Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa

Early review, late report. Better than an early report and a late review. =P

EDIT: And The Golden Mask, reviewed.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Nuile reporting with an SSCC charity review.

I'm struggling to find some sort of point, some sort of meaning, behind this story. But I'm having no success. All I can find is a moral: "And remember, ladies and gentlemen: lock your doors."I found myself slightly curious as to why this man was out in the rain, but it really didn't have anything to do with the story. That's the sort of curiosity that doesn't need to be satisfied.What I really wonder is what brand of deranged lunatic this guy must be. "He was an axe-murderer for sure. For sure." I can understand stepping inside to dry off, though I know I wouldn't; but I can't really forgive him for exploring the whole house. Then again, soaked to the bone after walking through the rain for four hours, I can't expect him to be clear-headed. By now his brain's waterlogged, leaving him only half-conscious, and in this state he succumbs to natural inquisitveness and explores the house. Okay, so I've figured out the logic. But I'm me, and even at that it took some doing. Most readers wouldn't bother to reason that out.I still can't find much point, though. In my opinion, there should always be a point, even if it's vague or allegorical. But I can't even recognize any allegorical significance.Wait--wait, I've got it! We're living in a nation that succumbs to the slightest weight of hardship, and in our mad dash to get out of the rain morals no longer hold us back. We are too waterlogged to differentiate between right and wrong. We escape the rain into a world dry and warm, a world of luxury and ease, where the media caters to our natural curiosity by probing into the privacy of others. Like your soaked protagonist venturing into the depths of that house where he should not have been, the rain has washed away any respect for privacy and the media doesn't know when to turn back before they go too far.Your protagonist should have been shot, though; it would have emphasized the statement.As far as style goes I thought it really suited the story. Quick, punchy sentences, colloquially flavored. Very suitable.A few cavils:

It was raining, and he was wet, tired, and lost.

That first comma could be omitted.

He left the front-door slightly ajar, in case he needed to make a quick exit.

There's no need to hyphenate that.

the only sound was his breathing, breathing fast.

That had no grammatical place in this sentence. I get that you don't want to put an adjective before the first breathing; the breathing fast is for emphasis. But it's ungrammatical. Replace it, perhaps, with "his fast breathing," although I would replace fast with something such as erratic, unstable, abrupt.

"Hm," his wife turned over beside him, rubbing her eyes, "What is it?"

This sentence had absolutely no part in the quotations around it. Similarly the second quotation had no connection to the first. And yet you connected it all in one sentence, which is quite improper. Let me show you a more grammatical way to arrange it:

"Hm," his wife purred groggily, turning over beside him, rubbing her eyes. "What is it?"

Same story here, followed by a correction:

"Um," he looked around the room, "Nothing. Just dreaming. Sorry."

"Um . . ." He looked around the room. "Nothing. Just dreaming. Sorry.

On the whole, however, there were few mistakes that I could point out. Well done.This was an entertaining little piece, somewhat perturbing, one that will remind me always to lock my doors at night. A little pointless, maybe--unless the reader is creative in digging up allegory--but satisfyingly entertaining. I enjoyed it very much; good work!

Keep writing,

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Gee, thanks, guys. And especially Aderia. I love the way you put it; very funny and poetic at the same time. XD

As for the Calvin and Hobbes banner--well, that goes in my signature now.

Apropos, nicely done, Legolover. XP

You guys are the best. Gratitude and thanks!

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Souvenirs has taken its place among the stories reviewed by the SSCC--twice.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Nuile reporting with a charity review, courtesy of the SSCC.

. . . You broke my heart.

This was beautiful. Their emotions were so real--I could feel everything right alongside the characters. I expected what the end would bring, but that didn't make it any less heartending, tragic, and dramatic.You're making my job really difficult, here. I have nothing to praise, and there's so little I can criticize.

The description at the beginning was great; it set the scene, and your choice of detail was immaculate. But there was just a little something missing. You omitted the tone. The happy Christmas scene leaves us unprepared for the sudden sorrow. Now, there's nothing wrong with juxtaposing the two; contrast is good. But the change was a little jarring. An adumbration of tone would have done well. For instance:

The music and light filled her with warmth as she observed the room around her.

Here you could have sneaked in a little hint of her pain. A nostalgic, yearning, or perhaps bitter warmth would set the tone.

The scenes in the military camp were beautiful. Colson admiring his wife's picture, his dialogue, the tree; all beautiful.

Ah, the ending! What a potent moment! But alas! this:

She knew her husband had been killed.

It was unnecessary, and its effect was something like uttering a taboo; it very powerfully killed the moment.

A few other nitpicks here and there:

She lifted her head from her hands, unconsciously having sat on the sofa as the memory of her husband controlled her thoughts. The pine still sharp in the air. The music still playing. The lights still dazzling. Her children still shrieking. Pull yourself together. It’s Christmas for God’s sake. She grabbed a tissue. Wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She sniffled and stood up.

This whole paragraph was endlessly choppy. It starts out fine; then suddenly transitions to abrupt descriptions; then switches to internal dialogue; and then we're back to descriptions that really shouldn't be minced into separate sentences like that.

She acquiesced, allowing them to drag her into the backyard, then chasing them, tickling them – all the while letting herself become more and more involved in the game, her sorrows melting away through the joyous squealing of her children.

This; yes, this. I know this very well; it is so true. And it just enhanced the emotions that much more for me.

Well, that one wasn't a nitpick.

“Nonono.”

I would separate those by commas rather than combining them, personally.

When he finished recounting the details, the other said, “we found this clenched in his hand.”

That should be capitalized.

Now, I wonder . . . was it Colson who received a bullet to the heart? or his wife? . . . Or was it your reader?

Excellent work.

