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Double Vision



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Tue Nov 29, 2011 6:21 pm
DevanEWilliams says...



Spoiler! :
Hello, all! This story was taken from a dream that I experienced a while ago, which is why it is extremely confusing and almost paradoxical at times. Possibly entering it in a contest, so any comments would be greatly appreciated. Thank you!



I am reading a book.
Maybe, somewhere deep inside me, I have a sense that where I am now and what I am doing could be infinitely more glorious, bizarre, wonderful. I have the potential to blink my eyes, snap my fingers, and the entire scene will swirl away and be replaced with something new. Perhaps, I have this one gnawing word plaguing my innermost subconscious:
Possibilities.
Or...
maybe I don’t.
Maybe I am walking and reading, reading and walking, and the world will continue on the way it is, because who am I to question the very essence of reality?
Anyway, this is a really good book.
I know this because it is of my own fabrication; I wrote the entire thing myself. Every character, action, and detail is under my complete control.
I know this, and yet I seem to forget it, because I desperately read on to find what happens next.
I am walking along the edge of a towering canyon; the rock is the grayest of gray, devoid of color, and the sky, which is full of thickening clouds, matches in appearance. A biting wind is blowing, whipping my hair and my jacket behind me.
A boy is walking beside me, and I know, just by looking, that he belongs to me. He is the boy, I am the girl; it is that simple. We are destined for each other. His love for me warms my heart as we walk.
Somewhere in time I realize just how it is that I know him—I created him. This character from my book has manifested itself into my own reality, and he is the partner of a nameless her, the main character.
So, I figure, I am her, she is me. We are one in the same, which means he is mine.
What are we to be doing, I wonder? I consult the book.
They walk along the edge of the desolate canyon. We search for another without a name, and the thought of him conjures images of terror and hatred.
To put it simply, we are in search of the antagonist of the novel.
I cannot decide whether or not it worries me that my fate is tethered to the thousands of words in this single volume. Again, something stirs in my mind—a memory of a forgotten world—and I am scared for a moment. Something tells me wrong, but the book-reading me and the main-character-her me look on in a calming indifference.
I have no time to ponder how it came to be that I am simultaneously doing and watching (Have I two souls, two minds, or perhaps two sets of eyes?), for we have reached the cave that contains the evil one, my single enemy, who remains nameless. I know him, yet I do not know him.
The cavern entrance is menacingly tall, and leads into a horrible blackness.
My love, who continues to walk beside me, grasps my hand, and without a word, we enter.
The man has a relatively forgettable face--almost. His features are quite ordinary, except he has the most sanguine eyes, a scarlet that burns into my vision like fire.
The cave is so dark that the doing-me cannot see what is happening, but the reading-me follows along in silent observance. The words, which I see but do not see, tell me something has gone wrong. We have been captured; the antagonist has taken them by surprise. We are tied in chairs. The ropes are scratching, grating against our skin. What have we gotten into? They are overwhelmed, I can tell.
He is drugging us—our minds have clouded with a poison of mysterious origin. The man does not want his mortal enemies escaping while his back is turned.
What happens next? I wonder, possibly feeling some amount of concern for my creations, but also the myself that is not myself.
The last words jump out at me from the page in a peculiar way, and though the meaning itself is terrifying, it does not seem to bother me. After all, it isn’t happening to me, it is happening to her over there. The sentence is crystal-clear at the bottom of the page:
“He slit their throats.”
A slight glimmer of comprehension begins to affect me somewhat, but before I can react, it is done. A pull of a knife on skin, a flash of crimson, and the world is black.

* * *

I open my eyes slowly—everything is now a startling white compared to the absolute darkness I had previously experienced. How much time has passed? I do not know.
The book is gone, long forgotten, as well as the characters that emerged from it during my past adventure. Not that I pay it any mind—I am transfixed on what is happening in front of me.
I realize where I am with a sudden recognition that is to be expected from one who has walked its halls for years.
I find it almost silly, after such a dramatic death, to reappear at my school.
Yet here I am—in the middle of the day, no less. The hallways are strangely crowded; students must be heading to their next class. I am standing halfway up a staircase, watching fellow students as they hurry by; they don’t so much as glance up at me as they pass.
Am I supposed to be going to class? I wonder, and I just decided to find out when I notice one of my friends walking by in the nearest hallway.
I call out to them. “Them” and not “him” or “her” because I do not see its face. I don’t even recognize them, but I look at them and think friend, so that is what they must be. I do not question this person and what its lack of identity signifies.
The friend turns, eyes wide, though not in surprise—in fear.
“You’re dead,” a distorted voice says, which comes out of a mouth that I may or may not know—it does not remain the same as I stare at the words being formed out of it.
I had forgotten! My memory turns back to the blackness I had been destroyed in, and the scene that had transformed itself before me. I am suddenly overcome with a feeling that I cannot fully understand, except for that this feeling tells me you do not belong here.
They are all looking at me, with the same expressions, and I cannot decide whether with anger or with repulsion they stare into my eyes.
I know in my very being that I have been banished from their minds and hearts; and here I am once again, and I do not belong. They chose to leave me as a haunting memory.
And so this is what I become—a haunting memory. I wander, listless, through this cursed place, where no one knows me and everyone knows me.
I watch the girl that haunts the halls of her school. She doesn’t raise her head to the shouts and laughter of those around her—they do not see each other. They are in separate worlds, but the same location. She continues, floating up the staircase where students are descending, pressing in on her and passing with hardly any notice.
I wish she would lift her eyes and find that her friends miss her, that they want her to return.
I wish she would see.
Last edited by DevanEWilliams on Wed Nov 30, 2011 9:33 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Tue Nov 29, 2011 6:28 pm
MasterGrieves says...



