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Prokaryote wrote:I am feasting.

The kindle, twigs and sticks are my appetizer. The logs are my main course. Dessert lies forever out of reach.

Here they come, timber in hand: coming to feed me and my gluttonous disposition. My wispy limbs reach outward in longing: I hunger. I always hunger.

I let out a sigh as I receive a pine branch. They give it to me reverently; I am feared, respected; but I am also loved. Loved for my deceptive warmth, my devious embrace. Do they know what I would do if I had the chance? How much havoc I would gleefully sow in exchange for that brief joy, that brief ecstasy?

The pine tastes fresh, alive. Slightly moist. I siphon its life away: quickly at first, its sweet bark succumbing in an instant; and then slower as I meditatively envelop the wood's inner core, its lifeforce. I take the water and release it to the air. Table scraps.

I simultaneously eat and drink, taking oxygen from the atmosphere and savouring it like a fine wine. It is my accomplice: together we break down the toughest of foes. Together we are the most destructive machine ever devised. Together we are unstoppable. The black cloud we produce is a warning to anything living: You will die. We will consume you.

Here comes more. A man carries a log to my side and presents it to me. He is a good servant, but his fingers look delectable: if only I could reach a bit further, just a few more inches... but I cannot. I settle back and eye them. Someday.

It is the eternal irony: These animals depend on me for life, and yet I would destroy them in an instant. I am a raging bull; they must restrain and tame my fierce temper. They tease me with offerings, but will not allow me to grow, to mature, to reach my full potential.

I hate them for it.

One thrusts a stick out over me. My tongues lap up at the wood, tasting it: a marshmallow is stuck on the end, and its gooey consistency is a nice change from the normal pine. For a brief moment, I engulf the marshmallow completely, shriveling it into a charred lump of sugar. The stick is pulled away, and the human examines the end with what seems to be disappointment. Serves him right.

Revenge is the thing I do best. Who, after all, brought down the Library? Who dealt piercing blows to Rome and London? Who ravaged the White House? I did. We did.

There is a brief rustling in the circle; someone has retreated to bed. Two left.

They're talking about something; it's pointless drivel, no doubt. Yet my curiosity is piqued. "Know your enemy." -- "Knowledge is power." I cannot get close enough to hear. Those ashes have a bit of life left in them. Maybe I can reignite them.

A foot comes down, crushing my advance.

I notice dark clouds drifting over to cover the moon. I don't have much time; I redouble my efforts. A leaf. If I could get there I could use it as a springboard and move on to the grass.

A slight breeze and the leaf is out of sight.

Another human gets up and leaves. No more conversation, and the rain is coming. I have only one chance to do any damage.

As the last man gets up to leave, he braces his hand against the ground near one of my coals. I lash out at him with a spark. A sharp cry escapes his lips and he looks at me with contempt. Shaking his head, he stands up and walks into the distance as the rain begins to fall.

FIDDLESTICKS.

Prokaryote wrote:Go poop your pants somewhere else, Gal. You're stinking up my thread.

Go poop your pants somewhere else, Gal. You're stinking up my thread.

I'm sure lots of people have told you this (34) but this is really great! I love your take on personified (Is that a word?) version of fire! FIDDLESTICKS. That is an epic win right there. Keep writing.

~Jasmine

Fine, here's your critique.

This was a great piece of work! I placed myself in the very same position as the fire in your excerpt. I felt as it felt, I saw as it saw, I became one with it. I just had to read it twice. You explained and described the moods and actions flawlessly. Excellent job. BRAVO! BRAVO!

Go poop your pants somewhere else, Gal. You're stinking up my thread.

Rule of thumb: Don't bump up works that are more than two months old - and especially not if the only comment you have is "This is great".

That was great, I don't have much time to write an actual review, though I doubt you need it right now, considering all the reviews you've already recieved. But I can say that I love it, it was spectacular. And I love the ending "FIDDLESTICKS".
Kepp writing and I look forward to reading more of your work.

-iheartbooks♥

Amazing and beautiful. I loved the Fiddlesticks at the end it added a bit of humor.

Holy awesome! Beautiful work. I love how you put fiddlesticks at the end. That was silly.

Wow.

That was kind of frightening and very powerful. I think the ending was the best part though, because it was funny but still fit with the rest of the writing. It was almost poetic.

I loved it! Absolutely fabulous! Excellent word choice. It paints such a better picture in your mind when it is better described. The whole time I was reading it, the fire sounded like some kind of animal, or beast, who is kept locked up and wants out. Especially the part about trying to get the fingers, to no avail, and eyeing them with distain. Great work, very good.

Most of what I was thinking has already been said, Proky. The only bit that realy threw me off was the "I did. We did." That sort of made it sound like the fires were all different entities... so do they all share some sort of collective Jungian fire-consciousness or something? Cool, but confusing.