Keep writing,

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Dancer, reviewed. When it comes to description, it's one of the most beautiful pieces I've ever read.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

That was amazing. Your descriptions were amazingly vivid. I could clearly see every move that she made, and the stage with all its lights was apparent in my mind. If I had known the song I probably would have heard the music; maybe I'll read it again just so I can listen to the song at the same time. The lyrics were very pretty, and added a level of story to what was otherwise an evocative description of a dance.At one point I began to think, "this is getting quite long"; but it was only for a moment, and it died away as the dance continued. I was as entranced as anyone would have been by this beautiful dancing.One thing I couldn't see was the dancer herself. I would have liked to know a little bit about her appearance. Her outfit was captured, but she herself was not, and I would have liked an image of the titular character.I will admit that there were a few times your descriptions became difficult to follow--such as the "fan kick"--when I had to read the sentence over again to understand. But that was a rarity, and that's quite an accomplishment. I've rarely seen descriptions so fine. Sometimes I admit my mind will try to rush descriptions and absorb them rather than enjoy them; but yours entranced me, and coaxed me to read them slowly, to savor them.I only have a few nitpicks, mostly on the grounds of grammar, spelling and style.

She wore a baby doll –esque dress, falling down to her knees.

There's a space before the hyphen.

It was held up with one, white-colored strap –

That comma is unnecessary.

The outfit had a ripped-look to it, but that was the design of it.

That hyphen was very out of place. As an adjective I could understand ripped-looking, but ripped is the adjective, look the noun it's describing, and there was no call for a hyphen.

She pressed her right knee again, this time it bent down and touched the scuffed black, mat-like flooring . . .

I feel like there should be something to either fix the flow of this sentence--an and after the comma, for instance--or otherwise separate it into two.

Turning the left leg towards the right knee’s direction, she stood up performed a ‘fan kick’, . . .

I commend the use of knee to avoid a repetition of leg here. But there's something missing between up and performed--an and. Lastly, that comma belongs inside the apostrophes, which should actually be quotation marks.

. . . the next leap involved her heads together but elbows pointed outward . . .

Hands, I think.

the other leg was supported by the knee and bottom part of her leg.

Shin would be cleaner.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Usually I'm not a fan of present tense. But somehow I didn't mind it her. Usually it feels out of place and disruptive to me, but here . . . it flowed. Like a river. Something about your style just made it flow. And the jarring realization I just had that you made several tense mistakes didn't even occur to me until now, after the story. At the time it didn't matter, so I didn't notice.And that's just how beautiful it was. It really was, very beautiful . . . so sweet, so vivid, so real. It was painful and sad, yet so heartwarming, so cheering, at the same time. And philosophy joined the flow so naturally and fluidically; it's my experience that it doesn't always, that it can become out of place if one is not careful. But here it was perfect.The ending was perfect. Every story should have an ending like this. It was the perfect note to pay a final compliment to a great story. There are many things that can go wrong with an ending--abruptness, delay, inconclusiveness, as a few vague examples--and that can ruin a story; but that didn't happen here. Excellent, Aderia.Grammatical issues were several, but even they seemed to get washed away in the flow. Still, I prize grammar, and I can't ignore mistakes, no matter what. Zarayna caught most of these, I think, but I'll emphasize what was most notable to me:

She needs taken care of.

I hear a British accent; I see a woman in maid uniform with gray hair and a dirty apron, flailing a feather duster threateningly. It sounds very much like something that woman would say--but not Nali, I suppose. =P

"Yes please," Her adorable face with huge eyes lights up at the mention of lunch.

The second sentence was entirely independent of the quotation, so the comma was not necessary.

"I…I know that song, Nali," She whispered.

For one, that shouldn't have been capitalized; a quotation only ends in a comma when it continues into an outer sentence that describes the quotation, as she whispered. But because it's all the same sentence, she whispered should not be capitalized. Oddly, the inversion of this rule--when the description precedes the quotation--is an exception; the quotation should always beFor another, you slipped into the past tense for a moment here, and this recurred several times with a few saids and smileds.

I gently heave Christina off of my lap and stood to check the rice.

Here, for example, is present tense and past tense in the same sentence. I didn't even notice until I scanned through for a few examples of mistakes! Most of them just disappeared into the flow. How is it possible that your story distracted me even from my esteemed grammar?Overall, Aderia, this was wonderful, absolutely wonderful.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

I'm here to report with a charity review, courtesy of the SSCC. I didn't think we reviewed script comedies, for obvious reasons; but I'll make the best of it.

So, I'm really not a fan of present tense. But that aside, I don't think I've ever read plainer, blander descriptions. And that's just judging by what little there was; you left so much up to the imagination that it felt you were leaving an empty void around your characters rather than give your reader freedom to envision their own scenery. And--aw, come on, this is a comedy; if you can have your laughs, can't I?All right--with two L's and a space--so I'm not familiar with Victor Hugo's work, and therefore without the genuine article to compare the parody to it probably lost something for me. But the all right/alright gag was amusing, and the best part was when they argued about speaking in French. For a parody, however, this wasn't very funny. Humor does not get much less sophisticated or less creative than "blah blah." Judging by what I've seen, comedy is an unusual form for you; and maybe you should stick to serious writing. I don't know that you're the humorist type.However, I've seen worse comedies. At least you didn't resort to utter stupidity to try and headdesk a laugh out of your reader. You adhered to a high humor, which maybe ended up a bit high and dry, but a duck on the wing is better than one shot dead in the pond. If you're a duck, that is. In other words, better humor that's tasteful if not hilarious than humor that's just so stupid you laugh through the tears and groans attributed to its idiocy.And grammar is a beautiful thing, all the more so in a comedy for its rarity; and yours was near perfect, naturellement. There was but one issue:

Actor 2: See you later, Pierre

Punctuation, wither hast thou gone? What grammar through yonder window hath been broke? Whether 'tis nobler to sleep--wait, I'm getting mixed up. But you get the idea.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Krampus, reviewed.

