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i will tell you a story
but you must understand the rules.
1. history is written by it's winners and i am not one of them
2. fantasy worlds only make sense when you want them too
3. the dead do not haunt, your memories do.
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lousia died at 19.
there were too many voices and too many colors
and she wanted everything to be quiet, cold and numb.
lousia lived in with her grandfather and her brother, andie in a very small town in maine.
she spent her summers swinging on rope, climbing trees and playing with the faye.
she dived deep, eyes open into the freshwater lake and sometimes choked on salt that wasn't there.
at nights, her grandfather read from the bible in a dusty voice
and the children's eyes wandered to the fireflies that sparked and fluttered
(the children mistaked them for stars - but you can't see the stars from earth anymore)
when lousia was 17, rosie moved into the house down the road.
rosie was bright lights and snaping fingers and she had sidewalk eyes
and salt lined the highways of her veins.
rosie's lips tilted up, stained red and her eyes glinted with danger
and her teeth cut through the air like fangs. rosie wore the moon on her
chest and used the blood from the berry bush to tattoo whorls and waves
on her skin.
she was from the sea.
rosie's mother was a gypsy and wore bright scarves and rusty chains
that jangled on her hips like pocket change. she always had wings
that brushed off her lashes and when lousia went over for the first time,
rosie's mother told her she recognized her from a dream.
lousia and rosie were never friends, you must understand that,
because rosie was too bright and lousia was used to fireflies,
not stars.
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140,237 Literary Works • 673,049 Reviews
Hello.I'm Skye and I am here to tear at your soul with my harsh criticism........Nah *giggles* I can't do that but I do have some feedback for ya!
Firstly,I really enjoyed this.It's compelling and different and just......great.
You should note though,that your caps are not there most of the time.I do understand that you may have done this on purpose but it doesn't fit for me.
Also the paragraphing is a bit confusing because it is hard to tell if it's a poem or a story.I suppose that's why you put it in 'other'.
I like the beginning alot and that you establish that you are just a storyteller and are not part of the "history" that goes with this tale.
You kind of gave away the story by saying "luisa died at 19". But I suppose it could work.
I really like the imagery and the way it flows-it starts of a bit light and dreamy but then when you start describing rosie it gets a bit darker which I enjoyed.
All in all....Yay!!! I love it Jas! Hope this helps and does not seem harsh......bye.
Eloquent. It read so smoothly. Completely enjoyable.
The beginning- grabbed my attention with its simple sentences.
Your descriptions are stunning. You leave images in my head, not just words.
"bright lights and *snapping fingers"
"lips tilted up"
"eyes open into the freshwater lake"
"salt lined the highways of her veins"
"sidewalk eyes"
I don't understand all the imagery, but hey, at least it sounds good??
"and sometimes choked on salt that wasn't there" - tears?
"but you can't see the stars from earth anymore" - fantasy world? or hidden meaning?
The small details give your characters life. Such a breath of fresh air.
"wore bright scarves and rusty chains that jangled on her hips like pocket change"
"blood from the berry bush to tattoo whorls and waves on her skin"
The final sentence? Mysterious. Lovely.
Ultimately, this leaves me wanting for more of the story. Why did Louisa want everything to be quiet, cold and numb when she climbed on trees and swung on ropes and played with the faye? She sounds almost as alive and carefree as Rosie. To me the only descriptive indicator of the "struggle" within Louisa is found in the sentence "she dived deep..." and possibly hinted at with "the children's eyes wandered to the fireflies..."
The contrast between Louisa and Rosie doesn't seem as pronounced as it can be. There can be more of a connection from within your story, to the last sentence: "Louisa was used to fireflies, not stars." I get a vague hint of it, but it could be more potent if you connect it a little bit more to the person you portray her as in the beginning.
I don't know if you want to emphasize their differences, or the tragedy within Louisa a little more in that lyrical, elegant way that you write, but it's just a thought.
I also noticed a severe lack of caps- which I am also guilty of at times. It looks so pretty
Kudos.
Apologies if the review doesn't make sense. I need sleep (-_-)...