Young Writers Society

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow. -Langston Hughes.


Blind Shot

It was the beginning of summer when we first met. We were made to stand in a line, dressed in clothes that enhanced our scars and disabilities to the naked eye. We all stared at the one-way glass, some defiantly, others fearfully but we knew the day had come. The day they had all been training us for, the scientists, the mathematicians, the detectives, the geniuses of today’s society. They had been grooming us. Us. The entrails of society, the forgotten, the ones rejected by the new world.

There were hundreds of us, Obadiah says there was approximately 456 but he’s been known to be wrong -once-. We were in a warehouse, empty and cold and we were all armed. We all knew what we were meant to do, we had never met each other. We had no feelings, we weren’t raised to have such things. Right or wrong didn’t exist, we obeyed orders, the mathematicians, the detectives, the geniuses, we did as they told us.

Sometimes I’m glad I don’t have sight because what happened that day, we all have nightmares about it, only in mine I see no faces. I hear sounds, and feel blood as it splashes on me plastering my hair onto my skull the way it is when I have a shower. I ran around in circles, sometimes I tripped over bodies as I slashed my way through the crowd. As I ran, I felt someone hold on to my wrist and instead of screaming I smiled and sighed. My last thoughts had been: Make it fast. I took a deep breath and waited for death, but instead I was dragged out of the fray and thrust into the corner of the room -heroically (especially when he tells the story)-.

‘You’re safe here.’ was the breathless sentence I heard, and then silence followed. I thought you'd left and the screams continued, the slashes, the anger, the shame, the hate…I felt so suffocated. I remember you grabbing me to remind me you were there, and the way I pressed my face into your shirt and screamed. I just kept screaming, and screaming. I don’t remember stopping, but I felt your tears drip-drop on my matted hair.

We were so young. Only ten years old. We had all been picked up from hospital straight afterbirth, the disabled ones, the viruses in the world’s hard drive. Our parents had been killed or sterilized and we? We were raised to be special, one of my scientist’s called me his little soldier, we were born to pay for the world’s sins or at least that’s what Nicholas says when he isn’t so depressed.

After the selection test -the blood-bath- there was seven of us left standing. A voice through the loudspeaker ordered us to stop, and we did. I think that’s when we realised what we had done, then I wasn’t the only one screaming. Though you hate to admit it you screamed too.

We survived, you say it’s like an episode of American Idol, 456 hopefuls…one winner, but you’re wrong. We will continue to exist, despite our sins. Together. We were ushered into another room soon after that, we said nothing to each other but I held on to your shirt. We were all on guard expecting another fight, another series of deaths, but we were fed, washed and clothe.

They’d lost our trust but not our obedience. Only Obadiah complained, mumbling, and murmuring. To be completely honest, he was the only one who talked, he still is sometimes. He sat on the other side of me that day, asking stupid illogical questions he still asks. I thought he was an idiot, but now that I think about it, he was something else to think of something else to focus on, to be exasperated at. He plays that role admirably.

They led us to our beds, and I refused to let go of you. The only words we had exchanged had been a sentence, but we had a bond so strong. It was the closest to feeling I had ever been. I curled up beside you, sucking my thumb, my free hand curled into a fist around a piece of your shirt.

‘Goodnight.’ You said, and that was all I had needed to fall into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning we were rounded up and taken to the boardroom we now refer to as 'Death Hall'. Me, you, Obadiah, Nicholas, Akito, Niagara, and Zero. Wide-eyes, and bushy-tailed, expecting the worst but hoping for the best. I was still clinging onto you.

In that room our destiny was re-written, in that room we became what we are now. Their words seeping into our heads, telling us what we were going to do but not why. How much we would earn, but not the consequenses. So cold, so calculated, and we accepted. How could we not? They were all we had then, it was all we were good for.

You struggled, and bristled, but I held you back selfishly. I couldn't lose you, not a day after I had just found you. You joined us in training, you were the best of us all. Your disability was mild, all you had were learning difficulties. If you had been in a normal school, you'd have been the worst. Yet it was all you wanted. Normalcy, the very word sickens me.

When we became Seven-Eleven, you were against it. I pushed you into it again, I made you kill all those people. I made you hate yourself because I didn't want to lose you. Isn't it ironic that I who feared losing you killed you at the end. Isn't it?

You were too good for this world. And me.

----

So this is my eulogy to you, as I plunge this dagger into all their chests. Their listless eyes probably staring up at me accusingly; Obadiah, Nicholas, Akito, Niagara, and Zero. Perhaps you were right, 456 hopefuls, one winner. Me. If only I could see the damage I caused, perhaps then I would feel remorse but until my sight return I remain like this. Empty, selfish, and blind.