Late report, but at least the review itself was on time.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Nuile reporting with a charity review, courtesy of the SSCC. =)

Great descriptions, great vocabulary, and a philosophical discussion between an elf and a krampus . . . what more could I ask for? Well, if I'm to be honest, I'll say I wanted more of that aforementioned philosophical discussion; I think there was a little missed potential there. When you put together a reasonably irascible, moderately cheerful, generally affable polar elf and a malicious, lonely krampus, the possibilities are endless. And the humor the Krampus could lend to it would just make it that much better.So I thought overall that this might have been deepened; but it didn't need to be. Otherwise, however, I thought it was excellent. Your descriptions, as I said before, were great; very vivid, worded prudently. Speaking of words--vocabulary, as I also said, was great. You used some elegant words in there, but you didn't overdo it. Also, I thought the German--if, indeed, it is German--was a clever touch.My chief complaint was on the grounds of grammar. For instance, it starts off in present tense, but very quickly becomes past tense and stays that way. That's a small issue, and I must say I was relieved when it became past tense. =PNow here are some further grammatical points:

I really really don't want to be here, but the big guy sent me out looking for…him.

That comes across as very informal.

I don't know why he chooses to spend his days off in places like this. I think its somewhere in Germany, but there's no-one around for me to ask.

That didn't need to be hyphenated.

A lump of could was clutched in his paw like the finest diamond.

Coal, I believe.

"Ah, and thats where you come in. Nice costume by the way."

The contraction of that is should have an apostrophe; thus, that's. This error recurs several times.

I can help that what we're supposed to wear is bright green and red and bedecked with so many bells and buttons you could probably sew them into a new, very noisy, outfit. Thats what we get portrayed as wearing, so thats what we have to wear.

Cannot; and the second note was another example of a missing apostrophe.

While the shops putting decorations up in November might dilute the traditional family image that these people like to preserve in aspic, but its really my ideals on a grand scale.

One or the other, but not both.

Pete would have known Donner and Blitzen back when they were Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjostr.

I expected this to be Donder, but admittedly I know next to nothing about the German, Dutch, and associated languages.

I'd need a weapon if I was going to try and force Pete into doing anything, so scrabbled at my belt to unsheathe the first thing that came to hand.

Various ways to fix this. I would suggest separating it into two sentences and replacing so with I.

"As I believe I mentioned, Christmas is all about teamwork," he said with sinister glee, "Don't add to the team…" He rapped the size of his barrel, and the clunks were far too deep and bass for a vessel that size. "…suffer the consequences."

That comma shouldn't be there; the second quotation is a new sentence, which is why it is capitalized, and thus as the start of a new sentence should be preceded by a period. Also, "Don't add to the team . . . suffer the consequences," was slightly confusing in wording. It took me a moment to understand it. Perhaps an and before suffer, and perhaps even a you between those and before don't. In other words: "You don't add to the team . . . and you suffer the consequences."Overall, this is a very nice story here. Well done!

Keep writing,

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Non-Bionicle Flash Fiction Entries And Stuff and Case #2011-1224-5003: Relevant Transcripts (you had to give me the long, convoluted names) are reviewed.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

That was really great. I have a few problems with style but I very much enjoyed the story itself. And I loved the way in which you told it; that was refreshingly different.It was almost a mystery, almost a whodunit, if not quite. It was a clever touch, keeping the exact description of this cataclysmic event untold until the end, adding that much more to the interest of the unveiling. At this length, really, mysteries don't get much better. Very well done.My great grievance, however, was the exaggerated dialogue. Not one of the interviewees could go two sentences without spitting out some expression or figure of speech. The dialogue was drowning in excessive character and personality. It had the effect that the police were interpellating Sancho Panza clones.On a similar note, there are laws of grammar that dictate speech as much as writing; and you followed precious few of them. Besides the insipidity of excessive colloquial phraseology, this was what bothered me most, and together both made the dialogue actually rather difficult to read. And considering that this narrative consists entirely of dialogue, that's not good.There were too many errors to note them all, but here were two that jumped out at me as singular:

. . . it was supposed to be all day every day ‘till Christmas . . .

Till is a word, 'til is the shortened form of until; but an apostrophe and a second L just becomes redundant.

was actually kind of upset at that, he wanted to go back, but let me tell you there wasn’t anything there but.

Missing a word there. [Redacted] was my guess. You seemed fond of that, which personally I appreciate, because it adds humor without adding repulsive scurrility.

I know you did a good job, and you know you did a good job; but to state the obvious, good job! Thanks be to the SSCC for choosing this story to be reviewed,

Keep writing,

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Nuile here with an SSCC charity review.

Treasure. Right away I'm a little bothered by the dialect. Not a fan of that. Part of me forgives it in first person, but that's only if it's supposed to be vocal rather than written narration; in this case, in a diary, I don't feel like he would misspell "to" or drop the d in "old." He may have a different way of saying these words, but we all do; when he reads "to" he would probably say "ta," but it's still spelled the same. Contractions I forgive, even the less commons, although personally it's still too much for my taste.That said I did like the first paragraph. It was a great hook. Plenty of personality and jocular flavor; and initially we're given two questions: One is a suggestion of a scheme, which makes me wonder what scheme that is; the second you ask yourself and answer a moment later. "Who's idea was this, anyway? . . . Ah, wait. That'd be me." Questions are great ways to get the reader reading.As for the story itself, the ending leaves me in doubt. Surely the mysterious noises at night are suggestive, and the final words "Certainly ain't nothing as gonna stop me leaving, that's for sure" ominous, but the fact that the journal ends there means nothing, for he just said he wasn't going to waste any more time writing. He might have gone home--or he might have been slaughtered by the spirit of the corpse he nearly disturbed while digging and the bits of his rotting carcass may be scattered all over the island. I lean toward the former. Now, I get the impression you wanted to adumbrate the latter, but you contradicted yourself and thus that indication was attenuated.The character himself doesn't get much in so short a space, which is natural. But though you didn't give him character, which is difficult in any short story, you gave him personality, which is easier but still hard to accomplish. Good job there.Errors:

Could be a bucket a' rusty nails f'all I know.

O', that should be. If you're going to go the route of dialect, you should be consistent.

Sitting about all on me lonesome ain't exactly my style. 'no man's ever returned.'

