posted
I slid down the wall and onto the floor of the studio. The dawn light--a square of gold---drifted with a funereal slowness across the dark oak boards towards the picture on the easel. The wooden support creaked as Violix's body settled against it. His black cloak crumpled about him; oiled-metal prosthetics of intricate designs jutted from its shadows, like the limbs of a spent clockwork man—which, I suppose in a way, he was. A stranger I knew well, but a stranger all the same. Time is a desperately inadequate way to describe the depth of a relationship. Intensity is better, and my time with Violix was nothing if not intense. The patch of gold light touched the picture's edge, threatening to reveal its hideousness; I turned away.
revised:
"I'm sorry, sir..." I called. The man stood with his back to me on the far side of the gallery space, in front of a vast canvas of spiralling reds. Beside him, on the polished basalt floor, curled a large grey dog. I paused, trapped momentarily by the image of their silhouettes against the painting, like time travellers in front of a vortex. "...the gallery closes in five minutes--and no pets, please" The man didn't respond, but the dog--what I'd thought was just dog--rose and stretched. Great bunches of muscles flexed and rolled across its shoulders, like a lion's. "Mr Chasin..." The man chuckled without turning. "will not appreciate being called a pet, will you?" "No," the beast muttered. Its voice deep and ominous. "But I am forgiving."
revised (3)
"I'm sorry, sir..." I called. The man stood on the far side of the gallery space, in front of a vast canvas of spiralling reds. Beside him, on the polished basalt floor, hunched a large grey dog. I paused; silhouetted against the painting, the pair seemed like travellers about to step through the vortex. "...the gallery closes in five minutes--and no pets, please" The man didn't respond, but the dog--what I'd thought was a dog--rose and stretched. A long feline tail uncurled; ropes of muscle flexed and bunched across lion-like shoulders. "Mr Chasin..." The man chuckled without turning. "will not appreciate being called a pet, will you?" "No," the beast muttered. Its voice deep and ominous. "But I am forgiving."
Last one:
I spotted the man on the far side of the gallery space, in front of a vast canvas of spiralling reds. A large, black dog crouched on the polished basalt floor beside him. "I'm sorry, sir..." my voice echoed off the marble walls, but the man didn't turn. I paused; silhouetted against the painting, the man seemed like a traveller poised to step through the vortex. I raised my voice, "...the gallery closes in five minutes--and pets aren't allowed." The man didn't respond, but the dog--what I'd thought was a dog--stirred. Its long feline tail uncurled. Heavy muscles flexed and bunched across lion-like shoulders as it first stretched, then rose. "Mr Chasin..." The man spoke without turning. "...will not appreciate being called a pet, will you?"
The last lines are the same, but exceeded the 13 line limit.
[This message has been edited by skadder (edited September 04, 2009).]
posted
This is moody, which is good, it has glimpses of really cool things going on.
My biggest complaint is that it feels like were about to get a flashback. Are you starting this in the right place?
Also, Violix is real close to Violin. Could it be just Volix? Or Vilix? Not a big deal, but the name made me slow down to convince my brain that it didn't say "Violin".
quote:I slid down the wall and onto the floor of the studio.
This sounds like the MC was just shot. After reading the rest, I don’t believe this line is even needed.
quote: The dawn light--a square of gold---drifted with a funereal slowness across the dark oak boards towards the picture on the easel.
I am assuming the rising suns rays are piercing a window (what else could it be?). I stopped at funereal slowness. It is easy to understand what you mean but I feel this could be said better. Maybe something like… drifted across the oak floor with the deliberate lethargy of a funeral Eh, maybe not.
quote:The wooden support creaked as Violix's body settled against it.
Not sure what the wooden support is (could be relevant) or what a Violix is.
The rest is fine but I do not like the changes you have in store for your artist story (this is the same one, correct?). The previous version had the critic meeting the artist for the first time. Making them long term acquaintances changes the entire piece. The first pov gave the reader the same impression the critic had in that one. Making them friends pits the reader at a disadvantage and lessens the impact of plot.
posted
I do not read or crit short stories often, so take it all with that in mind:
Intriguing opening, powerful imagery and subtle nuances. I’m confused, but willing to keep reading in hopes it becomes clear soon. I especially like the description of Viloix.
“I slid down the wall and onto the floor of the studio.” Was he just injured? Almost fainted? Sitting down after a shocking experience? It’s too ambiguous for my taste. The word “funereal” makes me think he’s dying, but then how is he able to turn away?
What wooden support? The easel? I’ve used a fair number of easels, and none of them were stable enough to support something as heavy as a body leaning against it without tipping over, unless it was balanced just so.
What just happened to make Violix collapse (so gently)?
I would rather see this at the top: “Time is a desperately inadequate way to describe the depth of a relationship. Intensity is better, and my time with Violix was nothing if not intense.” It seems somehow out of place now, perhaps because it is so thoughtful, like a quotable quote. But that may not be a fair assessment; does the story continue in this vein?
