Here, lemme just save this one for reviewing day.
I recommend that you listen to this ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tkAK_i1-jTU ) as you read. This was what I listened to when I was writing this, and though it isn't strictly necessary, I found that it helps to add to the mood this piece creates.
There sits a house on a hill, far from here, in a place you and I have never been. Around it lies a field of freshly fallen snow and sloping hills, all dotted with dark evergreens and pines. The house itself seems fairly normal, with wooden walls and a fire in the fireplace, and windows that even now, in the heart of a cold winter's night, burn with golden, gleaming candlelight. Despite the ice on the eves, the joy inside remains untouched by winter's hand.
Although the house stands alone (for, in truth, it is the only one for miles), it is far from lonely. A family lives within its walls- a mother, a father, and a single young daughter whom they love very much. They have lived together for many years, and with luck and if Winter is kind, perhaps they shall live there for many more. But let us not focus on the future- for now, let us focus on tonight.
The little girl sits by the window as life goes on around her. The fire crackles in the hearth, lighting the room with a soft orange glow and casting shadows on the faded rugs and oaken floors. Every now and then, the flames sputter and spark as wind rushes over the top of the chimney. An old clock sits on the mantle amidst other scattered knick-knacks, a layer of dust coating its unmoving hands and dulling the tarnished metal. Old pictures hang on the walls, the faces within them faded beyond all recognition but carefully cleaned of dirt all the same. Above it all hangs a lone oil lamp, its light flickering against the shadows that cling to the corners of the room.
In the kitchen, the mother can be heard cooking while rustling pages signal that the girl's father is reading the long-out-of-date newspaper once more. The smoke from his pipe lingers, drifting in lazy curls through the air. The smell combines with that of the pine-wood walls, mingling into one- the smell of home.
But none of that matters to the girl, who sits at the window, at the center of it all, and watches the snow fall. The glass is cold to the touch, chilled by the wind outside, and foggy with the warmth of the hearth. Frost curls at the edges like lace, veiling the world beyond from clear view and hiding its details away like secrets. Snow drifts down from the sky in soft puffs, coating the rolling hills in white. Under the light of the full moon, their gentle peaks and dips glimmer a silvery, pale blue.
(They look like the sea, the little girl whispers to herself. She does not know why she thinks this).
All is quiet and still.
Until it is not.
A large, black shape trundles up one of the hills in the distance like some great, dark beetle. Within it, something chugs away, coughing and sputtering against the cold. Through the frost on the glass, the girl can just barely make out the four wheels that mark it as some sort of vehicle, although she cannot make out the horse that must pull it. (For, what sort vehicle can move without some creature to pull it, she wonders).
As the beetle-like lump shudders to a halt upon the crown of the hill, a figure silhouetted in charcoal gray emerges from within it. The figure seems to be a man of some sort, although why he is here she cannot say. (This does not worry her, for all that it should have).
After a long moment, another figure- this one of a woman- crests the hill to stand before him. Instead of black, she appears silhouetted in a pale, whispery sort of blue, the outline of her long dress and elegant crown just barely visible against the rich midnight of the sky. As the girl watches the silent pair, their visage seems to sharpen, their details becoming crisp and clear under the stars. The fog upon the window draws away to offer her a clear view as the man drops down upon bended knees, arms clasped before him. His figure is cast in stark relief against the snow, and she can see his lips move hurriedly, as if he were begging for something or other. In response, the woman's shoulders begin to shake as she laughs at his desperation. A sharp gesture, and the woman has the man to rise from his position. With a fluid sort of ease, she approaches him, before settling a hand upon his shoulder and pulling him close.
He stiffens at her touch.
The woman seems to frown, and in reply, the man pulls her forward hesitantly into a familiar position, his hand upon her waist and the other clasped tight in her grasp. And, at the sound of some unseen cue, they begin to dance under the stars. At first the man moves sharply, almost jerkily, a sharp contrast to the woman's unearthly, flowing grace. But slowly, as the wind whirls around them and the snow flurries on, his steps smooth to match hers, and he finds his balance. His gray begins to waltz in time with her pale blue, blending with the black of the night and the white of the snow. The moon shines down from on high, peeking out between the ever-moving clouds that rush towards the horizon, carried by the wind. Its glow illuminates the two like a spotlight, giving a silvery edge to their every movement, making them seem strange and fey under the night sky.
It is beautiful.
It is magical, and wonderful, and a strange kind of dangerous that comes from watching something you shouldn't be be (and perhaps a few other sorts as well).