That should be capitalized.Gunfight. I guessed what was really going on just a moment before it was unveiled, which is entirely due to your subtle prefiguring. Craftily done.There's not much to say about the story because it was just action; which isn't a bad thing. But I'll address the action. It was a little slow, weighed down by superfluous, prolix description. At some points--as when Alex was sneaking toward Alex--it added to the suspense and I approved it. At others it just delayed the action.Grammatically speaking:

*click*

In an online chat, yes, absolutely! In any sort of formal writing, no, never. What you want is to simply italicize the word.

“Five more points, that's all I needed! Five more points!” Said Karl angrily, slamming his laser gun against the wall.

That should not be capitalized.Eviction. I'm sorry to say I didn't like this one. As impressed as I was by your first two stories I found this one to be disappointing in their wake.The whole story just felt too frank and too insincere. There was too much emotion and not enough heartfelt genuineness. Part of me felt embarrassed to be watching this private spat between these two women, especially because they were both acting so puerilely. How old was Lily? I was guessing middle to late teens, but by the end I felt more as if she were between nine and twelve, surely no older. That excused her, although it didn't excuse her mother, who admittedly was calmer and more rational, but still not rational enough.Also, you overused verbs like shout, scream, and shriek. I would amost say you abused them. Nearly everthing they said was followed by she vociferated in some form or another. I know that Kraggh, if he reads this, will call me a hypocrite, so allow me to elaborate. I wholly approve synonyms in place of said, but rules come with that. For one, if you're only going to replace each verb with one same meaning . Also, sometimes s/he saids and their variations can be dropped altogether, especially when there's some character action to denote the speaker or when there are only two colloquists. Finally, the primary rule of dialogue is always that it must be capable of standing on its own merit, and there is no exception here. Anything outside those quotation marks must be merely auxiliary, meant to emphasize, elaborate, clarify, enhance or expand; but never to define nor to carry the whole weight. It is what is inside the quotation marks that is vital. If she shrieked, I'm okay with that; only it has to sound as if she was shrieking, and most of the time here it didn't.I grant, however, that nobody's perfect; dialogue is difficult to master. Not everyone, moreover, can agree on what makes good dialogue. It's just a matter of practice and amelioration.One grammatical error:

she almost believed them now.

That should be capitalized.This One Thing. Similarly to Gunfight, you deftly misled the reader until the surprise ending. I'll admit that. But for my own, I was repulsed by the suggestions and developed an immediate abhorrence for these characters. I saw the end coming early on, but besides the cleverly laid twist I wasn't otherwise fond of the way the story nor the narration was handled.Grammar:

“It's simple. Just go to this address at this time. Tell 'em you know me, they'll let you in. From there it's easy.” Dan explained.

That should be a comma, not a period.College Friends. Basically an amusing scene between two old friends. It's always worth a smile when a jovial personality grates against sobriety. There wasn't much else to the story but enjoying the one-sided badinage. Pleasant characters and a pleasant little read.I noticed more corrigenda than in the others, however:

“Hey, Wolf! Long time no see! How ya been?”

I think ya' should have an apostrophe appended.

You gotta crazy tattoo of a wolf on your chest.

That's an alteration of got to; you mean got a.

“Sure, but thought you liked being called King,” Jake sneered.

It's all fun and games until somebody loses an I . . .

“Oh come on. Bet you have some interesting stories to tell the ladies,” he winked, the immature schoolboy as ever.

Winking really has nothing to do with speaking. In this case the quotation should be a separate sentence; it should end with a period.

Friendship. Hold on. Is this supposed to be past tense or present? It starts out in the past tense (they were coming; I sat in my chair) then changes to present tense (there is a knock on the door) in a dissonant transition. Ironically, that dissonance is, by musical standards, apt; by literary standards, it's just sloppy.Besides that, though, this was my favorite story. As near to impossible as it is to have character development in 556 words, you pulled it off nicely. Well done.

*Thirty minutes later*

I mentioned this already, and the solution this time is the same; and I would add an ellipsis afterward as well.

An opportunity improve.

One, to, you didn't buckle your shoe.

All in all, I believe this is the first story of yours that I have read; and I am not disappointed. I hope you come to the SSCC for another review soon.

Keep writing,

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

"Will you go out with me?"

In but six words--accompanied by a package of vocal inflections and hesitations denoting the feelings behind them--culminated the worth of years of friendship and higher hopes, days of planning, and several hours of butterflies migrating south from my heart to my stomach in an effort to avoid the wintry cold I had not foreseen.

She froze like a pond in an overnight frost. Her smile vanished as suddenly as my wit had evoked it minutes before.

"You want to go out--with me? On--on a date?" she lallated.

I was the exuberant, outgoing type. People loved to be with me because I loved to be with people. Not even around girls had I ever been reserved. This was not the first time I had ever asked a girl on a date before, and my invitations had never been rejected. I had been close friends with this particular girl, Rachel by name, since kindergarten. Why, then, did I feel so nervous?

"Yes," I said, "yes I would. Very much."

She bit her lip. "I--don't know what to say."

"You could start with 'Yes.' They usually do."

"Who are 'they'?" she asked.

"You know. Most girls."

"But that's just it. I'm not 'most girls'; I'm me. I'm your best friend. I--I don't want to be anything else."

"Is that--Do you mean--Are you saying 'No'?"

"I just want to be friends," she repeated.

"But--but I had these tickets to a restaurant. And I had reservations at this great concert. I--I mean--"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted. "I'm sure somebody else will go with you."

My shoes had suddenly become fascinating. "But I wanted to go with you."

"Look, we're just friends. Best friends. And I don't want to change that."

"Yeah--yeah, of course." I forced a grin across my lips. They felt oddly stiff, moving only with reluctance. I said, "I get it. Friends. Like always."

Her eyes evaded mine. "Friends," she agreed.

"I'll see you around, then?"

She nodded. "See you."

Somehow, as I walked away, I felt as if my bowels had twisted themselves into knots. In my eyes there was an odd tingling sensation I was not accustomed to.

— — — — —

When Mom walked into my room she was so surprised to see me she nearly dropped an armful of clean laundry.

"What are you doing home so early? I didn't hear you come in."

I should have thought of that. I hadn't been home this early since the day I broke a collar bone. And come rain or come shine--especially, perhaps, the former--even the neighbors knew it when I got home. But at the time I had had other thoughts in mind than to keep up appearances.

