Young Writers Society

Hi raindrops,

Mailice back with a short review!

That was a very interesting chapter. It had the same style as the introduction, which I appreciate but also finds a bit strange, because so far it seems as if the story is told from the perspective after the action, which certainly loses some of the tension if you pay attention to the tone of the voice.

What I particularly liked was the continuation of your way of rendering the descriptions and how from that also a characteristic of the narrator comes through that I hope will stay with the reader for a while; the urge to enumerate things. It gives the narrator a little bit of this characteristic that he's very calculating and is probably more into the theory than the practice. I can't form an opinion so directly yet, but would even argue that through this your character can also show a lack of compassion for other fellow human beings. Driven to find some kind of answer, he himself forgets what number he is. (Which I don't think is a contradiction if he's only looking at his outside world and not himself). I think this is an excellent portrayal of the character, as you also demonstrate that the more "life" one has, the less one focuses on oneself.

Since you start the chapter with "Red" and then make some lists, I thought you would show some shades of red instead of naming where the colour is to be found. In the long run, it can seem boring to the reader if you always mention the objects. For example, you could give different types, like what shade of red are the lips? The dress, etc...?

What I missed a bit here in the chapter was your transition from the colour red to the white carpet to the narrator's mother (where again there is an enumeration). Then it goes on to the last point, where I assume the character is in prison. I think you need to create a bit more of a transition there. Because I'm now wondering what number it was where the carpet got stained? Since the narrator brings it up later, you could create a connection and then make it clear to the reader that he is in prison (in my opinion).

Otherwise, it was a well-written chapter with more questions that you raise for the reader.

Have fun writing!

Mailice

Hi raindrops! I'm here for another review for you ^^

I think in my first review I made a note about the narrator "not sounding like a newborn baby", and I was honestly wondering how you were going to narrate them being born / being a baby. But I see you decided to go with them narrating like an adult who's been through the experience many times, and I think that was a good choice - it would certainly be really difficult to narrate through the perspective of a baby or even a toddler xD

My hair, face shape, nose, lips, and even the tone of our skin are similar, but the color of our eyes couldn't be more different.

Her soft lips now chapped and dry. Her eyes deep and dark. And her face appearing dry and skeletal.

Over and over, I did various ways to attract her attention.

Yet no matter how I twist each life, I don't get any closer to this stranger.

Hey raindrops,

Shady back for another requested-review! Let's get started...

Red.

In every birth that's the first color I recognize. Not a white light or an empty darkness. I see flowing colors of red.

"Hi mom." I try talking to her through the small microphone I nervously held, but once more disappointment sinks to my gut, for like the past several lifetimes she gives me not one response

for like the past several lifetimes she gives me not one response.

Hey Rain! I’m back I again read the two reviews and the second one was in line with my thoughts so read that and that’s what I think XD I feel lazy but why repeat the same things?

This chapter is just as good as the last. Just reading it I can feel the very morose character you have chosen to put on display for your readers. I can feel the darkness and the despair that he/she must be feeling. (Still don’t know if it’s a boy or girl...my only complaint )

I’m starting to wonder what will happen next. You’ve given your readers quite the setting and now I want action! I do love the way you describe things. It’s really intriguing. Somehow, even the flow of your words enhance the desperation of your character. Awesome!

Keep up the good work!
Honora

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

Hi! I'm here to review the second chapter as I promised in the previous review. Let's where this takes us.

First Impression: Hmm...well this is a great second chapter, I think it continues to build on the premise from the first one quite well and established something that our protagonist is fighting for so its doing quite well.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Red.

In every birth that's the first color I recognize. Not a white light or an empty darkness. I see flowing colors of red.

Her lips, her hair, her fingernails, and her favorite dresses. Even the surroundings is brimming with colors of red. The couch and curtains, the linings of the cabinets and walls, the flowers in the table vase, they are all shades of red, be it vibrant or dull. Everything is almost red, but not our carpets. They are a snowy white color and have a fur texture. They easily get stained. I once remember her brushing hard on these cloth to remove the stains, saying it's necessary to cover up the mistake.

It's from her that I got my features. My hair, the shape of my face, nose and lips, even the tone of our skin are similar, but not the color of our eyes. Her eyes are green. Muddy dark green that once looked as clear as the spring, but mine are a chocolate shade of brown.

Separated by a glass wall, I look at her, however I knew she sees me not. Her figure so thin, that she must have lost pounds of weight. Her soft lips now chapped and dry. Her eyes deep and dark. And her face appearing dry and skeletal.

"Hi mom." I try talking to her through the small microphone I nervously held, but once more disappointment sinks to my gut, for like the past several lifetimes she gives me not one response.

The first me, whom I refer to as the original, cried. The original cried for the pitiful state of her beloved mother. Then the second was angry, yelling at her, cursing her, begging for her to speak, to have some reaction towards her presence. Over and over, I did various ways to attract her attention. Now, I have lost count of the number of me's. Am I still the 8th? 13th? or have I reached the 20th. Too many memories are jumbled together, sometimes even my dreams are a lifetime themselves. Yet no matter how I twist each life, I don't get any closer to this stranger.

Wow! Very intriguing story!

Red.

In every birth that's the first color I recognize. Not a white light or an empty darkness. I see flowing colors of red.

Her lips, her hair, her fingernails, and her favorite dresses. Even the surroundings is brimming with colors of red. The couch and curtains, the linings of the cabinets and walls, the flowers in the table vase, they are all shades of red, be it vibrant or dull. Everything is almost red, but not our carpets. They are a snowy white color and have a fur texture. They easily get stained. I once remember her brushing hard on these cloth to remove the stains, saying it's necessary to cover up the mistake.

It's from her that I got my features. My hair, the shape of my face, nose and lips, even the tone of our skin are similar, but not the color of our eyes. Her eyes are green. Muddy dark green that once looked as clear as the spring, but mine are a chocolate shade of brown.

Am I still the 8th? 13th? or have I reached the 20th.

Yet no matter how I twist each life, I don't get any closer to this stranger.