posted
497 Word, SF story, any and all critiques welcome
_______________________________________ The end is near, it always is, I see it constantly.
So, why do I bother? A puff of air here, a kind word there, a little white lie, and once again I’ve saved the world. But it always comes back, someone always does something stupid -- not that they understand what they did -- but they do it, and lo and behold, I see the end again. And once again, the world needs saving.
Just the other day, I was standing at the corner of Michigan Ave and Clarence Drive, enjoying an ice cream sandwich. I was drawn to this corner, the most urgent local fulcrum, it’s a feeling that I get, it sucks me in, irresistible, like the smell of freshly backed bread when you haven’t eaten in days. ________________________________________
posted
I like what you have here. Has a sort of noir/slueth type feel to it. You build a voice of confidence, annoyance, and resignation within these few lines and it works well. I'd like to read more.
Posts: 28 | Registered: Feb 2005
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