I said, "I've been home about an hour."

"Why aren't you out with your team? You did have practice today, didn't you?"

"They went out for hamburgers, but I wasn't hungry."

This was another irregularity. I was always hungry. Mom raised an eyebrow.

She said, "Are you feeling all right?"

For a moment I considered telling her the truth. But what good could it do either of us? Instead I forced a grin and answered.

"I'm on top of the world! I just wanted to come home early so I could read." I held up a novel.

That satisfied her. "As if staying up half the night wasn't enough!"

"Well, I got to the denouement."

She scowled good-naturedly, in her a questioning expression.

I explained, "The climax."

"Well, it must be a good book to get you to miss out on hamburgers."

I merely grunted vaguely. She set down the laundry, lingered a moment longer, then left. I returned to staring unseeingly at the pages of the book.

At dinner, everyone knew something was wrong. I barely spoke. My younger brother reasoned I had become a vampire; my sister began babbling something about how nice vampires really are, and how much cooler than me. I ignored them both and stabbed at my plate.

Dad came to my room after dinner. He knocked, requesting permission to enter. When it was granted, he sauntered in, smiling with feebly affected buoyancy, and sat on the corner of my bed. In his hands he held a covered bowl.

"How are you, sport?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"How was school today? Pass all your tests?"

"Clear weather on that horizon."

"And how'd you make out with the old pigskin?"

"Dad, don't call it that."

"They were made from the skin of pigs once, you know. But how was practice?"

"Coach said I should save plays like the ones I made today for games." I consciously carved a grin. I went on, "The other guys said I had plenty to spare."

He slapped my shoulder. "That's my boy!"

He looked down at his hands. I examined my own. For a minute, maybe two, we were silent. At last he tried stating the obvious.

"You didn't talk much during dinner."

I shrugged. "I didn't feel much like talking."

He chuckled. "I never thought I'd see the day!" And then he turned to me.

"You didn't eat much, either." He held up the bowl and then set it on my nightstand. "Mom thought you weren't feeling well. She made you some soup."

"Thanks," I replied lamely.

And then he went on, as if he were talking about nothing more consequential than the weather, "Something's wrong. You know it's obvious. I'm here to let you tell me what it is. If you want."

His frankness touched me. I said, "Okay. YOu're right. I guess I didn't hide it very well. But I've never felt like this before. It's just that I asked Rachel on a date today, and she turned me down."

"Ah . . ." He expulsed a deep sigh. "I'm sorry. I know the two of you have been close for a long time. And I know how strongly you felt about her."

This surprised me. "You do?"

"Your Mom told me."

"How did she know?"

His laugh was deep and sonorous. "Women always know, and even when they don't, they find out before long. It's some sort of divine wisdom. Don't ask me to explain what I don't understand, but follow this advice: Never try to hide a secret from a woman."

He regarded me contemplatively. "But tell me this, son. Rachel--did you love her?"

I had not asked myself this question. I said, "I--I don't know. I know I've cared about her for--well, as long as I've known her. But lately it's been a lot stronger. Yeah--yeah, I guess I do."

But Dad shook his head. "Take a few steps back, here. You just said you don't know. If you had said Yes, I would have believed you. But if you have to start guessing, it isn't love. Love isn't guesswork.

"Now, it's only natural that you care. She's been your friend for a long time, and a good one. She's a very nice girl, and pretty, too. You'll meet a lot of women who will make you feel this way. You'll ask yourself about a lot of them, 'Do I love her?' But you will only ever meet one woman who will make you know you are in love."

I listened in silence, but here I asked, "Then why does it hurt so much?"

"There will probably be a lot of women who will hurt you, too. But true love never hurts. The woman will ache you, be sure of it, she may anguish you, or even injure you--but she will never hurt you. Any wounds she gives you will heal, by her own hand. But it will never be as simple as pain.

"And until you meet her, you don't need to worry. Life will go on in spite of the girls who hurt you. You will only find it stopping for true love. And until you find it, and even after, you have a family who loves you. You have your brother and your sister, you have your mother, and you have me. We're always here for you. You can come to any of us whenever you need."

I said, "I know that, Dad."

"And I know," he replied, "how hard it can be to go to some one else. That's why I came to you.

"Most important of all, don't forget you have some one else, too. He is always with you, even though we forget that sometimes. You have a father who cares about you even more than I do." He winked. "If that's possible."

He grabbed my knee and squeezed gently before rising. Halfway to the door he added, "And remember this: Unless you've given it a lot of thought and found a darn good reason, never stop smiling."

He turned and left. But before he passed through the doorway, I said, "Thanks, Dad."

He cast a smile over his shoulder. "Any time, sport." He pointed to the novel discarded on my nightstand. "Hey, remind me how that ends some time. It's been a long time since I read it."

I grinned. "Sure thing."

He closed the door behind him. It occurred to me very suddenly that I had hardly eaten anything during dinner. As I returned to my reading, I fell with alacrity upon the bowl of chicken soup.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

When it comes to BIONICLE, my habits vary. My favorite method is to use foreign words, sometimes altering them or only taking parts of them. Sometimes I cut names or words apart and try and put them together in ways I like. Or, I’ll just slam my hand on the keyboard and see what comes out.Human names are easier. I just sit and cogitate. I think of authors or people or actors I know, people that have some sort of connection to the character I’m naming. For example, to a mischievous imp I might give the cognomen Watterson. A detective I might name Colin, or a farmer Douglas.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Thanks a lot Nuile. I was going for the most realistic marriage tone I could imagine, mainly from my own parents. I'm really glad you enjoyed it, and thanks for bringing out those errors. The only thing was the writing style which I'd like to ask you about if that's fine. Did you just not enjoy the present tense cause I know that's annoying sometimes, or did I do it completely wrong? =B Cause I think that was my first time writing it that way and I'd like to get it right.Either way, thank you ton. =)

I'm sorry I missed this, otherwise I would have responded far sooner.Anyway, my problems with the style were two in number. The first I already explained; the informality. This story sounded as if a person were talking rather than telling a story, which I understand is what you were going for and so I can forgive that, and commend you for accomplishing it. My second objection was simply on count of present tense as what it is; you did it right, but I'm not at all a fan of that tense.

