Young Writers Society

Endlessly Falling

My feet were battered and torn, skin callused and ragged, heart pounding wearily within my chest. Time seemed to stand still as I stared forward at the clock ticking endlessly ahead of me, it’s large hands stuck permanently at the 12. It stood on nothingness, only an ample shade of cyan colouring that sky beneath it where the road chipped away, crumbling as I approached with clumsy footing.

I was wheezing, my hands outstretched as if it was but merely inches from my fingertips, so desperate to reach the object of which held no significance to me and yet it was that thought that made me chase it with all my might.

And I was crying.

The tears weren’t evident to me for the longest time, as my run became slow even though I was pushing with the same ferocity as I had since the beginning. Time itself was fighting against me as I charged forward, each step matching the slow pounding that was my heart. The thumps became louder, the only thing I could hear. The only thing that made any sense at all, and yet they were becoming slower… slower…ever slower…

The clock was miles away from me and yet I fought bitterly to make it. It seemed though that with every step, the clock only seemed to become another meter farther, the ground crumbling another meter closer. When I would make it to the ledge it would already be to late to reach my goal.

So the tears rained down, colouring as they went to an unpleasant shade of crimson. Blood was what it appeared to me, but I did not stop to think about it or contemplate the haemorrhaging from my eyes.

Instinctively, I chased the unknown thing with but a single hope that maybe, just maybe, I could touch it with my very own fingertips.

And then I was falling…

I watched as the ground underneath my feet disappeared into the nothingness in which this dream was created of, and I plummeted into the darkening sky.

Something made me look back, made me feel regret for running, made me wish I could have turned around and went back to where I started. Something was aching within my chest, burning me up inside as I stared up at the clock that slowly became farther and farther from my reach. I couldn’t stop looking at it though, it’s beautiful arch made of the finest mahogany.

I could not explain the pain I felt as the clock slowly disappeared from my vision. It was as if I had lost something more dear to me then life itself, a lost friend or family member maybe… I don’t know. All I knew was it was gone and the bloody tears that seeped from my eyes fell above me now, staining the sky red as they went.

I was completely and utterly alone now, stuck in an eternity that was nothing but falling, nothing but crying and wishing on a hand to pull me out, on a kind heart to whisk me away from this nightmare. What an eternity this turned out to be.

But falling was something. A thing to hold onto at least. If this was my eternity then so be it and I would find a way to smile again… to hold the hope of touching that clock with my fingertips again.

And then I was found.

I don’t really understand how it happened, and how land seemed to find me, but gentle chuckles erupted from the chest I was pressed against, arms holding me so surely, so tightly that I needn’t fear anything more then this. I was safe… no longer falling.

“Silly girl.” His laugh was so infectious. So heart-warming. “What gave you such an idea to fall through the sky?”

“The clock.” I muttered meekly even though I was sure he had no idea what I was talking about. I started to sob uncontrollably after that, face pressed into his chest even though his shirt would now be stained with my bloody tears. “I couldn’t reach the clock… I couldn’t reach it…”

“No need for such useless tears.” He wiped the tears away with his thumb when I finally turned my head up to see what my saviour had looked like. In fact, I as a little appalled at the sight, not saying he was unattractive or anything like that, but he was lithe. Skinny and unusually strong for someone who did not look that muscular at all. His hair was a fiery crimson, eyes a hazy green as he looked down at me, the smirk still fairly evident there.

“What is your name?” I asked suddenly, feeling compelled to do so.

“I have had many names.” He murmured, more to himself then to me of that I was sure. “Some called me Amadeo, some Theodore. My name though in which I have been called for the last few decades has been William.”

“William…” I murmured so softly. The name seemed to role off my tongue like a lyric to the most glorious, immaculate song. “I don’t understand you, William.”

“You do not need to understand, my dear.” he stroked my hair softly, leaving tingling tracks in it‘s wake. “I am but a creator of dreams. The one who fills your nights with rest.”

“A creator of dreams?”

“The creator of dreams.”

And then it was over, or so it seemed. Everything went black and I sat still in my bed, the sky enlightening through my window panes. I remembered his name, his voice, his appearance and I held onto those thoughts as hard as I could. He was my saviour, my knight in shining armour… my king of dreams…

~~

If you haven’t realised, king of dreams is sort of a reference that goes back to ‘Dreamwalker’ in which is the name I sort of bestowed to this figment, this character in which my imagination seemed to will me to create. I have treasured the thought of him and now I continue to strive and write a tale for him, of what he must be like, this William character, and what terrible situations in which must have occurred to him.

