It's like a snake coiling itself around your mind, tighter and tighter into a constricting embrace. Unhinging it's jaws the venom seeps in, beginning your first night of destructive ways. Nimble hands shiver, the only color in the flushed white is of red. Paralyzed with terror, your limbs finally feel warmth when poison floods through your veins.
A boulevard of trepidation lies before you, all directions closed off with no escape, it is only one lane, barely enough to squeeze your body through, slashing any help away if it ever were to come. Wincing legs of lead push forward, paths behind crumbling to just an edge. No matter what cocky stride you may act, or quick confident pace, encased around your thoughts is fear, scared like a toddler who has lost their mother in the bustling city streets. Dirty shoes move in a silent rhythm as you carry on, the path growing only more thin, as well as your clutch to the physical world.
An incubator for a killer is all you are now, madness in your bloodstream, leeching off whatever liveliness you may still have. A bruised body it chose, one containing cuts for openings it could easily seep into. A body that could be manipulated just like a wooden puppet, dancing on a stage of glass, controlled by chains of unbreakable metals, forever bound to a master not chosen by preference.
Thoughts of dying whirl behind your eyes, feet moving faster with a pitter patter that gets louder and louder, echoing on the empty pavement. Your rushing forward causes something to drop, it sounds like the time your grandmother's fancy china plate slipped from your fingers and hit the floor. Not even a gust of wind passes, nothing but whimpering emitting from your lips and a heart that sounds as if it were going to explode at any moment. Mustering a tiny portion of courage, heels twist you around to face what had been dropped.
Squinting dark eyes, the object lay in shards of soft porcelain, turned upside down and from this angle looking like an empty boat of pale oak wood that had been beaten to splinters. Lowering yourself to a crouch your skin comes in contact with the material, gingerly flipping the shards over and like a puzzle it forms a picture; your first emotion lost. Upon the canvas of white there is a smile pushed to the side of the oval-shaped mask, only one side, with one eye just a little less closed than the other. The same smile that would always tug at your lips, even when the mood or moment was incorrect.
Like the time your mother told you about the school shooting, or when you learned about those two towers falling. But now..It's not here at all. Even through the thick fear you mustered a small curve of your lips. Daring to turn your sickened gaze drifts ever so slowly to your body hanging like nothing more than a rag doll from a tree, pasty white, cold to the touch, and only dangling down in a way only something of the dead could. Any expression like its blood has been drained, eyes with a glassy haze rolled back in widened lids, head lolling forwards and rubbing against a noose of prickly and scratchy threads.
In this world control is not yours, yet you can still somehow struggle in an excruciatingly painful fashion, insanity not too far by, grinning as it lazily awaits on fat haunches. Continuing the narrowing path you try laughing, giggling until it seems real enough, until it seems like you are completely overjoyed and notuive a single soul but yourself knows it is only a curtain over true thoughts. Perfection; a smug smirk, yet not truly a real one, forms upon your face.
Overtime everything is going to be lost, and over time you fake everything, creating mirrors to be loved, only giving the hungry beasts what they long to consume, themselves, alive and breathing, something like them that agrees with every opinion and sways to the same tune that blares through their earbuds. Behind the reflection you hide, it's long shadow casted over your body, hiding who you really are completely. This way it is easy to forget who you actually are, pretending is just as normal as blinking or inhaling, peeling off the disguise is not, gradually a cage of steel will form around you.
A crowd of all your lies will group together, chortling in delight, snickering at something that shalt escape. Each and everyone has no key to let you out, and they like it that way, they wish the very one whom actually does never comes close to your conciseness, unlocking the now rusted bars. Scream until your throat is raw, nobody is going to help you. At this very day, your street is too skinny, nothing but a tightrope remains.
A loner you will die, hair tangled in knots, dilated eyes surrounded by circles of grey, skin the shade of paper, ribs matching your stomach that is twisted in pain as it consumes itself, warm salty drops running down sunken cheeks as the last bit of fight in you clutches at door. And you know it. And you can deny it all you want until you just can't take it anymore, one final rugged sigh.
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140,220 Literary Works • 673,046 Reviews
I should say it is a good try and a good subject.
U know I find it kinda simple. I mean it says all the feelings clearly and leaves nothing for the reader to find out.but the good horror stories are the one that scare you but u are not aware of it.i mean they secretly scare you.and I do not feel the atmosphere when the writer is describing it, and that means that the writer doesn’t describe it well.
And it actually has no ending. It is so soul-less.there is no aim and goal in the story.the writer starts with no preparation and goes on without a change in the process of the story and then end.it has no fluctuation and that’s why the reader may become bored by this story.
A good reviewer uses good grammar. >_<
Haunting. I like it.
To be honest I would consider this poetry, but even then, it's very good poetry. You paint a dark world of death, madness, panic, and despair really well.
It's a very dark and depressing story, and I love it.
The only negative I feel is in here would have to be the constant switching of moods and tones. One moment you're talking about the reader going man, and in the next sentence you're talking about how they're loving it, grinning, or seeing their own dead body. If you were going for poetry, I would say this is good, it creates a need for interpretation. But for short stories it just creates confusion. My advice would be to add more narrative in there, maybe try and expand on who "You" are.