Past tense is so traditional that it's inherent in readers and writers to want to change present tense, in their minds, to past; and so present tense feels unnatural and grating, at least in my opinion. And it's absolutely preference here; I know there are those who like present tense, although they're a minority.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Special, reviewed. Our gratitude for your selection of the SSCC.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

A little elf told me somebody wanted a review for Christmas. This time of year, we at the SSCC try to help Saint Nick out as much as we can. So here's your review, fresh out of the workshop. Merry Christmas!

I think somebody was watching Batman recently. Maybe it was me. Whatever the case, this has a strong similarity in vibe. I can easily imagine this as Bruce Wayne, gone the way of Joker instead of donning the mantle of Batman.

It's dark, grimly realistic, and violent. These aren't things that are necessarily to my taste, but you made up for them and made me enjoy this story in three ways: first of all your style was pleasant; secondly, it wasn't graphically sanguinary; third, it was deep. That last is much to my tastes. I enjoy delving into the recesses of the mind, whether the mind or the recess in question be dark or light.

As I say, great story, well-spun, well-told. My only complaint is when the antihero starts relating his life's story to his victim. The first sentence feels unnatural. It was too rational for this moment. The rest of his response was fine and made perfect sense in the situation. Deranged banter fit perfectly. But it was the woman's next question--"Do you have nothing good from your past to cling to? Is your motive only driven by hate?"--that felt wrong, very wrong, entirely wrong. She should be terrified, not trying to psychoanalyze the man who's about to kill her. Similarly, though to a lesser extent, "What could possibly drive you to do this?" I would have asked, "Why are you doing this?" or something of that kind.

Now let's turn to style. I'm not a fan of terseness or concision, but that's the right way to go for this sort of story. Short, fast sentences are best for suspense. I'm a lover of detail and beauty of prose, but when it comes to suspense you just want the vital facts. That said, the description at the beginning was beautiful.Normally I don't like present tense, for various reasons. In this case, however, I can forgive it, and even commend it for the way it streamlines the transitions to and from the flashbacks. Flashbacks are difficult and can be confusing. Perhaps you opted for the easy way out, but it had an effect nothing else could have produced.

I have to say it. Grammar time!

A twisted grin spreads across my face, my pearly white teeth glowing in the dark. I slide my fingers along a shiny, long blade.

I'm flying low here, but that felt backwards. I would have put long before shiny.

I also found enjoyment in hearing their pathetic pleads.

Pleas.

"We should accompany the poor thing, don't you think?" My voice as evil as the fiery abyss I came from.

Overall this sentence felt too fragmental. I would either connect it all with an I said and a comma, or add a was to the second sentence.Also, evil's a bland word. Not very descriptive. Maleficent, virulent, mordacious; these are powerful, vivid adjectives that might better suit your purpose hero. The power of writing is in your word choices, so make them judiciously.

"A boy--even if he just turned thirteen--is never too old for a kiss from mom," she said, squeezing me in a hug.

If that's a noun, it should be preceded by a; if it's a pronoun, it should be capitalized. A mom or Mom.

"To think that I would actually let you go." I stoop, crouching down beside her body and stroked her pretty russet hair.

Ineluctably, the past tense creeps in.This is what I don't like about present tense. The past tense is so conventional in literature that both reader and writer naturally want to change present tense to past tense, past tense to past perfect, et cetera. It's a difficult task for the writer and a grating experience for the reader. I will confess there are those who like present tense--and I will also confess there are those who like Twilight. It's my opinion that there's simply no accounting for some tastes.

Overall, you have earned my approval with this fine piece of work here. Thank you for choosing the SSCC!

Keep writing,

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

I thought I'd drag this out into the light of day.

Short and sweet. I like the way you tied Lhii's simple, subtle scenes into the greater story. However, I think his introduction was lackluster. You might have showed us what he looked like and who he was, but instead you told us this, and that's rarely a good thing.

I enjoy BIONICLE romance for the way it reduces love to its purest and simplest terms. The relationship between Jaller and Hahli has always been my favorite. And you wrote their roles to perfection. They were both the characters they are supposed to be, and the story suited them.

Now, style. It is, in my opinion, the most important part of a story; it makes it or breaks it. A good style can make up for a bad story, but a good story cannot easily make up for a bad style. Style either enhances a story or ruins it. Moreover, because style is harder to master, good story generally accompanies it. Style, of course, is unique to every writer, but it is an art and it has its precepts all the same.

Yours, then. It was short and pointful, which can be a good thing, but sometimes leaves the story feeling a bit lacking. The rule "show, don't tell" is apt here. There are exceptions to it, and you have to decide when it is prudent to tell rather than show, but I didn't see nearly as much showing as I would have liked. I enjoy feeling and living a story, seeing the world conjured by the words as if I was one of the characters; not as if I was looking at a monochrome picture, denotive of the vital facts but not descriptive.

I would, however, like to compliment your vocabulary. You did not merely throw around haphazard words, but you chose instead the words that were best suited to your purposes. Still, there were times when your word choices lacked flavor, and other times when they were spiced excessively; by the latter I mean that there were times when you replaced mediocre words with more distinctive ones merely to make it more colorful, which by experience I know is a bad idea. Your choices should be dictated by aptitude alone.

A few nitpicks here and there:

Here and now he was lax and at-ease.

It wasn't necessary to hyphenate that.

Somehow, he gained the courage to speak,“…. Hahli?”

Why the period after the ellipsis? That shouldn't be there. It is proper to punctuate a sentence that ends with an ellipsis, but not a sentence that begins with one.

And I don't feel that speak is the right word to use here. I suppose, if you want to be technical, it could be used, but it feels out of place. And sometimes writing is more about what feels right than what is technically correct.

A blur of lava was the last sight the matoran would realize.

Another word that doesn't fit right. Maybe you meant cognize?