From Dreams to Reality
~The.Dreamwalker

You say you intend to write a story about him, but this piece seems to be more about you. Maybe I didn't understand you, or something.

Anyway, as a dream, I find this interesting. I had a similar dream, where two guys were climbing up a belfry and one of them betrayed the other guy and the other man fell from an immeasurable height, hearing the voice of his former friend cackling. I thought about turning that into a story, as well.

But about your story: as I said, I find it interesting as a dream, but not terribly interesting as a story. I don't see how all of this adds up. If the dream and the character in the dream really mean much to you, then use them by all means, just keep in mind that you're writing a story for an audience.

Or did you just write this for yourself? That's fine too, but since you submitted this into the fiction section, I have expectations as a reader.

I don't think I have anything else to say about it.

Hello there, my dearest sister.
I just happened to stumble upon this. You never even told me anything about posting a story lately! I must review it then. And I promise I won't nag about you commas.

Also, for any other reviewers, Don't pay attention to all my critiques. Most of them are me just trying to irritate my sister.

I. Nit-Picks

clock ticking endlessly ahead of me, it’s large hands stuck permanently at the 12.

How can this be possible! :O
If the hands are permanently stuck at the twelve, the second hand would be stuck too and it would not click.

nothingness

**nothing. I am not even sure if nothingness is a word or not, but in the sentence, you don't need to have that extra 'ness' to it.

that

**the

I was wheezing, my hands outstretched as if it was but merely inches from my fingertips, so desperate to reach the object of which held no significance to me and yet it was that thought that made me chase it with all my might.

This doesn't really matter, but I have a comment. If I was you, (xD) I would not care about the simple clock. The road was ending and if I continued I would probably walk right off the road... and I don't care if it is not significant! If it was significant I would risk the end of the road. xD

as my run became slow even though I was pushing with the same ferocity as I had since the beginning.

Hah, I know that feeling.

Time itself was fighting against me as I charged forward, each step matching the slow pounding that was my heart.

That is illogical. If that was true, you would have more over been in a state of post-motem or in other terms, dead. Your heart can not permit to be slowed down. But dreams are endless so I will let it slide.

The thumps became louder, the only thing I could hear. The only thing that made any sense at all, and yet they were becoming slower… slower…ever slower…

Ding dong. You need a comma. ;D
In between those two sentence there should be a comma because it would sound better even if it becomes run on. I don't like that period. I banish it to the other side of the island!

the clock only seemed to become another meter farther, the ground crumbling another meter closer.

I don't understand this. So are you trying to say that the path is crumbling towards you in itself and the clock is shifting away? if you could, could you clarify please. :O

unpleasant shade of crimson

But crimson is pleasant! How could you Dreamwalk? What about Gaara!

contemplate the haemorrhaging from my eyes.

'Haemorrhaging' is not the right word. Haemorrphgging means to easier have immense eternal bleeding or when you are cut in a certain way, the splurting of the blood. Moreover your eyes are just 'leaking' blood. xD

Instinctively, I chased the unknown thing with but a single hope that maybe, just maybe, I could touch it with my very own fingertips.

For reasons unknown. ._.

a lost friend or family member maybe… I don’t know.

The 'I don't know' ruins the atmosphere. Remember not to fall into that trap. It makes a writer seem unprofessional when they write 'I don't know'.

I was completely and utterly alone now,

You do not need the 'now' because actually you were always alone, unless those inanimate objects can move and talk without me knowing.

to hold the hope of touching that clock with my fingertips again.

I understand that this was a connection to the begining, but I believe it kind of ruins the feeling I was getting. That is parcially because I ruined the thought about the clock in the beginning by joking around. I think you should just keep on rambling on about your emotions and keep your pity party going.

and how land seemed to find me, but gentle chuckles erupted from the chest I was pressed against,

Land has a chest! :O

so tightly

You need a comma after this.

I was safe… no longer falling.

I don't like the '...' thing you got going on here. Just do a comma or start a new sentence.

infectious. So heart-warming.

The period needs to be a comma instead,

He wiped the tears away with his thumb when I finally turned my head up to see what my saviour had looked like.

I don't really like this very much. I know you staged it so that you could describe him but I believe the transition could make a bit more sense. Maybe;

'He wiped my tears away with his thumb, causing me to finally turn my head up to see what my savior looked like.'

Or something like that.

the smirk still fairly evident there.

This should be changed because you never said that he was smirking before, and you would not have been able to tell. It would be more like 'a smirk fairly evident there' but use your awesome writing skills and make it sound a lot better. I am horrible at examples.

the sky enlightening through my window panes.

