two minutes, only one is left

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Updated as of 18 June 2007 at 5:02 pm
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“Tag, you’re it.” And the game begins.

I whisper it to myself, though no one is around to hear. In my pocket, I hold the king in my hand, and the pad of my finger runs along its smooth base. “Ready or not, here I come.” And there I go.

One hour. No more, no less. They’d dropped the piece in front of me and run, the pack broken, as oil to water. But I will find them. I will, I will. It was more than just a game by then. It won’t be just a game now. Not anymore.

I look towards the hills and spot one, just on the other side of the lake. One hour, or the game would be over. We can't have that. We can't. He’s waiting behind a rock, his eyes glazing in my direction. What’s this? He thinks I can’t see him? Heh heh. He’s wrong. Oh, how wrong he is as I sneak up behind, though sneaking does little good at this point; he hears me anyway, and while he knows I am here, he can’t run fast enough.

I catch him by the shoulders, my sweaty palms bleeding into his shirt. He stops as if dead, bringing both of us to our knees on the thick, dusty ground. We don’t say anything, just a nod sparks between us. We both know the rules of the game; we’ve played it many times before. He waits as I dig a pawn out of my pocket for him, though he’s usually better than that. A rook, at least.

And he’s off. Just as I have, he will find them, and then I will come to catch them, just as I have caught the boy.

Off again, off to find the next victim. I know they’re out there—we never leave—it’s just a question of how quickly I’ll find the others this time…

Seven left now, for twenty-three minutes… the clock is a-ticking for the eleven of us, a horrible noise over us all until—

One more. Just one. And two minutes. We’ve been quick, this time. There’s usually the bite of fear at everyone’s necks. I’d prefer the fear. It keeps everyone sharp. She’s all alone now, the one remains; no one else to stand with her. Just that girl, all alone in the center of the field. The rest gather ‘round and I direct them, silently, as only the king remains.

Build it all up, then tear it all down. You can’t let anyone win. You can’t end the game.

Only let the game invert as they all run away like before. I stroll over to the last one left—I’ve got time, after all—and I carve the king into her hand, snapping her fingers tight around it. Just she and I are left. I look into her eyes, but they won’t look anywhere but straight into mine, and whisper before I run as well, “Tag, you’re it.”


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Note: This was written for the "The Game is Afoot" challenge in La Plume Noire usergroup. I had originally wanted it to be a poem, but alas, Imp said no

490 words
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'Lo Amelia,


It certainly does present in a more than poetic way. ^_^ Of course, poetic prose is lovely. But I think a certain poetic abstraction (license, perhaps ^_^') has crept into this - and in narrative form, it blurs lines that ought to be clear.

Firstly, tenses. You change up verb tense too often and too arbitrarily for the narration. I think it would make an excellent piece all in present tense. Try it that way, perhaps?

Secondly, some imagery falls into the pitfall of poetic disconnect. Most notably - the 'baking soda eyes'. It doesn't mesh with any other idea or image; in fact, the piece has few sentences so sudden or figurative. (But I like it oddly all the same. Perhaps changing its form, somewhat?

like [ as? oil to water, as vinegar bubbled behind my baking soda eyes

...Literally baking soda eyes? Ack, I'm making notes dully. '...as oil to water, as vinegar might bubble behind [my?] baking soda eyes.'

That seems to make it vaguely less off-kilter to the distrait reader. ^_^'')

Third: Only a few misplaced words, extras and such.

He was off. Just as I had [s]been[/s], he would find them, then I would come to catch them, just as I had caught the boy.

Kill 'been' - quite unnecassary.

And there I went.

Perhaps - And there, I've gone.? or And then I went?



--

The game inverts and we run away like before, as I run up to the last one left, carve the king into her hand, and whisper, “Tag, you’re it.”

I love the finish there. It's the action and the image of it. ^_^ Clean up the tenses and this - in structure for certain - won't have a niche to catch in a critiqu'ers eye. ^_^




IMP

Thanks Imp!

I want to bring back the baking soda eyes (they made me laugh when I wrote it) but I have to think a little longer about where to put them. In the story, eyes obviously go in your head, not your fingernailsokay back on topic...

About the poetic aspect. How much should I clean it out? Like, eliminate some of the shorter sentences/ sentence fragments? Would that help? I don't want to get rid of too many, or I think the feeling might fall apart.

-Amelia

“Tag, you’re it.” And the game begins.

I whisper it to myself, though no one is around to hear. In my pocket, I hold the king in my hand, the pad of my finger running along its smooth base. [I had to re-read this for it to make sense. Perhaps use 'My hand rests in my pocket where the king currently resides, the pad of my finger runs across it's smooth base.] “Ready or not, here I come.” And there I go.

One hour. No more, no less. They’d dropped the piece in front of me and ran, as oil to water; but I will find them. I will, I will. It isn't just a game anymore. It won’t be just a game anymore.

I look towards the hills and spot one, just on the other side of the lake. One hour, or the game will be over. We can’t have that now, can we? I whisper to myself again. It won’t matter, though. Even if I stand perfectly still, the kid will still hear me. He’s waiting behind a rock. What’s this? He thinks I can’t see him? Heh heh. He’s wrong. Oh, how wrong he is as I sneak up behindSneaking is pointless though; he hears me anyway, but this knowledge is useless to him; he can’t run fast enough.

I catch him by the shoulders, my sweaty palms bleeding into his shirt, [No need for a comma here] and he stops as if dead, bringing both of us to our knees. We don’t say anything, just a nod sparks between us. We both know the rules of the game. We've played it many times before. He waits as I dig a pawn out of my pocket for him, though he usually earns a better rank than that; a rook, at least. And he’s off. Just as I have, he will find them, and then I will come to catch them, just as I have caught the boy.

