Young Writers Society

I did read this first, just didn't comment on it (just for the record :shrugs: ). The first paragraph sucked me in, and :sigh: I couldn't stop reading. No really, I tried . But anyways. I liked the camera throughout, especially how it clicked even at the end.

-Amelia

This generation is a wicked generation; it seeks for a sign, and yet no sign shall be given to it...
—Luke 11:29

The planets continue their slow dance around the sun.

They wobble on an imaginary axis, tempting fate with each year. But eventually all systems dissipate and must be reborn; it's only a wonder the heaps of rock and ash still manage to avoid each other as they do.

But does any law prescribe them a fixed point in the galaxy? Do mechanics anchor them to a spot they can't escape from? Does it keep one celestial body from busting loose and going renegade on another? What - or who - keeps catastrophe at bay?

Another click. The machine whines and reels as it reloads another film slide. The green and blue of the earth below are snapped into focus and frozen for a few moments. A red light occasionally flashes in the window, obstructing the camera's capabilities.

From here, the world is not a place of causality. The only thing time produces is increased randomness. Clouds form and roll over waters with no pattern or reason until they reach land, where they dissipate before reforming.

Truly, nothing is ever created or destroyed. Transformations are all we are capable of affecting--I suppose that is as much a blessing as it is a curse. After all, a body can only stand its own skin for so long. It's why snakes shed so often.

It cranks to the left and zooms in. A picture of a city with cars and people frantically moving about, scurrying in every which direction. Another magnification and a building is sharp in view. Grey pillars sit at its entrance.

Another magnification. A person is walking, talking in his headset. He runs his hand through his hair as the camera clicks another picture. It zooms out and rotates to face Africa. The light flashes once more.

When I first arrived, I was amazed at how much beauty the human eye was incapable of seeing from home. To behold the world from up here is, at first, miraculous. But things change when you look close enough. The water in the ocean is never still, and where it is, it's coldest and deepest.

I watch those parts closest. Four times I have seen the glow of Hell emanate from their depths, and not once a reproach from the Heavens. If God did anything, he should at least maintain the distance between men--we are a desperate species searching for validation, a sign from above, and we will do everything we can to get it.

The camera zooms in just below the tip of South Africa. It is night, and the water - that silent beast - is the deadliest force to be reckoned. Yet a ship moves quietly around the perimeter of land. Its pace is but a crawl; it is large and unable to sustain the impact of its own speed.

People are on the deck. They move like amoeba in a slide: jerking back and forth, violent, as if they are trying to rip themselves in two. The reel begins to turn as a burst of light explodes beneath its hull. In a matter of seconds, the ship is sucked underwater. The camera clicks.

The world is in peril, but people need not fear their environment, need not worry about the evil of other men. It is far too late for such considerations. Our capacity for good or evil is never determined anyway. We argue over nurture or nature and how they affect our development, but these are at best misguided queries: the question is not why are we what we are, but what we are.

And with a limb that is foreign we will limp to our own demise, and even this death will not give us peace or solitude. I write this only in the hopes that someone finds it before it is too late. Survival through winter has only secured us death in the summer. With unbridled power comes the greater wobble of planets, until they tip too far, fall off their tracks and loop around the pinball machine. Nobody notices or wants to, because today we seek only to cure our sickness with the hair of the dog that bit us.

A woman's body floats in front of the camera. Her eyes are open and lifeless. Her cheeks sunken and her hair matted. Another click.

Hey Brad!

A picture of a city with cars and people frantically moving about, scurrying in every which direction.

The water in the ocean is never still, and where it is, it's coldest and deepest.

Meh, it may have had brevity, but it seemed to take forever for me to read and with little effect. It seemed like there was an attempt to make me think deeply, yet I felt it was an unsuccessful attempt. You probably had an easy time philosophizing, bit it didn't connect with me.

What makes this special? Not really anything. And as a prologue, it was rather dull, but prologues often can be.