Since when does our window have window panes? xD
I know that this is in the eyes of Augustine so I won't even bother.

my knight in shining armour… my king of dreams…

Make this ending powerful! Make it blunt, like you so casually usually are. XD

'My knight in shining armour. My king of dreams.'

II. Grammar and Punctuation

You grammar and punctuation is amazing like so many on this site tend to have. You had some parts where you should have had commas instead of periods, or at least that was my thought. I believe you over used the '...'. The '...' is the equivalent to me as the semi-colon is to you. xD

Do you understand me?

You grammar was spotless. I noticed no errors.

III. Character Development

The only reason why I know this is because I am your sister but the main character's name is Augustine (No idea how to spell that). But Augustine was fairly like you, determinded, brilliant, sees something shiny and goes to it, and seems to always be searching for the truth. The one main difference was that she is more optimistic than you. The similarities are fairly clear, but they are different.

Augustine seems more quiet and mellow than you and the clock I guess was her search for salvation because she is mute (nobody really knows that).

You displayed her characteristics fairly clearly because you gave an insight on her thoughts amazingly. How you described her actions made me smile too.

William, I actually imagined blonde, but we will fight over this later. xD
You described him beautifully, with his crimson locks and hazy green eyes. You also gave a small insight on his character, slightly bold, slightly kind.

You did a good job with the characters except that you made Augustine resemble you a lot.

IV. Writing Style

Your writing style is beautifully. I love your proses and metaphors. Connections are incredibly easy to make in this piece. You have a great way in weaving your vocabulary so that words don't seem to occuring, except for one word that I am going to talk about later. You are incredibly descriptive and I find that very comforting and easy to read.

The one thing I would like for you to do is that near the end, you kind of stopped being detailed in her surroundings. I am personally confused at this point because I do not know if what they are doing. It is a dream so I thought they were flying, more over like Howl in Howl's Moving Castle. But then you said something about land which threw me off. Maybe say something about grass if they are on land. Just add more details.

You also over-used the word crimson. I know it is one of your favourite words and colors but that isn't an excuse.

V. Overall

This was a very interesting piece and I actually enjoyed reviewing it parcially because I got to joke around somewhat.

You exceeded extremely well in 'Character Development' and 'Grammar and Punctuation'. I am very proud of you, and I am officially your number one fan. I am so going to publisize your from now on. xD

Syte, I would just like to tell you that this actually is one of her stories that she has been working on for a while, but he actual story is in the eyes of this William character. It is fiction, for if it truly was a dream, I would never have heard the end of it. The character was fairly personalized but that is hard not to when talking in 1st person. (Dreamwalk, if I am wrong, thanks for telling me these things. xD)

See you around,
~Incognito

Great! I don't know what it was particularly, but this kept my interest through the whole thing... I rarely remember my dreams... Well, it doesn't seem like you'll be adding to this much now, but good job anyway!

Hey Dream.

it’s large hands stuck permanently at the 12.

its is possessive; "it's" is a contraction for "it is". There are other grammatical/punctuation mis-haps I'd watch out for-- lots of sentence fragments, some of which are perfectly fine and some of which you might want to rephrase --but I'll leave that up to you to decide when you proofread next.

All I knew was it was gone and the bloody tears that seeped from my eyes fell above me now, staining the sky red as they went.

I liked this line.

Overall

My problem with this was that it was stagnant, not progressing. Your narrator, the girl trapped in her dream of falling, is running after this elusive clock for 600 words, and while I admit they were phrased very poetically and had some nice imagery, I think it's too much of the same. From the first half of the story I get one emotion (pain) and then there's the sudden release from this elusive king of dreams. Running after the clock is clearly symbolism for this character, but we never catch the reality half of it, so the metaphor falls flat. What does the dream mean-- looking outside of the literal? What is the significance of her tears being made of blood (and I'd cut the hemorrhaging part; not sure if it's medically possible, and it seems like too precise and real of a word for this vague dream)?

A note about William: if he is the creator of dreams, why is he a savior? From what I can see, the narrator's dreams are hellish nightmares, and if I were having them I would be furious at the man who was giving them to me, no matter how handsome he is. You miss the connection there. Also, something to consider-- I think leaving William nameless would increase his intrigue and mystery. Character names are powerful things, and with a short story like this that's dealing with such a magical character, it might be just as well to leave his name up to the readers' imaginations. Just a thought.

Very pretty prose, and a nice attention to details! Just make sure you're not regurgitating the same imagery and emotions line after line. Make sure your story is going somewhere, that it has direction, and isn't just floating somewhere relying solely on emotion and pretty phrases. PM me for anything!

~Evi

Everybody here review so good. haha. Im now afraid to post my story =)

This story is endlessly falling down the drain.