Toy Guns

Overall, it's all right. You don't really strive toward greatness or develop an idea to its conclusion--but you also don't make any blatant mistakes. So it's hard to feel strongly one way or another about it. It would be like taking a page from a Hemingway novel and trying to develop an opinion based purely on that.

You've told a story we're rather familiar with, but you didn't really take it the next step or do anything daring--it all plays out exactly as we thought it would: safe and fitting with our expectations. I can't really ding you for that at this place and time, but try not to make a habit out of it. I can only say that, especially in a flash fiction, experimentation can go a long way. No one makes headlines that say, "Business as Usual!"

Okay, now for the concrete critiques. You can be a little wordy or wooden at points. This causes a break in flow and lends itself to a feeling of excessive information. See the following.

getting even dirtier when she squatted

with the foul mixture of liquid.

whose head -- or what was left of it -- was lying halfway in the puddle

she didn't hate them as she should. Weren't they supposed to hate each other naturally? Shouldn't she know that she hated them, and they hated her,

the loud bang of the gun.

And how come the Man and the Boy get to be capitalized, but not the Girl?

It wasn't enough to stop them from immediately going back to their dinner.

I liked this ending. It reminds me of a line in the movie Hotel Rwanda where the journalist is criticizing the public and says, "I think if people see this footage they'll say, 'oh my God that's horrible,' and then go on eating their dinners."

thatoddkid.
What really is your name, dude? You're beyond amazing. I've been reading your stories and each and every one of them left me in a daze after I finished with them. They got me thinking, got my insides churning and I really felt them. From a homosexual to this little girl, each of your characters has had an effect on me. Whatever may happen, please never ever stop writing. Only for the sake of it, Imma ask:

How different from them she was...

Isn't it going to be, "how different she was from them.." ?

This story presents the cruelty of war in a different, yet beautiful way. How in war, there's no grey. It's just black and white. It shows how the little girl doesn't care, is unaware yet aware of what she's lost, of how alone she is since she doesn't put up a fight or run when the gun's pointing at her. It's amazing how she's not crying despite her surroundings and all she does is picks up a toy gun, courtesy of her mentality due to her encounter with the soldiers.

Can I please ask you to review one of my few works I've put up here when you have the time? I'd really love some suggestions from you, you're awesome.

Hey, Life here to give a few thoughts.

I really, really liked this. You had a very strong atmosphere going on, and your choice of vocabulary effectively enhanced that feeling. Your grammar was pretty much flawless, but I've a few suggestions to make.

Her grubby fingers closed around it as she cast a look at the boy whose head -- or what was left of it -- was lying halfway in the puddle.

I honestly think you could do without the underlined part. It breaks up the flow of the sentence, and we already know he's dead. I just don't feel that the bluntness fits in with the rest of the piece, which has an almost dreamy cast to it.

Shuffling her bare feet, she continued down the pavement, blind to the craters in once immaculate lawns, to the bullet holes in the sides of the suburban houses, to the rubble composed of everything broken.

I enjoyed the descriptions here. Nice and strong. I personally would've gone for something more poetic than "everything broken", but that's not a big deal at all. Really.

And, of course, to the various bodies littered like fallen branches in a forest.

I feel this sentence isn't up to par with the rest of the story. This is quite an important sentence to the story in general, so, even though I like the calm imagery of the forest, I would've pumped something more to it. Something along the lines of, "to the various bodies resting like weary branches on a quiet forest floor." Just more dramatic I guess.

past more and more grizzled men that always did double-takes

The person before me pointed out this same line, so I won't repeat what they said.
------

The rest of the story is powerful and gripping, though I'm not completely sure of the last line. It's most probably just me, but it feels sort of bland. Meh, who knows?

Hope you get something out of this review, I really did enjoy this one.
Your's,
|Life|

This is a great story! Really powerful. I loved it.
The only suggestions I have are a few places where your phrasing could be clearer.

The little girl's dress trailed in the puddle of oil and blood, getting even dirtier when she squatted to pick out a small object.
A small, plastic toy gun, like the type an action figure would carry. It slipped between her fingers, shiny with the foul mixture of liquid.
Her grubby fingers closed around it as she cast a look at the boy whose head --

You use 'small' twice very close together, and then 'fingers'. It makes it sound a bit repetitive.

the boy whose head -- or what was left of it -- was lying halfway in the puddle.

This phrase confused me. Is the head half submerged in a puddle? Or in the middle of the puddle? If you could clarify it I think it would be better.

He led her along, further and further into the army, past more and more grizzled men that always did double-takes, straight to their leader.

'always did double-takes' makes it sound like they do that all the time, when I think what you mean is that each one did a double-take as the girl passed them.

That's all I noticed! Other than those couple of things I thought it was amazing! Well done!

- pigeon