A lesson in imagery

I wrote this three years ago, to symbolize an episode of my life. This is part two, I've since lost the first.

I've not edited it.

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It's been quite a while since I've come down this path. The familiarities have left, the old blades of grass stretching out in triumph between the slabs of granite placed roughly in line with each other have been crushed by the weight of the unforgiving world they had the misfortune to be born into.

I almost forgot about the unpleasant encounter I experienced the last time I wandered down this trail, lately I've been taking a different route, for the simple purpose of avoiding this unwelcoming presence, the very same presence I desire to conquer, the same presence who gaurds the truly alluring, perfect world beyond it's gates. I don't know what made me change my mind. I've been perfectly fine going through this other path, there are many similarities and differences between the two; this new one, on one hand, is placed far from the dark leafy gates which taunt me so, it is not as closed-in as this path which I step on now. The broad, light blue sky envelopes me when I take this route. I get a feeling of freedom, I feel I can accomplish anything, because this path is so unyielding. But on the other hand, the idea looms that if I continue taking this path, if I continue to avoid that which I so desire, I will never truly be happy.

This is why I've come back.

The sun's rays are cut off from the high walls of vine and leaf which surround the trail I've never passed through, the light flickers on my face and my vision is visited with sudden flashes of light, a faint green glow overwhelms this area in a subtle way, the leaves acting as a light filter and offering a surreal feel to my walk. I pass a bend in the path, I stagger as I hit a small, dislodged piece of stone, broken from the path by something, perhaps age, the weather, or some unruly child, who feels the need to vandalize public property. Yet at the same time I feel this small imperfection lends an air of character to this already richly decorated path. I notice, as I regain my balance, that several strands of pure green grass have been granted passage beyond the underbelly of the stone, it's a nice thought, but doesn't phase me all that much. I continue past the bend and spot the darkened section of this vine-wall which I recognize as the door to my impossible path.

I step up to the gate. Strange, though I've only strayed from this path for a few weeks, already vines and leaves have almost completely covered the gate. I can still see through, in the distance I see a faint square of light, it's the end of the path, a place which I can not even begin to fathom. I know it's amazing, I've read so many stories about this place, I've seen so many pictures, and I've even heard the songs that only the inhabitants of this place can sing.

Do I try and pass through again? I begin to rack my brain. Why not? What's the worst that can happen, and then I remember the worst that can happen. Nothing as harsh as death, but let's just say, any chance of penetrating this new world would be completely wiped from my life. (Life?) "Oh, what the hell" I say to myself, I don't know if there is any other way to prepare that I haven't already done.

I reach into my pockets, I feel the inside, the odd piece of lint, and my keys. Damn, nothing of real use, using my keys to cut through this wall of growth would prove no better than to use my bare hands. So I step back, I take a breath, and extend my arm toward the gate. No, this is no time to be timid. I step closer, and move to grasp one of the thorny vines. My arm pulses backward, the wall is holding so much force that if I broke it, it would create a sound so great that the vile presence, the only thing that has kept me from passage, would surely awake and chase me off. I normally don't back away so quickly, but this presence is no mere rival. It provokes such irrational fear that I feel like an infant, helpless to fight against it in any way.

I go over the situation in my head. No, this is too much.

I've failed again, there is now a wall, virtually no way to get through, or even into this path.

I head on my way, I'll be back.

Comments in red.

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It's been quite a while since I've come down this path. Good opener. The familiarities have left, the old blades of grass stretching out in triumph between the slabs of granite placed roughly in line with each other have been crushed by the weight of the unforgiving world they had the misfortune to be born into. And you lost me. This sentence is long enough for two or three. Go through and shorten it or cut it up.

I almost forgot about the unpleasant encounter I experienced the last time I wandered down this trail, should be semicolon, colon, or dash depending on the rhythm you want. lately I've been taking a different route, for the simple purpose of avoiding this unwelcoming presence, the very same presence I desire to conquer, the same presence who gaurds the truly alluring, perfect world beyond it's gates. Another extremely long sentence. I don't know what made me change my mind. I've been perfectly fine going through this other path, dash there are many similarities and differences between the two; this new one, on one hand, is placed far from the dark leafy gates which taunt me so, it is not as closed-in as this path which I step on now. The broad, light blue sky envelopes me when I take this route. I get a feeling of freedom, I feel I can accomplish anything, because this path is so unyielding. But on the other hand, the idea looms that if I continue taking this path, if I continue to avoid that which I so desire, I will never truly be happy. Really long line. Also, this is much too "mysterious". It's got that air of mystery-for-the-sake-of-mystery that annoys readers to no end. Stop beating around the bush and just say what your narrator means.

