I prefer to offer an in-depth review of others' writing. I will note the things I like, things that may not work as well for me as a reader, and supportive suggestions.
I'm good at...
Mechanics and meaning. I'm no expert, but I can tell where a comma does and doesn't belong, and I can see where a meaning might be excellently conveyed or a bit muddled thereby. I'm also good at recognizing the overall spirit of a piece as a whole, despite mechanics, grammar, and such.
Favorite Genres
General fiction, some sci-fi, drama, some poetry
Least Favorite Genres
Fan-fiction, politics
Favorite Item Types
Character-driven stories
Least Favorite Item Types
Articles. Essays are okay, but they're not my favorite.
I will not review...
Stories about giants or shrinking--I just don't "get" them. I am also unlikely to review 5,000+ word pieces unless the GP compensation is commensurate with the effort I will have to put into it.
I'm so glad you decided to enter this into the Adam West contest this month. This was a great story! It was original and engaging, and I was hooked from the beginning.
The idea of ancient technology is fascinating to me! I once wondered, if you drem a line from Stone Henge to the center of the Mayan civilizatiojns, and from the mysterious mounds in the United Styates midwest to the Egyption pyramids, could the intersection of those lines represent the whereabouts of sunken Atlantis? Interesting...but not as interesting as your Resurrection Machine. Let's take a look at what makes this thing tick.
I think we are all interested in history. Even if we don't have a favorite epoch or subject, something about the past draws us in. Perhaps it's because the past ties us all together. Using history to introduce the present had me hooked right away. The discovery of lost things has always called to me, as well, and Ken's finds, albeit fictional, were fascinating to me as I read. And that was just the first few paragraphs! Great hook.
The Lab: Kenneth's lab/research facility was engrossing. So many unnamable artifacts and discoveries, so many pieces to so many puzzles. But I was also able to understand some of what he was seeing and doing. We've watched the History Channel and seen how the scientists do their thing. So as Kenneth did his research, it was sort of like watching a documentary on a a strange and wonderful one-of-a-kind find. Like most other elements of the story, this drew me in and kept me there.
The Hospital: Marcus' mospital room was not overly described; it didn't need to be. We've all been in those rooms. We all know the beeping, the hissing, the sad and sunken eyes, the tubes... By not going into too much detail, you let us, as the readers, immerse ourselves in an enviroment familiar to us. Very effective.
The Machine: As he built the contraption in his garage, I was able to imagine it vividly. It was organic, somehow wise in construction. Stone and green. Strength and technicality. You set this section up so well, one almost wishes it was a little longer. (Only because it was so cool, not because it really needed to be longer. )
Most good short stories only have one or two settings, one or two main characters. I appreciated being able to keep my focus on just a couple of primaries here.
Kenneth: I thoroughly enjoyed this character. As mentioned, I love to discover things, to dig and find out how things work. While I don't have the tenacity or knowledge to investigate on the scale of Mr. Anderson, just reading about such discoveries is tantalizing. I think you did the character justice by having him not only discover things but cross reference them, get second opinions, look at supporting documents and findings. It all lent to the overall believability of the character.
Marcus: A man resigned to his fate but still goverened by love, Marcus is less a driver in this story than the source of the climax itself. His quiet exhaustion is deeply felt—at least it was by me. But in the end, he's going to die, so for the love of his nephew, why not give this one last crazy grasp a try? Another good character.
Immortality? Avoidance of loss? The concept of resurrection can be quite philisophically stimulating. I foudn it interesting, however, that that discussion was kept in the background of this piece. This story focused on doining something, building something, saving something. "Why" and "What if" were left out of the equation of the story...but the questions were there, especially at the end. Hiding the Big Question in plain site in a story is an interesting trick, and it doesn't always pay off. This time, it paid dividends.
I always like to note when a person's writing is clean, technically. I found no orphaned sentence fragments, misplaced ideas, transient commas. everything felt right and tight. I appreciate that, because it makes the reading that much easier. And for me, the easier the reading is, the more energy I can dedicate to enjoying the story. Nicely done.
