Heaven on Earth

...

Very good i like how the ending links to the Beginning.

A few things when you say:

But where i am the sky is as black as pitch.

Is that ment to be like that? Because to me it doesn't make sense.

I think this is very good
Well done !
Borntoshop

Nice use of metaphors! And a really great story! It's so wonderful that the things closest around us can inspire us to create.

It’s a black as the rest, but in the center of it there is a weak, sputtering, sickly blue pinprick of light.

This is about the only problem I have with the entire thing, though I also agree with borntoshop's comment. For this, just change the 'a' at the beginning to the 'as' I know it's supposed to be. Common typo, but just thought I'd let you know.

Good job!!!

Saph

A review for you. My comments are bracketted. Feel free to dismiss them if you wish! Hope it's clear enough.



Heaven on Earth

I wonder sometimes what life would be like if we had been designed for the night. (great opening – nice hook, and concise) What if our race could see right through shadow and live in the dark hours( I think “hours of darkness, flows better – sorry to be pedantic), go to school and work? What if we didn’t need the sun to give us energy and help our eyes? What if we all abandoned the day and lived the night the way it should be lived? Our heaven on earth? What if, what if, what if. (As a rule, I don’t use rhetorical question, but this works. Possibly it drags a little – you might cut one of these musings)

The hours after the sun sets have always fascinated me, even though I usually sleep through them. There’s always something about the calm peacefulness(choose between calm and peacefulness, don’t use both) outside in the dark—the quiet that is missing in the daytime—that draws me to it. In the winter, the moonlight hits the smooth banks of snow and makes the sleeping world around me glow like an erethreal (my computer is telling me that this isn’t a word. Do you mean ethereal?) dream. In the summer, the wind rushes through my window, carrying the news of the day: a rainstorm on the end of the valley, new leaves on the giant maple in the yard, the crickets chirping in the grass as the sun sank. The return of night. (the end of the paragraph here is stunning)

Now, as I gaze down on the wintry valley beneath me, I feel myself begin to ache to go outside and feel the sting of the cold in my lungs. (grammar point (sorry). Don’t start a sentence with but unless with very good reason. “cold in my lungs, but…”) But I clutch a blanket closer around me and admire my view of the valley. It’s cloudy tonight, so the moon is just a grayish-white blur behind the mantle of clouds. Behind the mountain, the city lights create a rosy glow in the sky, but where I am the sky is black as pitch. (this is a nice observation, and not too wordy – excellent work)

There is no beginning of the sky and end of the earth. They melt together in one great black void; they are one. No stars. Just plain, smooth nothing. (grammar – “No stars, just plain, smooth nothing).

I live on the slopes of a mountain above a small town, called Inkom. (You’re dotting about a little here. You’ve focussed on your character, then back to the sky, and now on the character again> I assume you don’t want to cut the previous paragraph, but try to go from “the sky is black as pitch” to “I live on the slopes…” more smoothly.) The little place is spread across a wide valley, lights clustering around the edges, leaving darkness in the middle. When we were little my sisters and I used to find shapes of animals and flowers in the tangles of lights beneath us. To me, the town looks like a tulip, barely blooming. My sisters would say a mirror, or a guitar, or even a butterfly’s cocoon. (you might want to explain these images slightly – especially the guitar. I don’t quite get it…)

As I look down on my home town, I still see a flower, a mirror, a guitar.

On the west side of the town there’s (don’t like there’s. Either “there is,” or “lies”) the large form of a building, smoke stacks and blinding lights. It’s (everywhere else, you’re saying “it is.”) the cement plant, and it was what kept this place alive half a century ago. Now it is charcoal black, noisy, and it reeks of sulfur. Even now, in the dead of night, a great plume of gray smoke rises ominously from one of the towering smoke stacks. There’s a spurt of flame, and as I open my window just a crack, I can hear a faint grinding as the cement rolls around in its rotating metal tubes to keep it from setting. It’s the only ugly thing about the town, that cement plant.(that cement plant is the only ugly thing about the town) It gives everything a dirty, dusty look, and I’ve hated it for a long time. I turn my attention from it.

