Placing one foot after the other was a task, a coerced action; Iris lowered her eyes to her steps as she exited the shadows of a hidden alley and entered the blinding light of day. The sun reflected off the snow, and crystals collided with the ground, shouldering a cold draft of indifference. With bloodshot eyes, she blinked away snowflakes as they alighted on her lashes. The frigid air reminded Iris of the alternative card to the nightly shame she was dealt, yet she didn’t want to sleep outside, alone tonight. Sprinkles of ice landed in her hair, a stark contrast against dark brown strands, matted and unkempt from the restless night before. As Iris trudged along the bustling street in the common square of town, a dated candy store caught her eye, looking out of place among the industrial-style businesses. A vague image of a mother and father with their young daughter flashed through her mind’s eye. As she peered into the window of her childhood, she was faced with a reflection of the harsh reality of her present. Having wandered into her hometown, it was the first flashback of the past that did not summon a pang of grief, or worse, an apathetic echo. Iris’s early life had been ideal; as an only child, she was doted on by both parents. She had trusted them with every part of her, and that was why she had confessed to them, with no fear of rejection, when she discovered that she was pregnant at the young age of 17.
Yet she had been mistaken. All at once, Iris had transformed from the perfect daughter to a disgrace to her family, and she felt that she had no other option but to pack a few belongings and leave home. Dropping out of high school, she ventured into the unknown, at first accompanied by her boyfriend and father of the soul inside her womb. As the days went by and she began to rely more heavily on him, he weighed the responsibility he was faced with, and turned his back on her. Iris tried everything she could to bring him back, including aborting the child. She couldn’t bear to be left alone in the cold by someone she trusted a second time; yet it was all in vain.
Two years later, here she was: desolate and fading, a muted angel, clinging to the weightlessness of her fingers wrapped around a pipe. The high that drove Iris to sell her dignity by nightfall had escalated into a white, powdery blizzard, sucking out all the vibrance once possessed.
She was an ashen skeleton of the hope that slipped out of her grasp, emptied of unconditional love. Wings had been clipped. In her mind, love was but a green card, used only for the deceit of many to gain the upper hand, and she seemed to always be the misadventured.
Iris, in a sense, was oblivious to the sea of people rushing past her listless and hollowed frame; lethargic thoughts tuned out as the beating of her heart intensified. The few remaining pills she had obtained with the trade of last night’s earnings fell from her frostbitten hand, hitting the dirty snow. A young man sitting on the steps of a nearby store played his guitar softly, and the melancholy strumming grew faint as Iris’s vision faded into darkness.
~~~~~~~~~
It wasn’t the monotonous beeping, or the ache echoing throughout her vacant torso, but the undeniable presence of warmth wrapped around her frail hands that pulled Iris back into consciousness. Her eyelids were heavy, but the feeling that she was not alone gave her the incentive to resurface. As if the hospital cot she lay in was a sea bed of darkness, her eyes locked with her parents, disheartened countenance etched across their expressions like the wavering face of the moon. The young man that had been playing his guitar when she blacked out was seated in a far corner, murmuring softly in response to a solemn-looking man in a white coat. Her breathing was labored, and Iris made no effort to speak; it was a moment in which only quiet serenity was needed. The lingering pressure of what could have been swelled tearfully, but she knew her only escape was to surrender to the present. A moment before the beeping ceased, heavenly crashes of peace surged over her. Finally she knew that the only true love she ever needed to experience had been fulfilled.
END
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125,009 Literary Works • 672,837 Reviews
Heya, thanks for the request!
You can write. The expressions you use, the vocabulary you use, it all fits in and gives this piece a prose-like quality that is an impressive display of writing. You might sense a 'but' coming. You would be correct. But it feels like Iris is hidden behind all these pretty phrases, to the point where she becomes a cut-out angel placed into the dazzlingly beautiful setting. The thing is, I don't get much at all from Iris emotionally. Sure, she's "an ashen skeleton ... emptied of unconditional love" - a beautiful turning of prhase - but what does that tell me about her? The short of it: I think Iris's personality is hampered by the use of too extravagant language.
This is not to say that don't write like this, please do, it's amazing, but use simpler language when conveying her personality, so as to not make her feel at best robotic. An idea to keep in mind: try have Iris convey some thoughts to us herself, instead of the narrator telling it for her. A simple conversation with a random person would be ideal for this, or just simply put in some thoughts that are going on in her head in italics. This way you can keep the beautiful wording, and still bring out your MC's personality in a way that the narrator could never achieve for her.