The way teh Resurrection machine morked, pulsated, everything—the sequence was written really well! I was especially impressed with teh description of the machine after it had done its work. It was still intact, but its fuel had been spent and it was subtly different. Excellent work.
However, this is the one area I had the slightest issue. I felt the last line was not definitive. “They won’t let you keep this,” Marcus continued. “And they won’t let it remain what it is.”
This is definitive and intuitive. "They," no matter from which society, will never leave altruism and beneficince alone. It will always be changed to something else, something for profit or something for violence. At least that's what history has shown us.
But the last line suggest that the machine will be okay, simply by Kenneth not letting it be hushed up—as if one person can truly stop "them" once "they" have put their minds to something. Something about those last lines just seemed loose to me, like there was something not quite tied up.
Understand, this is a very little thing I'm talking about here, in a terrific story. Just offering this reader's opinion.
This was a great take on the title. It was original in the extreme, engaging, and really interesting! The cure for death has obsessed humankind for millennia. The solution to the problem, found in ancient sources, makes one wonder why it was lost in the first place. Even though Marcus and Kenneth don't want it to be forgotten again, maybe it was hidden in the past for good reason. For if we all can live forever, what new hell would that unleash?
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You paint a dark, dystopian world in this. I wonder if it reflects your worldview or if it's purely fiction. It's always interesting for me to ponder how much of the story is the author's own view/experience, and how much is made up. I'd like to share with you what I got out of your story and to offer some observations along the way.
After very briefly meeting one of the main characters, we are quickly dragged into the corrupt world as Maya sees it. It's a pretty abrupt beginning, I have to admit. It makes it plain that this is not a pretty world, but it really doesn't give the reader much of a chance to immerse himself in the story before getting in the depths of the plot.
The Studio (?): While we are included in Elias' construction of the painting, we are never really given any visuals of the space in which he works. I wonder if it's cluttered like the classic artist's studio or clean and utilitarian? I wonder how do Elias and Maya interact in the studio? Granted, this is not the bones of the story, but it is the stage dressing that allows the reader to really get a sense of the environment of the story.
The Gallery: This was nicely done. I could imagine myself in a posh art gallery with a drink in my hand trying not to look directly at some very suspicious-looking men. The arrival of the drone broke the scene and moved the story forward quite well.
The Alleys: Perhaps there's an opportunity to describe the corruption through the scenery here, much like the scenery of the Batman movies paints not only a bleak landscape but hints at the overpowering minds that built it. Perhaps the streets are littered with garbage. Homeless people whom the Government has cheated out of jobs and left to fend on their own. Psychological darkness as well as physical darkness. In any, "the maze of streets" certainly portrays the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped—in this case, by an overbearing government.
Safety (?): It was a good idea to keep the main characters moving around. It lends to the believabiity of the scene. They certainly wouldn't just go back home and resume their normal lives. You portray them as being "on edge," which is exactly how a life on the run and in hiding would make one feel. You didn't go into much detail here, but you didn't need to to get your point across.
Elais: Elais is ostensibly the main character since it is his work that drives the story. However, he is somewhat two-dimensional. While it is his art that brings the corruption of the Goverment into focus, Maya seems to be the one making the decisions for him. Perhaps a little more of an active role for Elias?
Maya: Now Maya is the real driver in this vehicle. She influences Elais to create the art that reveals illustratively the rot within "the system." She has done the research, knows the details, and encourages her friend to stand with her against the power of the tyrannical Government. Yet...we never get to know her, or even see her really, as there is no physical description of her. I don't mean to imply that she is badly written; I just personally would have liked to have known a little more about her, even if it was just the color of her hair.
The Thugs: Spot-on. Big dumb animals in nice suits. It seems kind of cliche, but it seems really realistic, too. Sometimes life is cliche I guess. Good job with these goons.