Behind my town is another mountain. Tonight you can hardly see it. It too blends into the sky, the valley floor. It’s a (typo I assume?) black as the rest, but in the center of it there is a weak, sputtering, sickly blue pinprick of light. (too many adjectives - get rid of weak, then the aliteration is really nice) And that’s how I know the mountain opposite me hasn’t disappeared.

That light, like the cement plant and the tulip-shaped town, has always been there, as far back as I can remember. But I see it in a new light now. I close of my vision from the town, ignoring the other lights, orange, yellow, white, blue. I focus on the little point of light and imagine it hanging in the sky. A star, small, weak, but a star nonetheless. I turn back to my town and do the same.

Before I know it, both the earth and the sky is(are) filled with stars, a patchwork of light the regular night sky will never see again.

And then it hits me.

What if this is it? What if this place is it? Earth-bound stars, right under my nose, a beauty I’d never imagined. Even the flames spurting from the ugly plant are wonderful discoveries to me. What if this is my heaven on earth, and I didn’t even know it? What if, what if, what if.



I loved this. Some really beautiful description. Right now, I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation, so this is a nice alternative.

I know I tried to change a lot of things, but I’m really just being pedantic. The couple of grammar points I made are because deliberate grammar rule breaking should only be done in circumstances where a character is especially confused, frightened, lost, sleepy etc. Here, you’re trying to create a feeling of peace and security, and the incomplete sentences are actually taking away from that. Am I making sense?

You can tell that this place has sentimental value, you describe it so lovingly. Since you’re obviously so involved in the landscape, you might want to use this a an opening to something longer, or a break in the action of a longer piece. Adding dialogue or timeshift would give it more texture, and you’d soon be able to take this forwards.


Thank you.

Hi there, 200397!

Well, what can I say? This is fantastic, that's what. Really. Truly. I'm not the sort of person who exaggerates.
The imagery was pungent, heady... without any pomposity. It was alive with the senses.
The wording was not repetitive; it was frank and meaningful. It did not in the least feel like it was written to look pretty. There was substance in it, I could tell as I read it.
At first I didn't like the "what if, what if, what if"--seemed a bit unnecessary to me--but when I got to the end I saw it fitted perfectly. You know, sometimes fiction can come across one long rant, but everything here links & seemed perfectly planned.

Just a few nit-picks:

The hours after the sun sets have always fascinated me

I think it would sound better:
The hours after sunset have always fascinated me

erethreal

Ethereal?

When we were little my sisters and I used to find shapes of animals and flowers in the tangles of lights beneath us.

When we were little, my sisters and I would find shapes of animals and flowers in the tangles of lights beneath us. Also, it is not only animals and flowers they see, is it? So maybe choose an all-round word. In fact, you don't mention any animals--just a butterfly's cocoon, but the cocoon is not an animal, now, is it?

A star, small, weak, but a star nonetheless.

A star; small, weak, but a star nonetheless.

What if this is it? What if this place is it?

O, repetitive!

Here with your review, as requested. I just want to start off by saying that my reviewing style is a little different. Instead of just going in and pointing out the problem, I’ll find where I see a problem (mostly in word usage, word choice, and sentence flow and style) and I’ll give you a revised work of the section with an option as to how it could be altered.

I wonder sometimes what life would be like if we had been designed for the night. What if our race could see right through shadow and live in the hours of darkness, go to school and work? What if we all abandoned the day and lived the night the way it should be lived? Our heaven on earth? What if, what if, what if.

“I wonder sometimes what life would be like if we had been designed for the night. What if human kind could see right through the shadows and live in the darkness? What if we abandoned the daylight hours and lived in the night the way it should be lived? (Here, I would recommend adding some description of a perfect night and how it is a heaven on earth.) Our heaven on earth? What if, what if, what if?”

The few problems I found in this section were just your omission of a few of those little itty bitty words we all forget sometimes. Also, I removed “go to school and work” due to the fact that it really only hinders the way the words moved.

The hours after sunset have always fascinated me, even though I usually sleep through them. There’s always something about the peacefulness outside in the dark—the quiet that is missing in the daytime—that draws me to it.

