here. On a nit-picky note, I'd have broken the paragraphs up a bit more, especially as they contain lines of dialogue from different people.
hopewrites -- I have to confess I was put off the story by the opening line, which feeling was re-doubled with the third paragraph, as I'm not fond of that kind of philosophical stuff made explicit especially at the beginning of a tale. For my taste, also, it was too over-written, especially the second paragraph. The punctuation and spelling errors in the original counted against it as well, I'm afraid. When there are such excellent stories, as there are each quarter, even small mistakes can mean the difference between no mention and a vote.
A neat idea of the angels as baddies, and as TDZ says, a very good opening line. In view of my own entry this quarter I can hardly talk, but for me it wasn't quite enough of a story, ie with a beginning middle and end, being more of a reflective piece.
I also thought the end didn't quite live up to the promise of the opening. The grandmother's words didn't seem to have any connection with the story, and by italicising them you've given them a prominence they don't really deserve here. On a nit-picky note, I'd have broken the paragraphs up a bit more, especially as they contain lines of dialogue from different people.
hopewrites -- I have to confess I was put off the story by the opening line, which feeling was re-doubled with the third paragraph, as I'm not fond of that kind of philosophical stuff made explicit especially at the beginning of a tale. For my taste, also, it was too over-written, especially the second paragraph. The punctuation and spelling errors in the original counted against it as well, I'm afraid. When there are such excellent stories, as there are each quarter, even small mistakes can mean the difference between no mention and a vote.
hopewrites
Crochet Streamer
Thank you, I have known since I decided to start writing that the technical side would be my weak side, and am trying to improve that. "over-written" meaning I tried too hard to make the reader feel what I wanted? or that my descriptions are unnecessarily detailed?
Thank you again for your input.
Thank you again for your input.
By "over-written" I'm probably conflating a number of issues, but yes, for me it means both trying a bit too hard and putting too much in, particularly adjectives/adverbs -- in that second para you have a bucket-load of them, too many for my taste. Gorgeousness in prose is like gorgeousness in fabric -- the richer the cloth the less you need to ornament it, and go too far and what was elegant and beautiful becomes OTT. Also I don't like anything approaching sentimentality in writing, which again is clearly a matter of taste, but I would caution against such things as the idea of flowers rejoicing and laughter skipping, which can so easily appear a little mawkish if not handled with great care.
hopewrites
Crochet Streamer
ah! thank you, that was very helpful. I will try and remember your quote about cloth next time I write, it should help me make more concise word choices.
Thank you very much
Thank you very much
Thanks.
That is what inspired the opening lines. It was going to be a bit longer, but I had to cut back on my words.Anyhow, since I seem to have suffered from "last post on page" syndrome, I'll be annoying and re-quote my post on this page for any who wish to give feedback.
So, might as well post in here and see what you all thought or if you have any tips for improving for future 300 word challenges (was my first 300 challenge). I got 2 votes so I know someone liked it.[FONT="]
Was going to put it in spoiler tags, but it just turns the writing white.
When Angels Fall.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Man flees and man hides, man fights and man dies, blood flows when Angels fall.” I said it aloud; don’t know why since there’s nobody around to hear, especially not in this place. We’ve all heard it before, from our parents and grandparents; some old saying from a time shortly after the sky cracked and the Angels descended, driving us from our towns and cities, slaughtering. “Be glad for the dead, pity those left to suffer.” Father used to tell me these things before I went to bed. I snorted. Exactly what a child wants to hear before he goes to sleep.[/FONT]
[FONT="]
I let out a yawn and my stomach grumbled. Should’ve packed more food. I stood slowly, slinging my pack and sword over my shoulder and picking up my rifle. Not the best weapon against Angels since bullets don’t kill them, but they sure as hell do shred their wings. Well, the Archs anyway; the Seraphs six wings move way to fast.
I turned and took one last look at the statue I’d been resting against. An Angel, female, worn but beautiful. It marked an old grave; there were hundreds of them here. My grandmother told me people used to believe Angels watched over them, believed they were beings of light, protectors, that’s why they were used on graves. “Yeah, light that can blind and sear flesh from bone.” I used to say. “Fools” I’d called them. I remember she would berate me for it. “Lack of knowledge doesn’t make one a fool boy. Having that knowledge and ignoring it makes the fool. That our ancestors were wrong, that they didn’t know, doesn’t make them stupid.” I sighed smiling and scanned the graveyard, every Angel. So peaceful. “Maybe all the good ones turned to stone, cursed by their cousins.”[/FONT]
Anyhow, since I seem to have suffered from "last post on page" syndrome, I'll be annoying and re-quote my post on this page for any who wish to give feedback.
Like the others, I loved the beginning of this. I also really liked the bit about gunfire and angels -- just fantastic the practical difficulties of defeating the 6-winged seraphs. You set up this fantastic, scary world really well.
It's very well written, too, with a tone that drew me in and kept me there.
For me, the grandmother bit wasn't as thrilling -- it made it explicit that it was the guy sitting thinking (or getting up and thinking) and it didn't make me go 'oooh' at the end.
I find that really hard to do myself, but I notice that the stories I really like are the ones that have an emotional punch at the very end. Boneman's winning 300-worder (with the clock picture) was an excellent example of that. So are the other winners, but his is maybe fresher in my mind because it really opened my eyes to what someone can do with 300 words.
Thank you for your feedback.