While I had no trouble following the path of this story, it was very linear. There was little to no development of characters or environment. It started off with two rebellious people in a totalitarin regime and ended the same way, the only difference being private rebellion in the beginning vs open rebellion at the end. I understand the risk of throwing too much detail into a short story and making it feel bloated, some sort of development seems to be an opportunity here. Perhaps a suspenseful build-up to the action of the thugs during the gallery showing, for instance.
I didn't too many issues with the grammar or puntuation or spelling in this piece. Good job.
However, I will offer two suggestions:
First, consider using a larger font to reduce eye fatigue for the reader. It seems like a little thing, but it can really have a lot of impact. I am more likely to scroll past a story in a tiny font than one in larger friendly letters.
Second, Use paragraph breaks between dialog. Here's an example (please forgive me for using such a large portion):
One chilly evening, she visited Elias at his tiny studio and told him, "You need to see these." The screen showed clips of various city officials engaging in shady deals with unknown organisations.Elias examined the footage carefully and told her, "This is truly dangerous, Maya. If they find out you've accessed that, they might come after you."
Her eyes were shining. "I’m tired of hiding. The people deserve to know what’s happening. And you, Elias, can make a difference with your art! What if we create a piece that exposes them?"
might be better displayed as
One chilly evening, she visited Elias at his tiny studio and told him, "You need to see these." The screen showed clips of various city officials engaging in shady deals with unknown organisations.
Elias examined the footage carefully and told her, "This is truly dangerous, Maya. If they find out you've accessed that, they might come after you."
Her eyes were shining. "I’m tired of hiding. The people deserve to know what’s happening. And you, Elias, can make a difference with your art! What if we create a piece that exposes them?"
See how it breaks the speech out into easily identifiable who's-speaking sections?
The conslucion of this story is strong and hopeful, leaving the reader with a very positive feeling: tyranny can always be overcome, even if it entails danger and sacrifice."There was a hope." Hope is something that can activate the human spirit to all manner of things, including "a brighter future."
Though this carried a dark tone throughout, it was a thought-provoking story about a Government out of control. As the government here in US takes an increasingly and alarmingly greater and greater degree of control, this is a timely piece for me to read.
Whether it be about darkness or light, oppression or hope, Write On, my friend!
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This is an absolutely charming tale of what adventure feels like to a young person. It brings back to me memories of my own adventures. I didn't need to go anywhere nearly as exotic as the Swiss Alps; there was a little belt line of trees down the road from my house was, in my imagination, an entire unknown forest for me to explore.
The positive and gentle way the adult in this story communicates with the children is so important. It reminds us that not everything has to be vulgar or scary to be intense. Just his cadence, lowering his voice, the glint the reader can see in his eyes—all these things make for a great storytelling.
I was impressed that you chose this title. For one thing, it has very personal origins. Our chihuahua, who passed only a few months ago, was nicknamed "The Cheese." When he was wearing his collar, he was a domesticated animal. But when he had no collar on, he was "wild." So, if you could get Cheeko to walk with you with no collar or leash, you were "walking the wild Cheese." But trying to make that into story... It's not a challenge I would have quickly accepted!
The adventure you set up was so interesting, with the cheeses being set loose into the wild. I can't even put my finger on why it works so well, but somehow, releasing the cheeses into the wild, giving them volition of their own, giving them an allure for adventureres...well, I might as well have been in class with the rest of the kids. I was hanging on every word.
Also very interesting is how much more can be found on an adventure, as you demonstrate. The true find was not the cheese, but the love. But that never would have been found without risk, without being willing to sacrifice something, without giving unto another. And isn't a relationship with another person the greatest adventure of all? And that's what I take from this story—not the love of adventure, but the love of love, and the lengths we sometimes have to go to find it.