----

I liked the feel of this story, the only part I didnt like is that if the main character is blind, how would she have known about the clothing and one-way mirror? Overall, it was really good. (:

Hey! This was really interesting. I love the whole concept behind it. There were a few little issues that I noticed, though:

The day they had all been training us for, the scientists, the mathematicians, the detectives, the geniuses of today’s society.

This was confusing. I didn't understand who the scientists, detectives, etc were supposed to be. The main character, or "they"?

We all knew what we were meant to do, we had never met each other. We had no feelings, we weren’t raised to have such things.

I feel like these should be four separate sentences instead of two, or maybe with semicolons instead of commas.

We were raised to be special, one of my scientist’s called me his little soldier, we were born to pay for the world’s sins or at least that’s what Nicholas says when he isn’t so depressed.

This is a really long run-on sentence. It needs to be chopped up.

Their words seeping into our heads, telling us what we were going to do but not why.

"Seeping" is present tense, but the rest of the story is in past tense. It should be "seeped" to stay with the tense of the rest of the writing.

Isn't it ironic that I who feared losing you killed you at the end. Isn't it?

This part bothers me. You should take out the second question, because you really don't need to repeat it. Or rephrase the sentences so that it says, "Isn't ironic that the person who feared losing you the most killed you at the end?" or something like that.

You were too good for this world. And me.

I feel like you were trying to end on a dramatic note, but this is just kind of awkward. The "and me" part seems like it was randomly tacked onto the end. I would rewrite it so that it's "You were too good for this world. Too good for me," or something along those lines. That would make the ending a lot stronger.

I really liked this. It's definitely an intriguing idea. However... it feels more like a prologue than a whole story. If you expanded it, I think it could definitely make a cool novella or novel. I want more details about the Seven-Eleven, the kids, and the society that they live in. You barely gave us a glimpse into their world! You could definitely turn this into a longer story.

Hope this helped!

Magnus

Chaaang. Here as you so requested. :3

Now... the first thing I'll say is that I really, really liked the character here. Her voice was awesome, and I loved the way your wrote her. Him. (I'm assuming it's a her, right? O.o If you said anywhere, I apologize. I'm a little groggy right now.) But, then again, that's the only thing I didn't like about it-- you don't really know much about the character as a whole. 'Her' voice is good, but you don't know her name (which I don't mind much, given the kind of story this is), you don't know if 'she' is actually a she (unless I just missed it). She sounds like a she, but what if she's a he?

Yeah. Anyways...

There were a lot of typos and tiny errors, but most of them were pointed out already PLUS... I'm not *usually* that kind of reviewer. xD Just a heads-up about them.

Overall, I loved the concept, the way it was written, the voice - you know all of that already. There was, however, a certain vagueness to it which I'm not particularly fond of. Usually, vague is my favorite kind of story, but this is a short story and not a novel, and the fact that I'll never know more about it bugs me half to death. Like Magnus said earlier, it seemed more like the beginning of something rather than a short story.

You don't know much about the corporation, what's really going on, the past or what happens to the characters. It's just a bit too mysterious for a short story in my opinion.

Anyways, there's not much else I can find to say, so.

~~Ching ;D

I like this short story. There is only on problem.. sometimes you said what was surrounding him as though the main character could see them. I don't think thats right. And I only noticed one little mistake:

AngerManagement wrote:We were all on guard expecting another fight, another series of deaths, but we were fed, washed and clothe.

I think you mean washed and clothed. Apart from that all is good

Deanie x

Hey AM! I was going to give this a line by line, like I usually do, but I found so many punctuation errors. It doesn't seem right to critique the flow of the story when said flow was probably bulldozed by the punctuation. You missed a few semi-colons, full stops, and commas. Maybe it was intentional (as a style), or maybe it wasn't. Whatever it was, it didn't work.

Sometimes I’m glad I don’t have sight because what happened that day, we all have nightmares about it, only in mine I see no faces. I hear sounds, and feel blood as it splashes on me plastering my hair onto my skull the way it is when I have a shower. I ran around in circles, sometimes I tripped over bodies as I slashed my way through the crowd. As I ran, I felt someone hold on to my wrist and instead of screaming I smiled and sighed. My last thoughts had been: Make it fast. I took a deep breath and waited for death, but instead I was dragged out of the fray and thrust into the corner of the room -heroically (especially when he tells the story)-.

That is where I stopped. I'd have to disagree strongly with Isha (I read the other reviews). She mentioned that she loved the character's voice. Honestly speaking, it doesn't sound real to me. oo" I mean, it is, but it's not at the same time - and that's not to say it's subtle. I can see you're trying, and sometimes it sounds unforced, elegant - perfect. Then the rest of the story comes in and I'm left wondering what happened. I think it's because you broke character quite often.

Let me show you an example.

There were hundreds of us, Obadiah says there was approximately 456 but he’s been known to be wrong -once-. We were in a warehouse, empty and cold and we were all armed. We all knew what we were meant to do, we had never met each other. We had no feelings, we weren’t raised to have such things. Right or wrong didn’t exist, we obeyed orders, the mathematicians, the detectives, the geniuses, we did as they told us.

