Young Writers Society

I begin to rearrange the maze of levitating cubes, and I contemplate the possibility of transporting myself into the future and circumventing the tedious chore. Yet I find I cannot, at least that I cannot send myself into a time that is on the other side of this impediment. Another idea strikes me: could I find the interior within the very puzzle pieces of its exterior, the very pieces that will allow me to venture inside?

What I saw inside the cubes when I first arrived at the wall was a man. He was young, with dark brown hair that reflected the glitter surrounding him. I could not see the contents of the cubes, but somehow I knew which ones were past and which were future in relevance with the time shown. With a single blurred finger, he arranged the squares perfectly, from past to present. The wall lifted into the infinity above, though, however I strained, I could not see what was inside.

Then the wall slid shut.

The man was still inside. Is still inside.

The floating grid of cubes showed me its instructions for an instant, but I strode back to its beginning and slowed it down a bit, enough for me to see all that occurred.

And now I shift them into the sequential pattern. They are clumsy, my movements; not nearly as graceful as the man’s, whose movements all seemed to fuse into one elegant gesture. It will be long, but not difficult: my mind can somehow detect the location of the image (it is an image, though not at the same time. It has a misty quality about it, one that synchronously shows the still representation of the event and an incorporeal cinematic version of the event’s successive happenings, though both are easily discernible and manage to not interfere with each other. When the ghostly film version of the event reaches its closure, it fades from view and disappears, only to start over a moment later) in relation to the consecutiveness of those near that surround it. Some, however, are surrounded only by cubes that show deeds taking place at a completely different time period than themselves (the grand rectangular semi-solid structure was made up of a great many cubes, and thus this was not entirely uncommon), so for a reason yet unclear to me I cannot decipher their placement. Some are even more puzzling: I would see two or more cubes that pertain to the exact same time, are slightly to entirely different. It is these that cause me the greatest trouble, and in my frustration, I would take the time to actually watch what was being played on the smooth screens of the cubes’ faces.

One I remember in particular.

There is a boy and a girl lying in the sparkling air. The boy opens his eyes. Looks over at the girl.

She is dead.

The boy is me.

The mist steams from my arm as I reach outward and cradle the prophecy in my hand. It has a glassy texture: smooth, cool. And yet it is unreflective; or perhaps the reflection is the image itself, a multihued silhouette, foggy yet detailed beyond comparison. As I slide it along the network of cubes, others drifting aside to make room, I come across another framed prophecy. It is the same. Almost.

The boy looks over. Then nothing, except the belief of a dead neck.

Experimentally, I drag the falsity over to this latter cube.

The two begin to vibrate.

The sudden force dislodges my hand from beside it. White mist cascading from their viscera, the two, with magnetic fixation, begin to advance toward each other. When the edges meet, the mist escapes in explosive bursts, launching itself fulminantly outward.

But it is not finished. I must stay, finish the task.

These pearly volcanoes erupting the eons; now millennia in front of me. And yet they are here, for my hand is clutching them once more, unwilling, unable to let go. And the lights meld into seas as the earth settles at last.



I open my eyes.

But they will never be open. Not in this world. Time is lost in this abyss.

There is darkness. I have lost control. I cannot find myself, cannot....

But time has wrested control from me. I am its prisoner.

There is something beside me. I feel it. Something wandering there, within my reach, in this infinite wasteland.

It is a body.

There is screaming. But sound suffocates quickly here. There are no spots. There is only the knowledge of its demise. Is it my mouth that is open? I should close it, before it freezes there, before terror kills me as well, before time handcuffs me forever.

Dragging. Am I really dragging him? Where to? There is nothing here, I tell myself. Just have a conversation with him. I am sure he will be sociable. I am sure he will be dead.

What is this? A cube? Strange. I am sure it is nothing. Float away. Lie down next to this carcass.

Float away.

Fumbling hands. Are they mine? These cubes cannot be anything worth troubling over. Just ignore them. They will kill me. Yes, they will devour me. Here I will live. Here I will prosper.

Obey me!

White mist. Betrayer. I have doomed myself.

I am sucked into the tesseract.

Hey Kafka, back for another review!

What I saw inside the cubes...I could not see what was inside.

(I condensed this whole paragraph down, just so you know what I'm referring to).
Is this situation from when the MC first arrived in whatever place this is? Or is this directly following the events of the last chapter? Or is this something he's seeing in the cubes?

This chapter left me feeling even more lost. I'm having a hard time really understanding what these cubes are; are they like movie screens showing different events that have happened/will happen? Does the MC know this is what these cubes do? What's up with the ones that are different, the prophecies?

This is a really awesome concept, and I really enjoy reading, but I also really want to be able to fully understand what is going on. Don't be afraid to spend some time going into further explanations on things for the sake of the reader. Part of writing a story like this is writing it so that it can be understood to its fullest extent by the reader, so that it can be enjoyed and appreciated for the awesome that it is.

Also, what is the distinction between where the MC is now and the tesseract? Are they both strange universes, or is the one he is in now the earthly universe while the tesseract is something entirely different? Again with my needing clarification. xD

Again, lovely job with suspense and anticipation. I'm itching to read more, and to discover what the tesseract is like. Definitely keep writing, and keep me updated when you post new chapters if you would like me to continue to review (I would love to keep reviewing this). Feel free to PM me if you have any questions!

-Lauren-

Here for chapter two!

I don't really have much to say about this chapter in particular. The same criticisms apply (the lack of explanation/character development); as do the praises (everything else). I really like the build-up of mystery here; this story is almost like a metaphysical (my new favorite word!), even trippier version of LOST; this, by the way, is a VERY good thing Suspense and mythology-building are two very difficult things to combine, and you're pulling it off quite well here. Can't wait to read Chapter 3!