Hi, Charles. Long time no "speak". I haven't been on the site in a while, and I am so glad I decided to check in your portfolio and discovered this brilliant tale. This is one of my most favorite stories I've ever read. Of course it does combine two of my great loves: Poe and cats.
As is always the case with your writing, this story is beautifully written. You never fail to deliver gorgeous, effective prose. With this story, though, you have also perfectly captured the voice of Poe and the writing style of the 19th century in general. The words flow smoothly and really draw in the reader.
I also adored the little touches you added in turning this into a tale of cats: the mention of the M on Uncle Hiram's forehead; the Puss Police Squad; catnip tea. Those types of details made the story charming even while it maintained its horror theme. I didn't want it to end.
Absolutely fabulous, Charles, and an amazing read! I'd love to see a whole cat collection from you. I'd read it cover to cover.
You do a really nice job here of creating not only a scene, but also a complete atmosphere. Your imagery is vivid and inviting, and yet also possesses a smidgeon of uneasiness, which I find quite intriguing. There was something about your wording that had me awaiting a creepy outcome, but I could have just been watching too much Twilight Zone lately. In any event, your use of language is powerful and captivating.
I love the play between the past and the present and their seamlessness in the story, as it reminds me of the concept of universal time. You wove the two individual stories together well, where the transitions were smooth and complementary. My only question is -- and this has nothing to do with your story per se, but just my own curiosity -- does a Victorian-hospital-turned-flat really exist? Because that would be really cool!
This is truly a beautiful poem that carries a very passionate and puissant message. Its imagery is wonderfully vivid and striking, and its wording lends the poem its grace and style.
I don't think I've ever read anything that captured so well and so intensely the yearly tradition of trees shedding their leaves. You have personified this scene with such emotion that I don't think I shall ever look at autumn trees the same way again.
Anguish and despair permeate this piece with undying vengeance and reign as more dominant characters than the man himself. While specific circumstances are provided, the overall feelings of frustration and misery, entrapment and hopelessness carry a universal sentiment that I think everyone has experienced at one point or another, which makes the piece comforting in a way.
At the same time, I think this piece can also serve as a sort of wake up call for those who are trapped by their own fears, inhibitions, and past experiences. Recognizing these things and their resulting effects is half the battle, but altering such mental tendencies and moving past them is the real trick for us all.
There is a lot of really nice language and imagery in this piece, but one of my favorite lines is "Darkness claws at him as agony and despair pour across his life, painting the helplessness that envelops him for everyone else to witness." It's one of those lines that burrow into your soul as you read it.
The simplicity to this piece is striking, because it makes the message all the more powerful. I like that it carries its words in a soft and comforting tone, naturally warming the soul on a subconscious level before the last line is even read.
In short, this poem is both beautiful and inspiring in its composition and meaning. Well done.
This story possesses that perfect blend of quizzical spookiness, with an ending that the reader is hoping for (in a sadistic manner of speaking).
While my curiosity makes me want to know more about the mystery of the hotel and what made it the way that it is, I think that your not offering a reason serves the story better. The mystery surrounding the bizarre hotel occurrences raises the creepy factor and causes the reader's mind to spin with the possibilities.
Creepy ghost stories are always good times, but I like that you've set this one in a corporate office. It adds a distinct flavor to the genre, and allows the reader to explore classic sentiments and reactions in a different way.
You maintain well the suspense and mystery throughout the story, and your description of the room's prior events is beautifully chilling. In contrast, though, the brief discussion of Andy's two heads battling for supremacy is a nice comedic touch that blends well with the building tension.
As a minor note, about 3/4 of the way down or so, I noticed this typo:
However, he found that he could not open the it, try as he might.
I like the concept of this story and the way it slowly unravels to reveal the truth. Plus, the concept of a fictional story actually coming to fruition is, I think, an intriguing notion that has crossed the minds of most writers. There were a few times when I thought I knew where you were going with the story, but then was pleasantly surprised when I had guessed incorrectly.
I do have a couple of questions, though:
1. Would an angel use the expression "just shut the hell up"? It seems a harsh tongue for the Archangel.
2. Towards the end, when Jesse's burning the story about the farmhouse, and the farmhouse then begins to disappear, wouldn't the fire begin to disappear as well, since it was created by the girl in the farmhouse?
I like the twist on this story, because it takes a very common tale and slightly mangles it with a nice dark touch. I also enjoyed the fact that I could empathize with the main character; that she wasn't just a one-dimensional placement piece that took a backseat to the plot. And the ending adds a very nice, circular finish to the tale.
One of the things I find most interesting, though, is the question of whether the treadmill was actually cursed, or if Courtney brought about her own demise with her obsessive behavior, as I tend to think it could be read either way. I personally prefer to think that the treadmill was cursed, because it seems more sinister; plus, of all the tales I've heard about possessed or cursed objects, I believe this would be the first involving a treadmill.
This is great, both creatively and educationally. The nice rhythm and rhyme help to provide a light-hearted feel, which, in turn, aids the discussion of hyperbole.
I think my favorite couplet is the horse one:
Though I state I’m so hungry I'd eat a horse, Chances are good there won’t be a mane course.
The homophonous use of mane is quite clever. Nicely done.
This is an interesting look at death from the other side, which I quite like. I imagine some might find it creepy, but I think it's a nice thought that the dead are still around us; that they're watching their own funerals and the funerals of those they know. It has a certain reassuring feeling to it; yet, it seems sad that they would retain the emotional suffering of humanity even beyond the grave.
Ooo, this is a really creepy story. I like the way the tension slowly escalates, as you're trying to figure out what exactly is going on; and then you're suddenly hit with those last lines, which leave you speechless. Plus, the repetition of the callings, "hurry, this way", creates an uneasy feeling all the way to the end.
This poem is skillfully crafted and illustrates well those feelings of longing and denial that so often accompany the loss of a loved one (whether literal or metaphorical). Your words flow smoothly and enrapture the reader with every nuance of emotion and beauty.
Gorgeously and artfully crafted, this story resonates with the fear and horror that grips the main character. Every description, from the crawling out of bed to the screaming of the girl, paints a vivid picture that the reader cannot possibly ignore.
This piece is haunting and mesmerizing, frantically begging the question: What in the world was that? And yet, some things are better left undiscovered. Great work!
This is an excellent story, beautifully written, with a twist that I certainly did not expect. The dialogue and narration truly animate the personalities and idiosyncrasies of these characters, which dazzle in their neurotic and sinister splendor.
I think the most amazing part of this story, though, is how its beginning appears benign. You’re simply strolling through the words, wondering where this little journey is going. Then, very subtly, you feel the tension begin to rise in minor, steady increments: you may not know the exact destination, but you know that you're slipping into a dark and eerie place. Perhaps even more tantalizing is the fact that you know you don’t want to leave.
A great tale, crafted like a symphony, in ominous shades of cleverness and puissance!
Ah, I always love things that straddle the border of charming and twisted. This has a nice, simple rhythm that helps it smoothly flow along like a children's nursery rhyme. As such, you've got a crazy old guy digging up some friends, and yet the overall impression of the poem invokes a feeling of innocence. That's not an easy thing to accomplish.
The visuals are fantastic and quite vivid as you read the poem. I think I just wish it were longer. I don't know what else it would say, but I'm enchanted by this crazy old guy having tea with his dead mates. Precious!
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