I am reading a book.

That is the best opening line I have ever read. Seriously. I also love it's simplicity and every day nature. I especially liked how you used this statement to repeat ideas throughout this piece. It is actually really sad and the wording is very blunt. Your writing reminds me of Junky by William Burroughs, which is very unapologetic and very casual. I am also happy that you have used frequent one lined paragraphs. This varies the pace at certain times of the piece. Hats off to you. Keep writing :)
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Tue Nov 29, 2011 7:08 pm
creativityrules says...



Hi, Devan! I'm Rose, and I'll be reviewing this piece today.

So, um...wow. This is amazing. I haven't read anything like this in an incredibly long time. I found myself growing immersed in this story as I read it. The most amazing part of it, to me, was how you captured the essence of dreaming. I dream all of the time, almost always about confusing, demented, drifting things, and to know that there's somebody else out there who dreams so similiarly to the way that I do is encouraging. In fact, I've been planning to write something about a particular dream I had for quite a while (don't worry, my story is not at all similiar to yours) and this has encouraged me to write it. Amazing job.

Since you asked for any comments that can help improve this piece, I read over it and tried to find things wrong with it that I could tell you about. I discovered a few, but they're very minor and really just me nitpicking. Since this is a contest piece, I'll point them out to you, and if you don't agree with my suggestions, you don't have to follow them.

Maybe, somewhere deep inside me, I have a sense that where I am now, what I am doing could be infinitely more glorious, bizarre, wonderful.


There seems to be something off with this sentence, particularly the part about 'where I am now, what I am doing'. I think it would sound better to replace the comma with the word 'and'. In my opinion, doing so would make the sentence flow better.

Or
maybe I don’t.
Maybe I am walking and reading, reading and walking, and the world will continue on the way it is, because who am I to question the very essence of reality?


In my opinion, writing the words 'or maybe I don't' in one line would make this part of the piece less choppy. Also, I would break the second sentence into two sentences, like so:

Maybe I am walking and reading, reading and walking, and the world will continue on the way it is. Who am I to question the very essence of reality?


I feel like breaking the sentence into two sentences makes each part stand out.

All in all, amazing piece. I absolutely love it. Always keep writing! Also, I hope you win the contest!

-Rose
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Tue Jan 03, 2012 3:50 pm
Lauren2010 says...



Hi there Devan! Here as requested! (Sorry it took me so long!)

This is a really neat, poetic piece. I like the poeticism about it, and how it gives the story a dreamy quality that carries the emotion through the piece. However, this story also feels really winding and tangent-y. There doesn't feel like there's a really strong or stable structure to it which ultimately hurts all the good stuff in the piece.

As it is, this story kind of feels like this:
This happens and then this happens and then this happens and then this happens and so on and so forth. There's not a strong continuity between the parts, which makes the story feel like it's going off in twenty different directions. We go from reading a book to what appears to be the main character placing herself within the story? to her being at school (or not?) to her being dead?

All of those question marks up there are what you don't want to see from a reader. While stories can leave questions to compel a reader, and take unexpected turns, it shouldn't make a reader completely lose the course of the story. We want to keep the reader filled in enough and involved enough with the story that they can understand what is happening and get what we want them to get from the story.

What this story needs, I think, is a bit of outlining. Take the important events of the story and write them out one after another. Then, think about how to logically connect these events in the course of the story. Take for example, the first change from reading the book to being "inside" the story.

We have our main character reading, and she slowly comes to visualize herself within the story. Maybe the environment in which she's reading changes around her and she sees that, and sees herself transforming into whatever the main character is doing at that point. This scene change itself isn't too bad as it is, it just needs to be maintained better in the prose. It needs to be absolutely clear to the reader what is happening, or else they'll put the story down and walk away out of confusion.

The same needs to be done for the other scene changes, but with a bit more context added in as well. For example, when she appears back at school, but is told by her "friend" that she's dead? I had no idea what was going on. Is she dreaming? Or is she in another story? Or is that actually happening? And if so, how is that even possible? Is there something about this character/world we don't know that allows this phenomenon to happen?

These are questions we don't want our reader to be having. ;) Luckily, it's easy to fix with just bringing more clarity and continuity into the writing. While it's fun to use all the super vague flowerly language, it isn't always best for the story and for the reader's understanding. While it sounds beautiful, sometimes we have to "kill our babies" in that way and nix some of the good lines in order to better improve the story as a whole.

I do hope, though, that you can preserve a lot of the more poetic language in this story because I think it works particularly well here. I really enjoyed reading it, and the mood it gave the story. I just also would have liked to make it through the story without going "huh? wait what's happening?" ;)

Overall, you have a really good start here. I'd really love to see how you bring the good stuff in the language and the writing into a strong and stable plotline.

Keep writing!

-Lauren-
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Fri Jan 20, 2012 12:55 pm
ShootingStars says...



Hey, this is Shooting Stars here to review like asked!
First of all, your opening line is AMAZING. It's short and sweet, but gets to the point and really makes you want to continue reading.
I didn't find many grammatical mistakes or ones with punctuation, and if I did they were minor.
Your story here is well written and fun to read, it's interesting and... Marvelous! Here's a few things though that I noticed:
1) There's not that much of a flow between ideas.
2) Like Lauren said, the story feels like it leaps all over the place, but it honestly is very good.
Over all, I loved it! Just keep these small things in mind... KEEP WRITING!!!
---Shooting Stars
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