Off again, off to find the next victim. I know they’re out there—we never leave—it’s just a question of how quickly I’ll find the rest of them this time…

Seven left now, for twenty-three minutes… the clock is a-ticking for the eleven of us, a horrible noise over us all until—

One more. Just one. And two minutes. We’ve been quick, [Not sure about having a comma here.] this time. There’s usually the bite of fear at everyone’s necks. I’d prefer the fear. It keeps everyone sharp. She’s all alone now, the one remains; [Comma rather than semi colon perhaps.] no one else to stand with her. Just that girl, all alone in the center of the field. The rest gather ‘round and I direct them, silently, as only the king remains.

Build it all up, then tear it all down. You can’t let anyone win. You can’t end the game.

Only let the game invert as they all run away like before. I stroll over to the last one left—I’ve got time, after all—and I carve the king into her hand, snapping her fingers tight around it. Just she and I are left. I look into her eyes, as she looks straight into mine, and I whisper, before I run as well, “Tag, you’re it.”

________________
Your main problem is the switches in tense but I think I caught most of these. You've used a very imaginative way tom describe a form of tag that I'm not familiar with but you was so detailed that I'd feel comfotable joining in. Altogether, a well written piece and a good attempt at tackling the sometimes tricky present tense. Keep up the good work!

I was wondering if a mod could move this to Other Fiction? I think that might be a better category. Sorry I mis-posted in the first place.

Thank you,
Amelia

*moved to Other Fiction*

This wasn't bad. Like others said, you switched tenses a lot. I don't entirely get it though...the game I mean...it sounds cool, but I don't understand. =D oh well. Good writing =D

Keep up the good work!
-JC

AmeliaOliver wrote:---
Updated as of 18 June 2007 at 5:02 pm
---


“Tag, you’re it.” And the game begins.

I whisper it to myself, though no one is around to hear. In my pocket, I hold the king in my hand, and the pad of my finger runs along its smooth base. “Ready or not, here I come.” And there I go.

One hour. No more, no less. They’d dropped the piece in front of me and run ran, the pack broken, as oil to water. But I will find them. I will, I will. It was more than just a game by then This part confuses me at first. It won’t be just a game now. Not anymore.

I look towards the hills and spot one, just on the other side of the lake. One hour, or the game would be over Would? Shouldn't it be will?. We can't have that. We can't. He’s waiting behind a rock, his eyes glazing in my direction. What’s this? He thinks I can’t see him? Heh heh. He’s wrong. Oh, how wrong he is as I sneak up behind, though sneaking does little good at this point; he hears me anyway, and while he knows I am here, he can’t run fast enough.

I catch him by the shoulders, my sweaty palms bleeding into his shirt. He stops as if dead, bringing both of us to our knees on the thick, dusty ground. We don’t say anything, just a nod sparks between us. We both know the rules of the game; we’ve played it many times before. He waits as I dig a pawn out of my pocket for him, though he’s usually better than that. A rook, at least.

And he’s off. Just as I have, he will find them, and then I will come to catch them, just as I have caught the boy.

Off again, off to find the next victim. I know they’re out there—we never leave Leave where? That just sounds a little off to me.—it’s just a question of how quickly I’ll find the others this time…

Seven left now, for twenty-three minutes… the clock is a-ticking for the eleven of us, a horrible noise over us all until—

One more. Just one. And two minutes. We’ve been quick, this time. There’s usually the bite of fear at everyone’s necks. I’d prefer the fear. It keeps everyone sharp. She’s all alone now, the one remains; no one else to stand with her. Just that girl, all alone in the center of the field. The rest gather ‘round and I direct them, silently, as only the king remains.

Build it all up, then tear it all down I don't get this saying in this context. You can’t let anyone win. You can’t end the game.

Only let the game invert as they all run away like before. I stroll over to the last one left—I’ve got time, after all—and I carve Carve? How? the king into her hand, snapping I'm not sure snapping is the right word here. Perhaps wrapping or something simpler. her fingers tight around it. Just she and I are left. I look into her eyes, but they won’t look anywhere but straight into mine, and whisper before I run as well, “Tag, you’re it.”


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Note: This was written for the "The Game is Afoot" challenge in La Plume Noire usergroup. I had originally wanted it to be a poem, but alas, Imp said no

490 words
---

This game does sound quite interesting. I'd like to hear more about how it works. Besides some of the tenses that I didn't understand in the beginning I liked this piece. I also loved how it flowed like a poem. It made a simple game of "tag" seem so wonderful, beautiful, and youthful. Lovely job on this.

Keep it up!
~Rieda

Alrighty, Amelia. ^_^ Just a quick ‘thank you’ crit for your review of Whispers of the Fallen, Chap One, part 1.

My main criticism with this would have to be the lack in clarity of the game. I had to read through the piece a number of times before I felt comfortable making a guess at how this game of tag is played, and because of this, I had trouble working out exactly what was going on until the second or third reading.

Still, even though this is my main criticism, I have to admit, it’s certainly not a killing fault in the story. It is still possible to follow what’s going on, even if some of the finer points were lost on me in the first reading (the most notable being the climax of the story - I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant until I re-read the story).

(Having said all that, it seems other people didn't appear to have much trouble, so perhaps it was only me...)

In other news: your prose reads nice. I think you’ve found a nice balance between the more poetic aspects and the more mundane (couldn’t think of a better word…) ones.

You also succeeded in turning a game of tag into an enjoyable piece of flash fiction, which is no easy task.

-- Sureal