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Reality Shattered
Reality shattered. The aftershocks flung Lyra Hearstrings clear across the musty, old room like a gorilla discarding a freshly used banana peel. She heard more than felt the impact as her body greeted a nearby bookshelf.
"Dammit!" she cursed. She rubbed her head, her body protesting as she tried to struggle back onto her hooves. The sharp scent of burning magicka caught her attention, and the sight of a pale, blue-white smoke rising from the nearby tome confirmed her suspicions.
With her hooves back under her, Lyra trotted back over to that damned book. She glared balefully at its blasphemous pages as if to challenge it, to pit her will against the might of an uncaring, unfeeling, inanimate object. Her eyes never left the faded leather or the strangely jagged symbols etched onto its face. If she could burn it, she would.
The mint green unicorn took a deep breath. She'd often found that slow breathing could help to still her otherwise turbulent nerves, and this wasn't the time for her to falter. If only she could have a few more--
The clang of a nearby grandfather clock tore her from the book's pages. She looked around in panic before settling to count the strikes. Her breath hitched as it tolled out the eleventh hour. Not enough time.
She looked back at the book and the notes that were compiled around them. With a newfound resolve, she dipped her quill into the nearest inkwell and got back to work. Her quill scribbled nearly indecipherable gibberish onto the crinkled, yellow pages she'd uncovered earlier. Splotches of ink formed in places as her writing adopted a manic meter.
Thirty seven tries, thirty seven failures. Still she persisted. Was it some vain hope of hers that drove her forward? Some sort of naive arrogance? She didn't know. Maybe if Princess Twilight were there in her stead, things could be better resolved. Her former classmate was quite the adept mage and had a grasp of the arcane a simple mare like her could only dream of. Still, it was best not to dwell on what could or should have been. She had precious little time left for that.
A quick glance at the grandfather clock told her everything. With only a few moments left, Lyra lifted up the journal and scanned its pages. She made sure that everything was in order before putting the quill back in its inkwell and closing shut the ancient tome she'd been working on for gods only know how long. It wasn't long before the clock rang true.
It's time.
Lyra Hearstrings groaned as she sat up. Her vision was a bit fuzzy, but she could make out enough to tell that she wasn't where she was supposed to be. Taking a few moments to shake off her drowsiness and stand up, Lyra trotted over to the nearby desk. She noted the old tome lying on it, and the open journal beside it. Taking a seat, the young mare started to read. Her expression quickly shifted from neutral to a frown, then to a panicked stare. She sifted through the pages, quickly making an assessment of everything there.
A quick look at the clock told her just how much time she had.
With a quill wrapped up in her telekinetic grip, Lyra went to work. She dove through each page and each line with the gusto of an overzealous priest, taking in every facet she could. With every passing syllable, every unuttered line, she knew that she was running out of time. In her desperation, Lyra came up with a quick plan, a desperate plan. Perhaps it might work this time.
Sucking in a deep breath, she powered up her horn. If it didn't work, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. She could always try again.
Reality shattered.
"Dammit!" she cursed. She rubbed her head, her body protesting as she tried to struggle back onto her hooves. The sharp scent of burning magicka caught her attention, and the sight of a pale, blue-white smoke rising from the nearby tome confirmed her suspicions.
With her hooves back under her, Lyra trotted back over to that damned book. She glared balefully at its blasphemous pages as if to challenge it, to pit her will against the might of an uncaring, unfeeling, inanimate object. Her eyes never left the faded leather or the strangely jagged symbols etched onto its face. If she could burn it, she would.
The mint green unicorn took a deep breath. She'd often found that slow breathing could help to still her otherwise turbulent nerves, and this wasn't the time for her to falter. If only she could have a few more--
The clang of a nearby grandfather clock tore her from the book's pages. She looked around in panic before settling to count the strikes. Her breath hitched as it tolled out the eleventh hour. Not enough time.
She looked back at the book and the notes that were compiled around them. With a newfound resolve, she dipped her quill into the nearest inkwell and got back to work. Her quill scribbled nearly indecipherable gibberish onto the crinkled, yellow pages she'd uncovered earlier. Splotches of ink formed in places as her writing adopted a manic meter.
Thirty seven tries, thirty seven failures. Still she persisted. Was it some vain hope of hers that drove her forward? Some sort of naive arrogance? She didn't know. Maybe if Princess Twilight were there in her stead, things could be better resolved. Her former classmate was quite the adept mage and had a grasp of the arcane a simple mare like her could only dream of. Still, it was best not to dwell on what could or should have been. She had precious little time left for that.
A quick glance at the grandfather clock told her everything. With only a few moments left, Lyra lifted up the journal and scanned its pages. She made sure that everything was in order before putting the quill back in its inkwell and closing shut the ancient tome she'd been working on for gods only know how long. It wasn't long before the clock rang true.
It's time.
Lyra Hearstrings groaned as she sat up. Her vision was a bit fuzzy, but she could make out enough to tell that she wasn't where she was supposed to be. Taking a few moments to shake off her drowsiness and stand up, Lyra trotted over to the nearby desk. She noted the old tome lying on it, and the open journal beside it. Taking a seat, the young mare started to read. Her expression quickly shifted from neutral to a frown, then to a panicked stare. She sifted through the pages, quickly making an assessment of everything there.
A quick look at the clock told her just how much time she had.
With a quill wrapped up in her telekinetic grip, Lyra went to work. She dove through each page and each line with the gusto of an overzealous priest, taking in every facet she could. With every passing syllable, every unuttered line, she knew that she was running out of time. In her desperation, Lyra came up with a quick plan, a desperate plan. Perhaps it might work this time.