To the little girl, it feels oddly private, and perhaps the wintery darkness agrees, for within the space of one blink and the next, the woman is gone and the gray figure stands alone once more. As she watches from her window, the man seems to waver on his feet at the sudden loss, slight tremors wracking his body, before collapsing backwards against his strange vehicle. The two dark shapes are still and silent in the night as the snow falls on, blanketing them in a layer of white. Given enough time, perhaps they shall become indistinguishable from the hills around them, just another white drift under the moonlight.
Shaking away her quiet discomfort at the scene, the little girl turns away from the window as her mother announces that lunch is ready. She is far too young to understand the significance of what she just saw, or strangeness of the ever-present night outside her door. She has never seen a sunrise in all her life, and no one can say if she ever will. All she knows is that she is safe with her family, as winter falls around them, just as it will tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that as well. Forever on and on, winter, just as it had been for the last eight years.
And she is fine with that; as long as the Lady wills it.
Hey there!
This is my 2nd review for YWS.
Initial Reaction
What a charming story! I loved how cozy it felt, and your choice to use the narration technique was well done, as it added to the fairy tale quality that this short story has! I am a lover of winter, and so I don't especially mind the idea of an endless winter, but you definitely struck a neat balance of whimsy and suspense. I think that the music you chose definitely adds to the atmosphere of this piece. Lastly, I found the irregular formatting to be slightly disruptive to my enjoyment of your story.
Breaking It Down
First Two Paragraphs - An excellent set-up for your story that sinks us down into the setting with little preamble. The only I would critique here is that for me, your short story's hook isn't strong enough. "There sits a house on a hill, far from here, in a place you and I have never been," is not a strong enough hook for this story, in my opinion. And given that the first two paragraphs do nothing to progress the narrative, instead choosing to focus on solely expositing where we find ourselves, you need to give your readers something meatier to chew on, or at least build further upon your hook so that you give the readers enough of a taste that they will be interested in the exposition.
Paragraphs Three and Four - Here we move on to some characterization, and you begin to execute some environmental storytelling. Upon rereading the text I'm noticing that clearly, there are some unspoken things going on in this house that you aren't explicitly telling us, which is quite excellent. The way the clock is unused and in disrepair seems to indicate that time no longer matters in the same way in this family's world that it does in our own. That being said, while all of this scene-setting is lovely, and well-written, and makes me feel very cozy, I have to question its purpose given what comes next. Why devote all of this time to this family when in-
Paragraphs Five and Six (And The Three Lines In Between) - Here at last, we find ourselves beginning to see things happen in the story. We get to meet our narrator's protagonist by proxy, who is viewing the events that take place outside her window, and we get to hear about the beginnings of these events. One point of confusion for me, as the reader, is that it is unclear how the girl can conceptualize what a sea is, as well as a motor-powered vehicle, without knowing/understanding her own memories. If such things are not native to her world, then surely she wouldn't think in those terms would she? Wouldn't she instead think of the equivalent, or otherwise come up with a different way of expressing herself? Elaboration is required.
Paragraphs Seven and Eight (And The Line Below) - Finally, halfway through our story, the apparent main characters make their entrance. This is one of my main criticisms of the story, because it is unclear whether the events taking place outside the cabin with these new characters are of highest importance, or if what is transpiring with the girl in the cabin is of highest importance. If it is the former, than much of what is going on with these characters is difficult to parse because we through the little girl, cannot hear what is being said. We also aren't given further context through the girl's interpretations of their actions. These events are clearly of importance, but if so, then why isn't the girl outside and in the thick of these events? It seems as though this part of the story is a non-sequitur, where it is clearly meant to be the driving force behind the plot. If the story must remain as is for reasons I am not privy to, it requires further contextualization.
Paragraph Nine (And The Three Lines Below) - In this section of the story, there is a great sense of things happening, and that whatever this fey dance is, it is of great consequence to the plot. Unfortunately, instead of understanding why this dancing sequence is of significance, we are merely told by our narrator that it is significant. I cite, once more, that I don't know why this matters to the girl in the cabin, or who these people are to whom these important events are occurring, beyond my assumption that the woman is the titular Lady of Winter.
Paragraph Ten and Eleven (And The Line Below) - And finally we have our ending, wherein we see the Lady of Winter (maybe?) disappear, her dancing partner fall dead (amidst many other former dancing partners, whom are now mere snowy hills?), and the little girl basically shrugs at all of this and goes to eat her lunch. The short story ends with a conclusion wherein at last we find the kinds of information that you probably should have included as the opening hook, instead of attempting to leave for the end as a twist ending of sorts(?).
