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[ Stories: Witch-Girl (Read from the bottom of the list), The Canon ] [ Poetry: All Poetry; ( ♥ ) ( ⚔ ) ]
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[ red_a02 ] Shuzhen – The first episode was a lot of fun, cos it had an interesting cocktail of sexual tension and smooth fight choreography. This episode is like the awkward aftermath...
27 Aquarius 13 18:13
[ vermilion_2 ] YAPX – I understand that most of your stories are dialogue-based and heavy on retorts and counter-retorts. This one felt unnecessarily circular. It starts with a cool premise: a killer/villain/vigilante uses Lent to swear off something that should be second nature to him (I suppose), and then talks about a story. The link between the two (giving up killing & the story) isn’t a 100% fit. Maybe instead of “let me tell you a story”, it could be “hey, you see I even passed a guy up for death today!” or equivalent. Something to drag Lorelei into the banter and the premise. // That’s my only complaint. I’m not a big fan of dialogue-based stories, but I can make a exception for this.
14 Aquarius 13 08:03
[ 130204 ] YAPX – Good pace, good characters, great dialogue. The thing I like best is a combination of the three: how you build up their pseudo-relationship through all that back-and-forth exchange. Somehow, you craft a unique, strange relationship: from any one point in the story, both of them are manipulative, victimised and hypocrites - though not all at once. // On word choices, I felt you could change the word “janitor” (“cleaner” or “uncle” would’ve given a different, but more acute local flavour to it). Mostly because, it’s connotes an added level of difference through: class. Whether or not you intended it, by portraying the “janitor” and “student” you bring out the fact that he’s stuck there socially in all sense of the word. It made the part where he says he reads books during weekends completely out-of-context and weird. // Also, there’s too much “sliding” in and out of the room. Not sure if that’s intentional repetition, or just a lack of other words. // I thought that the girl’s own background is pretty compelling. Even after everything, I can’t tell if she’s speaking the truth. Because I’m all for unreliable narrators and characters, I can still find her well-thought out. But other readers might lose patience or wonder at her sudden change of heart at the final moment.
04 Aquarius 13 08:48
“How did you know?” she says.
She sits upon the edge of the fountain in the quiet of the night. No water is gushing forth, and the pool is placid. She sits upon the edge of the fountain and she looks at him, looking at her.
“Know what?” he asks.
“That story you wrote,” she says, “How did you know that I left him for you?”
“Did you?” he asks, incredulous.
“Yes,” she says, simply.
“I didn’t know. It was just a story.”
“Just a story,” she repeats in a whisper.
“Wait,” he says, “Did you just say you left him for me?”
She holds his gaze, amused, she realises, at his half-smile; it speaks to her of hope and a slight confusion, and she wonders what is it about her that does this to him, which part of her is it, that is loved by this wonderful boy.
“Yes, you,” she says, “But it’s not just a story. Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“I don’t know. Something. You can’t just write my heart down and say that it’s just a story. It’s more than that, it has to be.”
“It’s just a story. Wishful thinking. You take the rules of the world and you explore what is possible. That’s what writing is. And wishful thinking is that bit of writing that everybody knows how to do. That’s why people play the lottery.”
“Yes, hope. It’s just a story. I didn’t read your mind. It’s a story about… if this were to happen, this would be how, this would be why. It’s not supposed to happen.”
“It’s going to happen,” she says.
But he isn’t listening. He is looking down at the terracotta tiles and he repeats himself, “It’s not supposed to happen.”
“What do you…” she begins.
“You’re not her,” he interrupts, “This is not real, this is a story, nothing more.”
He looks up at her; and in her place sits a little girl, with her long hair pouring down, straight and dark.
She is looking up at him, her hair framing her face, her eyes shimmering and green.
“How did you know?” she says.
347 words / 566
“They first came for the communists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a communist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Catholics and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Catholic.
Then they came for me – and by that time there was nobody left to speak up for me.”
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