z

Young Writers Society


16+ Language Violence Mature Content

Endless Summer

by BadNarrator


Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language, violence, and mature content.

She is carrying a goat in her arms. I am running behind her, holding a Scottish terrier. I don’t know who this girl is or why she chose me. I don’t know why I am wearing a surgical gown. My memory is a lush green lawn with pieces of sod ripped out here and there. At this moment I am still a child, that much I can remember. I am twelve years old, I have been separated from my parents and today is the day the world will end. At this moment the field we are running through is covered with dirt and dead leaves. At this moment the sirens are blaring behind us. The goat has a patch of hair missing on its head where I can see stitches and a piece of wire hanging from its flesh. The dog needs me to run for both of us because he has no hind legs.

Other animals are trying to escape as well. A chimp dashes past us on horseback. A hawk swoops down to snatch one of the foxes scurrying between our feet. I look back at the facility and see red lights flashing from atop the watchtowers. Enormous flying creatures which defy explanation go tumbling into the cloudless sky like floating sea-urchins, their barbs quivering in the breeze. I think—no—hope that they’re intelligent, that they know enough to get as far away from this place as possible.

The girl says, “God damn it, not now!”

I say, “There’s a ditch up there!”

We run past the dead oak on the shallow hill. A child’s skeleton rests against the tree trunk, watching the ball of light erupting from the turrets and razor-wire behind us. The girl reaches the ditch before I do. At this moment my shoe catches the root of the tree. I fall and the dog slips out of my arms. I reach out for him but the girl has already grabbed my other hand.

“There’s no time, you retard!”

She drags me into the ditch. For a split second I can hear the sound of elephants before the noise is drowned out by the explosion. The light is so bright I can see it through my eyelids with my head between my knees. For a moment I feel panic making its way past my lips and into my lungs like chlorinated water. An image of my old life enters my brain. I see myself at four years old in the locker room at the waterpark in Wisconsin Dells. My father is carrying me in his arms. We are heading towards the wave pool. I tell my dad I want to go back to the hotel, but he assures me that the water will wash the scary thoughts away.

“It’s like returning to a house you thought you forgot,” he says to me, “being carried by a wave.”

At this moment the vibrations of his voice, like my mother’s acoustic bass-guitar, settle my nerves and make me calm. I don’t even cry when we enter the water and I feel my father’s fingers disappear. And when the wave-machine kicks on and the water covers my head and I feel myself sinking to the bottom, I don’t even open my eyes to see if someone is reaching down to save me.

After a minute or so the light goes away and the sky looks like dawn. The girl is standing now, the goat bleating madly in her arms. I lift my head to observe the destruction. At this moment there is a ring of fresh green grass growing around the base of the mushroom cloud and it is spreading outward fast. When I crawl out of the ditch the thin sharp leaves are already worming their way up from inside the skeleton and the tree as if they are both made of mud.

“We need to go,” says the girl.

I say, “Not without Fala.” I don’t know if that’s the dog’s real name, but that’s what washes up on the muddy banks of my memory.

The girl tells me it’s already too late. At this moment the grass is growing on his legless hips and making its way up. When I try to peel back the sodden patches the dog begins to whine. There is blood on the fur, dripping from the roots and leaves. I tell him I’m sorry. The grass is already forming around his snout when he licks my hand. I like to imagine he’s telling me that he understands.

The girl says to me, “I didn’t want this for you when I brought you here…”

I turn around and look into those ruthless blue eyes of hers.

“…but we really need to go.”

This girl will be my wife someday. I will have my first sexual experience watching the grass creep slowly over her breasts as she sleeps in the early morning sunlight. I will call her a stupid bitch when she tells me I’ll never see my parents again. I will massage her feet, dress her wounds and cook whatever meager scraps she gleans from the wreckage of civilization. Together we will build broad circles of fire to keep the Kentucky-blue away from the beds of our adopted children. And when our hair is gray and we are too old to run I will hold her hand, lay with her on the earth, and let the grass creep over our lips, penetrating our lungs with their soft green blades. But I will never hate her more than I do at this moment, when I am twelve years old, running beside her through this open field, watching the seeds of Armageddon ravage everything I love with endless life.


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89 Reviews


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Wed Jan 01, 2014 4:01 pm
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Karzkin wrote a review...



Ok so I lied, it's been like three days since I said I'd look at this. But I made it eventually.

You know prose isn't my strong suit, but here are my thoughts anyway. First, the pace is excellent. The short sentences mixed with those of medium length effectively push the pace without becoming onerous. While I'm not usually a fan of first-person present-tense narration, its deployment here is quite fitting. It really helps add to the tension, while still allowing lulls for more interesting writing. Very Hunger Games. Some of the imagery with the water and grass is really cool too. I also really like the idea of humanity being brought to an end by something as innocuous as grass rather than war or disaster or all the other things that usually cause fictional apocalypses.

Ok, now as always the fastest way to improve something is cutting the less-necessary bits.

“There’s no time, you retard!”
If there was really no time the girl would not waste even more time with the insult. The extra words cost you pacing, and do nothing to advance scene or character, ergo they are irrelevant.
look into those ruthless blue eyes of hers.

This one is just confusing. Other than this you've given us no indication that the girl is ruthless. In fact, she shows compassion and empathy in the line immediately preceding this one. Either properly make her ruthless, or axe this word.
This girl will be my wife someday. I will have my first sexual experience watching the grass creep slowly over her breasts as she sleeps in the early morning sunlight. I will call her a stupid bitch when she tells me I’ll never see my parents again. I will massage her feet, dress her wounds and cook whatever meager scraps she gleans from the wreckage of civilization. Together we will build broad circles of fire to keep the Kentucky-blue away from the beds of our adopted children. And when our hair is gray and we are too old to run I will hold her hand, lay with her on the earth, and let the grass creep over our lips, penetrating our lungs with their soft green blades. But I will never hate her more than I do at this moment, when I am twelve years old, running beside her through this open field, watching the seeds of Armageddon ravage everything I love with endless life.

This paragraph either needs to come earlier, or be significantly refined (or both). The momentum you've built over the last few hundred words grinds almost to a halt here. Stay on target. Slim it down, or work to maintain the pacing, or both.

Finally, if you want to have any hope of a look-in for grad school you'll need to really stand out. You might have been one of the best in your university's writing course, but so was everyone else who is also applying for post-grad writing. When it comes to short stories the ones that stand out are the ones that are efficient - the stories that can build interesting scenes and characters within a few thousand words. I would strongly suggest reading the short stories of other undergrad students, and the short stories of professional authors (especially those known for their short stories like Jeffrey Archer, Daphne du Maurier, Italo Calvino, Kenzaburō Ōe, Yukio Mishima, and Haruki Murakami) and play spot-the-difference. You'll be surprised at how many things the pros do differently to the amateurs.

Good luck,

K.




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Sun Nov 24, 2013 10:58 pm
confetti wrote a review...



This is awesome.

The only thing I would suggest is giving the reader a bit more insight into what's going on. Not a ton, but personally the grass confused me. I couldn't tell if it was lethal thing because when it covered the dog it seemed like it was killing him (that's how I read it anyway) but then you go and say:

I will have my first sexual experience watching the grass creep slowly over her breasts as she sleeps in the early morning sunlight.

And the grass clearly isn't killing her here.

Otherwise, this is great. Your writing is pretty strong and having such specifics (ie- a dog missing its hind legs, a chimp on horseback, the specific memory of the father) really allows the reader to make a stronger connection to the characters in such a short time. Nice work :]




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Sun Nov 24, 2013 9:59 pm
FireFox wrote a review...



Hey, BadNarrator! FireFox here to review your piece on behalf of the Apple Dumpling Gang, though there isn't much to review! This piece was damn near flawless!

As with all pieces of work, there were a few grammatical errors here and there, but no spelling errors that I could see. Of course, this is no worry until you get to your final draft. For now, the focus should be on plot and characterization. Additionally, I was a little confused at the end... I understand our MC is 12 years old. I guess I assumed that the MC was a girl... But then, I wondered if he/she is a boy, because of the insistence on being with this blue eyed girl forever and marrying her. I suppose the MC could be a boy or girl, but I just wanted some clarification. :)

All in all, great piece, and I agree that I would enjoy it if you expanded it! Your imagery is flawless and I love you inclusion of the animals that also had to flee. The bit about the dog made me sad, though. :( But very well done!

-FireFox




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Tue Nov 19, 2013 1:58 pm
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D4RKR4VEN wrote a review...



Hello! I am The Raven, Knight of the Green Room, and I will be reviewing your work at this current moment. My review will be divided up into the sections 'What Is Good' and 'What Needs Improvement/Suggestions'. I've enjoyed your work, so you should do just fine. Now, let's get down to business.

What Is Good:
1) I like the mood and environment you've set up right at the beginning. A surgical gown, a two-legged dog, a bald goat with a wire sticking up and flying sea urchins. My gosh! It's pretty well done. I like the desolate and hopeless imagery - it really seemed like the end of the world as we know it. Well done!

2) That said, I believe the literary use of amnesia at this time is well played. Despite amnesia being a well worn device used by many, you've managed to place it tactically in your work. It doesn't seem out of place, and neither does it seem convenient for your main character to have amnesia - it's believable, considering where he'd come out from. Moreover, by giving your main character amnesia, you've ensured that the flow of information is regulated so as not to be too overwhelming. Not to mention, this steady flow of information for us ensures an air of mystery. It's good for the environment you're setting up. Nice.

3) I thoroughly enjoyed your ending. I especially like how you've managed to use the soft and lush, hopeful imagery of grass as an imagery of hopelessness, sadness and death, combining it with the already stark, desolate and hopeless imagery set up right from the beginning. It's a little trippy too, and in literature these days, trippy = good literature. But really, the way you've made the ending open-ended allows for multiple interpretations. I could see the grass taking over everything as literally, or metaphorically. Either way, it's meaningful. Well done.

4) The pacing is amazing. I like how there's a burst of information followed by a counterpoint of pure dialogue/no info. It's almost music.

5) The characterisation you've done is pretty good. Neither are they stock characters nor are they Marty Stus/Mary Sues. I like how the girl has both likable and insufferable characteristics, how she might potentially be an anti-heroine. And I like how there's always something hovering over the distance where these characters are concerned. It didn't even bother me that I won't learn much about them in the end either.

What Needs Improvement/Suggestions:
1)I feel that the dialogue counterpoint paragraphs is a little off though. Out of tune, if you will. Try to see what will happen if you make them a little longer. Otherwise, a tinsy bit shorter.

2) Otherwise, I'm afraid I've ran out of points for this section because your short story's very well done. I suppose the only other thing is to make it longer? We can never have too much of awesome stuff. Because at it's current word count of about 923, it is a little too humble - calling it a short story may be a little too much. It looks more like a flash fiction.

Other than that, I really have nothing else. Extremely well done! I enjoyed it! Kudos to you! Well, I hope my review has helped. Keep writing!




BadNarrator says...


thank you very much for the review.

were you referring to the quote tags in the Improvement portion of your critique? because now that you mention it I was a bit uncomfortable with them. maybe instead of the simple "says the girl" type tag I should follow quotations with action.

as far as making it longer I'm not opposed to the idea, but I think it would be difficult to do without disrupting the pacing.



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Wed Nov 13, 2013 12:10 am
BenToomey wrote a review...



I absolutely love this my mate. In my eyes it's everything a short story should be you have managed to create a great sense of panic and urgency just through the simple use of dialogue which reflects panic. Also nice touch with mixing the character's past present and future without breaking a step. However I'm not sure on what the Armageddon is that they're running from, from what I read are they just running from grass?




BadNarrator says...


hi, BenToomey

thanks for the review. you're right the "Apocalypse How?" in this story is a bit unusual. to be honest this story was based on a dream I had earlier this year, and believe you me it was just as confusing for me as it was for you.

I wanted to capture the sensations I felt in the dream and put them to work on the page. but based on your review I think I could probably do more to clarify what's going on.

thanks again for the review. you have no idea how valuable constructive criticism is to me.




As a former (and rather excellent) liar herself, Aru knew that, sometimes, speaking the truth felt like wrenching a thorn out of your side. But doing the opposite meant pretending it wasn't there. And that made every single step ache. It was no way to live.
— Roshani Chokshi, Aru Shah and the Nectar of Immortality