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Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Apr 1, 2011 3:41:29 GMT -5
That latest one, with the old folks... It's well written, lots of good detail and such; I get a really good sense of the atmosphere. Unfortunately, I don't really have any idea what's going on. It feels cluttered, a lot of information in a pretty small space.
I'm a little confused about the narrator. I get the impression that the narrator is much younger than those patrons he/she describes, but doesn't really have any part in the "story." So it seems a little out of place when the narrator drops an opinion or idiom into the narration; calling the people "oldies," etc.
But, like I said, I liked the mood of it. I get this mental picture of these barflys who have all this history, and know eachother because they've all been going to the same bar for like 40 years. But now that they are older, instead of coming out with the nightlife, in the low light and smoke and billiards that come with it; they show up in the day time for the lunch special, taking up the same postures and positions they have for years.
It's cute, in a sad kind of way. I can imagine you actually sitting at a pub writing this, just looking at the regulars and imagining them if they were still engaged in the same habits 30 years from now.
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Apr 1, 2011 6:45:15 GMT -5
I'm a little confused about the narrator. I get the impression that the narrator is much younger than those patrons he/she describes, but doesn't really have any part in the "story." So it seems a little out of place when the narrator drops an opinion or idiom into the narration; calling the people "oldies," etc. Oops! I suck at getting that bit right. Cluttered is also accidental. I may have squeezed too much detail in because I was bored. Cute but sad is something I was mildly aiming for :] Thank you, Dude Z. |
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Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Apr 1, 2011 11:50:03 GMT -5
There's nothing wrong with the narrator passing judgement or speaking idiomaticly but in such a case it's usually good if the narrator is actually part of the story, rather than just narrating.
For third person omnipotent, it's usually best to try and remain impartial and concentrate on just what is occuring, not so much how you feel about those occurences.
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Apr 17, 2011 6:42:00 GMT -5
New six-er:Kamma, the unforgiving universal wrist-slap. (Not exactly a story ... but meh  )
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Jul 1, 2011 2:55:57 GMT -5
A hacking cough hauls me from my reverie. I pull myself forwards in the bus seat and check my watch. It's only been twenty minutes since I last checked. I must have only been asleep for ten minutes. I remind myself, once more, that this journey takes far too long and that perhaps I should invest in getting a car already. I rub my eyes, attempting to wake up further. I can still feel the tendrils of slumber pulling at my being. The hacking cough returns. It ruptures the thick and hot silence that fills the bus and it trundles bouncily down the road.
My hands move away from my rapidly blinking eyes to check where the noise came from. I can hardly see a thing through the misty blur that makes up my world. There are a few other people on the bus. The chatter is at a low din, although it is rising as more people board. I consider checking my watch again, even though its only been a couple minutes.
I catch sight of the mystery hacker. It is a man in the front row, a couple of seats forwards from where I am sat over the wheel rim. The sound comes again but the man doesn't move. For a second I wonder if I am mistaken. I check again, hands moving to rub my poor eyes once more, before I see the dog. A ripple of surprise waves through me briefly. There's a dog on the bus. I didn't think they let dogs on!
It is then that I realise that it's the dog coughing. It sounds like a saw struggling to cut through a hard piece of timber, catching on every knot within the wood. The sound is both disturbing, disgusting, but also upsetting. I think about all of the dogs I've had as family pets before and how much it would hurt me if one of them was coughing like that.
The bus lurches to the next stop. A few hipster looking kids climb on and give the driver disrespect. The man with the dog uses the moment to take the ill dog outside for a restroom break. I cannot help but watch as the dog struggles and pulls his owner over to the green grass next to the shelter. It is surprising how happy the dog looks to be sniffing around out there but the moment only lasts a few seconds until the driver is ready to move on again. He calls the man back again. The stranger stops and asks a question of the driver. He is gripping the leash by the chain and the dog is trying to drag him away, except the coughing comes again, his golden haired sides heaving as he tries to breathe.
I'm fully awake now. I've readjusted my position in the seat, my bum was going numb, and shifted the laptop bag next to me. I'm watching the dog and the man and thinking about my next story. I know I need to write more … but life has been far too crazy to be creative, although it is settling down now! I just need to get back into the swing of things. My mind wanders as I ponder what the man is doing and what his story is. My mind builds an entire story for him and his poor dog as I waste time.
