You've unraveled a common thread that oft goes unexplored.
With each carefully selected word, the reader reflects on their life and wonders not only of a past they can't change but a future they could help make brighter.
Those last two lines are my favorite as the determination of inner strength is something I'm never too sure of; one can measure their external strength, but how do you measure what lies deep within?
Although maybe you're not speaking of if one can lift the hypothetical rock of positivity but how many attempts we take at trying; how many times do we bend and struggle before we quit?
Do the determined not outlast the strong?
I adore this flawlessly written, thought-provoking piece; life moves faster nowadays, and we can't outrace our worries, but we can stop, think, and resolve what woes we can.
The concept that our entire world may exist inside a child's plaything is a scary enough thought, but to then think that our protagonist may have just upended her entire universe by an act as simple as shoveling snow is much scarier.
You have captured the moment perfectly without wasting our time and I applaud you for it.
At points it's stilted, in perfect spots, enough to capture the reader's attention and get them to read on the next few flowing lines before another road block.
Like cars bottle-necking on a highway, ogling at a family on the roadside, the father kicking his tires in frustration, each driver speculating as to the why before driving on and experiencing something similar down the road.
The way that you have humanised the alien in the artwork to a place where the reader can more easily relate is fascinating.
That cascading end to the third and fifth paragraph really expose our protagonist's unending agony.
You would have made Giger proud.
Congratulations on writing a great piece.
From your fan and friend-o,
Laurie Razor
P.S. How did you do that nifty rollover trick that defines "stygian"?
My favourite line here is "Some didn't care and wanted to go suck on rainbows", I picture psychic vampires feasting on joy, depriving us of all pleasure and happiness.
The way that you can make the user visualise exactly what is on the page is awe-inspiring.
I did find a small typo however, "ceasless" should be "ceaseless".
This small niggle aside, I thoroughly enjoyed this remarkably entertaining piece and can't wait to read more of your work in the future.
I can completely understand how this piece won the Weird Tales contest, it is entertaining in the most engrossingly, diabolical way.
Congratulations.
From your newest fan and friendo,
Laurie Razor
PS For some reason I am reminded of that Sartre quote that we all learn in high school, "Hell is other people", which I guess is kind of true for poor Dr. Richter.
Your poem reminds me of a wonderful song that I have never heard.
I feel that this could use some grammatical marks at the end of your lines.
That small niggle aside however, I feel that you have captured the blues that you felt at not being able to succeed and expressed them near perfectly here.
Feel good in knowing that you have succeeded in writing a marvellous piece.
Everyday, he stared intensely up at the glowing orb in the sky, dreaming of flying out of his small tank to see what great waters lay beyond this light. A magical sea that could somehow bring even a shred of meaning to his meaningless existence.
One Day, he decided that he should escape his monotonous routine and turn his fantasy into a reality. So he decided to simply gather momentum and launch himself beyond the alabaster ceiling, to that hidden magical sea high above him.
Because of that, he crashed into the ceiling hard and fell a great distance to a cold and uncaring surface that was devoid of water; he flopped around in a panic against this alien floor as his gills had, for some reason, now failed him.
Until finally, he gave up. Staring curiously into the vast landscape of nothingness as he waited for death to take him.
As he took his final breath, Mark's last thoughts were of his tank and not of the magical waters beyond the light which rejected him.
Congratulations on writing a very atmospheric and highly entertaining piece.
I did find one small error with it though.
You wrote "They were stories" which you should consider changing to "There were stories".
That small niggle aside, I loved how you kept the core mystery alive by not revealing the monster that was chasing the trio nor why it was chasing them.
Even if you don't finish writing this story, I still believe it stands strong as an independent short.
I can not wait to read more form you in the future.
From your newest friend-o,
Laurie Razor
P.S. You should consider adding a line break after each paragraph as it can make it slightly easier to read.
As you can see I wasn't lying when I said that I was looking forward to read your work also.
This story is so amazing, it has a real heart to it.
It feels so much more than a mere short ghost story, your protagonist's emotions are on their sleeve which is refreshing as so many writers seem to write how their characters react and not how they feel.
What I am trying to say is that your use of internal dialogue throughout the piece gave me, as a reader, a real sense of what the protagonist was going through.
From your newest friend-o,
Laurie Razor
P.S. You have made a new fan.
P.P.S. I also liked the friendly kitty.
Not enough stories have nice helpful kitties nowadays.
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