"That was a cheap shot; pulling me underwater like that." Jaller chided.

That quotation, continuing into the Jaller chided of the grater sentence, should have ended in a comma.

An old tale slowly faded into his mind.

"Fade" means "to disappear gradually"; things fade out, not in. I would recommend appear or materialize. Or it could manifest itself in his mind.

“… I’ve got some big shoes to fill, Hahli…”

"What the Karzahni is a shoe, Jaller?"

Overall, well done.

Keep writing,

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Congratulations, Fortnightly Flash Fiction Contest winner! As a member of the Ambage, you earned yourself a review from a contest judge. Better late than never.

At first I thought this was an allegory. Then I read on and, finding the protagonist almost explicitly refer to it as such, thought it wasn't. Then I read to the end and realized it was indeed, brilliantly and almost satirically executed. But if anything it's an undertone, not even relevant to the story itself, which is contained entirely in the last six paragraphs.Not to say that I think everything before that was unnecessary. Unnecessary, perhaps, to the story itself; but not to the storytelling. You could have just said, "So this guy was running around a simulated maze, not realizing it was such, fighting clones that represented his faults in a ruthless conflict to assert his superiority as the one true and whole version of himself. Then he woke up." But I think we can all agree that the eight paragraphs you used in place of this were far better. You didn't focus on what was valuable to the plot at the expense of what was valuable to the narrative, but you wrote what was worth reading, and even then not without forsaking what was valuable to the plot. Excellently done.I have little to say regarding characters because, effectually, there were none. We have "I," nameless, with no personality or backstory. But he didn't need any of that. He didn't need to be a character, just a person. In a metaphor literalized, he killed himself and became an empty husk.I fervently oppose present tense. I understand that some find it more engaging and are immediately pulled into the story by it, but it has the opposite effect on me. It feels awkward and inelegant; it pushes me away. Allow me to illustrate an example of what I mean:

"The training was supposed to go on for six weeks more," he remarked.

I twist my leg around his and plant my foot on the ground, effectively collapsing his gait.

Keep writing,

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

"Gone." This was the first word she uttered as I walked through her door. "Gone. No--no--it's--He can't be dead!"She gaped at her mother in horror. I could feel the emotions developing within her; fear gave way to astonishment and incredulity, while her heart slowly crumbled beneath the weight of growing grief. And there was something else. Something that pained me to see her bear, as much as it pained her to bear it: guilt.Her mother murmured, "He never opened his eyes after the ambulance took him. He was dead before they got to the hospital.""That's impossible! He can't--no, he can't be!" She was fighting to keep her voice level, but it was fluctuating dangerously."I don't know what I can say, Gwen. But it's true. He's gone."The tears began to flow freely now. For a moment she could only reiterate the word, "No. No, no, no . . ." Then her face fell into her hands and the first sob shook her.Her mother sat by her side and put her arms around her small shoulders. I seated myself on her other side and did the same, but neither paid me any heed."It's wrong," she gasped. "It's impossible. He--if he hadn't--If he hadn't pushed me out of the way--the car would have hit me. I--I should have been the one--I should have been lying there--looking up at him--but because of m-me--"She broke down completely. "I loved him!" she wailed. "He can't be gone!" Her voice shattered. Her body convulsed as weeping overtook her.I leaned closer, wrapping my arms more tightly around her. "I loved you too," I whispered. "You know I did. And I still do."Her head turned sharply, searching the room for the source of the voice. It brought a twisting strain to my chest. Could she really not see me beside her?I felt my throat choking with sorrow, but I forced out the words: "I'm sorry I had to leave you, Gwen. But you can't blame yourself. I don't regret what I did. It was my choice, and I'd do it again, for you.""It--it can't be," she said, half to herself. "He's dead!"Her mother misinterpreted. "Yes, he is. But he's not exactly gone. You know that, don't you? He's somewhere still, and if I know him half as well as you, I'm sure he's waiting for you."Gwen nodded. "I'm sure he is. And if he can do that--I--I can wait for him."I rose sharply, unsteadily, to my feet. Somehow, that hurt more than anything. I couldn't allow her to throw away her life for me; even if I had, mine for hers. I was dead. I couldn't let her live as if she were, too.I drifted through the wall into the next room and to the telephone. I didn't bother picking it up; I didn't think I could anyway. I just walked straight into it.It was effortless. I felt my mind flying to where I willed it. The phone only rang twice before a young man answered it."Hello?"I pushed down the old acrimonies rising within me. This was the only option. No more were we rivals in love, but two men with one in common; and only one of us had the beating heart to give it.I said, "Hi, Lance. Did you hear about Gwen?""N-no. What about her?""Well, not her exactly. Her friend, Arthur."His voice became cold. "No, I haven't heard anything about him.""He's dead." I paused, letting the astonishing words sink in with a cruel satisfaction. "He got hit by a car. He saved her life.""My--God! Is--is she okay?"I said, "She's not hurt. Well, not physically. But her heart's taken a bruising."His tone wavered. "Yeah, I--yeah, I know how she felt about him.""But what she needs right now is a friend, Lance. Maybe--something more than that?""I don't know if--""Go to her, Lance."There was silence. Finally he said, "Okay. I will.""She needs you.""I'll go right now. Goodb--Hold on. Who is this, anyway?"I merely answered, "That doesn't matter. Just go to her."I withdrew. If words can describe what I did, I evanesced, remolding in her room. She was in her mother's arms, crying vehemently, exactly as I had left her.I called to my mind the moment. Perhaps I really did go back to it, as physically, at least, as I stood beside her now. I saw the car coming, as clearly as I had that night. I saw her standing there, frozen like a deer. I heard the screeching of wheels, I felt my legs move as they had never moved before and never would again, I felt her in my arms as I lifted her and flung her to the side. And then I felt the pain all over again, exploding throughout my body.The next thing I knew she was by my side. I heard her speak as if from far away, almost as I can only hear her now. "No--Arthur, no! Are you all right?"It was an irrational question, and we both knew it. I gave an answer we both knew to be false. "Yeah--yeah, I'll be fine." The weak groan belied my words."You have to be," she pleaded. "You can't--Don't--Please, you have to be all right!""Don't worry," I said. I fixed my gaze on her face, absorbing for one more time every portion of her aspect. "I'll always be here for you. I promise." And then I had closed my eyes for the last time. The last feeling I remember was of her lips against mine, of her tears rolling down my face, and of her arms around me.I had always known I couldn't live without her. I wouldn't have to, now; but no matter what I felt, I couldn't let her live without someone.What really surprised me, though, was how easily tears could flow from eyes that would never open. A heart that no longer beats can still be broken.For a moment longer my eyes lingered on her gracile form. Even wacked as it was with woe, even with her face hidden, her beauty was peerless. It shattered me.My voice quaked as I said, "I'll always be here for you." I turned away. "For both of you."And then I evanesced into the night, leaving nothing left of myself in the world but a tear dropped on a young woman's floor. Nothing but that . . . and a promise.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

It occurred to me that this is the first work of yours that I have read. That being as it is, I did not entirely know what to expect. Knowing you only through critique and causerie, both of a written nature, I had only these to draw upon to premonish what your creative writing would be like. Even casual writing often reflects the style of the writer, and I thought that you were the type in whom this would hold especially true. The conclusion, then, of my conjecture was that your style would be of a technical tone, much more than an artistic one. I foresaw prudence and volition, stiff refinement, character but not as much personality.Having now read one piece, at least, of your writing, I see I was not far wrong. In fact, all that exceeded my expectations was a warmth I had not anticipated, something of a saving grace, in my opinion. It loosened the stiffness and allowed an opening through which to be engaging. In your sentence structure there was the sagacity and deliberation, as well as the complaint, I expcted. The complaint is that there was no real beauty in it. You chose words like the nuts and bolts of a machine, rather than the flowers of a bouquet. You can't build beauty. Prudence is vital for writing, I do not argue that point, but it also needs aesthetics, otherwise it ceases to be an art and becomes a science.My other criticism is the overabundance of similes and metaphors. It had the affect of making up proverbs and thrusting them in to add personality where otherwise it is lacking. "I do not say a proverb is amiss when aptly and reasonably applied, but to be forever discharging them, right or wrong, hit or miss, renders conversation insipid and vulgar."Overall your style is very much a structure, which may not be to my taste, but it is well-built, that I will grant you. If a mechanic, to which you have a similitude, can be called an artist, then your style is artistic in its own way.As regards plot, I got here exactly what I expected: a sound foundation, a firm frame, over which was built a facade not unpleasing to the eye. I really have no complaints here. On the contrary, I am impressed that you so adroitly compacted this story into so small a space. It could have been bigger, but it didn't have to be, and it was excellent as it was. It was sweet and very touching. There was a lack of emotion, but that suited the characters, so all is well.Speaking of characters, my favorite is Grace. I would have liked to know a little bit more about her, but it wasn't necessary. She holds an important, allegorical place in the story, and she didn't need anything more for that than a name.There are two kinds of a good story: one with a great plot, one with a great style. Note carefully my choice of adjectives. A great plot can't rise above a poor style, nor can a poor plot rise above a great style. Such combinations even it the quality out merely to "good." A great story consists of great plot and great style. Of all this, I am sure, you are well aware. All this, moreover, is digressive.A few annotative comments:

"Father, I’m sorry I didn’t love you as much as you deserved. I could have done more."

And then there was yesterday. I went to visit his gravestone on the anniversary of his death, this time with a friend. Her name is Grace.

"Yeah. I cry when you’re not looking.""I know," she said. I wasn’t surprised.

"I always think of him when I hear the song ‘Hurt’, and how everybody turns away from an old man in the end."

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

As pertains to style, I already went into as much depth as was necessary--and maybe more--when I reviewed The Son Becomes the Father. But I will say that this story confirms your style as, not one affected for a character in first person, but your own.Now on to the stories itself. It starts out deftly enough; this old man is sifting through long-ago memories. Then his wife comes in with a loaf of bread, which is as out of place as their exchange, which mentions something about studying politics, which is not at all what the man was doing. If he was reading the newspaper I could understand, or if it had even been established that he had been distracted from his reading.Then we find out abruptly that this man is about to die, and that he doesn't care enough about his wife to die in her company, but has to go gallivanting off to find out more about his "old, old friends." It doesn't make me fond of the man. No more am I fond of how quickly and simplistically the scene transition took place. Here you started stating facts and neglecting to make them worth reading about, condensing the story and leaving out the flavor.And then we're buried by names and people and it beings to get a little confusing. It took me a moment, when Randall spoke, to figure out who he was and disentangle what his words meant. Next we're thrown this unexplained matter of promises and some form of beginning. Finally we collide into a brick wall in the form of two words: "the end."I think it's a story worth telling, but not enough of it is told. I always say, "Let the length suit the story." In The Son Becomes the Father you showed me how it is possible to defy that rule, proving: "Otherwise, let the story suit the length." But you didn't do that here. Instead of tailoring it to fit you merely shrunk it in the wash, which with something so delicate results with unraveled threads and loss of color.(Apropos, I confess, I overuse similes and metaphors too, most commonly when I review.)So as I say, there was some structural integrity lacking, but I love the story itself. I want to see more, as much because I want to see it improved as elaborated. Your readers as much as your characters deserve more, and I would like to see that.You also touched upon a personal aversion, and that's the monotonous use of the word said. But I know your opinion on the point, and I won't argue such a matter of taste.Commentary:

HENRY WAS SHIFTING THROUGH OLD STUFF. Old old stuff.

They were family, man – family.

So they spent the afternoon eating the stale food associated with old people and enjoying themselves in the pale pastel colors of Rob’s living room. They talked about life, how far they had come in the last thirty years, their grandchildren, and what they were doing now, only to find that nobody had been doing anything.

It wasn’t the same Randall wasn’t part of those times when the four had gone camping together and dared to share their dreams..

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

I realize I didn't make my deadline on this, and I apologize for that.Betrayed, has now been reviewed. Thank you for choosing the SSCC, iBrow.

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith