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Fading Lights
She had no idea how or why she had ended up here.
It was like waking up from a long dreamless night, or taking the first breath after being rescued from the depths of an unfathomable ocean. She felt numb, almost paralysed. Her thoughts were sluggish, as if her brain had not yet found back all its purchase on reality.
Where was she? She looked around, but only saw stones. Staggered stones, all the way up to a partly ruined wall which blotted out the rest of the view. Some were ancient, even hoary, their edges chopped and blunted by the slow, but ruthless, hunger of the oozy moss. Some were new, sharp and glossy; weird designs had been carved on them. She knew she was familiar with them. She knew she should have recognised their meaning. But, inexplicably, she couldn’t remember.
She could only flounder for questions.
Suddenly, she realised that even her name was gone from her mind.
A squall blew, keening through the branches of the battered trees. Sleet pelted the already sodden ground, crackling against the stones. She shuddered, more from surprise than cold, and looked at the sky. Under the leaden, sullen sky, wisps of darker clouds scudded across from horizon to horizon.
What a forlorn place, she thought. She tried to rouse herself from her numbness. I can’t stay there. There must be an exit, somewhere to find shelter in, somewhere to get answers from… She gazed around again, squinting, and eventually spotted a rusty gate in the distance.
She was about to set out towards it when it opened with a grating sound which was almost carried away by the wind.
Then she saw them coming through the opening.
She saw them and froze, as an icy chill swept down her spine: two blobs of light, two large will-o’-the-wisps floating over the ground. The first was huge, white but somehow both fuzzy and lambent, much like a gently glowing globe seen through frosted glass. The other was smaller, but sharper. It looked like a ball of darkness, with a slight navy blue nimbus.
She couldn’t move a muscle nor utter a cry. Somehow, she was transfixed. All she could do was watching in horror as the blobs glided closer, undisturbed by the gale.
And as they drew nearer, she realised she could make out scattered syllables. The blobs spoke, spoke with dampened, echoing voices, as if from the far end of a corridor.
It stroke her that she knew those voices. But memory kept eluding her.
Why?
In a matter of seconds the syllables gelled into words.
“… long enough. It’s been twenty-seven hours now. Is she here?” a first voice asked – it was impossible to tell which blob was speaking.
“Definitely,” an other voice responded.
“I wonder how you can be so certain.”
“I wonder how you can miss that,” the second voice answered. “Exploring the dreamland has made me more receptive. But even if you cannot sense her, you know the lore.”
The blobs hovered for a short while, then resumed their course.
“Does she know we’re here?” the first voice asked.
“Probably, though she might perceive us differently. Legends say—”
“I know the legend as well as you do…" the first voice cut in, then sighed.
The two blobs were now only a few feet away. They stopped again, and there was silence for a time, silence only broken by the wailing of the wind.
“I always thought she… she would…” the first voice said at last. It faltered.
“No,” the second voice picked up. “You pulled the wool over your eyes all these years.” A sigh. “You know it’s not in our power to grace, and that the grace was only given to those who witnessed the beginning. All others must pass, even those you bless. It’s the law.”
“But why her? And why here?”
“Who can say?”
What were those beings speaking about? Why had they come here to simply stop in front of her and stand still?
Maybe? An idea popped in her mind. Maybe they could explain what had happened to her?
Summoning all her courage up, she ventured a trembling: “Hello?”
There was no immediate response.
“Did you hear something?” the first voice asked after a while.
“Only the wind,” the second answered.
“I could swear there was something else… I… No. I’m sorry…”
A long pause.
Then, in a somber tone: “Goodbye now, dear Twilight…”
It was like waking up from a long dreamless night, or taking the first breath after being rescued from the depths of an unfathomable ocean. She felt numb, almost paralysed. Her thoughts were sluggish, as if her brain had not yet found back all its purchase on reality.
Where was she? She looked around, but only saw stones. Staggered stones, all the way up to a partly ruined wall which blotted out the rest of the view. Some were ancient, even hoary, their edges chopped and blunted by the slow, but ruthless, hunger of the oozy moss. Some were new, sharp and glossy; weird designs had been carved on them. She knew she was familiar with them. She knew she should have recognised their meaning. But, inexplicably, she couldn’t remember.
She could only flounder for questions.
Suddenly, she realised that even her name was gone from her mind.