“The twilight hours have always fascinated me, though I’m rarely awake to experience them. But when I do manage to stay awake for those fleeting hours after sunset, it’s a worthwhile experience. There’s always something peaceful outside in the dark – the quiet that is missing in the daytime – that draws me to it.”

Okay, I realize that I took part of that in my own direction but hopefully it gives you an idea of how it could have been written. Otherwise, the flow of the paragraph becomes choppy and feels rather out of place.

a rainstorm on the end of the valley,

The bolded section just feels weird. Try incorporating the word “opposite” or “very.”

Now, as I gaze down on the wintry valley beneath me, I feel myself begin to ache to go outside and feel the sting of the cold in my lungs. But instead I clutch a blanket closer around me and admire my view of the valley. It’s cloudy tonight, so the moon is just a grayish-white blur behind the mantle of clouds. Behind the mountain, the city lights create a rosy glow in the sky, but where I am the sky is black as pitch.

“Now, as I gaze down on the wintry valley beneath me, I feel an ache grow within myself, a yearning to go outside and breathe in the sting of the cold into my lungs. But instead, I clutch my blanket closer and admire the view of the valley from the safety of my room (I’m assuming room). It’s a cloudy night and the moon is nothing more than a grayish-white blur. Behind the mountain, the city lights create a rosy glow in the sky. But where I am, the sky is black as pitch.”

This is a good section, letting the reader set the scene for you (the narrator) and describing the valley and the sky. I’m especially fond of the last sentence.

There is no beginning of the sky and end of the earth. They melt together in one great black void; they are one. No stars. Just plain, smooth nothing.

“There is not beginning to the sky and no end to the earth. The melt together forming a single black void; they are one. No stars. Just plain, smooth nothing.”

I live on the slopes of a mountain above a small town, called Inkom. Even in the black nothing, you can see it.

This doesn’t need too many fixes. Just a few minor alterations. “I love on the slope of a mountain above the small town of Inkom and even now through the black nothing you can see it.”

As I look down on my home town, I still see a flower, a mirror, a guitar. I feel a rush of memories from my childhood fill me.

“As I look down on my home town, I see the flower, the mirror, the guitar and even the cocoon. Upon seeing these little images, a rush of memories from my childhood fills me.”

In the last sentence, though it make sound wrong, the way I changed it is in fact correct. It’s about subject verb agreement. Meaning, singular subject (rush) singular verb (fills).

Now it is charcoal black, noisy, and it reeks of sulfur. Even now, in the dead of night, a great plume of gray smoke rises ominously from one of the towering smoke stacks. There’s a spurt of flame, and as I open my window just a crack, I can hear a faint grinding as the cement rolls around in its rotating metal tubes to keep it from setting.

“Now it’s a noisy, charcoal-black monster, reeking of sulfur. Even now, in the dead of night, a great plum of gray rises ominously from one of the towering smoke stacks. There’s a spurt of flame and if I open my widow just a crack, I can hear the faint grinding of the cement as it rolls around in its rotating metal tubes which keep the cement from setting.”

Again, all of the changes I seem to find myself making when I do a review have something to do with the way words flow and how the sentences connect. Still, your knowledge of the cement plant makes the piece very easy to read and still well-educated.

Behind my town is another mountain. Tonight you can hardly see it. It too blends into the sky, the valley floor. It’s as black as the rest, but in the center of it there is a sputtering, sickly blue pinprick of light. And that’s how I know the mountain opposite me hasn’t disappeared.

“Behind Inkom is another mountain. Tonight you can hardly see it for it blends too well between the sky and the valley floor. as black as the rest, but in the center of it there is a sputtering, sickly blue pinprick of light. And that’s how I know that the mountain hasn’t disappeared.”

That light, like the cement plant and the tulip-shaped town, has always been there, as far back as I can remember.

Because of the meaning in this sentence, "has" should be "have". Also, instead of “there, as” try “there for as”.

I close of my vision from the town, ignoring the other lights, orange, yellow, white, blue. I focus on the little point of light and imagine it hanging in the sky. A star; small, weak, but a star nonetheless.