What You Nailed!
I have to applaud your descriptive ability. I loved your setting and you really drew me into the world. You should be proud of your aptitude for strong but concise illustration through words.
Unless I'm reading into things entirely too much, you have a real knack for subtle details in your story which might go unnoticed during the first read-through. It's really neat to pick through your writing and see how you aren't fluffing your descriptions as though it's a chore, and how you use mundane means of furthering your world development. The details about the clock, newspaper, and the frost are what comes to mind.
Atmosphere can add a lot to the story, and you definitely add a ton of it through both your artwork at the end of the story, and the track of music you selected as an accompaniment to your piece. These elements, while seldom used, are greatly appreciated when used effectively. It's always fun to add a little extra something to your stories to entertain your readers!
What To Work On!Formatting is key. And in formatting, standardization is king. I recommend that you refrain from using single line paragraphs to denote emphasis in your writing. Not only does it distract and make for odd choices in pacing, but it will come back to bite you later, given that in published works a standard form and style is often imposed on writers, and if the only way you're emphasizing your text is through this method, it is likely it will be unintentionally undone by your editors/publishers. If you feel that the only way to make a line pop off the page is by isolating it on its own, then try rephrasing it with more punchy language, or by using more conventional means of emphasis, such as italics, boldface, or underline where appropriate. Each paragraph should be self-evident in its consequence! The closest you can come to your current method, by way of proper formatting would be to end your paragraph with the emphasized statement, so that it catches your reader's eye in that sense. Understand that this is a matter of aesthetics, which will make your work easier on the eyes for all of your readers. I cannot recommend this enough, given that forming good formatting habits will serve you well in your future writing endeavours.
So I just did a quick google search, and it turns out I'm a nutter. (Well I already knew that.) But essentially, a paragraph can totally be one sentence. In fact, single sentence paragraphs are often used to denote emphasis. I'm not going to erase everything I just wrote, both for my own amusement but also because it demonstrates my point (almost in and of itself). I have a stylistic preference for not having so many single line paragraphs in a row, as you employed between what I called your fifth and sixth paragraphs (which we now know were actually your fifth and ninth paragraphs). However, ultimately the decision is up to you, but I hope that my comments at the very least have helped to get you thinking more about how you employ format, because it's definitely an interesting and overlooked area of writing.
Moving Forward - Narrative, Plot, and Structure
I have repeatedly stated in the Breaking It Down section that your work, while pleasant to read, requires further context as well as a better sense of narrative flow. Throughout your short story, I am left wondering who the titular Our Lady of Winter is, what her relevance to the text is, what the importance of the family at the beginning is in relation to the figures outside, and also who the figures outside even are, because none of this is explicitly stated.
A good story is easy to understand, because it is composed of very simple elements that come together to form a cohesive whole. There is a protagonist, an antagonist, a goal, and conflict. There are stakes, events, and consequences which directly apply to the aforementioned. The reason why this text is so frustrating to me, is because it very clearly has much of the material needed for an excellent short story, but I am having trouble picking out what the actual story within the text is. I don't want to seem pedantic, but in essence, I hope you will make an effort in future works to evaluate the structure of your stories in order to better convey to the reader why what they are reading is of consequence. That is the most important thing you should take away from this.
We write stories about what matters.
Whether it's what matters to us, to our characters, or to our worlds, the central pillar of storytelling is that it conveys a progression of events that are supposed to mean something to the reader. And unless I've very much missed my mark, and you are doing some very non-traditional writing, this is something you should take to heart and always remember to check for in future works. I guarantee that with this in mind, plus the skill you've already displayed, your stories will be truly awesome.
Closing Remarks
I guess I kind of squeezed in my closing remarks in the last section. I'll just end by saying that it was a lovely experience getting to read your work, and as you saw, it turned into a learning experience for me too! I always love when fellow writers have the guts to show their work to the world, and cannot thank you enough. I'll be following all your future works, and wish you all the best! Here's to an (almost) never-ending Winter!
-Scriv
This is great! I really like the concept of this. Also, the structure of this is amazing. The ending could be a bit more impactful, though. I think it is a little sad about how the girl has never seen a sunrise and that she may never see a sunrise, but I really like the way you portray her as a young, dependant girl safe in the comfort of her parents' love and is fine with anything as long as she has that.
This is great! I really like the concept of this. Also, the structure of this is amazing. The ending could be a bit more impactful, though.
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