They Are All Heartless

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Hey people!! I was bored and have a bit of writer's block, so I decided to write a short story. Really short story. Review if you want :)

They all start walking towards the tall house, every single one of them limping. Not one of them is walking straight; almost as if they can’t. The women have smiles plastered onto their faces; they’re eyes bright and painted. Fake. From a distance it might seem like an army of blonde women with happy expressions, but they’re hollow inside. They have no feelings right now. Nor they ever will.
The men are slightly different. They aren’t smiling, that’s for one. They all have an intense look on their faces, staring intently at the house they might just attack if they weren’t so badly out of shape, even though all these men have bulging muscles that suggest they work out every ten minutes of so, they could never take on the one who controls the house. All the men are wearing dark clothes except for the husbands of the women. They’re dressed in casual clothes. Maybe they’re trying to trick the one who controls the house? Nobody knows for sure.
Mixed in the limping crowd are children, smiling just the same as their mothers. How can children be limping? Are they hurt? Can’t they walk right? They walk together though. The children are bunched up together as they walk amidst the crowd.
There are also the larger women and men that don’t have beautiful bodies and are slightly deformed. This was from before, from a couple years back when there wasn’t someone to fix them. They all look the same with black eyes, white skin, and straggly hair. They don’t have fingers or toes. They are hideous. They aren’t walking. They can’t walk. They don’t have a structure to keep them up. They just sit on the seats about the crowd, watching them. Like they always will.
And although it might not seem true, the entire crowd is heartless.
How can children be heartless? Nobody knows for sure, maybe they were just born that way.
The men look ready to tear someone apart. But they won’t. They can’t really. The one who controls the house controls them, too. So how can they attack if they just simply cannot? It can’t happen. The Controller is a genius.
The front of the crowd stops as they come to the front of the house. The rest stop, too, even though they aren’t that close to the building. The doors of the house open, revealing another heartless woman with a painted face and a fake smile. She wears the most elegant clothes out of the entire crowd, but she’s the one worst off. She’s in personal care of The Controller. She’s the pet. She doesn’t move, but just stares out at the crowd, probably trying hard not to break down in front of them. She’s with The Controller the most, maybe some feelings have rubbed off on her.
Still, she doesn’t move an inch. The crowd is silent, although they haven’t said a word in their entire lives. It’s time.
Again, the crowd starts to move, forming a circular pattern around the house and staring at its fake walls. This isn’t a real house. The Controller is too big to fit in there. And the house is enormous.
How big is The Controller? How menacing is The Controller? How terrible is The Controller?
A hand comes down and grabs one of the men with bulging muscles, flinging him back across the battlefield and not one turns to look. Another hand comes down and grabs a woman and her daughter, ripping off the woman’s head with a single twist and throwing the daughter back into the crowd roughly. Still, they say nothing. It’s expected, this happens every day. They lose a couple and then everything goes back to normal.
It’s the way things are.
The first hand comes back and rips the legs off of one of the men, tossing them to the side as if they meant nothing. The Controllers are angry. They’re fighting. The women and men and children wait patiently, standing like statues where they were last left.
The second hand that came down crashes onto the house and the pet in elegant clothes goes flying forward. A scream is heard from The Controller and a laugh is heard from the other.
With that, someone outside of the crowd’s world yells at The Controllers and they stop fighting. They drop their toys and run out of the room, leaving their dolls and action figures on the floor of the playroom.
The two most engaging powers of an author are to make new things familiar, and familiar things new.
Samuel Johnson

I'm not sarcastic, I'm simply verbally ironic.
Me




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It's a very interesting story. You seem to try and keep the reader wanting to read more by not full explaining and doing so later. You also describe things quite well, which was perfect when you described the crowd. The only thing I saw that was wrong was that you explained the limping aspect of the crowd a lot. You repeated yourself a few times, but tried to make it sound different. But that can be fixed and we all do it sometimes. X3 But it's a story that questions the reader and that's a good start! Keep it up!
And I vow oath to this creed and all who are within it, to protect and value them all.
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Oh, thank you, Quetseli!! Yeah, I did tend to repeat the whole limping thing a lot and I'll try to fix it so it's not so repetitive. Thank you for the review!!
The two most engaging powers of an author are to make new things familiar, and familiar things new.
Samuel Johnson

I'm not sarcastic, I'm simply verbally ironic.
Me




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haha this was cool. i just picked up a few mistakes and awkward-sounding sentences.
diaNe cHavez wrote:They all start walking towards the tall house, every single one of them limping. Not one of them is walking straight; almost as if they can’t. The women have smiles plastered onto their faces; they’re their eyes bright and painted. Fake. From a distance it might seem like an army of blonde women with happy expressions, but they’re hollow inside. They have no feelings right now. Nor they ever will. i think this would read better as ...right now, and they never will... but thats just me
The men are slightly different. They aren’t smiling, that’s for one. They all have an intense look on their faces maybe they all have intense looks on their faces or something different, i dont know., staring intently at the house they might just attack if they weren’t so badly out of shape, even though all these men have bulging muscles that suggest they work out every ten minutes of or so, they could never take on the one who controls the house. All the men are wearing dark clothes except for the husbands of the women. They’re dressed in casual clothes. Maybe they’re trying to trick the one who controls the house? Nobody knows for sure.

anyway, i liked this. it's different. nice ending :D
check it out - novel.php?id=1132




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For awhile, I thought it was puppets. So the ending got me a little. Well done, though, I liked that you kept your descriptions colorful, yet vague enough to keep a reader reading to see just who "The Controllers" were.

-Allie
"A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people."
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Oh, thank you jackle and AllieTheWriter!! I'll work on the wording and did you really think they were puppets?? Maybe I didn't describe them well enough....hmmm...
The two most engaging powers of an author are to make new things familiar, and familiar things new.
Samuel Johnson

I'm not sarcastic, I'm simply verbally ironic.
Me



As ideas are always better than their execution, so too must dough taste better than cookies.
— Horisun