“I close off my vision from the town, ignoring the city lights and instead focus on that single little point of light on the mountain and I imagine it to be hanging in the sky like a star, small and weak, but a star none the less.”

What if, what if, what if.

Okay, this sentence really proved to bring a little conflict for me because I’ve got mixed opinions. I know in the first paragraph, I simply added a question mark. But I wanted to touch on this here. Either A, just add the question mark at the end or you can B, add three question marks making it look like: “What if? What if? What if?”

Other then that and the other things that have already been touched on, I can’t say there is much to couch on. It may be sort of long (okay, so its longer then the story itself I think) but, well, I’ve done longer. And I actually rather liked this, especially because its reminds me of the way and the style that I write in. It has very little action and puts more value on thought and contemplation instead.

So, yeah, props to you.

this is sheer class.

absolutely gorgeous.

but I 'spose you want something constructive...


First paragraph: delete the 3 'what ifs' at the end: they cheapen and sort of fluff out a really excellent opening paragraph... (although it'd be a lovely time to add some more description of the night that you did so well)

The hours after sunset have always fascinated me, even though I usually sleep through them. There’s always something about the peacefulness outside in the dark—the quiet that is missing in the daytime—that draws me to it. In the winter, the moonlight hits the smooth banks of snow and makes the sleeping world around me glow like an ethereal dream. In the summer, the wind rushes through my window, carrying the news of the day: a rainstorm on the end of the valley, new leaves on the giant maple in the yard, the crickets chirping in the grass as the sun sank. The return of night.

I can't find a word original enough to describe this... so beautiful will have to do.. don't change a thing

Now, as I gaze down on the wintry valley beneath me, I feel myself begin to ache get rid of begins... it overcomplicates the line[b/] to go outside and feel the sting of the cold in my lungs. But instead I clutch a blanket closer around me and admire my view of the valley. It’s cloudy tonight, so the moon is just a grayish-white blur behind the mantle of clouds. Behind the mountain, the city lights create a rosy glow in the sky, but where I am the sky is black as pitch.

There is no beginning of the sky and end of the earth. They melt together in one great black void; they are one. No stars. Just plain, smooth nothing. [b]brilliant, especially the last line

I live on the slopes of a mountain above a small town, called Inkom. Even in the black nothing, you can see it. The little place is spread across a wide valley, lights clustering around the edges, leaving darkness in the middle. When we were little, my sisters and I would find shapes of animals and flowers in the tangles of lights beneath us. To me, the town looks like a tulip, barely blooming. My sisters would say a mirror, or a guitar, or even a butterfly’s cocoon.

As I look down on my home town, I still see a flower, a mirror, a guitar. I feel a rush of memories from my childhood fill me. delete ' I feel' and just start with 'A rush of..." Same reasons as 'begin to ache:' using what is ultimately two verbs overcomplicates things.

On the west side of the town there is the large form of a building, smoke stacks and blinding lights. It’s the cement plant, and it was what kept this place alive half a century ago. Now it is charcoal black, noisy, and it reeks of sulfur. Even now, in the dead of night, a great plume of gray smoke rises ominously from one of the towering smoke stacks. There’s a spurt of flame I don't like spurt... spout maybe??, and as I open my window just a crack, I can hear a faint grinding as the cement rolls around in its rotating metal tubes to keep it from setting. It’s the only ugly thing about the town, that cement plant. It gives everything a dirty, dusty look, and I’ve hated it for a long time. I turn my attentionaway from it.
Behind my town is another mountain. Tonight you can hardly see it. It too blends into the sky, the valley floor. It’s as black as the rest, but in the center of it there is a sputtering, sickly blue pinprick of light. And that’s how I know the mountain opposite me hasn’t disappeared.
That light, like the cement plant and the tulip-shaped town, has always been there, as far back as I can remember. But I see it in a new light now. I close of my vision from the town, ignoring the other lights, orange, yellow, white, blue. I focus on the little point of light and imagine it hanging in the sky. A star; small, weak, but a star nonetheless. I turn back to my town and do the same.
Before I know it, both the earth and the sky are filled with stars, a patchwork of light the regular night sky will never see again. rectangular night... <3
And then it hits me.
What if this is it? What if this place is it? Earth-bound stars, right under my nose, a beauty I’d never imagined. Even the flames spurting from the ugly plant are wonderful discoveries to me. What if this is my heaven on earth, and I didn’t even know it? What if, what if, what if.
again, I don't like the 3 what ifs... one would be ok but I think you can think of something better

ok. basically I get this.
and I love this.