He's a poor guy, living on the edge of poverty. This morning his car was broken into and stolen. He had to catch the bus to work and was late. Then, he came home after a gruelling day to find his beloved golden-lab on the floor wheezing. This man, he could have shattered right then and just cried and given up … but he didn't. He picked up the lead, didn't even get changed, gave up chasing about his stolen vehicle. He just left his apartment with his dog in tow and headed back to the bus stop. There he asks the bus driver about the nearest vets. He couldn't have found out where a vets is on his own since he doesn't have internet. The bus driver, seeing the disgusting condition his dog is in, lets the man and dog on the bus and gives them instructions. The journey is going to take a few bus journey's but it'll get him to a vets that stays open almost all night and is cheap.
Poor guy and his dog. I really feel for them now. The sympathy that pours from me is probably tangible, visible like ectoplasm from a greedy ghost. The actual story is probably like nothing I just dreamed up … maybe it is worse, probably it is better! The silliness catches up with me and a silly grin crosses my face. How stupid am I? Creating stories for random people on buses. Is this what being an author is really like? Disconnecting from the world. To always live and dream in stories? I chuckle and return to watching the roads pass away as I get closer to my destination.
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Jul 3, 2011 3:56:06 GMT -5
Stretching fingers practice. Went for "the implied" and it was great success!“What was that from?” Dreamily she ran her fingertips over the scar on his chest. She carefully caressed the little white line with her dainty, soft fingers. She has a silly grin smothering her face and her head rests on his shoulder, legs wrapped around and within his. She'd taken to playing with his chest, ruffling the curly hairs that grow there. Occasionally her fingers would run up across his shoulders and neckline.
The man lifted his head from the pillow to have a look at where she pointed. The sweat that covered his brow finally gathered and ran off in one drop. His breath was still catching up. The sweat was damp on his torso but the girl didn't seem to care, she had even pushed herself closer against it. “Like to say old battle or war … but that'd be lyin'. Fell out of a tree as a kid. Got myself impaled on a twig!”
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Jul 3, 2011 16:00:13 GMT -5
More of the same. Stretching fingers. Kinda neat concept. Trying to get my mojo back.Report B.N.784.IO. August 2132.
The invention seemed like a good idea … at the time. A small unique device that would allow the user to teleport-jump a few feet away. It sounds like a good idea, no? Imagine the time you would save walking anywhere! The cooldown is only that of a few seconds and the device itself was tiny enough to fit inside a watch or piece of jewellery. One could say “Perfect!”
… Almost.
The invention hit the streets a few weeks ago, after a lengthy testing period. The buyers were dubious but I persuaded them. Why couldn't I have just listened to their fears? They were right. People fell in love with the idea. Nearly one million were sold and passed out amongst the crowds! It meant no public transport, no car fees or insurance, nothing! You'd never be late for a meting again.
The problems also started almost immediately. Reports came in to stop the production. The first was somebody getting stuck in a wall. The report says the death was instantaneous but I have my suspicions it wasn't. You see, the body materialises slowly, with the organs and such following last. This all happens within the blink of an eye, really, but this also means that all of those nerves that teleported through first would have felt the crushing weight. The body was still alive until the brain arrived between the mortar and bricks. The second victim was soon after. She teleported straight into the path of a car. Why did I think that my little device would remove all the need for cars? Some people will still be sticklers for the old stuff. That's what the buyers warned me and I laughed at them. Can you even imagine, being alive one moment and enjoying the blip-jump-walk? Being able to disappear and reappear further ahead … only to appear right in front of a car? She's in fatal condition in hospital. Then another came in, thick and fast – as they say, the phone went off the hook and for no positive news. Worst yet, it was all my fault.
I face a trial in the morning. The courts think I didn't test it well enough or that I planned on this happening. The deaths are well in their thousands now. How many exactly were sold? I don't know. They won't even let me look at the blueprints and plans and schedule any more. I get to sit within a holding cell my bubble well and truly burst. I went from being famous and on top of the world, to being worse than the shit on the common folk's foot.
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Aug 3, 2011 16:12:16 GMT -5
To be deleted at a later date! Just a reminder for me :]
To be written:
- Survival Assignment (Alnis Lore story/Alonzo)
- Blog: Failed bread!
- Start new 100 Devotion
- Chess idea needs kickstarting again!
... consider NaNo and the fairy idea
... at least look at Da'anvi Dragons!
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Aug 15, 2011 2:21:38 GMT -5
Musing: >.> Modern Day Stuff [/b] The World is a babe, it must be suckled. Never happy Never enough Never full Never empty Liza: keep filling that bucket! Keep filling it, bitch! Flat screen TVs Ipods and dongles The next big fad Leather sofa's Fast cars and the mini beer-fridge! Proof of the living Junk of the dead Rotten bones and spoiled thrones. [/blockquote] |
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Feb 1, 2012 17:38:19 GMT -5
Another 6-er. I'd submit this for the Jan-Flash comp "Forest" but I'd get bottom marks. It would also feel a lot like cheating because it is only SIX WORDS LONG ... so yeah. Been thinking about it all day, nonetheless, and wracking my poor brains and finally it twigged (in the bathroom as usual - although this time it was during brushing my teeth). I might need to make my office the bathroom at this rate!