Mechanically, I thought this was done very well. It's mostly dialog-driven, which can be difficult (for me, at least). You managed to keep the dialog from getting confusing or boring by using short lines, as one would with children. And your insertions of their reactions was perfect. Say a few words; see the reaction; another few words; a new reaction... Really good technique, and great pacing. Spelling and punctuation all seemed good—I didn't find any wild commas wandering around with the cheeses.
The end was quite clever, I think, and quite instructive. It hints to the reader that adventure can be found anywhere, even in the most mundane of things. It's all about how you look at things. A first is a first, even if it's "just" a trip to Red Lobster. We can make anything full of wonder for our children, and thus grow them into people who are full of wonder. If abuse has a generational cycle, so does nurturing.
This was a very nice story, sir. Thank you so much for reminding us to view life through the eyes of wonder.
This review offered by Jeffrey —————————— WDC Power Reviewers Group
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This is an interesting little snapshot. A brief ethereal glimpse into earth at her most honest, you managed to avoid a lot of the more common tropes. Even what could be taken for dryads were handled well.
"...naked, not obscene; stripped of all excess, even shame."
I thought this was a brilliant line. It stripped all vulgarity from the scene and made it as innocent as the day before Eve took that fateful first bite.
The way the "spirits" appeared and then disappeared fit the piece well, almost like it was an hallucination brought on by fatigue. Strauss was an interesting choice. One might have expected lute or flute to accompany such an event, probably due to historical portrayals; the more concrete and human music is somewhat puzzling, but by no means takes away from the story.
This is a nice vignette of nature at her most pure and potent; and the thought of going back to work to complete anything as real or meaningful as the scene being nothing short of ludicrous.
This was a good little story. I like the idea of a black hole in a wormhole. Unique idea (at least to me). It was a good attention grabber.
Bahb and Errl aren't very well defined in this story, though; this is more of a cautionary parable to us readers not to kill ourselves by killing each other.
Mechanically, I think you did well. I didn't find any glaring spelling or punctuation errors, and the organization was well thought out and presented.
I'll offer just a couple of constructive notes:
Consider using wider line breaks, perhaps setting the line spacing to 2.0. The packed writing was a little uncomfortable to the eye.
In the same vein, a larger font would make it easier to read on-screen, as well...at least to older buggers like me.
Have another look at the synopsis. It sounds like it's going to be a goofy story, so the reader is kind of tripped up by the straight-up sci-fi of it. For me, it sounded like it was going to be a knock-ff of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (which I'm glad it wasn't, because I hate that book).
I would, indeed, like to read a but more of the adventures of Bahb and Errl. This was a good story. Write On, sir!
This review offered by Jeffrey —————————— WDC Power Reviewers Group
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I rarely choose to review poetry because it is so subjective. But since you asked for a reaction, I thought I'd leave one.
I'm afraid I did not get an impact from this one. I think it's about a romantic liaison with an exotic dancer, but I can't tell from what angle. I'm also not able to understand what the monsters are. Patrons? Vice squad? It's not clear to me what happened that was sad that ended this.
Again, I only offer these comments because you asked.
This review offered by Jeffrey —————————— WDC Power Reviewers Group
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Interesting outlook. Personally, I prefer to use the rating system, but I never give fewer than three stars. That's reserved for something that's too dense it error-filled to make sense. Sometimes someone will request a review. THEN I take it very seriously. If it's going to be a brutal review -- honeys, but brutal-- I'll send them an email first and ask them if they want me to continue.
I didn't mind getting varying stars, myself. It helps me to re-examine what I've write and see what I could do better. But that's just me.
Oh yeah. You GOT to earn your stripes. I have one son who thinks he should just walk into a job and everybody should just automatically respect and revere him. I keep telling him: "You gotta put your time in in the trenches, son!" I don't know if he'll ever learn.
For my part, I'm happy to do whatever the Company needs, even if it's emptying trashcans at the end of the day. And it's not out of fear of being fired; I just love the place I work.
I like this story reminding us that menial work doesn't have to be meaningless work. Nice job.