I havn't been to sleep before one for the past 3 months, so I would definitely class myself a night person.

You nailed the whole thing in my eyes, spot on.

And the idea of heaven being on earth is magic too.... why must we sell our souls to a god to achieve bliss??

Great stuff..

Brendan

I thought that was absolutely fantastic! The job of a writer is to paint a picture in the reader's mind, and sir, you did it! You took me away to where you live, and it sounds fascinating!!!!! Like Borntoshop said, I really liked how you linked the beginning to the end! It's like poetry but in story form!

Good work!

Keep writing!

God Bless!

Hiya!

Description: You've done an amazing job with the description, but when it came to the mountain and the light on it I got confused. Is the mountain back-lit or is the light on top of the mountain? Spend a little more time on that light so we can really picture it.

Theme: I liked the theme here, but I wish it wasn't so split. The first half is all about how it would be interesting for humans to live at night, but the second half is about the lights becoming stars. I would have a smoother translation between the two themes so things are tied off better.

Overall: Nice work! Just a handful of polishing and this will be something powerful to remember.

Questions? PM me

~Rosey

Hey there, I like to pick on random pieces, cease them for several five minute segments and then throw them back at the author. Please excuse me if I miss out a letter or an apostrophe as I have recently discovered that lemonade isn't particularly good for laptops. xD Shall we begin?

I sat down and wrote this after staying up till one o'clock last night. This is a description of the little town down the slopes of my mountain. It has great sentimental value to me, so enjoy.

You live on a mountain? I envy you. I envy you so much. I honestly am counting the days until I can leave this horrid, industrial town and go and live somewhere more primitive, somewhere solitary, miles away from civilization.


--------------------------------------

Heaven on Earth

I'm not sure about the title. I found this piece of writing to be beautiful, poignant and original, with a fresh narrative. The title, for me, is a bit of a let down for the rest of the story. That said, the opinion is rather subjective, so feel free to disagree. No rhyme intended. xD

I wonder sometimes what life would be like if we had been designed for the night.

Quite wonderful, this, as a start drags me in and forces me to read on. I find this first sentence most to my liking.

What if our race could see right through shadow and live in the hours of darkness, go to school and work? What if we all abandoned the day and lived the night the way it should be lived? Our heaven on earth? What if, what if, what if.

I object to your use of the words what if. I find them to be rather overused, as much as repetition can be a good thing in writing, I find it quite the opposite. If a writer needs to use repetition in order to get their point across, they are not doing what they should be.

The hours after sunset have always fascinated me, even though I usually sleep through them.

There's something not quite right with this line. I believe that you do not usually sleep right through the hours after sunset, for does not the sun usually set at around 5-6pm? Not many go to bed at that time, children perhaps but not many young adults/ adults.

There’s always something about the peacefulness outside in the dark—the quiet that is missing in the daytime—that draws me to it. In the winter, the moonlight hits the smooth banks of snow and makes the sleeping world around me glow like an ethereal dream. In the summer, the wind rushes through my window, carrying the news of the day: a rainstorm on the end of the valley, new leaves on the giant maple in the yard, the crickets chirping in the grass as the sun sank. The return of night.

I find your use of imagery most refreshing. You use not cliched expressions, nor atom that his might could render void, sorry, I do get rather caught up in my Emily Bronte moments.

Now, as I gaze down on the wintry valley beneath me, I feel myself begin to ache to go outside and feel the sting of the cold in my lungs. But instead I clutch a blanket closer around me and admire my view of the valley. It’s cloudy tonight, so the moon is just a grayish-white blur behind the mantle of clouds. Behind the mountain, the city lights create a rosy glow in the sky, but where I am the sky is black as pitch.

You set about this piece an air of beauty, something that sings to my heart and makes me joyous to even hear of such a place.

