This reminds me of an "Outer Limits" episode. It makes me want to know more, but I guess that is the point of a short story. What makes it most unsettling is the parts you don't explain. I think you did a great job bringing the reader into the story early to allow for the creepy mystery to take hold.
Long time, no read! I think you have a very spooky, well-researched story here. I've spent the last two years writing a thesis in medical entomology so this statement hit me funny.
Did you know their venom is fifteen times stronger than a rattlesnake’s, and that its bite can paralyze your diaphragm so that you can’t even breathe?”
While this is true, you have to consider the issue of volume. The venom of a black widow is far more potent than a rattlesnake, but they produce such a tiny amount that the reaction you are describing would more likely have to do with an allergic reaction to the venom proteins rather than the action of the venom itself. As long as we're talking about venom volume, though, a man-sized black widow {i]would cause a miserable death, marked by suffocation, indiscriminate firing of pain neurons, and edema. Though black widow venom does have it's uses. See spiffy article below:
The only thing I can think would be worse than be attacked by a man sized black widow, would be a bite from a man-sized brown recluse (heck, even a dog-sized one!). Something about watching your skin and muscle die cell-by-cell is deeply unsettling.
He adores kaleidoscopes and spinning toys and flashlights and seems to see them in a way the rest of us can’t. He teaches us to stop, look, and listen to things in a manner that may never have occurred to us before.
I loved this concept. Autism can be so devastating; it's so wonderful that you can see the beauty in it. A very unique and insightful piece, with no grammatical errors. I think you should expand it a bit more for submission to a parenting magazine. Why not?
My ears (or eyes, rather) perked up when I read the description. I love coffee. I'm currently an indentured servant at a coffee shop because I couldn't afford my habit without the employee discount (the paycheck is nice too, I guess).
This poem is very cute and true to life. Caffiene addiction is rough, and giving it up has been long touted as a weight loss solution. I'm sure the cream wasn't helping though.
The only problem is that there are a limited number of people who could relate to your poem as it is now. You put in a lot of personal details. I would say the bet was with "my friend", rather than "my boss" for example. It would make it easier for your readers to imagine themselves in your place. Usually what gives poetry it's punch is a sense of universality. Caffiene addiction and weight issues are pretty common, though. A few tweaks will make all the difference.
This poem has a pop song appeal to it. I could imagine Christina Aguilara or Jessica Simpson singing it. If that was your intent, you've accomplished your goal. I enjoyed it.
With tanks and guns, not words and nouce
They work to destroy the fighter's house
I think you're addressing a very important issue. I'm not really a fan of rhyming poetry, but for the most part you pull it off. My only gripe is the inconsistencies in the meter. Every line has a different number of syllables with no pattern that I can tell. The rhythm is just as important as the rhyme, unless you are writing freeverse poetry.
I do like your descriptions of Little Jimmy's daily life and think you have an interesting point of view. Keep writing.
I think this was very well-written, but it feels incomplete. The absense of details and background make this a case of an author "telling rather than showing". That structure works well for comedy pieces, but deeply emotional stories are so much more effective presented the other way around. I do see that your imagery is quite good. If you built on the lock/key/door metaphor you'd have a nice poem too.
Locks are used to keep things out. But they are also used to keep things in. The burning question is . . . what lies behind the door?
This was a nice and creepy take on the classic curious child goes to haunted house story. I especially liked the description of the spider webs in the old house. You also did well keeping up the Valentine's Day allusions. I think it would even be better to remove the passage where you list them all and identify them as such. I personally think it's more fun to reread a spooky mystery to see if you can pick up on the clues.
George spoke excitedly into the phone, hysteria slowing seeping into his
voice: "Please! My wife is missing. Please help me find her. I haven't
seen her since this morning, and she was supposed to be back at two
o'clock. I'm very worried about her!"
A Few Tweaks:
She looked for the dim glow
from the television set, where she kenw George probably was sitting.
She attempted to regualate her breathing to conserve her energy.
Comments:
I think you've got a good feel for descriptive writing and building suspense, but the backbone of any story is the plot. This particular one could use some fleshing out so that it appears a little less linear. Perhaps, having dialogue between the sister and the husband. Maybe offering a bit more of about the "family thing" that caused the rift between the sisters would also add some meat to the story.
And then there it was. The one picture she really didn't want to see. Paige on the day she died. She was sitting in the back garden, beaming at the camera whilst sipping from a glass of wine. How sad to think that less than half an hour after this photo was taken, she'd be dead. If only she'd known.
Repressed memories and pathological lies are excellent horror tools that are used quite effectively in this story. The only missing link is the boyfriend. It seems there should be something to silence his suspicions, since he would be the only other person aware of the possible motive for murder. Just a thought.
“The woman in the mirror is such a mystery to me, and yet she seems to know all my secrets. It’s her eyes that give her away...."
I think the subject matter and the concept of this story are good, but I think the presentation needs a bit of clarification. It sounds like you have a third person narrator at the beginning, but near the middle it becomes first person. Maybe you're simply trying to illustrate her insanity, but it's hard to visualize the storyteller. Is it the psychiatrist? Maybe you need a bit more of a setup to ground the story. A bit more direct interaction between the MC and the psychiatrist might also be useful in separating memories from "reality".
“I wish they’d leave us alone.” His voice shook in anger and fear. “We can’t help them. Lord knows when it’ll even be safe to open the door!”
Very interesting...and creepy, mainly because of the many open-ended questions it presents: How much control does this man really have over his environment? How long has he been this way? Is he a control freak or just lonely?
Well done! This is a very complex and thought-provoking story, especially for such a short length.
