Castle Paradox

[Inarai, Luminoth Demon]

It was the morning after.

One might ask just what morning this was, and there are many answers I could give you, and many more that others might be able to. But there is one phrase that says it all. It was the morning after.

There had been a killing the other night; someone had failed to pay a debt, he police said.

It was the morning after.

A building had been burned to the ground the other night; the police were calling it arson.

It was the morning after.

A bomb had gone off in Tokyo the other night; the government was calling it terrorism.


It was the morning after.

But none if this had anything to do with me. I sat in that accursed chair, and as the hours crawled by, there was only one thing that I could do.

Think.

Things I’d done that I’d forever regret.

Think.

Secrets I’d promised to keep, to take o my grave and beyond; whatever lay there for me.

Think.

People I’d hurt, hearts I’d broken, crimes I helped to cover.

Think.

But most of all, I had one most important thing to think on. Why, for me, it was the morning after.

Think, and reflect, the morning after.


The night before, I’d really done it. We’d buried him with his wife in the reeds. At least we did him that last favour, fulfilled that last request.

We had let it seem like suicide, or at least we had tried. As if he had pulled the trigger on that final bottle as he tried do drink her away. He had tried to hide his pain, her memory, and in doing so lost his job, his self, and altered his forever.

The angels sang, we dug. The angels sang, we dumped him in that six foot hole. The angels sang, we buried him under six feet of dirt.

The day had been Sunday, and when we heard the bells toll, without seeing him there, a final decision was made, the pact had been formed. His misery was to end.

She had died of cancer, two months earlier. It was too much for him, the weight of the guilt he felt was too much, beyond the strength he had to stand.

He blamed her death upon himself, you see. They had found the cancer early enough, it was treatable. But he couldn’t pay. He was determined to save up the money that he needed to save her. On his own. His foolish pride is what cost her her life, cost us all her warmth, and him his life.

I had a friend who tended the bar that he frequented. She agreed to, when he was good and drunk, to slip some pills into his drinks. The pills were silver cyanide, and the concentration wasn’t too high. The point was for the poison to mix with the alcohol, and kill his liver. He, of course, kept drinking. He died of alcohol poisoning, and silver cyanide poisoning. We couldn’t afford the autopsy, so we buried him in the reeds with his wife. He’d told me that was what he wanted. I’d sat beside him at the bar.

The place was a rat hole, full of alcoholics. No one noticed when I dragged an unconscious man out of that rat hole.

I shoved him in the trunk, no small achievement. I drove him out to the lake. The others were waiting there.

The angels sang, we dug. The angels sang, we dumped him in that six foot hole. The angels sang, we buried him under six feet of dirt.


I never found out who sold us out; strangely, as I sat there waiting for that bullet, that wondrous bullet, I didn’t care. I had bigger things on my mind. Like what I wanted in the end.

But in the end, that morning after, I no longer cared. That morning after, nothing mattered. Nothing save one.

They came in with the gun, and held it behind my ear. They didn’t want me to feel any pain. They asked me if I had any last requests. I told them just one. The asked what.

“Bury me in the reeds, with my parents.”

[LeRoy_Leo]

This isn't bad. I almost lost some interest in the transition, but you tied it back together in the end. Also, the end was such a shocking twist, I laughed with joy. Good work. Excellent tragedy.
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Planning Project Blood Summons, an MMORPG which will incinerate all of the others with it's sheer brilliance...

---msw188 ---
"Seriously James, you keep rolling out the awesome like gingerbread men on a horror-movie assembly line. "

[Inarai, Luminoth Demon]

Thanks.

One: If I am writing a multi-chapter story, do I give that its own thread, or post in here?

I just need to type the first chapter, entitled "Destiny, My Ass."

I've also got a little poem to post when I type it up.

[Gizmog1]

Personally, I'd just post it here, but I don't think you'd catch any flak for posting a new thread, and that might help keep things from getting too cluttered up in this thread.

[Inarai, Luminoth Demon]

Anyways, in the interest of using this as a short works thread...

Beauty has fled

I live in a world where beauty has fled,
Where hatred is known and left unsaid,
A wasteland of pain, misery abound.
I live in a world where beauty has fled,

Alone in the streets a young mother cries,
Pale from hunger a part of her dies,
She’d give up life to save her child.
I live in a world where beauty has fled,

With nothing to lose, the youth leaps,
And lands in the garbage, piled in heaps,
He stole just a sandwich, so he could eat.
I live in a world where beauty has fled,

In the black alley, the body lies dead,
A blast in the dark, fresh blood on his head,
Another needed his money to live.
I live in a world where beauty has fled,

I live in a world where beauty has fled,
Where hatred is known and left unsaid,
A wasteland of pain, misery abound.
I live in a world where beauty has fled,

I live in a world where beauty is dead.

[Artimus Bena]

The following assumes you're looking for a critique (I'm a regular at a couple professional writing boards, so that's what I'm thinking when I read a piece in a forum). If you don't want a critique, well, you can certainly ignore the rest of the post, though it may still help.


> Watch your "hads" and "thats". Wordsearch, and look for each had and that. You'll find almost all of them are unecessary, and the sentences, as well as the style, would be more solid without them.



> Repetition is a tricky thing. I think you did a good job of making it work, but after a certain point, it dulled the writing, and shifted focus from the story. Repetition shows the author's hand; that's generally not a good thing, unless the piece is practically perfect, or close to it.


> Much of it was telling, and not showing. Telling can work beautifully, but it, too, can make the writing bland. Naturally, though, it depends on the style you're going for. If you want better visuals, for instance, a lot of showing, with telling here and there to "pack a punch", might be used.



I'm thinking your goal is to create a lyrical, musical feel, with recurring elements, and a rythm. Not badly done, just needs the polish that only time can improve.

Overall, I'd say it's a good piece, and says a lot about you.
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