“threatening to reveal its hideousness” – I would expect things to be visible in a sunlit room. I am left wondering if direct sunlight has some special affect on this particular painting. Or maybe a modifier is needed: the full impact of its hideousness (bad example).
Is it a painting? You said picture twice, so is it a photograph?
[This message has been edited by MrsBrown (edited September 02, 2009).]
posted
Thanks for the comments. Not sure about this opening...things I like about it, things I don't.
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posted
I do and I don't like this. It's certainly got an atmostphere, and there are some lovely phrases and bits of description, but at first I have no idea what's going on.
I too stopped at 'funereal slowness'. Unless something is about to die, or this is the start of an extended metaphor, etc, I'm not sure you can get away with 'funereal'. It's such a specific word, so it sticks out oddly if you don't combine it with something.
Is the wooden support the easel?
The bit about the cloak confuses me. Are you saying he has lots of metal prosthetic limbs, which stick out sharply under the shadow of the cloak? Because for a while, I thought it meant there were metal arms and legs dangling from his cloak. Is it even limbs we're talking about, here? I've only got 'prosthetics' to go on.
I particularly like the lines 'like the limbs of a spent clockwork man—which, I suppose in a way, he was.' and 'The dawn light--a square of gold--'.
'The patch of gold light touched the picture's edge, threatening to reveal its hideousness; I turned away.' - all I can think of for this is that it means he hates what is presumably his painting.
I almost agreed with MrsBrown about having the 'Time is a desperately inadequate way' line at the start, but I think you risk sounding melodramatic if you put it there. I actually think it fits quite well where it is.
I would still read on for now, but I think you need to inject a little clarity into this piece, whilst preserving the mood (though, it comes close to being overdone in places, so tread carefully).
posted
Ah, fair enough - I know what you mean. It just sounds wrong, somehow, using the same word twice in a short space. Anyway, in that case, I have to agree with MrsBrown that I'm not sure an easel could support a body. Though, for what it's worth, the image I had of Violix was of a tiny person, perhaps a foot tall. I think it's the 'clockwork man' image sticking in my head - I associate clockwork with toys, where clocks and watches aren't concerned.
Well, this opening has mood in abundance, so you succeeded there. And anyway, I don't think your prose is always clinical. I always remember that piece you showed me and Ivy, with the boy having to persuade the girl to kill herself so that she can call for his master's help in death. Whatever happened to that, anyway? I think you said it was part of a larger work. That thing had me hooked from the get go.
It's clearer, certainly, though it's lost some of its moody quality. I think it's definitely more readable, at any rate; I can picture this scene in my head. Petty bits:
'caught momentarily for by the image'
'Great bunches of muscles flexed and rolled across its shoulders, like a lion's' - it's very clunky. I'm not sure what to suggest, to be honest, without redoing the whole sentence from a different angle. 'muscles flexed and rolled across its lion-like shoulders', maybe?
re. the third sentence, I am a little underwhelmed by 'large grey dog' after 'vast canvas of spiralling reds'.
I prefer the revision, I have decided. I just think it could do with a drop of that raw atmosphere you had in the original. Still, I'd read on, and with a better idea of what's happening this time.
The problem is that version one is pretty much static image. I introduced fine detail movements (sliding down the wall; drifting light; settling) to make give the impression it wasn't static, but it is essentially only a picture in words. Much easier to be moody and atmospheric.
The other versions introduce people and objects in a more dynamic situation (dialogue). All these things use up words and 13-linage, hence atmosphere suffers.
I plan to keep the atmosphere, but it will be drip-fed in.
posted
I really like version three. I'll volunteer if you're looking for readers.
The description is great and you do an excellent job of painting this picture. I know exactly what the scene looks like but the description is not overdone.
I also feel like I have a very quick sketch of the characters' personality in just a couple of dialog lines but I am still extremely curious what they're really about.
posted
Thanks for the offer, but the story, despite being finished in its first incarnation, has yet to be written in its slightly more complex second incarnation.
When its done I'll email you and see if you're still interested.
I completely missed that the MC said the second line of dialogue—I assumed it was some other unnamed person, until the third read. I might suggest the following re-ordering:
The man stood on the far side of the gallery space, in front of a vast canvas of spiralling reds. Beside him, on the polished basalt floor, hunched a large grey dog. "I'm sorry, sir..." I called. I paused; silhouetted against the painting, the pair seemed like travellers about to step through the vortex. "...the gallery closes in five minutes--and no pets, please" Eh, maybe not.
Need a period after “please” and “Mr”. Spiraling and travelers (spelling).
I’d rather the man chuckled and then said his piece, instead of breaking it up. “Its voice deep and ominous.” Is not a sentence.
I felt the last unwritten line spoken by Mr. Chasain struck me as not being quite as snappy as it could be. Perhaps it was too droll.
I was jarred by having the beast look like a dog and then all of the descriptors were feline. It made me pause and try to figure out what was going on.
As I said those were nits and wouldn't stop me from wanting to read more.