A squall blew, keening through the branches of the battered trees. Sleet pelted the already sodden ground, crackling against the stones. She shuddered, more from surprise than cold, and looked at the sky. Under the leaden, sullen sky, wisps of darker clouds scudded across from horizon to horizon.
What a forlorn place, she thought. She tried to rouse herself from her numbness. I can’t stay there. There must be an exit, somewhere to find shelter in, somewhere to get answers from… She gazed around again, squinting, and eventually spotted a rusty gate in the distance.
She was about to set out towards it when it opened with a grating sound which was almost carried away by the wind.
Then she saw them coming through the opening.
She saw them and froze, as an icy chill swept down her spine: two blobs of light, two large will-o’-the-wisps floating over the ground. The first was huge, white but somehow both fuzzy and lambent, much like a gently glowing globe seen through frosted glass. The other was smaller, but sharper. It looked like a ball of darkness, with a slight navy blue nimbus.
She couldn’t move a muscle nor utter a cry. Somehow, she was transfixed. All she could do was watching in horror as the blobs glided closer, undisturbed by the gale.
And as they drew nearer, she realised she could make out scattered syllables. The blobs spoke, spoke with dampened, echoing voices, as if from the far end of a corridor.
It stroke her that she knew those voices. But memory kept eluding her.
Why?
In a matter of seconds the syllables gelled into words.
“… long enough. It’s been twenty-seven hours now. Is she here?” a first voice asked – it was impossible to tell which blob was speaking.
“Definitely,” an other voice responded.
“I wonder how you can be so certain.”
“I wonder how you can miss that,” the second voice answered. “Exploring the dreamland has made me more receptive. But even if you cannot sense her, you know the lore.”
The blobs hovered for a short while, then resumed their course.
“Does she know we’re here?” the first voice asked.
“Probably, though she might perceive us differently. Legends say—”
“I know the legend as well as you do…" the first voice cut in, then sighed.
The two blobs were now only a few feet away. They stopped again, and there was silence for a time, silence only broken by the wailing of the wind.
“I always thought she… she would…” the first voice said at last. It faltered.
“No,” the second voice picked up. “You pulled the wool over your eyes all these years.” A sigh. “You know it’s not in our power to grace, and that the grace was only given to those who witnessed the beginning. All others must pass, even those you bless. It’s the law.”
“But why her? And why here?”
“Who can say?”
What were those beings speaking about? Why had they come here to simply stop in front of her and stand still?
Maybe? An idea popped in her mind. Maybe they could explain what had happened to her?
Summoning all her courage up, she ventured a trembling: “Hello?”
There was no immediate response.
“Did you hear something?” the first voice asked after a while.
“Only the wind,” the second answered.
“I could swear there was something else… I… No. I’m sorry…”
A long pause.
Then, in a somber tone: “Goodbye now, dear Twilight…”
She's dead, Jim.
So, straightforwards tragedy, I guess? For me, this sort of story needs to do a bit more than just kill off a character. While you can almost get away with that sort of thing because it's fanfiction (we already have connections to the characters, so killing one off doesn't need the same amount of words to get a reaction that an original fiction would) I don't find it sufficient in and of itself.
Making a point about the character, the nature of life and death, mourning, hope or grief... well, make a point about anything, I guess, and I'd find this a lot more enjoyable. As it is, while it's not bad, it's also not actually doing anything that I find particularly worthwhile.
Well, I've never been a particular fan of tragedy, so part of that may just be me.
Oh, and a whip-round with a proofreader wouldn't go astray either.
On the upside, most of these phrases were turned nicely and everything was understandable and clear from what was said, so that's good. Despite describing a strange and nebulous place, I never really felt lost or confused, so kudos for that.
Good mechanics, needs more substance.
So, straightforwards tragedy, I guess? For me, this sort of story needs to do a bit more than just kill off a character. While you can almost get away with that sort of thing because it's fanfiction (we already have connections to the characters, so killing one off doesn't need the same amount of words to get a reaction that an original fiction would) I don't find it sufficient in and of itself.
Making a point about the character, the nature of life and death, mourning, hope or grief... well, make a point about anything, I guess, and I'd find this a lot more enjoyable. As it is, while it's not bad, it's also not actually doing anything that I find particularly worthwhile.