And the ending, by the way, was awesome.

Many thanks, you three! ^_^

Prokaryote

A very good piece of work, Prok. The concept is slightly unoriginal and the plot not overly interesting but the way it is written makes it intriguing and draws the reader in. You have some skillful description, an excellent sense of personality and characterization and it's generally a very entertaining piece.

I think the fire is too fixated on the sticks at the beginning so the reader doesn't get a real sense of surroundings. Why not add a brief comment on what 'desert is. On how the fire would much rather be feeding on the grass and leaves or moss that are at the bottom - how when the fire is first lit, it is given a mall ample of this better fuel to tempt it to alight, to tempt it into being.

Also, your fire has such a strong personality so strengthen its identity. Don't waver between I and we, make a decision. Which is it? Does the fire take the noble approach and refer to itself as 'we' all the time, i all fire connected? Is all fire one being? Is fire a race? Think about it. You show some uncertainty in this piece -

Who dealt piercing blows to Rome and London? Who ravaged the White House? I did. We did.

Holy crap that was good. It was serious at parts but then a bit of humor or lightheartedness came in. I really liked it. Well done.

That ending was just plain silly. But oddly appropriate. I got a very clear picture of what was going on and the people around the campfire. It had perfect pace that really made me feel the fire creeping up on its poetntial victims. Good job.

Thank you, KJ. =)

Prokaryote

I loved the descriptions and details. Points for originality, also. I don't think I've ever read something like this, so good for you.

Thanks you two, I appreciate it!

Prokaryote

OOPS! I thought I already critiqued this! I guess I forgot...

Okay, because there aren't many grammatical issues (and the few ones that there are have already been pointed out), most of my nit-picks will be matters of opinion.

I am feasting.

The kindle, twigs and sticks are my appetizer. The logs are my main course. Dessert lies forever out of reach.

Together we are the most destructive machine ever devised. Together we are unstoppable.

The black cloud we produce is a warning to anything living: You will die. We will consume you.

He is a good servant, but his fingers look delectable: if only I could reach a bit further, just a few more inches... but I cannot.

My tongues lap up at the wood, tasting it: a marshmallow is stuck on the end, and its gooey consistency is a nice change from the normal pine.

Here they come, timber in hand: coming to feed me and my gluttonous disposition. My wispy limbs reach outward in longing: I hunger.

I siphon its life away: quickly at first, its sweet bark succumbing in an instant; and then slower as I meditatively envelop the wood's inner core, its lifeforce.

Prokar!

Wow. This is really, really... excellent. I never knew that you were such an amazing writer! But now I do, and I am in awe -- how can you be funny and a great writer? *confuzzleness* So not fair for the miserable little cretins like myself.

There really isn't very much to critique. I was slightly bothered by all the colons and semicolons that you used, though. It seemed a bit repetitive and kind of cut down on the variety of the sentence structures.

There's also this one bit:

I simultaneously eat and drink, taking oxygen from the atmosphere and savouring it like a fine wine.

Thanks everyone! ^_^ You make me happy.

I might replace that colon with a semi colon, since you're not defining anything (I think that's how it works =P).

Well so much for being helpful. This is beautiful.

My wispy limbs reach outward in longing: I hunger.

Wow. You truly were the best at this. This was amazing. I don't think there's anything wrong with this.

You will die. We will consume you.

I must say, just beautiful. This isn't the first time I've seen Fire personified, but it is one of the very best. To you, this element is not all anger, all powerful rage (though you do include it). I've always thought that fire had far more characteristics in common with humans than with think, and your fire's cunning and (forgive me) petulance do an amazing job of showing that. These three lines in particular were just delightful, like the whipped cream atop the pie (your eating analogies have made me hungry now):

I take the water and release it to the air. Table scraps.

The black cloud we produce is a warning to anything living: You will die. We will consume you.

FIDDLESTICKS.

Ahoy Proky! How are you doing this fine [insert time of day here]?

They give it to me reverently; I am feared, respected; but I am also loved.

I meditatively envelop the wood's inner core, its lifeforce.

I loved this. It was awesome the way you gave a fire personality. It sounded like an angry god from ancient mythology almost, regretting those puny humans and some stupid pact he made with them or something.

What? Doesn't that man know the first rule about fires? You always have to stomp them out or whatever and stir them up with dirt or water until they are cool to the touch. He just left the stinking thing! Smokey Bear would not be pleased. The irony of the fire was funny, but that was unsafe of the man...

I couldn't find anything to critique except that. This was an excellent piece of work. I loved the vocabulary that you used and the way the language flowed. Really, really nice job.

*thumbs up*

~GryphonFledgling