There's a lot of things wrong towards the end of that paragraph, I'm afraid. oo"

First off, if you didn't know right and wrong existed, would you be able to say they didn't exist? If you didn't even know what they were, could you even mention them? No, because you don't know they exist! That was an authorial intrusion, my dear friend, albeit one most people don't notice. ^^" Also, if they had no feelings, then this piece seems to laden with emotions for that kind of effect. You constantly mention fear - which they won't have if they had no emotions. They'd be broken, hollow. Lifeless, almost.

Consistency, AM. We all need it. When you come right down to it, writing stories is like lying - you make up things that aren't real and try to make them seem as real as possible. When you lie, you don't want your story to be in conflict with itself - that's the worst thing you could do, right? It's the biggest must in writing fiction - your story can have any rules you want, but it must be internally consistent. You could have wingless-but-flying yellow-green kangaroos for all I care, but you can't tell me they can fly around the world in ten minutes one moment and tell me they're unable to make it to Japan the next day in the next.

I can't really make much of a critique on your character, but from what I see, her voice isn't strong enough to support the narrative, AM, unless you're willing to up the ante by a lot. You constantly intrude on her voice and narrative in order to say what you want, to help the reader see what your character shouldn't be able to see.

Take this sentence, for example.

I ran around in circles, sometimes I tripped over bodies as I slashed my way through the crowd.

From what I gathered, your MC was blind. So tell me, how does she know she's running around in circles? Maybe she's doing it on purpose. But why would she do that? o0" Also, being blind means she won't know she tripped over bodies, not necessarily.

Most of this fell flat because this piece is supposed to draw a lot of emotion from the reader. I don't feel any. I can tell you why, though. I don't feel her horror, or understand the horror of the situation. It's perfectly fine if your MC sees nothing wrong with this (which would happen if she was truly emotionless - she'd probably just go about it like whatever). But you're going to have to find some other way to scare your audience into realizing that holy french toast, something is very wrong.

You're on the right track with the tripping over bodies and blood splashing. Still, if you really want to draw a reaction from your readers, you'll want to dwell on it a little more. How does she know it's blood? Certainly not by its color. Is it the way it's a little heavier than water? Or is it because the stream it left behind was sticky? Perhaps it's the warmth - she's never encountered warm water. I don't know. You tell me. What she tripped over - soft, warm, perhaps slick with a slippery substance (blood). She's on all fours now - when she reaches out, does she accidentally touch an unmoving hand wrapped around a gun?

Little details go a long way.

On another note, I'd like to warn you that your character doesn't feel real. She lacks that extra push that'll make her seem three dimensional. I think it's the lack of thoughts. I mean, she does have thoughts - there just aren't enough of them. Remember that first person requires the reader to feel as if she's in your character's head. We need to see her thought processes, her beliefs, her biases, her reasons, and her conclusions. You didn't show much of it in the first three paragraphs (granted, it's only the first three), but I'm going to make a guess and say that there probably wasn't too much in the rest of it.

I need more emotion (or less, depending on whether or not you're going to stick with the emotionless deal), more grounding, more anything, AM. This story has a dash of everything but not enough of anything (except maybe authorial intrusion). First, fix the punctuation errors. Then you'll see lots of areas where you can cut words to improve the flow. After that, it's a matter of rereading the story to make sure it's internally consistent and free of authorial intrusions and clumsy sentences.

One more note: emotionless characters are difficult. Stoic characters are hard enough as is, but emotionless? Darn. That means they won't realize they're doing anything wrong, would be completely absorbed in their own machinations, and would probably not be very good at manipulating others. Contrary to popular belief, it's difficult to predict the way someone acts if you have no clue why they would act that way. Emotionless characters would more likely than not be rude, inconsiderate, and just accept everything as it comes. Desire is a feeling - remember that. To want something is a feeling, which emotionless characters do not have. Therefore, your character isn't likely to have much of a goal. It's going to be insanely difficult to make someone like that sympathetic - and if you're aiming for unsympathetic, something is off because I'm feeling kind of meh towards her.

There are two ways to deal with MCs:

1. Sympathetic - Makes the reader go, "GAH. Why does this stuff happen to her? >:[" *cheers for MC*

2. Unsympathetic - The reader despises the character, but the character is so compelling and such a train wreck that the reader can't help but watch.

See where your character sways and write accordingly. oo" Right now, your MC is stuck in a purgatory of sorts. I'm totally apathetic. She could disappear and I probably wouldn't give a crud. No, "Where'd she go?!" or "About time. I'll probably miss her, but she had it coming." The last thing you want is for your MC to elicit absolutely no reaction. ^^"

I hope you found this review helpful.

Sincerely,

Octave