Well, I've never been a particular fan of tragedy, so part of that may just be me.
Oh, and a whip-round with a proofreader wouldn't go astray either.
On the upside, most of these phrases were turned nicely and everything was understandable and clear from what was said, so that's good. Despite describing a strange and nebulous place, I never really felt lost or confused, so kudos for that.
Good mechanics, needs more substance.
Some excellent descriptive language here, even if there are a few typos to mar the otherwise elegant prose. But... this goes nowhere. It sets all sorts of strange scenery, and does nothing with it. I mean, yes, as the reader I can certainly guess that the protagonist is trapped in a dream, taken by faeries, on a drug trip, or "going into the light" but that's not a story. It's all so much "Chekov's Rocks" here...
Don't show us (admittedly beautiful) descriptions of mysterious things just to do nothing with them. Same goes for mentions of "the law" and some power to "grace" things. None of this fits with any pony canon/fannon I know. In fact, other than the name in the last line, nothing about this story at all seems Pony. With the Will O' The Wisps, this would probably fly better as celtic or european folklore to my reading of it.
Some were new, sharp and glossy; weird designs had been carved on them.
Don't show us (admittedly beautiful) descriptions of mysterious things just to do nothing with them. Same goes for mentions of "the law" and some power to "grace" things. None of this fits with any pony canon/fannon I know. In fact, other than the name in the last line, nothing about this story at all seems Pony. With the Will O' The Wisps, this would probably fly better as celtic or european folklore to my reading of it.
I'm a sucker for interesting expansion into lore, and you certainly dangle some quality threads in front of me. Most interesting, Floating-Orb-Celestia seems to know something about the afterlife and is surprised Twilight ends up where she does (where ever that may actually be).
Caveat to all those good threads is a lack of any feeling of resolution. We open with, and spend the most words on, what I figure is a post-Lethe Twilight, only to end with her predicament in the exact state we found it. Could be better in that regard, but otherwise fantastic.
Caveat to all those good threads is a lack of any feeling of resolution. We open with, and spend the most words on, what I figure is a post-Lethe Twilight, only to end with her predicament in the exact state we found it. Could be better in that regard, but otherwise fantastic.
Her thoughts were sluggish, as if her brain had not yet found back all its purchase on reality.
It's a challenge, but I'd recommend you try to show us this rather than tell us. Look at some of the other fics in this contest that start with the "where the buck am I" trope, because a few of them are doing it really well. This can give you ideas on how to improve the approach.
(This one seems to be the least original of the tropes this time around, or else I've hit an unusually large chunk of them in a row—and there's nothing wrong with that, but everypony seemed to go the "where the buck" route. There are far fewer of the drunk-sex ones I expected (so far), but I guess I should have anticipated authors would be reserved on that topic.)
I don't think "hoary" is a more severe adjective than "ancient". That said, for the stones which were "ancient" but didn't qualify as "hoary", how could you tell they were ancient...? :V
If you're going to use descriptors like "hoary" (which are good and show-y), you should stick with show-y ones rather than mix them with telly ones like "ancient".
I think it might be better just to try to cut some length from the opening, because creative cutting will force out more show, letting the reader do more of the interpretations.
There's some telliness in the dialogue as well. Princess Exposition and Princess Plotpoint (hee hee, that one sounds naughty) are speaking in a way that seems unnatural from the depth of exposition and how directly it falls on the reader.
The ending here is really unsatisfying for me. It doesn't explain why the Princesses bothered to show up at all if they had no way to return Twilight to life, and we don't get any detail on the "legend". It especially doesn't make sense if this is supposed to have happened in the distant past. It's like they finally found the place she died, just to say 'okay bye' and leave, and I'm not sure what motivated the search or trip.
In a larger sense: what's the message here, besides 'sad'...?
Hmm. Is the proper plural will-o’-the-wisps or wills-o’-the-wisp?
In any case, you’re clearly trying to extent your grasp of the language, and though a few phrases slip out of your fingers, I’d say you’re doing a good job of it. However, the story those phrases make up doesn’t really go anywhere. The bit with Luna dismissing Twilight’s voice as just the wind is either a baffling contradiction or her actively lying to help Celestia through the grieving process, and I’m not sure which is the case. And then there’s the question of what happens next. Does Twilight move on? Does she haunt this interesting but purposeless set piece for all time? You’ve left us hanging, and not in an especially intriguing way. You’ll need to do some work if you want to correct that.