I kind of agree about the grandmother bit, but it was the only thing that came to mind when writing. Looking back I think it would've been better to have written about what life was like for him instead of the grandmothers words. Don't think it would've taken anything important from the story and I might have been able to add a little extra about the graveyard he was in, or perhaps a faded inscription on the angel he was resting against.
Mith
Confused
This is my 300 word entry, up for critique now...
I hate this life, I hate this world, I can’t deal with this pain anymore.
With faltering steps I walk through the gates to this garden of death, stumble past memorials for the lost left by the bereaved.
I’m looking for my Angel, I know she is here somewhere, I’ve seen her in my dreams. Every night for weeks now she has visited my dreams, calling to me, promising to take my pain away. Every night for weeks I have longed to go to her and lay myself at her feet. Always I’ve resisted, afraid for those I’m leaving behind, but no more.
Silvery moonlight illuminates my path, guiding my feet, leading me inexorably on.
In a leaf covered glade I find my Angel. She is waiting for me, a carven beauty in stone, a promise of endless peace. I sit at her feet and rest my head against her knees, from a pocket I withdraw a knife. Two cuts is all it takes, just two quick cuts to release a lifetime of hidden pain. The knife falls from my fingers and pressing my wrists on stone I let my blood pool at her feet. I let the moon see my final smile.
There is pain, a horrific wrenching pain…
A blood tinged mist surrounds me, a voice loaded with regret speaks to me.
“With your death you take my place, until another releases you.”
I look out at the world with eyes of stone, trapped in this prison by my own useless death. Wreaths and flowers adorn me, memento’s of grief I don’t deserve. I see you arrive, crowned in sunlight, tears falling at my feet as you kneel.
“Oh Claire, why?” I see you step away and hear a final whisper, “I miss you beautiful.”
BY DEATH RELEASED
I hate this life, I hate this world, I can’t deal with this pain anymore.
With faltering steps I walk through the gates to this garden of death, stumble past memorials for the lost left by the bereaved.
I’m looking for my Angel, I know she is here somewhere, I’ve seen her in my dreams. Every night for weeks now she has visited my dreams, calling to me, promising to take my pain away. Every night for weeks I have longed to go to her and lay myself at her feet. Always I’ve resisted, afraid for those I’m leaving behind, but no more.
Silvery moonlight illuminates my path, guiding my feet, leading me inexorably on.
In a leaf covered glade I find my Angel. She is waiting for me, a carven beauty in stone, a promise of endless peace. I sit at her feet and rest my head against her knees, from a pocket I withdraw a knife. Two cuts is all it takes, just two quick cuts to release a lifetime of hidden pain. The knife falls from my fingers and pressing my wrists on stone I let my blood pool at her feet. I let the moon see my final smile.
There is pain, a horrific wrenching pain…
A blood tinged mist surrounds me, a voice loaded with regret speaks to me.
“With your death you take my place, until another releases you.”
I look out at the world with eyes of stone, trapped in this prison by my own useless death. Wreaths and flowers adorn me, memento’s of grief I don’t deserve. I see you arrive, crowned in sunlight, tears falling at my feet as you kneel.
“Oh Claire, why?” I see you step away and hear a final whisper, “I miss you beautiful.”
I'm going to do one of my punctuation thingies, I'm afraid. But at least that's not fighting with your word count.
comma, I think.
Comma splice
Comma splice
Does this repetition of "dreams" help?
Comma splice.
Comma
Comma
Technically this is two sentences, but more problematic is the use of italics both for this descriptive and the previous occupant's voice, relating them visually when they are separate conceptually.
Plural not possessive=no apostrophe.
probably comma.
I liked this at the time, Mith, and I really liked the last line. I got a bit confused at one point was she on her own grave, or another's ie. had the statue moved. I couldn't decide, if this was a murder by the angel or a suicide, or a bit of both. It was the lifetime of hidden pain line which made me wonder and as such I was left a bit at sea in terms of the emotional buy in. But I did really like it, and it was up there for me as a really good entry.
Mith
Confused
Thanks for the comments and punctuation assist
Ok, I've played around with this a bit now. Firstly to fix the weakness that Vertigo spotted, secondly to introduce a bit more ambiguity into the story and thirdly to get it down under 300 words again.
Thoughts?
Thoughts?
Subtle changes Mosaix, but enough to have quelled my minor issue. I still really liked it - there were just too many good stories!
I didn't understand what was going on at all. I don't get why it doesn't start on day 1 and I feel like I'm missing something with the names - like it's a reference to something I don't know.
To be fair though, I only ever get about 1% of the stories so...
To be fair though, I only ever get about 1% of the stories so...
It doesn't start on day one, Mouse because:
1) the story starts on day 2
2) it's an extract from the journal (there may have been more, who knows?)
3) I only had 300 words
Explanation:
Morales has lost the medication for his paranoid schizophrenia , so he start getting paranoid. He suspects Doyle, of stealing his medication and imagines other stuff is missing too. He suspects Doyle of poisoning him and thinks (maybe he's right) he hears Doyle talking about him with Base. As protection, his other-self damages the antenna, but his real-self doesn't remember but sees that his space-suit has been used. Again he suspects Doyle. Finally he sees Doyle trying to fix the antenna but is now so ill that he imagines it to be some kind of alien and locks Doyle out. Doyle freezes to death.
There was nothing significant in the names at all, just the names of two people in an international Mars expedition.
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