Young Writers Society

Heyyo, thank you for reading! ^^ This is a gentle reminder that this chapter is part of a larger novel, and I would ask that you please don't review it until you have reviewed and/or read the previous parts! You can start here, at the prologue. Thank you! :]

Hey there! Plume here, with a long-overdue review!

Man, this part was equally sweet and sad (which honestly, I feel like a lot of scenes with Dessie are). I really enjoy the way the story's developing so far—despite it not having a linear storyline, the repeating motifs and slow progression of Clay and Dessie's journey combined with reflections from the future do give it a clear path. I noticed this chapter we spend time with the color green a lot—going back to the first part you posted, it seems like it's portrayed as wild, earthy, and maybe even a little dangerous, which I feel matches with the tone of this chapter very well.

One thing I enjoyed was how you've been progressing through the games they used to play. Since the first one you described was, in effect, the climax of all of them, it's interesting to see you backtrack and take us through their childhood and all the games Dessie played up until that point. The way they reflect the setting/characters all feels very intentional, too. In this chapter, the wildness of summer and adventure emanates throughout, as compared to the more quotidian vibes that playing school and playing house gave. It's a great example of unconventional storytelling, and it's both a joy and a sadness to read about each little vignette through the phases of games Dessie went through before her accident.

I also enjoyed how you portrayed their little spat/outburst. It was interesting how the energy kind of shifted between them—we started off with Clay being bothered and then his outburst triggered Dessie's, in a way. You did a great job of balancing their anger/hysteria and then having Clay comfort Dessie—I thought the beats of the scene were very well paced.

I'm definitely curious about Dessie's super strong reaction to the idea that the elf princess might be dead, especially when it morphed into her true worry and fear of her own death. Knowing what happens to her, it seemed a little on the nose, and it made me wonder if she had some prior experience with death or if she's just a very imaginative and sensitive kid (or maybe even both!) I might be reading too much into it for an ulterior reason, but since it was the focal point of this chapter, it feels (at least to me) like there should be some reason for it.

Specifics

When she was done telling the previous night’s chapter, we’d begin to act it out.

Her crying morphed into sobs as she hugged herself, body shaking like a leaf. The heat beat down on us as we sat in the tall green grass. “I— don’t want— to die,” she choked before burying her face in her knees.

She didn’t mention the previous day. I didn’t bring it up. I never told anyone about that day— not even Felix. I still haven’t told him.

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

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!! Okayy we've reached double digits here, woo...not that many parts left and I am starting to dread getting to the ending now, because this is pretty good at making you invested which is quite an achievement despite how much sadness is tossed at us.

First Impression: Well we're jumping right back and forth now, and I love the details that are slipped in here. Its so many different little timelines of horror all mingling together but it doesn't feel overwhelming or disconnected but rather it all just builds on the other beautifully.

Anyway let's get right to it,

By the end of kindergarten, she’d grown bored of school. “School is boring!” She’d say, swinging from the branches of our tree, pulling herself up to balance precariously on top of it. The sun showed red-hot and the ground wavered in the heat. “I want to go on an adventure!”

We’d chase each other across our yards, roaring at each other, using sticks for swords. Sometimes we were a knight and a dragon, but as she finished one book and went on to another, things changed. Sometimes, we were both wizards. Sometimes, we were fighters. Sometimes, we were on a quest to find something magical. We ran through caves and fortresses and dungeons and forests, all in our two yards.

One day, I came outside in the morning— school was out for the summer— and she sat underneath the tree, legs pulled up to her chest, chin resting on her knees. She looked up at me and frowned when she saw me. “I have really sad news,” she announced, staring down at her lap.

“What?” I asked, moving to stand beside her.

“They’re in the marketplace, and she’s in her disguise,” she began, flipping through the pages of the book absent-mindedly. “And the guard is with her. But then, they’re surrounded by enemy soldiers who found them. And she tries to run, but the guard grabs her and pushes her towards them to save himself.”

“What?” I exclaimed, looking over her shoulder at the book. “Let me see.”

She held the book up miserably and pointed to the page. “It’s right there! He’s too scared and he betrays her and runs away instead!”

“What happens to the elf princess?”

“We don’t know yet,” she groaned, leaning her head back against the tree.

“But I don’t want to betray you,” I said, shooting to my feet. “I don’t wanna be the guard.”

She shrugged. “You’re always the guard.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna do that,” I complained. “I don’t want to get you hurt.”

“We don’t know that she’s hurt,” she pointed out.

“It’s the enemy soldiers, of course she’s hurt!” I yelled, before crossing my arms and turning away. “I bet they killed her,” I muttered.

“Don’t say that,” she whispered, fear seeping into her voice. “Please don’t say that.”

“Don’t say that,” she cried out angrily. “She’s not dead, we don’t know that she’s dead! I don’t want her to be dead, I don’t want—” She stopped, beginning to cry. She sank slowly to the ground and buried her face in her hands. I froze, unsure what to do as I watched her. I hesitated, then sat down next to her again. I stayed quiet; I didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t want her to die,” she cried, her body trembling. Her breaths quickly sped.

“She’s not gonna die,” I reassured.

“I don’t want her to be dead,” she hiccuped as she began to cry harder.

“She won’t be. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her crying morphed into sobs as she hugged herself, body shaking like a leaf. The heat beat down on us as we sat in the tall green grass. “I— don’t want— to die,” she choked before burying her face in her knees.

“You’re not gonna die,” I whispered. “You aren’t really the elf princess. It’s just a game.”

The next day, we met outside again, same time, alone. All the other kids were away for the summer or at camps. She exclaimed, “Good news! They had a spy on the inside, and the elf princess got out!”

“That’s great!” I said, and she picked up a stick and tossed it to me.

“Here’s your sword. We gotta do when the spy gets her out!”

Sometimes I think about that book— the elf princess and the guard, the spy and the danger. That moment of suspense, when the air hung still, knowing I’d have to wait until the next morning to know what had happened to her. A push and betrayal, a pluck and a toss. In the summers we picked flowers just to watch them fall apart, the sun falling into the green.