I do feel the tone well enough and it could be said to solemn, though I found it solemnity a bit too unreaching. It was difficult for me to get into this. Well written, as always, but I wasn't a fan of the topic.

Well I either finally gave in whether from boredom or the offer of tummy shots. But how ever, here I am.

I'm interested, and it's good. I liked how Ch started more, but this is still good.

scurrying in every which direction.

The water in the ocean is never still, and where it is, it's coldest and deepest.

Interesting prologue, I must say. The speaker seems to deny the teleological argument, and uses it to hint at something almost disturbing.

I think the poetic language you use, the sort of gloomy tone you're emulating, is mostly well done. I think, however, that there are also a few slightly clunky sentences which seem to break down that mood. It's very subtle, but a little refinement never hurt anybody, hey?

But eventually all systems dissipate and must be reborn; it's only a wonder the heaps of rock and ash still manage to avoid each other as they do.

In the case of "eventually," I would suggest smuggling it over a few. "But all systems eventually dissipate" just flows better, in my opinion. I would suggest taking out "still" entirely, and perhaps "only," though I don't state that quite as strongly. Nonetheless, "still" strikes me as pretty much unnecessary. The fact that earth still hasn't fallen out of orbit is pretty obvious; the managing is what's unique. Adding more words rarely creates a more succinct impression, unless there is more data to include.

After all, a body can only stand its own skin for so long. It's why snakes shed so often.

The bluntness of the last sentence is a little dull, and takes away the force of what the speaker is trying to convey. It's not really a smooth, rhythmic sentence of the sort you mostly craft. "It's why" is a pretty awkward phrase as it is, and the alliteration of "snakes shed so" is slightly reminiscent of a child's poem. Alliteration is good, but not this heavy in this kind of statement. Compared to the sentence prior, it just doesn't harmonize, if you get my meaning. I won't suggest any specific changes, but think about how you might better communicate the idea.

A picture of a city with cars and people frantically moving about, scurrying in every which direction.

Every which direction? Is the which necessary? And magnification is spelled wrong in the next sentence.

Your talk about the emanations from Hell from within the ocean reminds me of The Kraken, by Alfred Lord Tennyson. I don't know if you intended that allusion, but whether you did or not, I like the mood created by the imagery. It's quite effective.

Are you sure about the use of the word "wobble" at the beginning and at the end? Planets wobbling is a frightening idea, but not so frightening as, say, tremoring, or something to that effect. I don't know; maybe you don't want to state the idea that emphatically. But anyway, I enjoyed this. There was a certain quality of mystique, a very clearly established aura of dread embedded in the speaker's words. I think it's an interesting prologue, and would catch most reader's attention. Let me know when you update.

Rieda --


I'm still debating on posting more of this.


Poor Imp -


An unsolicited crit? Well, it must have been my lucky day.

To address your question: the heavy handed-tone this has is only a slightly recurring theme. Afterwards, the story picks up in a more sensible fashion.


Thank you both for taking time to read & respond,

Brad

A weighty read, in one way, Brad - as often - and for its brevity, it's laced to suffocation with ideas and with death. I'd say Hell, but as yet, that may a bit much to jump.

The paragraphs, broken between camera lens gaze and the 'narrator's' voice were well-spaced. It made an apt pace, and an introduction that caught more than one angle in little room.

I felt, at points, that the narrator seemed as if he had to make his point, had to says his lines, rather than reporting as if he were there and free. But that may be well as it is - after all, he's leaving a message, and doubtless does need to get something across. It would [will] depend on who he is (whether he returns in the story); and I won't judge it now. He is sometimes, rather starkly philosophical.

It's an ominously heavy opening; quote seems uncomfortably foreshadowing disaster.

So, naturally, no line-by-line.

A woman's body floats in front of the camera. Her eyes are open and lifeless. Her cheeks sunken and her hair matted. Another click.

Omg you have great ending on these as well?! You are so awesome. I'm already dying to read this and I haven't even finished Ch.! Ooo, I can't wait to read more of this Brad, Great job on description, everything seemed so realistic.

Keep at it!
~Rieda