Young Writers Society

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm Knight Hardy here on a mission to ensure that all works on YWS has at least two reviews. You will probably never see this but....Imma do this anyway.

First Impression: Well this one was....different...to say the least. It was kind of weird and I didn't quite get what you were trying to say. The one thing I can say is that the individual segments themselves were pretty good and seems like parts of a great story...but I have trouble stitching them together. Okay lemme see if I can figure more things out as I read through it again and get to some nitpicks should they be present.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Derek walked slowly through the corridor, his brown shoes carefully stepping on the white tiles as his head turned to look at the green walls on either side. In front of him he saw that the corridor split into two separate directions. The first decision he would have to make. The wall in front, which had previously been at least two meters away, was suddenly right in front of his eyes. He placed his hand on the green wall and felt a burning pain, yet he kept his hand there. Derek did not know why, but he knew this was the right thing to do, as if to

Derek walked slowly down the corridor, his black loafers pressing down on the brown tiles as he looked to his left and right at the pristine white walls that enclosed him. In front of him the corridor ended, left or right, the first decision he would have to make. Suddenly the wall, which had seemed further away was right in front of him. Derek did not seem surprised; he moved his hand up and placed it upon the pristine white wall. It burned but Derek did not move his hand away. He knew this was right, an archway opened up in front of him, fire burning at its side. First time that has happened though Derek before walking through.

Fire. Archway. First time? When were the others? The thoughts banded around his head as he struggled to breath. Smoke, he smelled smoke. He couldn’t see any. Green grass and a girl writing in a diary. A man bent over a desk holding his head in his hands. Someone typing on a computer. Derek looked down, fire covered his hands, and he smiled as he saw a familiar corridor, though he didn’t know from where.

His hand felt incredibly cold, Derek screamed grabbing it with his other hand and looked around hoping for help, in the entrance to the left hand corridor lay a knife, Derek crawled over to the knife, the pain having brought him to his knees. He grabbed the knife and attempted to cut off his hand, the knife eased through the flesh, though it caused him great pain. The anguished screams started again as he had to saw through his own bone. He saw a raven fly over his head and a man standing in front of him. The man shouted something but Derek heard nothing. Eventually his hand dropped from his arm, the blood was now pouring from his arm.

Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, he began to swim to the top, but the blood never seemed to end. He swam and swam and swam without ever reaching anything else. His hand now lost.

He felt a weight pulling him down, a hand on his shoulder and a voice whispering something about a book.

Derek sat and listened the priest in the church, his eyes felt heavy. He closed them and as he opened them again millions upon millions of people surrounded him. Some on computers, children, typing furiously. Further away he could see people writing on parchment, and beyond that he saw a fire. It was coming closer. Derek ran.

Derek fell hard on his face; his blood trickled and then poured upon the blue carpet that covered the floor. Derek quickly got up, and ran forward ignoring the blood that was now flying back into his face. It stung his eyes and flew into his mouth, he saw in the mirror that hung on the wall directly in front of him that his face was completely red. As he turned right the mirror shattered, shards flying out. They hung in the air, though Derek didn’t notice, and then, seemingly making a decision, followed quickly after Derek. Right had always been the right corridor, why had he not realized it before and what did he mean before. Derek shook his head and carried on running. The ground beneath hi feet fell away as they moved ceaselessly forward. No way back, bits of the floor had joined the glass in following Derek.

The man explained, imagination was the key to humanity and to its maker. The creature that lived in the room next door, lived on its creations imagination, calling it the breath of life. While others worked, dreamt and thought on the earth, others worked in the factory thousands merely imagining to keep the world turning. Derek had merely escaped. The man smiled up at me, “Do you want to meet him? Your creator?”

Derek walked slowly down the corridor. Suddenly he smiled, in the thousands of years the man’s explanation had got better. The first time Derek had asked many more questions. Derek saw the wall in front of him, turned round and ran back from where he had come.

Thanks a lot for the Critique, this was basically built around a vague idea i had about imagination being the breath of life. The rest was added in later, i've made some of the changes you suggested though i think the piece needs the similarity as Derek keeps going over the same points in time, i'll try and make that clearer in the piece.
Thanks
Quibbons Quill

Hello, I'm going to critique your piece today.

Derek did not know why, but he knew this was the right thing to do, as if to justify this thought an archway opened in front of him

Derek did not seem surprised;

When where the others?

Derek looked down, fire covered his hands, and he smiled as he saw a familiar corridor, though he didn’t know from where.

Suddenly it was right in front of him.

Suddenly his hand felt incredibly cold,

He saw a raven fly over his head and a man in front of him.

the blood was now pouring copiously from his arm

Derek, dived below the water and began to swim, in the blood, after his hand, which was floating away.

Derek sat and listened the priest in the church, his eyes felt heavy.

Derek sat and listened the priest in the church, his eyes felt heavy. He closed them and as he opened them again millions upon millions of people surrounded him. Some on computers, children, typing furiously. Further away he could see people writing on parchment, and beyond that he saw a fire. It was coming closer. Derek ran.

A Door. Opening.

A Man.

Sitting in an office, a cup of tea surrounded but screens, of that room, the children, the men and woman all writing.

calling it the breathe of life.

“Do you want to meet him? Your creator?”

The man, placed his hand on my shoulder, I fell through smoke, blood and the rest of existence.

Derek saw the wall in front of him, turned round and ran back from where he had come.