Forest
"Lumber for sale. New highway coming!"
Probably cheating because it's still pretty close to the original Ernest ... but I rather like it :] Proud of my brain-child :] My best is still "Oops" a few pages back. Need to find some place to put these. Twitter would work but I don't have enough time to baby-sit one of those ... or the patience! Hidden are the crappier versions that I tried to create but failed ... one sounds like a reasonable news line though! Freedom over rubbish estates. Solace trees.
Fires obliterated rich, everlasting, strong trees.
Firms overtly ruining every stable tree.
Fighting over royal, enriching, sunlight; trees. |
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Allya
Senior Scribe
My Little Monster!
Posts: 2,271
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Post by Allya on Feb 1, 2012 19:38:06 GMT -5
Another 6-er. I'd submit this for the Jan-Flash comp "Forest" but I'd get bottom marks. It would also feel a lot like cheating because it is only SIX WORDS LONG ... so yeah. Been thinking about it all day, nonetheless, and wracking my poor brains and finally it twigged (in the bathroom as usual - although this time it was during brushing my teeth). I might need to make my office the bathroom at this rate!
Forest
"Lumber for sale. New highway coming!"
Probably cheating because it's still pretty close to the original Ernest ... but I rather like it :] Proud of my brain-child :] My best is still "Oops" a few pages back. Need to find some place to put these. Twitter would work but I don't have enough time to baby-sit one of those ... or the patience! I love it. That's fab. It would have gotten my vote. |
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Feb 2, 2012 2:54:41 GMT -5
Thanks Allya! Means a lot :] I may have to end up using it if I can't think of anything else just as good ... although Chris gave me a new idea last night that would be ridiculously difficult to work but amazing if I could :]
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Mar 13, 2012 13:22:09 GMT -5
Farting about at work with a collection of "Word of The Day" 's from Dictionary website :]
Stringently he strode; pococurante in his ways. The daffodil's resistance was futile.
Pity the fool that goads the goat.
He'll need to retrieve his teeth from his throat.
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Mar 22, 2012 17:19:16 GMT -5
Reviewing some old 100 devotions and found this cracker. Still love the emotion and bitterness captured here. The bus bounces uncomfortably over the bumps in the road. I stare out of the window. It's a glorious day outside but I'm just not feeling it. Misery and general uncaring seeps through my pores, radiating out of my body and pushing other travellers away. I cannot help but reminisce as I travel between destinations. That's all I seem to do these days. Travel from pillar to post. Do this job, go to the next, do something else. Jump? How high? I wonder how this all came about. Just yesterday I was a grinning idiot teenager. When did I turn into one of those folks I used to giggle at? The type that sit on the bus with frowns or upside-down smiles? It used to amuse me how they could be so down or upset or just plain bored … and now I understand. Day in, day out, up and down. I became what I despised. Another flesh-pod in a tin can, floating away from happiness. What happened to the adventure and the sense of wonder at everything? It makes me smile now, reading it XD |
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Aug 31, 2012 18:24:15 GMT -5
Musings and Day-dreams ... nothing massively special
Little Green Goblins
Sometimes I wonder where all of our thoughts and day-dreams go. If energy doesn't die and can't be killed, then where does the energy go? It must go somewhere! Perhaps the thoughts and dreams go to a big hopper or a field of threads way up in the sky. And, if it did go up there then it would probably knot or become messy, then what? Well, obviously, for this to work there'd need to be goblins up there in the sky. Little green goblins keeping the thoughts from knotting, feeding, watering, and farming. Perhaps, I think as my thoughts deepen, this is where some of the most amazing inventors, artists, and authors get their ideas from, like picking strawberries, plump and ripe, from the vast green field in the sky? Maybe those people can actually see the goblins ... and every now and then I wonder: am I the seed or the harvester?
Magical Night
[/b] It was the night the circus came to town, and all was stone quiet, all round. It was then I saw the Humpfandango; doing the waltz, or was it the tango? His long lilly-white legs went to and fro, which his oblong head hung far below. He danced and danced until he had to stop, Then, like a bag of bones, to the floor he dropped. I try to tell people of my magical night but nobody believes my story of delight![/center] [/blockquote] |
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