In any case, you’re clearly trying to extent your grasp of the language, and though a few phrases slip out of your fingers, I’d say you’re doing a good job of it. However, the story those phrases make up doesn’t really go anywhere. The bit with Luna dismissing Twilight’s voice as just the wind is either a baffling contradiction or her actively lying to help Celestia through the grieving process, and I’m not sure which is the case. And then there’s the question of what happens next. Does Twilight move on? Does she haunt this interesting but purposeless set piece for all time? You’ve left us hanging, and not in an especially intriguing way. You’ll need to do some work if you want to correct that.
The story can be best summarized thus: Twilight Sparkle is dead and Celestia and Luna are looking for her in the/an afterlife. They almost find her, but don't. The end.
Everything else is just window dressing. The prose is lovely, but what does it amount to? I saw some hints of something larger, more interesting, that made me think the story was greater than the sum of its parts (look at the brief discussion about "grace" and consider its meaning in the context of the show and this story), but what's here... just doesn't signify anything to me.
Sorry, fella.
Everything else is just window dressing. The prose is lovely, but what does it amount to? I saw some hints of something larger, more interesting, that made me think the story was greater than the sum of its parts (look at the brief discussion about "grace" and consider its meaning in the context of the show and this story), but what's here... just doesn't signify anything to me.
Sorry, fella.
This seems a very significant scene pulled out from something larger. The descriptions are interesting and you build up some tension, but in the end it never amounts to much. I admit I'm not sure how you could improve it for me s a specific target, considering the constraints under which you work. Maybe focusing more on one of the three characters and telling us telling us something about how she reacted to the situation would make it more meaningful.
As it is now it sets an evocative scene and then stops. It's a bit of a shame, I wanted to know more.
As it is now it sets an evocative scene and then stops. It's a bit of a shame, I wanted to know more.
The Great
Intriguing and interesting.
The Rough
And that's kind of where it stops, unfortunately. This very much seems like something out of a larger piece as there isn't really a proper "story" here. The mystery you set-up at the beginning seems largely unsolved (we get Twilight's dead, but what is this place and what's going, etc), the Celestia saying goodbye thing isn't really the focus, and... yeah.
Intriguing and interesting.
The Rough
And that's kind of where it stops, unfortunately. This very much seems like something out of a larger piece as there isn't really a proper "story" here. The mystery you set-up at the beginning seems largely unsolved (we get Twilight's dead, but what is this place and what's going, etc), the Celestia saying goodbye thing isn't really the focus, and... yeah.
Beautiful descriptive language, but:
This was, for me, the summary of my reading experience. The plot is only partially suggested at the end, and even then we only have hints.
Tier: Needs Work
What were those beings speaking about? Why had they come here to simply stop in front of her and stand still?
This was, for me, the summary of my reading experience. The plot is only partially suggested at the end, and even then we only have hints.
Tier: Needs Work
I have to agree with the other reviews. Beautiful use of language, but without any real plot or point. It's a wonderfully scenic road that doesn't actually go anywhere. I'd love to see that prose coupled with a bit more plot and purpose.
Fading Lights
>>Not_A_Hat (Hey Hat boy!)
>>Xepher
>>Rao (Thanks Rao! ;) )
>>Trick_Question
>>FanOfMostEverything
>>Posh
>>Kitcat36
>>TheCyanRecluse
>>CoffeeMinion
>>AndrewRogue
>>Orbiting_kettle
Thanks for letting this fic’ slip into the finals. Really, I never imagined it would. :) In fact, I feel guilty because, as you have all noticed, this was more a scene than a story, therefore I expected it to be scathed the same way Cold’s Trembling had been. I don’t think I write better prose than Cold, so I’m left wondering why mine qualified and his failed.
Last finalist place well deserved.
I had no idea how to christen this “story” so I ended up with the title of a Genesis’s song.
So Twilight is dead, and her soul lingers for a while in Equestria’s world before being reincarnated some place else. However, as is expected with reincarnation, all of her memories and even knowledge of her previous self are lost.
In this transitory state, she can still perceive the objects of the world, but not its denizens, except for the two alicorns whose presence extends beyond the normal realm of existence in which every other living being is trapped. She can see them as spirits (aka blobs) and they in return are vaguely aware of her presence and/or thoughts, with Luna being more sensitive for reasons mentioned in the fiction.