Sucking in a deep breath, she powered up her horn. If it didn't work, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. She could always try again.
Reality shattered.
You have touch of mint green unicorn syndrome.
I think you should make what's inside the journal clearer to the reader. I understood it, but I can see ponies being confused. I'm also not sure what "reality shattered" means precisely, and if you show that concept rather than tell it, that would also elucidate the facts to the reader.
I think you should make what's inside the journal clearer to the reader. I understood it, but I can see ponies being confused. I'm also not sure what "reality shattered" means precisely, and if you show that concept rather than tell it, that would also elucidate the facts to the reader.
I agree with Trick: this fic is pretty obscure. There is some derision in it: I mean, that first metaphor of yours has to be campy, but past this first section, it's hard to say if you're being serious again or if they whole story is just a big send-up.
I suppose we deal with Lyra in different timelines, each one separated from the other by a Big Bang. But I'm not sure what the takeaway is: is she caught in a perpetual time loop or just victim of her own inability to cast the spell correctly?
In all, not bad, but sorely lacking clarity,
I suppose we deal with Lyra in different timelines, each one separated from the other by a Big Bang. But I'm not sure what the takeaway is: is she caught in a perpetual time loop or just victim of her own inability to cast the spell correctly?
In all, not bad, but sorely lacking clarity,
Okay, I think I get it. When reality first shattered, it stranded Lyra in a little curlicue of time independent from her worldline, and she’s basically trying to blast her personal loop back into the larger continuity. However, you made it about as clear as mud, especially since I expect some spacial effects to go with reality shattering along with the temporal ones.
You definitely need to clean up and clarify this. There might be a very cool concept here, but as is, no one’s going to be able to properly appreciate it.
You definitely need to clean up and clarify this. There might be a very cool concept here, but as is, no one’s going to be able to properly appreciate it.
This story is too confusing for its own good. All I can figure out is that she's trapped in some sort of time loop. You mention reality shattering, and that idea is clearly important since you used it as the title, but you're not giving us any clues as to what that actually means. Or at least not any that I can decypher.
Having the story not only start with a title drop, but be bookended by them, is a bold choice, Writer. For consistency, I'd recommend having the first "Reality shattered" separated into it's own paragraph, but that's just me being nitpicky.
The main problem I have is that I can't tell what information Lyra is aware of at which point in the story. Early on, you mention that this is the thirty-seventh time she's tried and failed to resolve the issue, but when she wakes up and trots over to the desk, she reads the journal as though learning of her predicament for the first time. Does reality shattering suddenly allow her to remember all of the previous attempts? Is the journal travelling back in time with her, and she's updating it each time she fails? These are important things to outline so that I can have a clearer understanding of what the parameters are of the recursion loop poor Lyra seems to be stuck in.
The main problem I have is that I can't tell what information Lyra is aware of at which point in the story. Early on, you mention that this is the thirty-seventh time she's tried and failed to resolve the issue, but when she wakes up and trots over to the desk, she reads the journal as though learning of her predicament for the first time. Does reality shattering suddenly allow her to remember all of the previous attempts? Is the journal travelling back in time with her, and she's updating it each time she fails? These are important things to outline so that I can have a clearer understanding of what the parameters are of the recursion loop poor Lyra seems to be stuck in.
The points I was going to raise have already been covered in detail by ponies. There's a promising concept here, but one that doesn't quite escape its execution. Thanks for sharing your work, though.
Agreed with above; for all that the core conceit of the piece is reality shattering, we see precious little of it. I'd expect "reality" — i.e. everything — shattering to be more of an apocalyptic event, but she calmly goes back to her book to try things again, and the focus is in so tight on her that we never learn about more than Lyra, the book and desk it's on, the bookshelf she's flung into, and the grandfather clock. All of these things are in the same place (shard, if you will) and accessible. What shattered from what?
Is she writing in the book, or reading it (taking it in)?
I don't feel like this is even giving me enough information to let me speculate the same way >>FanOfMostEverything and >>The_Letter_J did. This needs more context, which probably means more words, although be careful to use those adding broader context rather than more of the same tight zoom.
Tier: Needs Work
With a quill wrapped up in her telekinetic grip, Lyra went to work. She dove through each page and each line with the gusto of an overzealous priest, taking in every facet she could.
Is she writing in the book, or reading it (taking it in)?
I don't feel like this is even giving me enough information to let me speculate the same way >>FanOfMostEverything and >>The_Letter_J did. This needs more context, which probably means more words, although be careful to use those adding broader context rather than more of the same tight zoom.
Tier: Needs Work
I’m not sure what “reality shattered” is supposed to mean, but if you’re simply being evocative, I actually thought it was just fine. I didn’t take literally; just it FELT like it to her as the spell went off.
I thought this was okay but it didn’t really go anywhere or even explain how she wound up in this situation in the first place. An infinite recursion of time is a trope; this didn’t really go beyond it.
Nothing wrong with this sort of thing as the premise for a story – it is a rich premise – but there needs to be more than just the time recursion, as we’ve all seen that before.
I thought this was okay but it didn’t really go anywhere or even explain how she wound up in this situation in the first place. An infinite recursion of time is a trope; this didn’t really go beyond it.
Nothing wrong with this sort of thing as the premise for a story – it is a rich premise – but there needs to be more than just the time recursion, as we’ve all seen that before.
I liked the details in this story, particularly in regards to the book and the environment overall. But like everybody else above has said, everything is so darn obscure and vague that I can't figure out what's going on. What does "reality shattered" mean? The world ended? Time jumped back? The fic raises more questions than it answers, and not in a good way.