This is a nice take on the "inside job" theme. Modern art being what it is, I can easily see this being an installation in a gallery. The less I understand it, apparently, the better the art is considered! Nice job turning the story in those last couple of lines. I didn't see it coming which made the destination that much more enjoyable.
I certainly see the humor in this. It's rather strongly tongue-in-cheek, japing every stereotypical "old-fashioned" thought about women. That old dad wants sonny to bring the woman home for him emphasizes a generation gap and a difference in thinking between father and son, although this is mostly implied. The son is not the misogynist here; dad is. The son is just relating the nonsense his father spouted.
Quite nice for just a bit of fun, especially as it is in the context of a larger story and cant really be taken at face value as a standalone piece.
Nice rhyme and meter, to offer some mechanical notes. It read smoothly and quickly, without too much thought having to go into it, which is comfortable for the reader.
Fun work, my friend!
This review offered by Jeffrey —————————— WDC Power Reviewers Group
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Your flair for metaphor and simile shine through again in this piece. "A rainbow caught in mid stride— " What an exquisite image. Even without the magic, it's a perfect way to capture the beauty of a sunset. The thought of witches being good as well as evil has been often explored, but is still the minority view. It is nice to read a story where the magic is clean and pure, and witches work only to heal the world. I wish more ordinary people would try to do the same.
My goodness! You captured that nervous indecision just right! I've been there so many times. Honestly, I usually freeze up and botch the moment. But this is about John, and John lucked out in the extreme. The heart does indeed make the right choices for us sometimes. All the presents in the world weren't as valuable to Cynthia as just having John. And tagging on a long-lasting marriage— which is no mean feat— was a nice closer.
This is a warmhearted trip down memory lane— both for you and for the reader. I remember playing the same games, reading the same books. I didn't have a Sarah Ebon by my side though; it would have been so much better, I can see from your poem, if I had. An ode to an old friend, this speaks volumes about love.
I must confess, though, I was a little confused by the last line. I'm not sure if this is a eulogy to a friend who has passed or a living note of appreciation and thanks, looking forward to more years of friendship. I'm not sure if you intended that ambiguity or not, so I wanted to point it out.
One mechanical note I'd like to point out: the almost-rhythm is a tricky. In many lines, there is a meter, but that meter fails after three or four lines and moves to something very different. The broken timing really tripped me up; perhaps tightening it down to a truer tempo would alleviate that.
This is very nice poem about something I don't read much about: simple friendship— not romantic love and bitterness or loneliness; just the simple joy of a great friend. Nicely done.
This review offered by Jeffrey —————————— WDC Power Reviewers Group
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This is a deeply personal poem you've shared with us. One can identify, at least to some extent, the frustration of good intentions achieving exactly the wrong goals and hopes being proven futile over and over again.
This quote resonated with me, as I have a son who struggles with mental issues and substance abuse (clean for now, thankfully):
I cried alone while my son laughed somewhere else,
like my grief was invisible air he didn’t need to breathe.
When our pain goes unheeded and we are alone with our grief, the pit just seems to get so much deeper.
The structure you've chosen, such as it is, fits the mood. Your choice to use so many short lines works well here. Each one is like a little cut, and they all add up to a thousand little cuts that slowly bleed the soul. But in the end, the cuts heal. They leave scars, but they didn't bleed you dry. You survived.
Then again, survival is sometimes both a blessing and a curse, in my experience anyway. One day feels victorious, but the next day feels like so much wasted effort trying to kick water uphill. I get the same sense lurking between the lines here.
I quite enjoyed this poem that I can only hope was cathartic to write.
This review offered by Jeffrey —————————— WDC Power Reviewers Group
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This is fantastic, man. The message of hope by itself is to be lauded, especially from someone like myself who tends to find the shadows on the sunniest of days. But beyond than, there's some great writing in such a short piece.
"like a heartbeat relearning its pace" This was such a great analogy. for me it turned the sound of a hammer into the sound of many hammers. It was like adding stereo to a mono track.
"the smell of wet ash" I often read of the smell of ash, the smell of brunt cloth, burnt wood. But the sodden, nasty smell of wet ash is so memorably pungent, such a smell of something have been extinguished, like the hope of the village. It's just such an important detail, and slipped in like a minor chord you didn't realize you heard until your eyes start to tear up.
"he had a plan and a blister" A perfect way of stating that Jared was participating in healing his vision (ergo the blister) and that he was moving forward toward a leadership role, a forward-looking role. It uses Jared as that major chord, that positive note that represents the potential of recovery, whether its a town that's broken or a person or a person's spirit: with hard work and a sharp mind, there is such a thing as "forward."
I am very impressed by this short piece, thought not surprised, given much of your other work. Still, I think this would stand tall in many a contest.
What a joy to read, and a great way to start my day. What a way to Write On!
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I found this to be a very touching poem. I've watched loved ones battle with the choice of staying here or letting go. But to have to ask for the gift of someone else's lifeblood— literally— over and over is not something I would wish to see.
"We see the shadow at the door..." What an insightful line. Not only can the dying sense their time is coming, but so can those who are close to them. "We" see the shadow; he sees us see the shadow, and he turns away. In shame? In defeat? In sadness? I feel all three, but especially guilt: for feeling like he has put the family through this, for having taken so much of a limited resource (blood), for actually entertaining the hope of crossing to the other side.
The last line is strangely hopeful. That sounds morbid, but it's not meant that way. The deathwatch grinds down both the living and the dying; but in the event, both are set free, to begin to grieve or to move on to the next plane where we will "finally ask for nothing more."
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This poem packs a powerful punch. It is terribly mature for such a young persona. I am fifty, and I have lost fewer than nine people close to me; how intense it must be to endure such a loss, I can only image. Your words to convey a lot of it well, though.
I was particularly struck by 4 and 5. "You’re the common denominator for all this death / You’re the problem." That's a way of expressing guilt I had never even considered. The reader is forced to pause and think about it, though, and imagine what it must feel like. It's not comfortable, and it's not meant to be. Excellent delivery.
The end of the strophe for 8 and 9 is a bit concerning, I must say. Dissociation is a dangerous coping mechanism, and not often anyone's friend. But that's not truly the point here, and I know it; it's not the main thrust of the poem. However, it is another part that really strikes out at the reader, reinforcing how desperate all of the loss is, and how desperate the writer is to cope with it.
You've handled this is in a very straightforward way, leaving out the frills and colors that often accompany poetry. It's stark, like its topic; it's direct to the point, as death itself must be. It's presented, in my opinion, perfectly.
I hope, if this has brought any catharsis, that you choose to Write On!
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This was wrought with some perfect metaphors. "His car was old enough to vote and opinionated enough to complain." What a perfect description of a car without actually describing it; loved it. This piece remind us that we can find peace and joy in the small things, and that we should. If a late-night driver can find his zen, why not us nine-to-fivers?
I found this story-cum-blog entertaining to a tee! Of course it deals with the deeper issue of self-image, but it touches on it in a humorously self-deprecating way that is enjoyable for the reader to consume and easy to digest.
It particularly strikes me because I used toi have long hair. That was over half a lifetime ago, but I still vaguely remember it. I was thuggish-looking lad, with a tough exterior to keep people at a protective arm's length. So when a woman asked me what I did to my hair, I was at first quite defensive. When I saw she was serious, my answer was so lame, it was almost embarrassing: White Rain shampoo and cold water. When I went home and looked in the mirror, however, I didn't see softly flowing locks or gentle brown waves: I saw homeless Jesus staring back at me skeptically.
In short, I certainly can relate!
At this point, I keep my hair short enough so I can't pull it out in frustration; and I've stopped noticing the gray (except for the way it refuses to stay combed and sticks out of my beard like still-homeless Jesus).
Thanks for a fun way to start my morning. More of this--Write On!
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I sure hope your writer's block has passed! But, good grief I know how you feel!
I have a contest here on WdC that I like to contribute to, as well, because it's a fun exercise. Half the time, I look at the blinking cursor... and look... and look... If one could see my thoughts like a thought bubble in a cartoon, it would just be a blank white cloud.
I, too, am working on a novel. Been working on it for years now. Have about 3 chapters completed, and those probably need to be overhauled heavily. But when I sit down to write more, I feel exactly as you describe here: I can't even think of the next sentence!
Writer's block is the veriest of bitch-kitties, no doubt. As I said, I hope yours has passed, but reading this has been kind of validating, knowing I'm not the only one who's sometimes just as blank as the page in front of them.
Best of luck on your novel. Remember (as I should, too) that the key is simple: just Write On!
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This is a wonderfully simple but complete scene of two young would-be lovers in those first stages of the fires of the heart. I rather liked the honest way you portrayed Sandra's disappointment when Randell pointed out the concrete reality of the shooting star as opposed to the romantic imagery of it. That's a real thing; geeks like me and Randell have a way of ruining things by being overly analytical and borderline argumentative about little details.
The final line of this reminds me of that old Shania Twain song, No One Needs to Know Right Now. Secrets are heavy things to carry around, usually... but not a secret like this. One day, Randell might guess her heart's secret wish. Then he'll find himself so focused on her, he won't notice if all the stars fall from the sky.
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This is a wonderful illustration, both from the point of imagery and from the point of philosophy. It's a reminder that that we can focus on the little things, find happiness and fulfillment in them. That's an idealistic viewpoint, sure, but if it were a reality, it could resolve these complex dissatisfactions, unwind the complicated conflicts. In the meantime, between the realism of our world and the idealism of Smokey's world, we can all make our own small efforts to focus on the little victories.
I'd like to point out some of the aspects of this little gem that stood out to me.
"In a garden where flowers bloom like brushstrokes and sunlight glows like melted gold..." What fantastic imagery! The metaphor and simile of this line are both original are brilliant, really putting the garden clearly in the mind's eye of the reader.
"...a coat like midnight fire..." what a paradox, emphasizing the contrast in Smokey's fur.
"...tucked between blossoms and curiosity." This is such a beautiful way of reminding us that inquisitiveness brings the world around us into full bloom.
"So here’s to... wide eyes and wild hearts." Again, you strike that chord of curiosity and encouraging the reader to follow the simple questions that have beautifully simple answer for total wholesome satisfaction.
This was a gorgeous piece that packs a lot of impact for such a short piece. I'm glad I was able to start my day with this!
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I really like this piece. In a way, it reminds my The Number of the Beast, by Iron Maiden, wherein a man encounters a significantly more sinister group dancing in the woods and feels drawn to them and must join with them as a family of necromancers, perhaps.
Yours is much more positive, of course. It's also so believable, especially the hovering parents. Sometimes we get so protective of our children, we can smother them--especially an only child. It's often said that parents read evey book about parenting when their first child is born and hound the child's every step to make sure they, as the parents, are doing everythign right; but by the time a second child comes around, the give the little one a wrench and a bottle and let them find out for themselves.
The had a wonderful conclusion, forward-looking and leaving the reader wanting more. What I like about endings such as this is that there is no more; if makes my imagination have to work, it makes me think. And, as I often say, that's what really good writing does.
I love this! The scene is complete and self-contained, needing no backstory to help it stand on its own. Dialog is spot-on. I applaud the vocabulary you've chosen, not shying away from what would have been said at the time, neither using it gratuitously not glossing it over.
The concept of the outcast actually being the wisdom of the group is always I theme a enjoy. Being an underdog most of my life, it's nice to be able to so easily insert myself into the story as Sam.
Aside from offering how much I liked this story, I don't have much else to offer. Mechanics, organization, and arc are all about perfect, from my side of the campfire. Excellent work, my friend!
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