There was nothing beyond this, barring some hints to a higher reality level and a myth of creation, with the underlying assumption that only those who had witnessed the creation of Equestria had been given the “grace” of being immortal (or to last as long as the world itself lasts): the two princesses, Discord, and maybe some other unknown characters yet. Those in turn could “bless” others (make them ascend) but while that would make them look similar, it wouldn’t bestow immortality on them. Of course I had no time to develop all this in 750 words, so it was left dangling and unsatisfactory.
Celestia has difficulty to adjust to the fact that Twilight died, despite being aware of her limitations. Also, yes, Luna is pretending not hearing Twilight’s voice, so that Celestia does not clutch at straws.
This piece was more an experiment into writing descriptive and elaborate prose than a true story, as all pointed out. I'm sorry for "stroke" instead of "struck" and “an other”, which I substituted back from “the other” but forgot to delete the extra space.
Anyone – I’m glad you found the prose enjoyable. Thanks. Yeah, the format was way too short to elaborate on all the outlined notions. Beside, as noted, the idea itself was trite and dull. I apologise for this. It’s a testament to my current lack of ideas with pony stuff. Sorry everyone. :/
>>Not_A_Hat (Hey Hat boy!)
>>Xepher
>>Rao (Thanks Rao! ;) )
>>Trick_Question
>>FanOfMostEverything
>>Posh
>>Kitcat36
>>TheCyanRecluse
>>CoffeeMinion
>>AndrewRogue
>>Orbiting_kettle
Thanks for letting this fic’ slip into the finals. Really, I never imagined it would. :) In fact, I feel guilty because, as you have all noticed, this was more a scene than a story, therefore I expected it to be scathed the same way Cold’s Trembling had been. I don’t think I write better prose than Cold, so I’m left wondering why mine qualified and his failed.
Last finalist place well deserved.
I had no idea how to christen this “story” so I ended up with the title of a Genesis’s song.
So Twilight is dead, and her soul lingers for a while in Equestria’s world before being reincarnated some place else. However, as is expected with reincarnation, all of her memories and even knowledge of her previous self are lost.
In this transitory state, she can still perceive the objects of the world, but not its denizens, except for the two alicorns whose presence extends beyond the normal realm of existence in which every other living being is trapped. She can see them as spirits (aka blobs) and they in return are vaguely aware of her presence and/or thoughts, with Luna being more sensitive for reasons mentioned in the fiction.
There was nothing beyond this, barring some hints to a higher reality level and a myth of creation, with the underlying assumption that only those who had witnessed the creation of Equestria had been given the “grace” of being immortal (or to last as long as the world itself lasts): the two princesses, Discord, and maybe some other unknown characters yet. Those in turn could “bless” others (make them ascend) but while that would make them look similar, it wouldn’t bestow immortality on them. Of course I had no time to develop all this in 750 words, so it was left dangling and unsatisfactory.
Celestia has difficulty to adjust to the fact that Twilight died, despite being aware of her limitations. Also, yes, Luna is pretending not hearing Twilight’s voice, so that Celestia does not clutch at straws.
This piece was more an experiment into writing descriptive and elaborate prose than a true story, as all pointed out. I'm sorry for "stroke" instead of "struck" and “an other”, which I substituted back from “the other” but forgot to delete the extra space.
Anyone – I’m glad you found the prose enjoyable. Thanks. Yeah, the format was way too short to elaborate on all the outlined notions. Beside, as noted, the idea itself was trite and dull. I apologise for this. It’s a testament to my current lack of ideas with pony stuff. Sorry everyone. :/
>>Monokeras
On the contrary, it's a testament that you do have interesting ideas (and beautiful writing). You just need to lead somewhere with them, which takes time and words. Many of us were left wanting more.
Also, if this fic had been scored lower, then your other fic would have made it into the finals because it was at the top of the cut fics. So there! :derpytongue2:
On the contrary, it's a testament that you do have interesting ideas (and beautiful writing). You just need to lead somewhere with them, which takes time and words. Many of us were left wanting more.
Also, if this fic had been scored lower, then your other fic would have made it into the finals because it was at the top of the cut fics. So there! :derpytongue2: