z

Young Writers Society



The Voices

by mythh


On a high pine slope in the central alps, stood a house covered by dark oaks that turned the night black, and snow whose presence was barely felt. There were no stars in the sky. It was full of thick and titanic clouds that looked like they'd break the Earth in two if they fell solid. The night grew exceedingly quiet.

A man stood on the porch of the house, his palms perched on the railing - holding the weight of his entire slender, cloaked body. His eyes were hidden by the hood of his cloak and so was the entirety of his countenance. He didn't move a muscle and just stood there, still and lifeless. 

But, if one were to listen closer, they'd hear voices. Voices within.

"Why do you lurk there, where you should not," asked a cracked voice that sounded like if the creaking of a door were embodied in a man's throat.

"Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?" asked a young, but a rough sounding voice, that sounded like he were a product of a concentration camp and a rollercoaster ride that slid of its rail and fell right into a gas chamber.

"Rat! You are here for the secret! You will not get out of here alive, vermin, hahaha," the disfigured voice said, cackling. He now sounded like someone so perverted that his perverse complex had been given a name and a voice - the sound of someone who only knows to corrupt.

"Perhaps, but who says I am alive? No man born on this planet is alive, but you already know that." Replied the young man.

"Perhaps. Seek what you may, and if you find it, take you what you will. But I daresay, nobody returns from this place as they came. But, it is too late for that. Proceed. WRETCH."

With that, the voices faded. To my surprise, the figure was no longer there. In fact, there wasn't even a railing there anymore. And in front of my very eyes, the entire house disappeared followed by the mountain tops and all of land and sea. What's this? I was on the floor. A smooth birch floor right next to a wooden framework and a flat slab of cotton embedded into it.

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160 Reviews

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Tue Sep 01, 2020 9:27 pm
Valkyria wrote a review...



Hello, Gravitem,

This is a very suspenseful story. I felt chills up my spine. The descriptive language is strong, and I love how you describe the voices of the two men speaking. The way they speak is almost Tolkien-esque.

"...No man born on this planet is alive, but you already know that."


I love this line, but it also sounds like a sick burn :)

The one thing that confused me was the sudden first perspective in the last paragraph. I had to reread the story a couple of times, but I finally understood.

Spoiler! :
The narrator is watching the figure perching on the railing. American Psycho followed a similar format. The narrator was introduced later.


I also noticed small grammatical errors, so make sure to double-check next time.

Overall, a great job!
Athena




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64 Reviews

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Mon Aug 31, 2020 8:22 am
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QuoolQuo wrote a review...



Ahoy hoy,

This was an interesting piece but I must admit that I didn't fully understand it at first when I read it. Despite this though I still very much enjoyed reading your little piece, so here are some comments;

1. First off I thought I might just list off a few lines that felt a little awkward on my first read through.

...stood a house covered by dark oaks that turned the night black, and snow whose presence was barely felt.


While I understand what your saying, this second half of your opening sentence feels a little clunky and that it could be phrased better, especially with the oaks since night is already its own kind of blackness. Here's a possible example of something I whipped up just now:

...stood a house surrounded by dark oaks. The towering trees, hiding the sky, cloaked the cabin in a starless night while snow lay across its roof, its presence barely felt.


This next line confused me a little and I still don't entirely understand it
...that sounded like he were a product of a concentration camp and a rollercoaster ride that slid of its rail and fell right into a gas chamber.


So, I can see how concentration camp and gas chamber link (shudder) but the roller coaster feels a bit out of place. I'm not entirely sure what you were trying to portray so I can't make many more suggestions except maybe leave the imagery aside until the meaning has a bit more clarity.

2. There was a sudden jump to first-person with this line.

To my surprise,


At the beginning of the piece the narrator seemed to be third-person omniscient but this jump changes that has left me a little confused. Perhaps begin the story with the words "I saw..." or something similar to make it clear from the beginning that this is written in first-person.
However, the first part of your story seems to be a dream and so maybe this jump was intentional? Y'know, with the jump of consciousness and all that. Because, if so, that's really cool and you can just ignore my comment above.

3. This feels unfinished. The ending wasn't exactly satisfying so this makes me think that perhaps you will continue this, you already have the intriguing premise sorted if anything. Are you going to keep going because if not then maybe consider extending the ending slightly to make it more closed and finished.

And that's about all I can say, it is a short piece after all. Short, but good. I hope to see more from you so keep writing!

- H.G




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Mon Aug 31, 2020 8:17 am
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Tanishka wrote a review...



Hey Gravitem , Tanishka here for a review.

First up, this is really an intriguing piece of work. The title is quite simple but attractive. To be honest , it was what attracted me towards this piece. It is a really mysterious and dark one, at least that's what I thought. I think maybe you can get into a little more detail but it is totally your choice. I liked this a lot, I must say. Maybe you could make the layout a little different but again, it is totally up to you. It is a very deep piece and I liked it a lot.

Keep up the good work,

Tanishka.





Maybe what most people wanted wasn't immortality and fame, but the reassurance that their existence had meant something. No matter how long... or how brief. Maybe being eternal meant becoming a story worth telling.
— Roshani Chokshi, Aru Shah and the Nectar of Immortality