This is why I've come back.

The sun's rays are cut off from the high walls of vine and leaf which surround the trail I've never passed through The one you've never passed through...but have come back to? , the light flickers on my face and my vision is visited with sudden flashes of light, a faint green glow overwhelms this area in a subtle way, the leaves acting as a light filter and offering a surreal feel to my walk. Long line. I pass a bend in the path, I stagger as I hit a small, dislodged piece of stone, broken from the path by something, perhaps age, the weather, or some unruly child, who feels the need to vandalize public property. Yet at the same time I feel this small imperfection lends an air of character to this already richly decorated path. I notice, as I regain my balance, that several strands of pure green grass have been granted passage beyond the underbelly of the stone, it's a nice thought What makes it nice? Give us emotions from your narrator instead of just action., but doesn't phase me all that much. I continue past the bend and spot the darkened section of this vine-wall which I recognize as the door to my impossible path. Enough with the path-ing already! We get it!

I step up to the gate. Strange, though I've only strayed from this path for a few weeks But I thought the narrator was gone for ages..., already vines and leaves have almost completely covered the gate. I can still see through, in the distance I see a faint square of light, colon/dash it's the end of the path, a place which I can not even begin to fathom. I know it's amazing, What's amazing? The place? The light? Why is it amazing? So amazing that he just knows it has to be, despite never seeing it on his own? I've read so many stories about this place, I've seen so many pictures, and I've even heard the songs that only the inhabitants of this place can sing.

Do I try and pass through again? I begin to rack my brain. Why not? What's the worst that can happen, Divide this into two lines and up the power. and then I remember the worst that can happen. Nothing as harsh as death, but let's just say, any chance of penetrating this new world would be completely wiped from my life. (Life?) I'm not one for asides except in humor. This seems misplaced. "Oh, what the hell" I say to myself, I don't know if there is any other way to prepare that I haven't already done. Awkward phrasing.

I reach into my pockets, New line. I feel the inside, the odd piece of lint, and my keys. Damn, nothing of real use, using my keys to cut through this wall of growth would prove no better than to use my bare hands. No kidding. This is way too obvious to merit inclusion. So I step back This should be joined to the previous sentence--as it is, it's a fragment., I take a breath, and extend my arm toward the gate. No, this is no time to be timid. I step closer, and move to grasp one of the thorny vines. My arm pulses I doubt that "pulses" is the word you're looking for. backward, the wall is holding so much force that if I broke it, it would create a sound so great that the vile presence, the only thing that has kept me from passage, would surely awake and chase me off. I don't understand. The wall is holding something back, so you can't break it? Can't break the wall? Could you break it if you wanted to? I normally don't back away so quickly, but this presence is no mere rival. It provokes such irrational fear that I feel like an infant, helpless to fight against it in any way. Show, don't tell. Get me inside this character's head and pronto!

I go over the situation in my head. No, this is too much. I like the second line. The first? Not so much. It's unnecessary information. This is all supposed to be going through his head.

I've failed again, New line. there is now a wall, virtually no way to get through, or even into this path. Not a sentence.

I head on my way, I'll be back. This sounds as if you're heading forward. Say instead "I turn to leave" or something in that vein.
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I suggest that you read through this piece aloud. You'll quickly realize how ungainly the sentence structure is, if only for being so long. There is no way to pace yourself in reading the lines, which breaks the action and distances the reader from the character. You also, as I mentioned, dwell too long on the metaphors and mystery. It reads as if you're so wrapped up in how creepy you want it to be, that you're trying to force the reader to see it too. Instead, you just distance yourself and try the reader's patience with constant repetition. Remember: engage readers by emotion instead of flat action, and keep things concise. Even a brilliant idea can be destroyed by unnecessary review.

I like the image of the path, and of the door that the narrator is afraid to open, but I'm afraid that I didn't connect to the MC on an emotional level, and I never understood why he was so concerned. I wasn't curious to know why or what would happen next--just confused.

Slow down the pacing and explore the inner feelings of the narrator, and I think you'll find this develops well.

Let me know if you have any questions!

Avens

Yeah, I won't be revising this, nor really paying any regard to it. Just wanted some opinions for the sake of opinions.

Thanks.

omg so sorry for some reason i posted the completely wrong thing.

I will review this for you so i don't feel so mean and horrible.