As for nitpicks, here goes:
Crystals shouldering a cold draft? I appreciate the artistic idea behind this, but in this context it's over the top in my opinion. Not to sound like a dick, but I chuckled a little when I read it; it feels like you were trying too hard on this one.
With here binds bloodshot eyes to blinking, but is she really blinking with her eyes themselves? Especially when you reinforce 'eyes' with the adjective 'bloodshot', you draw attention to the eyes instead of the eyelids which are actually blinking. Now it just sounds odd.
This feels important to the storyline, but you chose to quickly skim over it. I feel as if this needs more attention, even if it is only a couple of words more. 'Vague' here adds to this feeling of "Nah, probably not even important.". Try using a more exciting word, such as hazy, to add more crispness to the sentence, thus giving it more substance.
Flashback already implies the past. If you want to add something more, try something along the lines of 'of her former life'.
Lose the 'yet'; it doesn't flow well from the earlier sentence, and having only a simple statement of how she was mistaken is more powerful here. Sometimes less is more.
This is awkwardly sandwiched between a simple recounting of her life and it sticks out like a sore thumb. Go with something less dramatic.
Including implies that it was just another thing she did. This seemed to be her last resort to bring the child's father back, make it sound like it is.
'Yet', to me at least, has a flippant connotation to it. "I slew the mighty dragon, yet lo and behold, the princess had run off with that oaf of a retainer of mine." It doesn't carry the same gravity as a simple 'but'. I catagorize 'yet' in the humorous-epics department, and feel as if it doesn't carry the bitterly hollow vibe you're looking for here.
Eh. True love being finally fulfilled seems a lackluster way of ending such a prettily worded piece. I know you can express this in a more interesting manner. Especially the 'finally' seems out of place. I can't place my finger on what exactly is bothering me about it, but it sounds... wrong here. Read it outloud and see if you notice it too. If not, meh, could be just me, but I strongly suggest revisiting this last sentence and making it worthy of all the words before it.
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You might've noticed I didn't touch the middle-to-end of the piece much at all. It's because that part is beautifully written and I've nothing I'd wish changed in there. Just explore Iris's character further in the beginning and give the reader a reason to feel sorry for her. At the moment, nothing much is going on between the reader and Iris, except that she seems lost, yay. Lots of lost girls out there. Give us a reason to feel sorry for her in particular.
Achieve this and this'll be a great piece of writing instead of a cute little story with cool words. If you've any questions, don't be afraid to ask; I don't bite - or at least not very hard. Keep writing.
Your's truly,
Life.
You are so right. When I read over this the first few times, I found myself nodding in agreement with everything you said. The character even /felt/ forced when I wrote her in. I will definitely work on character development and interaction. Thank you so much.
~Indie.
I don't know about this line. It's just too much
I don't have any real nitpicks because, as I'm sure you already know, you can write. You've polished this story well, and although it sometimes feels like the writing is trying too hard, you manage to use the style consistently.
If I had to point out any problem with this, it would be substance. Sure, it's written well, but there isn't much to it. Maybe you see otherwise, but I'm the reader. And from the reader's of view, all you have here is a well-written nothing. I want to talk about the character you've given us here. Even writing this, I had to go back and check for her name, which shows you just how much impact she had on me. I feel like you've focused so much on the writing that you've forgotten the most important part of a story - the characters. I'm making that assumption because I do literally do that all the time. But what you have to realize is that, while the writing is important, it's not the most important.
So yeah, just some food for thought. I would challenge you to centre your next story completely on character development.
Thank you so much for your thoughts. I will definitely refine my character development, and write more in the perspective of what the reader will experience.
I thought this was good. Although carbonCore is right - the font was way too small and it was an information overload. There are other ways to convey backstory other than hitting your readers with it all at once.
I really liked your images though, and the feeling this story conveyed. The ending was sweet but didn't seem sharp enough to finish the piece.
All in all really great, and I can see you have tons of talent. Just keep reading and writing, sister! You're doing great
I had no idea the font was so small - my apologies to your vision! I will consider everything you have suggested; thank you so much for reading and reviewing.
No problem!
1) Unless you're writing for eagles, please post your works in larger font, so I don't have to gouge my eyes out and press them against the screen to make out the story.
2) Unless you're writing for Blue Screens of Death, please avoid info-dumping. Human readers prefer their information broken up into plot, actions, and characters, rather than a wall of text saying exactly how everything is.
3) Naturally, I wouldn't bother writing this if I didn't think you had potential. You can turn a phrase well, and your images are crisp and delicious. However, exotic sentences and good imagery alone can't carry a story.
Your servant,
cC
I had no idea the font was so small - my apologies to your vision! I will definitely work on the info-dumping. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.