Speaking of that, another reason I really like this story is because it delves into the mind, and if it's anything I love, it's talking about human nature rather or human psychology than just talking about a certain set of humans or people who have bullied other people or whatever, and I found your take on this kind of subject fascinating. Always gotta have my psychological horror fix.
But yes, good work on the story, but I think it should be refined with either more narrative and description or on more of a poetry focus.
Hey, Brunnera here to review on your work!
I hope I haven't been too critical in my review, and sorry I'm a bit late, but welcome to YWS!
I'm not sure if this is your first work here on YWS, but I see you haven't done any reviews yet. xD Go review! People will most definitely return the favour. Enough chit-chat, I'll cut to some technical errors.
If I'm not mistaken, about twice or thrice throughout the story, I notice how you wrongly mistaken "its" for "it's". "Its" is a possessive noun, whereas "it's" is short for "it is". It becomes wrong at certain parts of the story, such as:
" It's like a snake coiling itself around your mind, tighter and tighter into a constricting embrace. [Unhinging it's jaws the venom seeps in,] beginning your first night of destructive ways. Nimble hands shiver, the only color in the flushed white is of red. Paralyzed with terror, your limbs finally feel warmth when poison floods through your veins. "
And:
" [Behind the reflection you hide, it's long shadow casted over your body, hiding who you really are completely.] This way it is easy to forget who you actually are, pretending is just as normal as blinking or inhaling, peeling off the disguise is not, gradually a cage of steel will form around you. "
Besides that, there's a very minor but extremely noticeable spelling error:
" Like the time your mother told you about the school shooting, or when you learned about those two towers falling. [But now..It's not here at all.] Even through the thick fear you mustered a small curve of your lips. "
I also had some confusion with your word usage. Don't get me wrong, the language was beautiful, but there were some paragraphs where the words sounded awkward to my mind.
" Not even a gust of wind passes, nothing but [whimpering emitting from your lips] and a heart that sounds as if it were going to explode at any moment. "
I've only know 'emit' comes together with something that...radiates. Like warmth, or aura. Perhaps 'sounding' would be better than 'emitting'. It sounds weird, to me, at least.
" And you can deny it all you want until you just can't take it anymore, one final rugged sigh. "
The words after the comma are meant to be powerful, but when arranged in such a way it loses the meaningful impact you meant to convey. Maybe changing it to ' And you can deny it all you want until you just can't take it anymore, so you release one final rugged sigh. '
That way the ending sentence (which is something readers pay attention most to) doesn't sound so confusing and doesn't have an anti-climax.
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Okay, wow. Amazing language. Elegant writing. Powerful imagery! There is no doubt this belongs in the horror genre. It was, by all accounts, with only a few flaws, very well-written. I wonder why it's not in the Literary Spotlight?
It casts the depression over the reader as one continues the story. In fact, the whole thing is like a descend into insanity. I loved how this story makes the reader its character, it's a very major element in the horror genre.
Every paragraph was a masterpiece of description, wonderfully-written imagery and similes. All of them were amazing, and they behold a sort of bitter truth in them.
My favourite paragraph is this one:
"A boulevard of trepidation lies before you, all directions closed off with no escape, it is only one lane, barely enough to squeeze your body through, slashing any help away if it ever were to come. Wincing legs of lead push forward, paths behind crumbling to just an edge. No matter what cocky stride you may act, or quick confident pace, encased around your thoughts is fear, scared like a toddler who has lost their mother in the bustling city streets. Dirty shoes move in a silent rhythm as you carry on, the path growing only more thin, as well as your clutch to the physical world. "
How do you oh-so-accurately describe and define 'fear'? It took my breath away, this whole work did.
Job well done!
~Brunnera
Thank you so much!
I am new but wish to come out of hiding and post my work. I don't think I quite have the stomach nor brains to be able to judge other works, I might get it all wrong and provoke the author rather than guide. I'm also trying to learn my own mistakes and wrongs, so I rather not mislead.
About all of the its and it's errors, I have always been rather confused on which is which. I wrote this upon my phone, so auto correction also crushed me, this is the same along with any spelling errors or wrong words. These should be corrected in the future, although I may not be the greatest between my it's and its, but it should be a bit easier to read. I'll give it a shot though!
I also tend to use my commas too much or in the wrong places, I've been lectured by so many teachers for such a crime.
~
I simply took what happens in my daily life, in my head of course, and my feelings placed inside of a short story. Instead of continuing to be sad, I wrote it all out. I have schizophrenia, I've been places, so, why not embrace it and try to appeal to others?
Thank you yet again! :3 You haven't been critical at all, in fact, I wanted to hear every little wrong done to improve myself more and more. You were very kind and pointed out not only flaws, but what was done well and should be continued. I highly appreciate your feedback!
I loved this.. just.. words can barely explain how great this really was. The word play is absolutely amazing. My mind read it in a voice that seemed so perfect. Explaining the struggles of something so terrifying, as much as insanity can take. I encourage you to write so much more, for you have an amazing talent. At first, I was breathless. I would love to read much much more.
Thank you so much. I will be writing more in the future I hope, and am already considering a much longer book. Perhaps not as dark as this, but I do hope it appeals to you. I truly appreciate your feedback, I'll be sure to keep on writing! ^w^