There is no beginning of the sky and end of the earth. They melt together in one great black void; they are one. No stars. Just plain, smooth nothing.

I live on the slopes of a mountain above a small town, called Inkom. Even in the black nothing, you can see it. The little place is spread across a wide valley, lights clustering around the edges, leaving darkness in the middle. When we were little, my sisters and I would find shapes of animals and flowers in the tangles of lights beneath us. To me, the town looks like a tulip, barely blooming. My sisters would say a mirror, or a guitar, or even a butterfly’s cocoon.

I adore this description. It truly is beautiful.

As I look down on my home town, I still see a flower, a mirror, a guitar. I feel a rush of memories from my childhood fill me.

Per'aps you could follow this point up. Instead of just saying this you could discuss a childhood memory.

On the west side of the town there is the large form of a building, smoke stacks and blinding lights. It’s the cement plant, and it was what kept this place alive half a century ago. Now it is charcoal black, noisy, and it reeks of sulfur.

I find the use of the word reeks here rather too informal. I like the tone of this writing, but feel that the word destroys it.

Even now, in the dead of night, a great plume of gray smoke rises ominously from one of the towering smoke stacks. There’s a spurt of flame, and as I open my window just a crack, I can hear a faint grinding as the cement rolls around in its rotating metal tubes to keep it from setting. It’s the only ugly thing about the town, that cement plant. It gives everything a dirty, dusty look, and I’ve hated it for a long time. I turn my attention from it.

Behind my town is another mountain. Tonight you can hardly see it. It too blends into the sky, the valley floor. It’s as black as the rest, but in the center of it there is a sputtering, sickly blue pinprick of light. And that’s how I know the mountain opposite me hasn’t disappeared.

I think, by this you mean that you had not dreamed it up? That you still know of its existence? I'd just put a point about making sure it wasn't just a dream, as otherwise it sounds a bit odd. Why would a mountain simply disappear?

That light, like the cement plant and the tulip-shaped town, has always been there, as far back as I can remember. But I see it in a new light now. I close of my vision from the town, ignoring the other lights, orange, yellow, white, blue. I focus on the little point of light and imagine it hanging in the sky. A star; small, weak, but a star nonetheless. I turn back to my town and do the same.

Before I know it, both the earth and the sky are filled with stars, a patchwork of light the regular night sky will never see again.

And then it hits me.

What if this is it? What if this place is it? Earth-bound stars, right under my nose, a beauty I’d never imagined. Even the flames spurting from the ugly plant are wonderful discoveries to me. What if this is my heaven on earth, and I didn’t even know it? What if, what if, what if.

I would advise you to completely nix the what ifs, as they ruin the tone and atmosphere in my opinion.

I need to go and get something to eat, but I shall come back and review soon.

~Kirsten

I'm back;

Atmosphere
You built up a most wonderful atmosphere here. It truly is beautiful.

I warn you just to be careful not to ruin it though, some of the phrases you use

sometimes seem to upset it slightly and break the flow of the beautiful words you use.

Just be careful, for I care not to see such beauty broken, or even fragmented.

imagery


I really enjoyed the imagery in this piece. I found it most refreshing. Told from a fresh, poignant narrative that reeked years of reading and writing.

Your similes and metaphors were beautiful, they set about the piece an air of such joy and happiness. Your similes depict exactly that which you wish to get across, most beautifully too.

They are devoid of cliched expressions, they do not over use language or repeat themselves, they sing to our very souls words of wisdom and great beauty.

Behold not something for what you've got, but for what you wish to have

Your imagery, tone and atmosphere make this seem a place that holds a lot to be

desired. Your tone sets about an air of splendor. Your descriptions and imagery set

about us a wish to inhabit this town. A wish to be where you are. In every sense your descriptions make us feel, not only feel, but see
hear;
touch;
dance;
they make us feel the wind upon our cheek, and the howling of a winter's wind

They sing to our hearts words of such joyous existence as the one you lead.

You say your goal is to depict the beauty of your town, and that you most certainly do.

Your fresh, poignant voice, spirited narrative and exquisite descriptions make us long

for nothing less than living within this town.

I loved this piece. It truly was great

~Kirsten