The blog is the perfect example of why I enjoy this site so much. Perspective is a amazing thing to examine, especially when it is one so different from my own. There is much to be learned from one another. You do well writing about things that others would want to offer their opinions about, yet the feel is very personal like a diary.
Power over anyone is corrupting. You let people know your secrets and they'll tell them just so they can bring you down. Let people into you heart and they'll break it as fast as they can.
I really like the drama and imagery of this piece. It is also very polished grammatically. I just can't connect to the speaker. The speaker is addressing me while imposing his own feelings upon me as if they should be my own, but, the fact is, they aren't. As a result, I am confused and feel that I don't really understand the speaker any better. This is the danger of using second person for such an introspective piece. It is difficult to bring the reader inside the mind of a speaker while keeping the reader at an arm's length. I would shift the POV to first person, myself.
Puts tears in our eyes
And darkens our skies
But they're only a heartbeat away.
I think "we're" might sound a little better, that way the living and the dead are more closely connected. "We and they" in the same sentence has sort of a distancing effect that contradicts the idea of being "only a heartbeat away".
Death prised us apart
But deep in my heart
Are memories of times that we shared
Do you mean "pries"?
Overall:
I like that this advocates a healthy attitude toward grief. So often, the focus is on the destructive effects of berievement which, in turn, makes this a very thought-provoking poem.
Slipping and sliding wherever you walk,
Clouding the crystal-air whenever you talk.
Losing feeling in both fingers and toes,
And have glowing cheeks and a shiny nose.
This has a sweet sort of nursery rhyme sound to it, at least until the last stanza where the deeper meaning emerges.
I'm not crazy about this line:
Weather not fit for even a fur-coated dog,
Using "coated" as an adjective brings to mind a poor mut dipped in chocolate or molassas. I doubt that's what you're going for, but, then, I've got a pretty strange way of looking at things myself.
Overall, a sweetly simplistic and surprising profound piece.
Humans to a better world soon will be pointing
Out it is not hard; it comes with no surprise,
If we think of others before ourselves, we
Can have daily rainbows in our skies.
I really like the visual in this poem of the stanzas shaped like arrows, all pointing in the same direction. I did notice that the difference between the stanzas, as far as the subjects they address, are very subtle. I think, perhaps, a little too subtle, particularly with the second and third stanzas ("...such truth..."/"Honesty is there...).
The wording is excellent, but it contradicts your message of simplicity if you are repeating yourself. It's possible I missed something, however. It's been know to happen.
Overall, I think this is a thoughtful and well structured poem. Write On!
In different ways; some take to flight,
Others stand paralysed in the night.
I would have like to have seen some more examples of the reactions to terror. The poem almost seems like it's a stanza short now. I did really like the allusion to the flight or fight response to fear.
Overall, I think the was a thoughtful poem that treats people as individuals and not as a collective.
I thrash from side to side, try to shake this devilish limpet out,
This throbbing rhythm, now part of me, almost like a friend,
It helps to focus on the metronome, the beat changes as the bout
Crescendos agonisingly, towards it's, sweet and bitter end.
I've never read a poem about a migraine before. I've heard it's a miserable experience, and found that there is either a wide range of severity or the term is grossly overused. The imagery you use is sad, but shows a bit of optimism as well. I certainly, however, can understand how you feel like the benefits are not worth the cost. Well done and Write On!
I really like the imagery and message of this poem, particularly the twist at the end. The thing that caught my eye was the fact that this appears to be a rhyming poem but the syllables break down line by line as follows:
14
12 14
11
14
12 13
13
Reading this aloud, the last two lines of each stanza did trip me up a bit. Maybe you could add or remove syllables so that the breakdown is the same for both stanzas. Just a thought.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her lips moved lightly over his skin. Reese pressed her closer, thinking on how long it had been since anyone had taken blood from him, wishing she could.
How odd that vampire fiction is always so sensual. I think you've done well in your descriptions of what it must be like to be an animal/human feeding on doomed woman. Unfortunately, in a genre this widespread it is the plot that needs to set your story apart, and you don't offer much of it here. I assume there's more, and I'll happily review it when you're ready to post.
Talk softly, for the inner child that
all orphans can never seem to see.
Whisper gently, to the inner child,
"let me hold you safely close to me".
Edits:
Say all of the things, you are still too afraid to let come out.
Cheer long, for each of the children who
finally escape and cannot be used.
Review:
One of my favorite books of all time is White Oleander by Janet Fitch. The perspective of a foster child is truly unique in its tragedy and triumph. To be an artist is to be a tortured soul, I suppose, but the rewards never really balance out the madness. Well done and Write On!!
It comes not however, in malevolence,
not to drown you in misery,
Or to pilfer the soul from your body,
But instead, to lap gently at your feet,
To welcome you,
Edits:
It comes not, however, in malevolence,
To that which waits beyond.
Overall:
It is refreshing to see death in such a comforting light. I especially enjoyed the metaphor of the ocean waves. Write on!
{c}When did downward spiral start?
A mean streaked heart
too often wins.
So sins.
So!
This is a great example of using visuals in poetry. You speak of a downward spiral and the three diamond-shaped stanzas give the poem an overall helical shape. Very cool! Your language is simple and to the point. I didn't see any grammatical or spelling errors, although I would have replaced some of the periods and commas with exclamation points. That's just me though. Well done!
Cheers,
Anna R.
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I think you've done well in your descriptions of what it must be like to be an animal/human feeding on doomed woman. Unfortunately, in a genre this widespread it is the plot that needs to set your story apart, and you don't offer much of it here. I assume there's more, and I'll happily review it when you're ready to post.
Well done!