The plastic bag we all lived in was nice and cozy. The plastic bag sat on a shelf where we could watch people pass by with shopping carts. There were other plastic bags around us with other marshmallows, but we were taught to never talk to marshmallows from other bags. Sometimes, a human would take a plastic bag and put it in the cart. The horror! Nobody knows what happens to the Chosen marshmallows. We never see them again.
Our bag has stayed on this shelf for quite some time, forgotten.
There is a stray marshmallow that fell out of a rip in another bag. His name is Bob. He lives…everywhere. He rolls around at night, exploring. Then stays hidden behind bigger objects during the day. Bob said that he heard humans saying that "spring" is over and it's now something called "summer". Bob also said that "summer" is when people buy lots more marshmallows. There has been an eery silence in the plastic bag since Bob told us the news. We used to joke about the humans who walked by, now, we quiver in fear and flinch when they look at us.
Another human was here and she was looking directly at our bag. She took a few steps forward, glancing quickly at something just below us. She reached out and grabbed our bag. There were a couple of shrieks from other marshmallows in the bag. One shriek came from me. This was the end. We would all die now.
Why!?WHY!?
-----
It's been two days. When will the torture end? The humans have picked us up, then tossed us multiple times. We are in a small square thing with flaps on the top. The humans refer to it as a cardboard box. There are long silver sticks and crackers of some sort with chocolate chunks on top of them. The box has been moved a couple times and we've all been quiet. Nobody talks, nobody moves. We're all just sitting here, waiting for it to end. Occasionally another marshmallow breaks down and starts hysterically crying. I wonder if Bob saw what happened to us. What if Bob was taken too? Poor Bob. Poor us. The ground vibrated as a human walked towards us. The human's hands gripped either side of the box and soon we were lifted into the air.
We could hear the humans talking as we were carried to our doom.
"You got the s'mores?"
"Yeah. I can't wait to have some!" the voice came from the human that was carrying us.
S'mores? WHAT WERE THEY GOING TO DO TO US?!
The flaps on the box were open and multiple hands reached in for a silver stick. Another hand reached for the crackers and finally, sombody grabbed our bag. The bag was ripped open and I was taken, along with four other marshmallows.
"Help!"
"Marshy, no!"
"Help us!"
"Ahh!"
"Help me!"
There were so many yelling voices. The humans didn't seem to hear.
One at a time, we were stabbed onto the silver rods. The humans holding the rods walked us to a bright, crackling thing. Heat radiated off of it. It was orange and red and yellow all at the same time. The humans sat on their seats and held the rods above the fire. One of the other marshmallows taken was a female, I think named Aven. She was held directly in the flame while we were above it. She caught on fire, burning to her death. Her shrill screams were cut off by the humans laughter. She fell off the rod and into the base of the fire. Her body shriveled up in the flames. The human went to get another marshmallow. It was a cruel game to see who would survive longer. I was being twirled around, my skin burning slightly. The other humans glanced at me and saying things I didn't understand. I was "perfect", and "golden". My human took me back to the table where the crackers and marshmallows were. The rod that once held Aven now had another marshmallow. My mother.
"Mom!"
"Marshy!"
I was taken off the rod and placed on a chocolate covered cracker. Another cracker was pressed down on top of me. My human turned around to face the fire and walked back to his seat. He raised me to his mouth and I caught a glimpse of my mother, slowly burning to death in the flames, before I was shoved into his mouth.
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125,007 Literary Works • 672,815 Reviews
OMG this is like, the cutest thing ever.
I mean, the last part was really sad and for a brief second there the thought of shoving an oozing s'mores into my mouth appalled me. But seriously. WHO thinks of writing a story about a marshmallow?! It was so brilliant and adorable. My heart, oh my word.
Alright, enough of that. I came here to review and review I shall do.
I'm kind of getting the feeling you wrote this story just for fun so I'll try not to be too nitpicky. After all, the story is about marshmallows!
You do a lot of telling and not showing throughout this story. It fits here, in a way, because going into too much detail could ruin the simple and cute effect you have going on. Like, instead of starting with Marshy's viewpoint and thoughts on things, you start off telling us about everything (The plastic bag we all lived in was nice and cozy). Not showing us through Marshy's actions and thoughts where they are, what they do, why they can't talk to other marshmallows, how it feels being confined in this bag squished up against 'mallows.
The beginning was especially summarized a lot, and I had a few questions about it. When did Bob fall out of the rip in the bag? Where are Marshy and his friends on the shelf? They can't be too high up if Bob can communicate with them from the floor, unless Bob's got some serious jumping skills.
I would like to know the timeline here. How soon after Bob told them the humans were buying more marshmallows were they selected?
I find it interesting the marshmallows think they're going to die. How do they know? They don't talk to the other plastic bags so they could have just as easily assumed they will be freed and then they'd look forward to being selected.
Spoiler
But marshmallows are very different from sausages and probably would be extremely different in personality if they could have personalities, so maybe instead of automatically assuming they would die, they just feared what would happen if they were selected. They liked sitting on their shelf, watching the world, all squished together. There really is no way they could know they'd be roasted over a fire unless they heard a human mention it...
I also find it interesting how you have the "Why?!" thing going on there. I would think it'd be more like a desperate, screaming "NOOO!" or appeal to some being like a "NOOO GOD, WHY?! HELP ME!" kind of thing.
Ahaha, how do marshmallows cry? Instead of expressing their fear that way, I could see them quivering and wailing, not necessarily crying.
Were there any dramatic partings before they were separated? You know how some marshmallows are like, super sticky and cling together - awww, maybe that was Marshy and his friends tryna stay together!
Also: did it hurt when they were stabbed onto the rods? I would think it would, unless the marshmallows were too fat to notice.
He thinks? Oh, Marshy, you lived your whole life in a bag with these other marshes and you don't know their names?!
One of his friends taken with him knew his name, as shown in their screaming when they were taken from the bag. ("Marshy, no!")
Once more, did it hurt?! "burning" sounds like it would hurt...
Aha, not to sound super weird and scientific over here but... how does he have a mom?
And aghh, I love that little clip of dialogue right there. Way too heartbreaking. </3
The ending was very sad, considering the last thing he saw was his mother burning to death. Poor Marshy. 'twas a sad story. But it was still so cute, though! I kind of wish Marshy would have thought he was fulfilling his only purpose in life or something right before he was devoured. Then it wouldn't end so despairingly.
Anyhow, I enjoyed this thoroughly. Some of my comments/thoughts got in a little deep, but if you want to keep this story simple and sweet the way it is, that's totally fine. Got any questions? Do let me know. I hope you have a fantastic day, and keep up your writing!
cheers!
-rosette
Incredibly gripping. I'll admit, I had no idea what I was walking into then I opened this up. The story was short to the point and achieved what it wanted to. It's something incredibly creative and reminds me of something I would write when I was your age. It was a fun read and I don't have too many critisisms except that you didn't indent your paragraph and maybe using some more descriptive words to tighten the horrifying imagery.
First thought:
This is like the food version of Toy Story!
Other, more reasonable thoughts:
This was a very gripping story. I'm glad you stopped it where you did, because the more I think about it the more I realise how gruesome our digestive system is. (The thought is haunting me me, even now. I am glad we're at the top of the food chain.) I also didn't realise I could feel empathy towards marshmallows, but I guess life is full of surprises. I have to admit, this almost brought me to tears, especially the part where Marshy watched his mother dying right in front of him.
I'm not very good at grammar so I won't talk much about that. I'm still not very good at reviewing yet, but here's a tip you might find useful:
If you want to make your writing more interesting you could change a few of your openers. Quite a few writers (including myself) often tend to start sentences with mostly pronouns and articles, I and The in particular. However changing the opener can not only change the structure of the sentence, but add detail.
Other than that I found the story very moving, and I found it very surprising that you managed to take such a fun, enjoyable activity and make it sad and terrifying just by changing the perspective. Hopefully I won't have too many nightmares. Great job on a great story, although I may require a few therapy sessions before I eat any marshmallows again.
Thank you for the review. I'm not very good at openers, the first paragraph of my stories are usually awkward. Thanks for the feedback.
No problem! Looking forward to hearing more from you.
Oh my Lord. I don't think I can eat a marshmallow for a long time! Why?! I like this story it's very haunting and gave me a VERY different view on food in general. Wow. You are very talented! I think adding a little expansion to your 'showing' aspect to the story could help make it even more startling. You were right, I can't look at marshmallows the same.
Good job!
Thank you:) I'm not sure why I wrote this. I thought it was such a good idea and now I'm just embarresed.
I thought it was good!