The fire has died down in the house, and the guests are starting to leave. But there are three guests who will not leave yet. Three young men stay seated at the round, wooden table, and I see three sets of eyes look at me expectantly. I know what they want. I know what they have stayed for. Slowly, reluctantly, I rise. I've done this before, I am no rookie to the demands of desire. I make my way to the toolbox. My hand curls around an iron knife, sharp as the day it was forged. I hope it's had time to heal since the last time I did something like this... I muse crudely, as whirling the knife through the air, I pierce the cold blade into my chest and reach for the very thing they all want, the very thing I've been looking for, the beaten, battered and bruised heart these ruffians will take from me.
I can feel it in my breast, scrambling and running, hiding away from these cold and prying fingers that are not my own, searching for hope in this form of abandon. Victory. I have captured it, it is mine once more. For a brief moment I am the only one who has control over it. Plop! With one last thrust it lands on the silver platter I have prepared, it's blood spattering, it's tiny body still thundering a tiny heartbeat. I pull the knife from my chest and start sawing. Does it hurt? Do ravens caw? But still I continue, slicing and dicing at my heart until there are two, three pieces. The young men who have sat and watched me struggle now clamor to their feet and dive. I step back and watch, dying from the pain, but living for their hunger. My god, it hurts, but they are happy. I'd cry if they weren't content. I am reborn every time one of them looks up, his face all bloody, to give me an ironic wink. Love hurts, love stings. Love is cannibalism.
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140,735 Literary Works • 673,684 Reviews
I believe that your poetic-ness to describe this short story piece by piece is absolutely incredible. I love the title. It catches the eye and triggers the mind to draw a conclusion to what lies in it's contents. But, the story itself is nothing like what I previously assumed... it is much better. The plot was laid out and each step taken slowly and carefully and I adore that. It is a beautiful (and perfectly gruesome) way to describe your chosen topic. Thank you for a good read, keep it up!
First of all, great title and description, I love them both. When I saw the title I was like, "Cannibalism?", and then I thought to myself that this was going to be interesting, but it wasn't, it was beyond interesting. I love the descriptive language you use and the how the actions seem to happen ever so slowly. These are the kinds of stories that keep my interest peaked and ready for more. I don't know if I would still be writing if it weren't for great writers like you. You can consider my interest peaked higher than ever before. This is an amazing short story. Please keep writing for me.
Thank you!
Hi! I hope you are beginning to start enjoying YWS! --I like the drama tension you've built
I think the story needed a few more points of detail, for instance, at parts like between the first and second sentences. You could add a clause to that first sentence, to embellish the scene. Or you might expand more on the imagery of the fire, could focus on the departing guests appearance or demeanor, or use more descriptive phrases for other rather bland terms. Perhaps in place of leave your could say something to the effect of "Trickling out..." and even utilize the ellipsis there because it signifies a trickle. 3 sets of eyes hungering for my soul, i think they ought to haunt me more than just by merely 'looking at me.' How about, watching, toying, waiting, hunting, scour, rake? This seems very spiritual so take us through the palpable atmosphere of the moment! Make us sweat, make us cringe; key us up frantically like moaning organ pipes: this is HORROR!
You could also insert a sentence to tell us about the condition or decor of the house. Or better yet, whose house is it; why would anyone want to be there? Who are these 3 men; what sets them apart from the rest of the visitors that they should remain? Is there a special reason for them being male? Who brought the toolbox? if any of these details matters it can shape the background of the story for us readers on the outside, trying to clue in on the understanding of how and why this situation came to be
I noticed sometimes you use commas in places where another form of punctuation is called for. Example: "the very thing I've been looking for, the beaten, battered..." Use a semicolon after 4 because you are about to present the object being suspensefully introduced into the context.
So the main character is ripping his/her heart out. I am having to stitch in my own idea of a hand and a heart having a violent encounter here. I get, "Victory. I have captured it, it is mine once more. For a brief moment I am the only one who has control over it." --but then just Plop. It wasn't explained to me the internal, crucifying agony of that split second when the hand started to tear the heart from its hinges, when the tendons and sinews are snapping. How might the cavity left behind feel so-ever void and depleted? Can the character still breathe? Are tears streaming down their face on reflex to the unbearable pain? Does the character grind their teeth, is the blood pounding inside their temple? Is the blood gushing down their torso, or just leaking steadily down their shirt?
It's like it's all jumping around just a bit too fast, without enough transition parts. For example, that silver platter seems practically comes out of nowhere, but was mentioned to have been prepared to catch the heart, but we don't get wind of the character picking it up even from the table. Heck, we don't even know if the character is holding it with the other hand or if it's lying on a surface.
Now for a few random issue. Do ravens caw. I'm not completely sure of how that is supposed to relate to me how severely or in what way hacking the heart in pieces hurts.
Things I like that I see is the solid mood kept throughout. It's steady and still suspenseful, but a tiny bit more depth would serve it terrifyingly well. Sharp as the day it was forged sliced into me on the first read through, as did it's tiny, still thundering organ! 2-4 more descriptors like that and this thing will stretch out some wings and take off!!!
Thank you so much, this review is so helpful! I will definitely go over it again.
This is pretty dark and I love dark reads!
I agree with Pompadour, the sentences are all very similar. I think you use commas too much. You seem to use them in almost every other sentence and it makes them choppy and ruins the flow of your work.
'I hope it's had time to heal since the last time I did something like this' - I'm a little confused by this. Does she cut out her heart often? If so, how has she survived? I know realism isn't what you were going for in this, obviously - but at the end she mentions she is 'dying from the pain'. So if she is dying this time, why is this time different to all the other times?
This is a good piece. The imagery is gruesome and the message it puts across is quite disturbing. I just think it needs a little work.
Hope this helps
Thank you, I see what you mean! %uD83D%uDC4D
Hello, Gust! Pomp here for a quick review~
Happy Review Day!
The first thing I'm going to talk about is the syntax. The first paragraph is mostly a steady stream of sentences beginning with 'I' and follows a subject + verb + object order. While the imagery is pretty graphic and the scene intense, I couldn't really get into it because the rigid syntax made everything seem like monotonous rabble. I also feel like the narrator spends an inordinately lengthy amount of time in laying out each and every action the protagonist takes--I understand it's because they want us to linger on the moment, but with very less emotion and more narrative, it gets ... boring.
So, first things first: tackle that syntax. Also, inserting a little bit of emotion amongst the scattered action would help to balance things out. Some sensory description (taste, touch, smell, etc.) would really reel the readers into the moment and allow for them to empathise with the MC--how did they feel at that moment? Did they find it hard to breathe? Did they notice every tiny detail around them as they walked to their death? What did it feel like when they pulled their heart from their chest? Emotional output!
My main issue with this piece is the lack of foundation it is based upon. It works well as a snapshot piece, but I don't really know what relation the MC has with these people or why they're offering their heart as a meal for them. It's an interesting concept and I think it has the potential to develop into something more, so please do consider working on it and turning it into a longer piece! I'd love to read more of this.
Keep writing!
~Pomp
Thanks!